Rain: A mixed blessing...

Shortly after arriving in Sudan I travelled south from Juba to Kenyi Payam. The three hour drive was spectacular and arduous. It was a relief when we stopped for a break at a road-block as they cleared land-mines close to the road ahead. I smiled at the irony - the potholes are a greater danger to me than the landmines. Despite gripping tightly, my head hit the roof more times than I can remember.
I was exhausted from the drive, but the moment we arrived the schedule began: Children dancing and singing to welcome me, speeches and prayers, then on to the next village where the routine was repeated. In a few hours we visited six churches and an orphanage. As we approached one church storm clouds began to darken. As soon as the speeches began, so did the rain. Soon it was so loud no-one could hear anything. So instead of talking they danced and sang. They said the rain is a sign of blessing. I thought to myself it was a blessing it didn’t happen at the previous church that meets under a mango tree.
The next morning we began early. We walked for two hours to survey the agricultural projects. After drinking tea we walked to church – where I preached (without much warning!) After church we had another meeting. Again there were many speeches and I was so tired I didn’t have much voice to give my reply. The final speech was by an older woman who announced my new name in the community: Lukudu - a son born in the rain.
Here in Aweil the name seems appropriate – though not everyone will consider it a blessing. The locals tell me it hasn’t rained like this since 1974. Even before arriving I heard reports of flooding, displacement, malaria and water-borne diseases. But this latest rain has affected 90% of Aweil residents. Many huts have collapsed and there must be thousands now living in temporary huts and tents. They will be glad when Lukudu goes home.
But this is the nature of the community here. They accept hardship and give a blessing in return.