A Bit Fine: Part 1

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

The last three weeks have been difficult, exhausting, stretching, heavy, joyful, enlightening and worrisome.

At 4:30 in the afternoon on Wednesday, January 12, the fourth day of referendum voting, I was balancing on a seesaw with six pre-schoolers when a horde of kids went running from the soccer field to the clinic.  Milton Juma, a 10-year-old boy, had fallen 30 feet from a mango tree when a branch broke underneath him and he landed squarely on his face and chest.  Immediately his face began to swell and sweat covered his body as blood flowed from his ears, nose and mouth.  He was carried to the Harvesters Clinic by one of the teenage boys but we all knew that he would need a doctor, and fast.  My heart sank as I saw the faces of the boys who were playing with him, the boys who told him not to climb so high but to no avail, and I felt hopeless as Milton's brother and two sisters shed tears from shock, fear and pain for their brother.  All I could think was, "it's the dry season, the ground hasn't felt rain in weeks and the dirt is the equivalent of concrete.  Concrete.  How could a small body sustain the impact of a belly-flop onto concrete?"  

Milton - December 2010

The mango tree from which he fell.  The place where the branch broke is circled in red and Nicholas, who is about 5'5", is standing where Milton landed.  

Nurse Brenda and Mr. Morris (the orphanage administrator) quickly put Milton into the back of a Land Cruiser and left for the nearest doctor while the rest of the adults gathered on Pastor Pooshani's porch to pray and discuss options.  We quickly learned that all the doctors here had left because of the referendum.  All of them.  No doctors in town, no doctors in the bush, no doctors for miles.  My worry and fear for Milton quickly turned to hopelessness and desperation.  Concrete.  Earth like concrete on which he'd fallen.  Face first.  No doctors, not one.  Dear God, work a miracle.  

After driving around town for what seemed like hours Milton was finally checked in at the NPA (Norwegian People's Aid) clinic. There were no doctors there and the clinical officer was drunk, but there was an x-ray machine and we learned that maybe the x-ray technician would come in the next morning.  Maybe.  The updates, via Brenda, became worse and feelings of despair crept in like a rising tide.  Dear God, these circumstances feel so hopeless and I put all my trust in You, for there is no one else, only You.  

Milton remained conscious (amazingly) and complained of back pain while the swelling and bleeding continued.  Daylight was fading and the options for treatment became less attainable and more urgent as the words "he's lost a lot of blood... he should be taken to Uganda... if he makes it through the night..." were uttered.  He could be driven to Uganda, but by the time he got to the border it would be dark and the border would be closed so he would have to wait in the car until the next morning when the border reopened, and then drive a full day to the hospital in Kampala.  He could be flown to Uganda, but there are no commercial planes that fly in or out of here after 4:00pm because there are no lights on the runway and no air traffic controllers to guide them.  My feet stuck in the sand and the rising tide creeping up and up and up, slowly and unrelenting.  Dear God, sustain Milton through the night, heal his wounds, lessen his pain, comfort him, give him Your strength, fill him with Your peace, let him not feel the same hopelessness that is drowning me...

Mark It 1.11.11

Yesterday I tagged along with the older girls to go vote.  Watching them drop their ballots in the box felt momentous and I was filled with hope and joy for them and the rest of the people of South Sudan.  It was difficult to gauge if the girls shared the same sentiments, but I'm sure some day they'll have a greater awareness of how significant this day was in their lives.   After we got back to the orphanage I asked the girls who are also in my English class to write a journal entry about their morning; here are some of their words.

