A partial agreement is better than no agreement at all. After all, wasn't it said that all things good come from the East? Agreements, hubbies with aquiline noses and water tanks that supply Juba with water come from the East.

The partial agreement is good because we are about to swim in oil again after a long period of drought and scarcity. Other contentious issues can wait until we eat to our fill and have the energy to negotiate in Addis.

For nine solid months following the oil shut down many things have terribly gone wrong. Life has not been the same again without oil and oil money. We have been rendered helpless like fish out of water.

We were caught off guard in the middle of the extended honeymoon. Hard times set in immediately. We withdrew whatever we had stored away for a rainy day. Then we went into heavy debts. We started selling some of our assets including furniture, cutlery and smelly carpets.

Big men jilted by their laptop-girlfriends returned to their permanent wives who have no time for makeup, these very faithful mothers who have been raising tomorrow's leaders.

Some of the petrol-guzzlers, also known as V8, now sit on stones because the tires have been turned into sandals that have defeated the intelligence of the innovative Chinese.

Hotels are empty because the usual government officials who used to patronize them have parted with their expensive shoes, suits and smart phones to off-set accumulated bills.

Private building projects have stalled because there is no money to buy building materials or to pay the quick-fix wewe builders. And people with multiple plots have sold or pawned some of them to make ends meet.

The expansive crop farms have been overtaken by tall grass when the laborers ran away because they were not paid their wages in many months.

We have been forced into a vegetarian life to spare the goats, sheep, and cattle so they can feed and fatten on farm crops of other people.

Marriages of convenience that were hurriedly patched up when pockets were still deep have fallen apart and it is back to the zero life of singles.

As if that was not enough, austerity measures dealt a terrible blow to our already emaciated pockets, sending us reeling into delirium. We blame the jallaba for our everyday woes and for making us poorer. If the jallaba were a punching bag it would have been shredded into a piece of rag.

But now we have a reason to celebrate even before parliament can endorse the partial agreement. What do dissenting voices want? Give them a paint of peanut butter to keep their mouths busy.

During hard times like we witnessed in the last nine months, a hungry man who is also an angry man will recall the past glory that he will not see again. He will recall the days when milk and honey smoothed our parched throats. But because it is our second nature we threw caution to the wind and said let tomorrow take care of itself.

We convince each other that all that might have been like a bad dream is indeed a passing cloud. Now the sky is clear to prove that that tough times do not last but tough people do.

Now Addis Ababa Two presents us with Chapter two, time for a second helping. If you did not eat yesterday, or you did not eat enough, or you ate like Oliver Twist, weep not child, the feast is about to start. El-Bashir says we can start tickling our palates by eating dura to toughen our teeth and to give us the needed energy as we prepare to swim in the oil.

As we prepare to plunge into the oil pool let us remind ourselves of one thing: next time when the jallaba annoys us the way they always like calling us names, we will not make the mistake of shutting down the oil pipeline, poor thing. If they annoy us, we will consider diverting the river Nile to Babylon, and we will see which man will remain standing without a drop of water.

Now, as far as oil, windpipes, and appetites are concerned, we will have to cultivate patience and pray that the people who are paid to talk will accept the partial agreement in toto. But if they say no we will have to throw away our swim suits because there will be no oil to swim in. Make the sign of the cross on your chests, comrades.

But in case the people who are paid to talk say "aye" with their feet we will still have to wait for sometime before we start running amok in our swim suits.

The pipeline that transports the oil from our land to Port Sudan has not been in use for the last nine months. So you can imagine that it is clogged like a compost latrine. If you peep through one end you are not likely to see light on the other end - and that is how things have been in reality.

To see light on the other end of the tunnel, so to speak, the pipeline must be unclogged. Can a fishing spear do the dirty job? And how long could such a spear be? Some people are suggesting that very hot liquid must be pumped through the pipeline to clean it before crude oil can gush through it again. I can imagine the Red Sea fish dancing to the tune of toxic waste.

Once the pipeline is cleaned with hot water or hot air, it must be left to dry for some weeks, or months, say three months? During those three months pray that no mad Jallaba pilot will drop a bomb on Panthou. If that happens (Oh, Nhialic forbid!) things will turn upside down.

In any case, things look pretty good because God is on our side. We are deeply religious people. We forgive those who trespass against us and forget the sins of the past, but we cannot avoid the temptations of our daily bread because we are mere mortals.

Victor Lugala is an independent journalist and media consultant.