Out of His Poverty...

Angelo Mawa - December 2009

Imagine Angelo Mawa as a typical eight-year-old American kid living in the suburbs with his typical American family.  He's the smartest kid in his class, the one who knows all the answers and sits up front, and of course he's the teacher's favorite.  But the other kids aren't jealous because he's also everyone's friend, he can take a joke and isn't afraid to act a little foolish to make others laugh.  He plays soccer and video games and is learning to play the drums, he takes out the trash every week without complaining or being asked, and he reads to his younger brother and sister every night because he truly loves them.  He says that someday he will be a doctor, and you believe him, but no one would be surprised if he became a teacher because the kid loves to learn.  He'll also eventually have his heart broken by a girl who didn't really want a nice guy, and people would take advantage of his generosity, but he'd live a sheltered, comfortable life.

Instead Angelo Mawa is an atypical eight-year-old living in South Sudan.  He was dropped at the orphanage as a two-year-old and couldn't even stand on his own legs because of malnourishment.  He's a vibrant kid with a constant smile and a bright mind who can have a full conversation in English.  He'll say things like, "Excuse me Mary, I'm going to tell those children to stop fighting;"  or, "Good night Mary, I'll see you tomorrow morning or when it's dark outside;"  or, "Did you go to the President Obama's house to eat dinner when you lived in America?"  He also has more than a few white hairs on the back of his head, and when the other kids pull them out he just laughs.  When you tell him that these hairs are a sign of wisdom he grins and says, "I like to have the wisdom."  

And one night after dinner, when your heart is heavy from thinking about all the people and things you're missing back home, little Angelo Mawa tells you a story that lifts you out of the gray sadness.  That day Angelo only ate part of his lunch; before he even touched his rice, beans, and banana he divided everything in half.  Because Angelo has an awareness of the world that exceeds his years and he is not blind to life beyond the orphanage fence.  He tells you, in perfect English, "I know many of the people don't have food so I wanted to give them some of my lunch so they will not be hungry today."  As he tells you this he is holding a stick that he uses to bang on an aluminum can to practice the drums and you think of the tangible things this child, this small boy, has and they are not much:  a few outfits, one pair of too-big shoes, a bed with a mosquito net.  Is there anything else?  No.  He is an orphan after all, a fatherless boy who arrived at Harvesters as a baby weak with hunger.  That was six years ago and now he is thoughtfully, sacrificially giving his own food to others - others who know the hunger he once lived.  

"And Jesus sat down opposite the treasury, and began observing how the people were putting money into the treasury; and many rich people were putting in large sums.  A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which amount to a cent.  Calling His disciples to Him, He said to them, 'Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on.'" (Mark 12: 41- 44)

Slowly you are realizing that you have lived a luxurious life, with things and experiences and opportunities that are unfathomable to Angelo Mawa.  And you know that despite all you've given and all you've done you have never sacrificed as much as the widow who gave her only two copper coins or the eight-year-old Sudanese orphan who gave away half his lunch.  This is not social consciousness, this is not "being a good person," this is the sacrificial love of God evident in a child who says, "I love other people because God loved me first."  

What if we all gave like this?  

What if we all loved like this?

Angelo Mawa - December 2010

"Two things I ask of you, Lord; do not refuse me before I die: Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread."  (Proverbs 30: 7 - 8)

So This is Christmas: Sudan Edition

Admittedly, Christmas was bittersweet for me this year.  It was the first time in 28 years that I've been apart from my family and friends and all the American traditions that I adore.  However, I was reminded more poignantly than ever of the significance of Christmas: that 2000 years ago a young, unmarried woman of incredible faith gave birth to a baby who would be called Emmanuel, "God with us," and because of Jesus we can know God and have infinite joy, hope and salvation.  Amen and amen. 

Christmas in Sudan was a joyful, memorable, exhausting whirlwind of excitement and activity.   On Christmas Eve we passed out presents to all the kids; everyone got a stocking with candy and small trinkets, the younger girls were given a doll, the older girls received purses, the younger boys got trucks, the older boys were given backpacks. One present each.  Each kid also received a new outfit that they wore on Christmas, and since pictures are surely more adequate than any words I can write, here are some of my favorites from the festivities.

Benson (left) and Samuel (right) carry presents into the dining hall followed by a crowd of anxious kids. 

150 stockings and presents under, beside and around the tree

a few trucks and a face peeking in the window

no gender-neutral gifts here

Dafala + magician's wand(?) = true childish excitement

150 orphans + new toys = controlled chaos

Tabitha + doll = playing all night long

Maria + doll + My Little Pony = legit happiness

 Baby Benjamin + drool + truck = special powers over grown women

Esther + doll - 2 front teeth = Best Christmas Smile award-winner

Later that night I went to the kid's dorms to take pictures of them playing with their new toys.  Some of the bigger boys had already stowed their trucks in the rafters so the babies couldn't get to them.  Clever. 

