A Girl’s School…

My friend Majok was quite determined. I had already told him I didn’t think there was time in my busy schedule to visit his village in Aweil East… but he persisted and in the end I gave in. I rescheduled some arrangements and was assured we would be home in time for an important appointment at 4 PM.

We left later than planned (which is normal), had some extra errands on the way (which is also normal), and then found the road was flooded which required a lengthy detour and then when our car couldn’t take us any further we got out to walk for the last hour. About this time I was realizing I had little chance of making my afternoon meeting.

The community leaders and what looked like half the village were waiting for us under the tree that served as the village council rooms. As the speeches rolled on I gave up any hope of being home on time. Finally two young women spoke. They told me how their school had collapsed and been closed. The boys are able to attend school in a nearby village, but the girls and younger children are required to stay at home and so currently have no access to education. Majok had already told me how they had made bricks that could be used for a school, but lack of funding had put an end to the project. I was assured they had everything they needed for a functional school – if we could provide assistance with iron and cement.

After the speeches concluded we walked to see the bricks that had been made. I was impressed. There were thousands of bricks, made by hand, dried and then baked before being carefully arranged in five huge stacks, ready to be put to use. Afterwards we passed what was left of the old school – just a few remaining bricks scattered on the ground. Majok pointed out where the four classrooms once stood and what was left of the school office.

We were offered chicken and rice, but I explained we didn’t have time to stop and eat. I hoped our driver was still waiting for us. I told Majok I had time to quickly visit his home and meet his wife and children before the journey home. Then it rained. Heavily! Majok suggested we stay the night and find our way home the next day, but I was adamant. I had more meetings arranged in the morning I couldn’t afford to miss. People laughed at us as we slipped along the greasy tracks in the pouring rain and when we borrowed a couple of bikes they were surprised that a white man could ride. Finally it got too dark to see and we completed the journey on foot once again, and to my relief (and surprise) found our driver was there waiting for us. After a long drive home on flooded tracks and rough roads we arrived home in Aweil a bit before mid-night.

(Since leaving Sudan I have received a budget for the project and have had conversations with potential sponsors).

Tension...

It is now less than three months before the scheduled referendum when South Sudanese will vote on independence from the North. Leaders from both sides espouse a commitment to negotiate peacefully… but there is tension in the air.

A friend has asked that we pray for him and others who work in the area of peace and reconciliation, and especially that peace and stability can be maintained.

A Father to the Father-less…

On Thursday 2nd September we commenced the Marialbai Church of Christ Mission.
During my visit in January with Joseph Mawien and Ros Stafford-Green the Chief offered a large piece of land to be used for the care of children who had lost their parents during the war. The Chief immediately began the process of registration and identified 240 children in the community who had lost both parents. Over the next few months we agreed to commence with a feeding program with plans to add a school, church, accommodation, health care and some agricultural developments. A visionary Church of Christ leader has agreed to coordinate and lead the mission – Pastor Paulino Malou Bol Jok.
Paulino and I met with the Chief and Deputy Chief soon after arriving in Aweil and we quickly developed our plans. In just 2 weeks we prepared a proposal and budget, gained approval, engaged a contractor, arranged staff, erected the feeding centre, purchased equipment and supplies and arranged the opening and dedication.
As we walked through the village to the opening ceremony I could hear the children singing long before we could see the shiny iron roof of the feeding centre. Hundreds had gathered, children and adults, and Pastor Butros had them singing their hearts out. There were songs, prayers and speeches. I had the opportunity to explain we were there because people in Australia cared and wanted to help. I told them about two young boys in my church who had raised money for soccer balls and hand-balls which I had brought with me, and I used this as an example of how we hope our partnership can bring joy and community and love – as well as food and education and other practical assistance.
After the dedication service I photographed each of the 240 children and recorded their information in preparation for sponsorship. While I was photographing a fight broke out. Some men wanted their children registered along with the orphans and when they were refused they tried to stop the program. Rivalry is strong here and it seems some people would prefer we provided nothing than for their own children to miss out.
Each of the children were given a plate and cup and then we enjoyed a very simple meal of rice and beans, followed by some soccer and a hand-ball demonstration.
The final task was to meet with the Committee to discuss the partnership agreement and some management issues. One man said his wife was expecting a baby that day, but he was so excited about our new program he was at the opening ceremony instead. One of the cooks thanked God for the opportunity she has been given, saying it was like feeding her own children. I stressed again, our mission is more than providing food, education and homes. It is firstly about love. I told them of the verse in the Bible where God is described as a father to the father-less, and how we have been called to be an expression of God’s love for the orphans.
Our mission in Marialbai has begun.

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.

New believers...

A few days ago I met with a group of young men who told me their stories of suffering and survival. Two days later one of them returned and asked me to baptise him and give him a Christian name. He had seen my tears and was convinced that if Christians in Australia cared enough to reach out to people suffering in Sudan, then he wanted to know the loving God we profess. The next day he brought two friends, also wanting to be baptised and given new names. I explained I wasn’t here to baptise, but that Christian leaders here would teach and nurture their new faith and help them to share the story of the God who cares for the orphan, widow and refugee.

To hunt an elephant…

Yesterday the Chief of Marialbai told me how in earlier times the men of the village would go hunting with their spears. A man could appear very brave chasing an elephant that is running away… but the moment the elephant turned around it would be the man’s turn to run for his life. Then everyone would laugh at him and ask “why do you try to hunt an elephant on your own?”

Marialbai Mission is like an elephant and the need in Sudan is like a huge herd or elephants. We can only do this if we all work together.

Paradise...

Marialbai is beautiful. Not just beautiful… peaceful, playful, serene. And the community here is like a big extended family. We sit under huge mango trees between crops of maize, millet, okra, peanut, sesame and much more. Children sing as they collect water and cattle and goats graze with minimal supervision. At night fire-flies dance in the grass and the only sounds to be heard are birds, insects and the occasional baby crying. A tranquil village. This is paradise.


But my imagination wont let me get too comfortable here. I can picture the militia attacks, the raiding parties, bombs, bullets and people defending and fleeing.

The terror and the beauty! What a contradiction!