"Today I went to the referendum. It was sunny and it was very cold in the morning.  The referendum place was peaceful.  The people will tell you the two hands [on the ballot] is unity and one hand is separation.  And I chose the one with one hand."  - Anna Gaba

"Today it was a very nice day.  We went with Sister Mary to vote during the referendum. We walked three miles to the polling place.  There were policemen and one police woman.  The police told us to go to a line to a house where I can vote.  I was given a ballot and we were told to put our finger into the ink and put it onto the ballot.  I was told to take the paper and go to the booth so I went and I put my finger into the ink.  So I put, and I voted for separation."  - Nunas Mambu

"Today is a vote day for the people.  I am hoping that this referendum will be good and peace  [sic].  I am also hoping for good news to come after the vote.  I am praying that Sudan will become a independent country.  May the peace of the Lord be with us in Sudan." - Grace Tabu

Despite being warned that the government officials can be really sensitive about photographers at the polls I took my camera and fortunately the man in charge gave me permission to take pictures of the girls voting.  I also asked El Jefe if I could have a few ballots as souvenirs.  "I'll rip them in half so they won't be eligible!  I don't want to vote, I just want to put it on my wall as decoration!" I promised, but he could not be swayed:  "That's very unpossible," he said.  Sorry Sarah Drake, I tried.  (Also, "very unpossible" is my new favorite phrase.)

Scraps of a poster reminding people to bring their registration cards to the polls.

Sneak attack picture of the polling center. 

Charity, Leah, Nunas, Victoria, Anna, and Sylvia listen to instructions about marking their ballots.  

Hellen holds a ballot and her registration card.

Victoria and Nunas mark their ballots in secret.

Winny drops her ballot.  No turning back!

With Sylvia, Eva, Nunas and Hellen. 

My journal entry for 1.11.11

This morning I woke up at 6:00am shivering because of 50 degree temperatures - so much for summer along the equator.  I slipped on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt before I remembered some disturbing and annoying rumors.  Allegedly there have been a few recent cases of women being fined for wearing pants while in the market, and not wanting to risk a fine (or worse) I changed out of my pants into a long skirt - thank you, remnants of Sharia law.  

After breakfast I left with the girls for the polling station, which was three miles away from Harvesters.  They were in no hurry and I realized that they were just as excited to get away from the orphanage as they were to cast their votes in an historic referendum. They chatted and joked in Arabic while I took pictures and focused on not tripping over the trash or goat poop that cluttered the ditches along the road.

We arrived at the polling station (a big mud hut) an hour later.  In the front was a rag-tag bunch of people in uniforms with guns (probably AK-47s?) and while I wasn't surprised to see them it's always a bit startling to see assault rifles in public.  One guy wore a uniform of blue camouflage, another man's uniform was brown camo, and there were two women (also with guns) who were police officers in mall-cop attire.  And of course they were all in flip flips which gave them a comical air, so despite the guns I didn't have much confidence in their protection.  Fortunately we didn't need it at all because the morning was incredibly peaceful.  The girls waited in line while I weighed my options about taking pictures of said soldiers until I decided against it.  I watched as the girls slowly went to the cardboard booth and placed an ink fingerprint next to the ‘SEPARATION’ choice then dropped their ballots in the sealed box.

The past has not necessarily been easy or good to these girls, but on a cool January morning in 2011 they made a distinct, immutable mark for a future full of hope and opportunity that can overshadow the adversities of their pasts. 

The vast majority of the people in South Sudan are voting for separation, which has likely contributed to a relatively peaceful vote so far.  There have been several attacks along the border of North and South Sudan in the past few days but nothing of significance in other areas.  The last day of voting is Saturday, January 15 and the outcome will be announced February 14 if everything remains on schedule.  Until then we’re hoping and praying that peace will continue, that voter turn-out will remain high, and the decision will be respected by the North.  Amen and amen.

New Year. New Country?

Happy New Year, friends, family and strangers!  A double high-five for another successful trip around the sun!

Anyway, settle in, this is a long post.  

The South Sudan referendum is a mere four days away and I would be remiss if I did not address it here.  I've spent the last six weeks living in Sudan and learning, observing and absorbing as much as I can about the culture, people and political circumstances.  At the end of the day I'm still an American foreigner with my own limited knowledge and biases but here are some thoughts on the current situation.    

Sudan sunrise

Sudan is a former British colony and the current border between the North and South was drawn by the British in 1956; unfortunately this has been a major source of conflict because most of the oil resources that have been discovered fall south of the border.  Of course, oil is not the only culprit, and religious and tribal differences have been accomplices in fueling civil war for most of the 20^th century. 

