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

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.