South Sudan’s Juba airport:A gateway to a country in crisis
JUBA: Military helicopters to carry troops, others to carry bombs and giant cargo planes to carry food: Welcome to shattered South Sudan’s Juba airport.
A handful of commercial airliners are also visible not far from the terminal, but they are heavily outnumbered by aid agency aircraft that every day take personnel and equipment all over this war-torn country, landing in often live conflict zones on remote dirt runways.
The capital’s runway, by contrast, is in perfect condition, the result of a $160 million renovation and expansion contract by the China Harbor Engineering Company (CHEC), largely financed by a Chinese loan.
The runway has been extended from 2,400 meters to 3,100 and equipped with lights that should allow, for the first time ever, night flights in the months ahead.
A recent statement from CHEC declared, “Juba International Airport becomes a real modern international airport,” and on the basis of the runway alone it is hard to argue.
Yet, once out of the plane, the visitor is confused by the sight of three separate terminals, sideby-side, in different stages of construction.
The first is a grand, unfinished confection of glass and concrete with vaulting roofs. Construction began in 2012 when a wind of optimism still blew through South Sudan a year after it won — and celebrated — independence from Khartoum after decades of civil war.
Building work stalled after the outbreak of a fresh, south-south civil war in late 2013 with an airport source explaining that the contractors packed their bags and took the plans with them following a dispute with the government.
Construction stopped as the war continued, pitting President Salva Kiir against his former deputy Riek Machar, and splintering the world’s newest country along ethnic lines.
In late 2016, the government abandoned the old, new terminal and decided to build a new, new one which is still, for now, under construction.
This second is more modest, reflecting South Sudan’s straitened circumstances and reinedin ambitions.
The third is the current “terminal“: A set of tents of the sort you might find at a rural wedding or the opening of a new borehole by a local dignitary.
They are set on muddy ground and open to the elements on all sides, the flooring made of sagging plywood with gaps like Swiss cheese.
Conflict has trashed and drained South Sudan’s economy. Oil production has fallen, hyperinflation has taken hold, the currency has plummeted, markets have been destroyed, entire towns and villages razed and trade routes disrupted.
Much of what little government money remains goes on the war effort.
Nevertheless, the new, more modest terminal, is due to open in July, in time for another muted marking of South Sudanese independence, its sixth.
In the meantime, visitors find themselves under canvas in a “waiting room” with metal benches so dilapidated that most wait standing up. Baggage handlers scurry about eagerly, in the hope of a tip.
A foreign aid worker and frequent traveler to South Sudan sighs and says: “We will have to brief the new arrivals on the state of the airport: When one doesn’t know it can be a surprise.”