The North is predominantly Muslim while the people of the South mostly hold animist or tribal beliefs, although there is a large Christian minority.  The tribal beliefs of the South are common, even among people who claim to be Christians.  (Tangent:  I’ll never forget the first sermon I heard in Sudan where the theme was, essentially, “Don’t go to witch doctors!”)  


Because of the history of civil war and the vast differences between the North and South, the people of South Sudan are expected to vote overwhelmingly for separation.  However, for any outcome to be considered legitimate at least 60% of the registered voters must make it to polling stations to vote.  The majority of people here are illiterate, so they will cast their vote using hand signals: a raised hand for separation, hands clasped together for unity. 

Harvesters school children

Many reports from the West that I’ve read and watched (NY Times, Washington Post, BBC, NBC, etc.) postulate that post-referendum civil war is inevitable, however, news out of Africa and Sudan does not assert the same theory. 

A brief aside.  Thank you, George Clooney for your advocacy on behalf of Sudan’s referendum; I applaud you for using your celebrity to bring awareness to this event.  However, do you have to be such an alarmist?  Naming your NBC documentary, “Winds of War” certainly doesn’t quell the fears or expectations that people have about the outcome of the referendum.  Also, perhaps you could suggest to Ann Curry that she not ask such leading questions in her interviews:  example A:  “Do you think this war can be stopped?”  and example B: “Do you believe this war in the South could mean not just atrocities… but even possibly genocide?”

President Omar Al-Bashir, who is the current president of Sudan (Salva Kiir is the Vice President of Sudan and President of the South), recently visited Juba (the capital of the South) and made hopeful statements.  He remarked, not for the first time, "'The preferred choice for us is unity but in the end we will respect the choice of the southern citizens,' Al-Bashir said in a speech to southern officials in Juba.  'One would be sad that Sudan has split but also pleased because we witnessed peace,' he added."  

An Egyptian government official recently said that Al-Bashir's regime is the worst in Sudan's history, and he is currently charged by the ICC (International Criminal Court) for committing war crimes in Darfur, so his remarks don’t offer much confidence.    

The most prevalent, and surprising, sentiment that I've discerned is a pervasive sense of peace among the people where I'm living.  I've had lengthy conversations with local pastors, teachers, and security guards and when I ask what they think will happen with the referendum they say, "there will be a New Sudan!"  My second question is always, "do you think there will be peace?" and their response is, "yes, there will be peace here.  We do not need to worry."  And perhaps I am blindly naive, but I believe them.  These are people who have fresh memories of war and who know the current comforts of peace and they yearn for it to remain for themselves and for their children.

South Sudan as an autonomous nation has enormous potential and the ramifications of the peaceful birth of a new nation would be extensive.  A nation built on peace would enable security for millions of people who have been plagued by decades of war.  A nation built on democracy and freedom would create stability for people of all tribes and religions and would help promote peace with neighboring countries.  And of course, peace and stability would provide for new infrastructure to allow for new roads, schools, businesses, and hospitals for an under-educated and hurting populace.  South Sudan is an incredibly fertile place where three or more harvests per year are common and this country has the potential to be self-sustaining and to feed millions of starving people in Africa.

Harvesters gardens

Paul writes in 1 Timothy 2:1-2, “First of all, then, I urge that entreaties and prayers, petitions and thanksgivings, be made on behalf of all men, for kings and all who are in authority, so that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and dignity.”  

I love this passage because Paul shows no preference for a specific power structure, political party, or political system.  And so it is my hope and prayer for all the people of Sudan, and specifically the South, that they may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and dignity. 

In an email I received from my Dad today he wrote, “history and personal experience in the region tell me peaceful solutions are not the norm.  Guess we can hope and pray for a paradigm shift in social problem solving in this case.” 

May it be so.  May South Sudan be an exception to the norm and the vanguard of change throughout Africa.

the faces of Sudan's future