Juba heat

Returning to Juba gets easier every time in terms of managing its insecurity and criminality. It's not helpful to be paranoid, yet we do take good precautions.

The airport arrivals hall was even more chaotic than normal. Imagine a couple of pick-up trucks pulling up, tipping the baggage of a planeload of passengers onto the dust, and scrumming with dozens of others to get to yours before anyone else can. All in around five square metres and with temperatures in the high 30s.

If you don't take part in the bag collection scrum then your luggage will be lost or carried off by someone, as half the people in the room are destitute street kids who percolate in, trying to help to get tips. I eventually found mine stuffed under a customs counter, having missed it during the initial scrum. I was panicking over the thought of having to coordinate between Juba, London and Addis Ababa over a lost bag.

I settled back into the usual routine of Juba life. Government offices that tell you to 'return tomorrow'. Fast-moving vice-presidential motorcades that force you off the road. Late afternoon somnolence brought on by the hot air. The quietening down of life by early evening providing the perfect excuse to go to bed.