Time is money
By Zechariah Manyok Biar
April 27, 2012 — Before turning to what Sudan is preaching these days that South Sudan initiates aggressions, I would like to write about something that might not be popular at this time when we are facing external challenges. The reason why I am writing about this topic is that we must always keep our house in order before spitting at those who say nonsense about us.
During the North-South civil war in Sudan, what used to make no sense to me was the slogan: “Time is money.” It did not make sense to me because I was a little Dinka cattle keeper who joined the SPLA and stayed where time was not money at all. We had a lot of time to play cards and other nonsense, including sleeping during the day, but there was still time. It was when I went for my higher education that I understood clearly that the slogan of “Time is money” was real. Now I experience that the university study is even less demanding than the world of work.
Yet, I see something different going on here in Juba. Time does not seem to count as money for our government. I wonder when I see our government not seeing the reality that everybody feels here in Juba, regardless of what they do. Teachers and students feel it, traders feel it, taxi drivers feel it, boda-boda cyclists feel it, and the list is longer. But government officials do not seem to feel it.
Yesterday (April 27, 2012) when our President returned from China, every other activity in Juba stopped for more than two hours. We were waiting for the President. Every road was blocked and the airport became lifeless.
This was not the first time I witnessed this problem. Two months ago, I was asked by the National Commission for War Disabled, Widows and Orphans to facilitate their strategic planning and leadership workshop in the Greater Bahr el Ghazal. When we left our offices for the airport to board the hired plane, we found that every road leading to the airport was blocked. We stayed for two hours before the President arrived from Ethiopia. The plane was waiting for us in the airport. In the real business world, a second counts. Somebody must have lost a sizable income that day.
Not only that, commercial planes could not leave the airport. If the losses of those delayed were counted, how much could that be? Considering that one bigger airplane could go to Nairobi twice a day, going and coming back means money in the truest sense of the word. If you cut out one trip, how much do you think it costs the company and we expect them to pay taxes?
Let us say we do not care about those companies, anyway. Don’t we also care about our own productivity and losses? What is the cost of stopping government officials from carrying out their different assignments in town in timely manner?
May be we are paying for something important to us. But what about diplomats, are they also obliged to do the same? Considering that a diplomat is coming from his/her country and has calculated the time he/she would spend in Juba to conduct some important meetings before moving on to another country, would he/she suspend his/her activities because we are waiting for our President?
One could argue that I am being insensitive about the security of our President. I respect such argument. But what is more dangerous between allowing unscreened people line up by the road to cheer up the President and allowing government workers move about, thirty minutes before the arrival of the President? Yesterday when the President came back from China, shops were even closed here in Juba town so that people could go and welcome the President. Do you know who own these shops? Is that more secured for the President to let these people stand by the roadside, if security was the issue for blocking roads?
Somebody would convince me otherwise, but I think blocking roads in Juba because the President is passing is more costly than we realized. It is logical if the security people should be given accurate information about the time that the President would arrive so that roads are blocked ten to twenty minutes before his arrival. Otherwise, let us not cry that we do not have enough money to run our businesses when productivity is often disabled intentionally.
Zechariah Manyok Biar lives in Juba, Republic of South Sudan. He can be reached at [email protected]