On Christmas morning the kids presented a short skit; here are Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus at the Inn.

The shepherds and sheep parading up the aisle.

The little kids sat up front and watched with rapt attention as the Nativity characters came to the stage. 

Highlight of the day: someone brought a black, plastic bag filled with a bulging object as an offering and put it on the stage.  In the middle of the skit the bag started to move and squawk and out came a LIVE CHICKEN!

 Here, have a better look.  (This was definitely an "I have a feeling I'm not in Kansas anymore" moment.)

Some of the boys looking dapper in their Christmas attire. 

Sweet Timothy in a three-piece suit! Santa didn't bring his two-front teeth this year but he does not care.

Pretty girls in their pillowcase dresses!

Cecilia, Anna Peace, Sarah, Noella, and Hannah (the unintentional rising star of this blog) in their colorful ensembles.

Wishing you a belated Merry Christmas and early Happy New Year!  

"Give it a second! It's going to space!"

Every day I wake up and am reminded, in glaring ways, what a bizarre world this is. There are people who live 100 yards from me who sleep on THE DIRT every night, who walk MILES just to get a few gallons of water, and have never seen a picture of themselves.  Yet here I am having a phone conversation with people who live half-way around the world.   Maybe someday I will fully comprehend the magnitude of such disparity. 

'Round Here

Despite all the Christmas activities and excitement around here the days are still smooth, routine, and full.  

There aren't any waste removal systems here (of the trashcan or toilet variety) so everyone burns their trash wherever they want.  The sky has been a haze of smoke for days and the black ash that floats around creates an extra layer of dirt and is part of the air we breathe- we're all coughing from the soot in our lungs.  

In addition to their tribal language most people speak Juba Arabic (named after the capital of South Sudan) which is the lingua franca, and I'm slowly learning the basics.  So far I've memorized "es imi takee munu?" (what is your name?); "mata sakela!" (stop fighting!); "ou woo goo ita win?" (where are you hurt?); "ita quess?" (it is well?"); "kayday ma ou goo ita!"  (be careful!); "mata woo nusu" (stop talking); "mata dugu," (stop hitting); "ana hebu ita," (I love you); "jaman bere do," (time for bathing); "jaman sokol," (time for chores); "shukran," (thank you); and "noom quess," (good night.)  

It's currently the dry season and most of the trees are losing their leaves.  The teak trees that grow in abundance shed leaves the size of iPads and create a covering on the ground that traps the heat if they're not picked up.  Thank goodness for little hands to do the dirty work!  

Here are some images that capture the everyday life at this little oasis.

All of the women on staff were given new fabric as a Christmas present, which they'll take to a tailor for a custom outfit;  one of the cooks chooses an orange and green swath. 

Some of the colorful fabric, all of which is made in Congo.  

Laundry is a daily chore and bringing white socks was a bad idea.  I let them soak extra long and think they look like lazy manatees floating in the ocean. (My shower is not as dirty as it appears, it's just that some of the paint is chipping.)

The younger kids take a nap every day after lunch, these are the girls dozing in the shade of a mango tree.

The kids do chores twice a day which mostly consists of raking leaves.  Unfortunately for the littlest kids they have to collect leaves by hand; Hannah was very proud of her bouquets.

The smoke from the fires is an ubiquitous nuisance, but it does cause dreamy sunsets. 

Mosquito nets hanging in the sun to dry.

And a picture of Elijah, Isaiah, and Mercy (left to right) because they are irresistible.

Countdown to Christmas

Naively I assumed that the Christmas season in Sudan would be slower than in the States.  Au contraire, mon frère.  While not characterized by endless trips to the mall, crowded parking lots, and frantic shoppers, the past few weeks here have been busier than usual.  Dennis and Johnson, his foreman, spent last week running errands in Uganda.  Yes, they had to drive to another country to go to the bank, pick up mail at the post office, and buy food, tools, and other supplies.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch preparations are underway for all the Christmas festivities.  

The Christmas tree is up in the dining hall and the kids are enthralled with it.

Some of the older girls decorated more than 500 cookies for Christmas Eve dinner.

Mama Lilly spent a couple days sorting through shoes to pass out to all the kids on Christmas morning.  Sizing 150 kids' feet is ridiculous.

A local bank chose to give Harvesters a small Christmas donation of flour, sugar, cooking oil and soda.  (I'm sorry bank manager for this very unflattering picture of you.) 

One of the bank employees meets the secondary school boys.  

I leave you with Bida and Hannah who remind you to take your "bite-a-mins."  

Merry Christmas.  

