by Michelle Munro

Juba is like a frontier town during a gold rush – red dust in the air and everywhere else, 40 degrees in the shade, African vultures circling overhead, rapidly erected shops with facades last seen in a Western, violent, but still a respite from more volatile parts of South Sudan, lots of money (development dollars), people from throughout the region (and globe) flooding in to cash in on the bonanza and lots of drinking.  So after a rather trying few days, I wandered up the road to the beauty saloon (what they call a hairdresser/esthetician here). Continue reading “Juba”