Personal Standards of Hygiene

One of the most fascinating things about living in Juba is being able to decide what really matters for oneself.  I used to pride myself on a certain level of personal hygiene as well as how I put myself ‘together’ on a daily basis.  I’m a big fan of a long, hot shower in the morning that I use in the way that most people use their coffee.  It wakes me up and encourages me to face the day in a relatively positive manner.  Feeling fresh and clean is an amazing thing that perhaps many of us take for granted.  I would use a lovely scented shower gel for the body, a face cleanser of some type (and if I was feeling kooky, perhaps a nice scrub as well), foot scrub, shampoo, and, of course, a conditioner.  Upon getting out of the shower, it was all about scrubbing the teeth, shaving the face, cleaning the ears with a fluffy q-tip, moisterizer for my face, some gel for my hair and the all-important anti-perspirant for under the arms so as to now sweat out my shirts.

Dressing was all about some nicely tailored slacks, a tailored shirt, some funky socks, nice black shoes that my maid lovingly shined every day (YES, I know how this makes me sound), and a spritz of some fancy eau de toilette.  There. Ready to face the world.

Now, I know I was not the fanciest person alive and I wasn’t exactly a model in looks, but I felt that I put myself together quite nicely and was never embarassed about going out in public (well, maybe once the work day was over, but we won’t go there right now).

However, Juba kind of sucks the desire to look nice right out the proverbial window.  A shower is usually cold and the quality of the water is highly suspect and leaves one almost feeling somewhat slimy on a daily basis.  The lack of a proper sink and mirror pretty much kicks all the face work out the window (shaving, plucking, etc).  Clothes that are washed are usually done so in water that is suspect and dried on a fence post or the grass.  So, in many ways, clothes feel pretty gross too.

I personally have given up on shaving regularly (and I am NOT a person that should do that), hair styling is out of consideration as it’s even hard to find a proper barber and shampoo doesn’t really later up in this mineral laden water.  Shoes and pant cuffs are chronically filthy due to the lack of pavement anywhere.  My flip-flops have become the de-facto thing to wear unless I have to see clients, which is rare for many reasons (to be discussed in another entry one day when  feel I don’t want to work for the federal government).

So, I know I have slipped and live like a crack-head that is squatting in an abandoned building.  But the more highly amusing thing is to watch other people go through the same process of denigration.  So many consultants arrive in Sudan without the first idea of what to expect.  The ladies in high heels, professionally applied makeup and slightly perfumed lose a lot of their poise in a short period of time.  Make up tends to melt off here in the heat, coiffed hair goes flat quickly and the perfume only attracts insects.

It’s sad that I feel I get some type of satisfaction out of watching the downfall of the genteel, but that’s schadenfreude for you.  I get some pleasure out of others anguish.  In some ways it validates my own person disgust with myself, but in other ways it provides the entertainment that is just lacking as a general course.

So, I may stink and look like a homeless person, but in many ways that’s how we all blend together here.