The Digs

My little studio is now presentable, so without further ado:  

I live in #5, on the right, and Pastor Pooshani's room is on the left.  When afternoon rains come and fall on the green, tin roof if sounds like mangoes are falling out of the sky by the millions, the noise is overwhelming and soothing all at once.  Sometimes I sit in that chair and sip coffee and watch the kids play, if it's not too dusty I can last quite awhile.  I'm waiting for the local basket weaver to make me a welcome mat, until then you can see my current mat that's made of cardboard and says "GLASS.  Fragile.  Do not lay flat."  I'm classy like that.

This is the view when you first enter the room.  On the left is a chair (in purple and yellow fabric) beside my desk for visitors to sit and chat.  My bed, under the blue mosquito net, is in the center of the picture and is just long enough for me to lay with my legs extended.  On the right is a bench underneath a full length mirror, the door to the bathroom (with a pink towel hanging on it), and a guest bed in the right-hand corner of the picture.  The floor is made of tile, the walls concrete, and the ceiling is plywood with mahogany trim.

My office with a handmade mahogany desk, a camping lantern for late nights, my trusty MacBook and a fan.  

On to the guest area, complete with a bed, a basket of books, and a sitting area with lots of natural light.  I even hung pictures of friends and family between the bedposts to make it extra cozy.

The bathroom sink which has all the essentials: running water, a mirror, plenty of deodorant, a Penn State mug, a year's worth of doxycycline (the malaria medication that I take every day), and a few luxuries like my Dr. Hauschka cream that I treat like gold.  

 Yes, there's normal plumbing, which includes a flushable toilet.  I've figured out that a hot shower will last about eight minutes, a warm shower about 11 minutes, a cool shower about 20 minutes, and a cold shower will last forever.  

Not too shabby, eh?

The Epomophorus Gambianus

As I've mentioned before, the lights go out at 9:00 pm here, and considering that I wake up before 6:00 am every day that is a perfectly suitable bedtime for me.  Thursday I'd been asleep for about two hours when I was woken up to the strange and loud sound of flying.  Not buzzing like a bee or a mosquito, but a high-frequency beating noise like a small, remote-controlled helicopter.  It is d-a-r-k here at night, and in the pitch black I could only think that a large moth had snuck into my room.  

I turned on my flashlight and started untucking my mosquito net when the thing flew right by my head.  "Whoa tiger," I thought to myself, "you should probably rethink getting out of bed at this moment."  So I sat up and aimed my flashlight into the room and soon enough an enormous bat flew into the light.  A BAT, y'all.   Let me just say that I despise bats (and most other flying species) and I always have.  There's no way I'd ever willingly put myself unprotected in the habitat of a great white shark, crocodile, cobra, python, or polar bear, and I'm pretty sure I can out-run, out-smart or kill the average spider, snake or other frightening creature.  But BATS and other flying animals have such an advantage because they can move around IN THE AIR!  They can attack from all directions and there is no way I can out-fly a BAT!     

And somehow a BAT had slipped into my room and was now zooming around like a kamikaze pilot.  That sucker was fast and it kept buzzing by my head and fear totally overtook me.  It was enormous after all, about the size of large baby, and it flew at a speed near mach 3, and I paid attention in science class just enough to know that BATS have teeth and can eat through mosquito nets in less than ten seconds, and 100% of BATS have rabies and love the taste of human flesh. 

For two hours (that is not an exaggeration) I stayed awake praying for that BAT to die.  At one point it stopped flying and started crawling on the floor under my desk, and I was legitimately afraid that it would end up crawling on my desk and would knock over a tall glass of water onto my computer.  (Rationality eventually came back to me.)  Some time after 1:00 am I fell asleep in the center of my bed.

The next morning I woke up to total silence in my room and after checking the floor and ceiling for any sign of the BAT I got out of bed and showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed in less than eight minutes - I wasn't taking any chances.  The very first thing I did was ask the kids in my English class about BATS.  

"Are they dangerous?"   "Yes!"   

"Do they bite humans?"   "Yes!  And they're poisonous!"   Rabies is poison, you know.  

"Do they sleep during the day?"  "Yes, they sleep when it's light and fly when it's dark."   

My worst fears were confirmed.  At lunch Pooshani asked why I'd left my door open in the morning.  Well, I hadn't done it intentionally, but maybe the BAT flew out while my door was open?  I could only hope.  

Throughout Friday I hurried in and out of my room and finally that night I'd had enough of being afraid, and plus I had things to do.  So there I was in my shower doing laundry without any clothes on (I was washing the clothes I'd worn that day) when the BAT swooped down from the ceiling toward my head.  I have never hit the floor so fast in my life.  It did a few laps around the bathroom before flying into the main area, so I quickly threw on some clothes (a skirt and shirt that had been in the laundry for a few days, gross), wrapped a towel around my head and started swinging another towel in the air. Game on, BAT.  After I worked up some courage I ran out of my room to Dennis and Lilly's house. Maybe it was the towel around my head, my labored breathing, or the look of panic on my face but Lilly calmly asked, "Did the bat come out?"  "Yes!  It's back and it grew another set of fangs!"  So Dennis grabbed the badminton racket they keep for such occasions and led the way back to my room.  I waited outside while he chased around the BAT and in less than three minutes he came out carrying it on a shoebox lid. Its body ended up being no bigger than a deck of cards.  Seriously.  "I can't believe such a small thing could terrorize me so much!"  I said.  "Fear is all in the head, Mary,"  replied Dennis, the Vietnam vet who has lived in Sudan for a decade.  Well, that may be true, but that BAT was in my room and they spit acid when provoked, you know.

Public Service Announcement:  The gambian epauletted fruit bat (Epomophorus gambianus) is a small bat that lives in fruit trees (like mango trees) in tropical areas of Africa, such as South Sudan.  Only 5 - 10% of these bats carry rabies, but they will bite people if threatened.  You have been warned. 

Sudan 101

Two years ago I knew exactly two things about Sudan: 1) it's a country in Africa and 2) there's a war-torn region called Darfur that t-shirts repeatedly told me to save (however that works.)


Now Sudan is my home, a place where I've come to know some of the strongest, kindest people I've ever met; a place where you can distinguish someone's tribe by the lines carved into their forehead; a place that is swelling with enormous potential, promise, and hope.


There is less than one month until the referendum where South Sudan (which is currently autonomous) will vote for secession from the North. In light of that, here are some statistics about Sudan so you can be more knowledgeable than I was.

o Sudan is the largest country in Africa, the 10th largest country in the world, and is slightly more than ¼ the size of the U.S.
o Sudan gained independence in 1956 after almost 60 years of British and Egyptian rule
o The second civil war of the century broke out in 1983 after Muslim Sharia Law was imposed throughout the country
o The final North/South Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) was signed in January 2005, which granted South Sudan autonomy for six years
o More than 90% of the population lives on less than one dollar a day
o One out of seven women who become pregnant will die of pregnancy related complications
o 92% of women in Southern Sudan cannot read or write
o Only 27% of girls are in school and there are 1,000 primary school pupils per teacher
o 97% of the population has no access to sanitation
o Polio, once eradicated from Southern Sudan has reemerged
o Some of the deadliest diseases in the world are prevalent in Southern Sudan, including cholera, meningitis, ebola, hemorrhagic fever, and guinea worm
o A 15 year old girl has a higher chance of dying in childbirth than of finishing school
o One in five children will die before the age of five

Two Weeks

This is going to be short and sweet because the clock is ticking - in 24 minutes the generator will shut off, as well as all the lights on the compound, and since I still haven't showered I'd like to do that while the lights are still on, I'm sure you understand.  I suppose I could also write this in the dark with only the glow of my screen, but you see, all kinds of crawling and flying bugs swarm my screen and buzz around my head and bite at my typing fingers, and I am 100 percent positive that if I sit here long enough they will fly away with my computer.


I've officially been here 15 days and it feels like exactly seven, I don't know if this is a good or bad sign.

Last week I came down with the Sudanese sickness.  It started as a scratchy, sore throat, then turned into congestion, coughing, and general lethargy.  I spent most of Friday, Saturday and Sunday sleeping and have never wanted an air conditioner more badly in my life.  A lot of the kids are sick with malaria so I'm just thankful I didn't catch that.  I'm feeling much better but still need a nap in the afternoon.  Oh the joy of not working a typical 9-to-5 job.

21 minutes left

Yesterday I started teaching two English classes for the orphanage kids because they're currently on summer holiday and want to get ahead in English.  They greet me every morning by singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb," so one of my first goals is to teach them other songs.  Thanks for reminding me of the annoyances of my childhood, children.  For the most part they're smart, quick, curious, but they are still teenagers and do. not. stop. talking.  I finally decided to bring my Kindle to the class and am reading them "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" and using it to teach the differences between the parts of a sentence.  It would go much faster if I didn't have to stop after every few sentences and ask, "Do you know what a wardrobe is?"   "Do you know what the phrase 'old chap' means?"  "Have you learned about World War II and the bombings of London?"  Some things are difficult to translate no matter how well I can explain them.

There's a lizard about 4 inches long that's living in my room.  The first day I saw it I spent about 20 minutes trying to brush it out my door, but have come to terms with the fact that I have to share my space with insects and reptiles and have decided that I'd rather have lizards as long as they eat spiders.  Lizards do eat spiders, right?

14 minutes left of light.

Until next time.