The best and the worst...

The reality of human suffering is something I observe on a daily basis here in South Sudan. But every so often I am confronted with blatant, indiscriminate, premeditated, inhumane violence that overwhelms me with a sickening revelation of the degree of hatred and evil which human beings are capable of inflicting upon each other.

Take the other day for example… 

I have a young friend in Australia who has established a charity to support the development of the hospital in her home town of Abyei. When one of my colleagues here in Awiel told me he would be visiting Abyei I loaned him a camera and asked him to give me some information. I thought he would visit the hospital, meet the Director and come back with a report of what Australians could do to support this town that has been caught in the middle of tribal, political and religious fighting. 

I knew the most recent round of fighting had hit the town of Abyei hard, but the report was worse than I imagined. The town has been destroyed. Again, but worse than before. Every house has been burned, every building ruined, every school, market, administration building, communication tower… Even the hospital has been destroyed with the roof and everything inside stolen. All that remains are walls that I am told are beyond repair. 

One building remains untouched, towering over the empty town as a symbol of the perceived moral superiority of the perpetrators. 

I find it hard to comprehend how one group of humans can be so dedicated to the extermination of another group of humans. And, as has happened throughout history, God is used as the justification for the most evil of human behaviour. 

God have mercy on us. 

Then, on the other side of the word, a young friend continues her work, waiting for the day when Abyei can be rebuilt, confident somehow that no matter how many times the village she loves is burned to the ground, her people will return and build it up again.

Floods...

Flooding in Aweil is not like the floods I have seen in Australia, or on the news from other parts of the world. There is no great river that breaks its banks, or walls of water gushing down from mountains sweeping away whatever is in its path. Flooding in Aweil occurs slowly, quietly, without any terror. But still devastating.

Aweil is very flat. After a big rain the water just lies where it fell. There are parts of town that are well know for being prone to flooding, but with tens of thousands returning from the north, even this land is needed for housing. Now, homes are collapsing and people are making temporary shelters on road sides. With the rains come mosquitos and with mosquitos comes malaria. This is now an epidemic and with food shortages many people are also vulnerable to other illnesses such as typhoid.

Even here in the prime location occupied by the UN my tent is completely surrounded by water. And frogs, snakes and mosquitos. While this is little more than an inconvenience, it helps me to appreciate the suffering of those whose lives are threatened by the latest in what must seem to be a never-ending series of challenges.

Going to the bank...

We had a problem with a fund-transfer this week. When we finally tracked the money, the bank manager and other staff explained in detail the reasons why they couldn't release the funds. Their explanations made sense and it seemed nothing could be done except to cancel the transaction and ask for the money to be sent again - costing us a lot of time and money and causing stress to the leaders of our program.

Just then I recognized Cecilia, Joseph's niece who works at the bank. We chatted about different members of the family and she made a phone call to let them know I was in Juba.

When the manager walked back in Cecilia told him excitedly "This is my uncle."

Now, I don’t exactly look like Cecilia’s uncle, but he shook my hand and said "Well, if he is your uncle we had better do something." He offered a solution on the spot and in less than a minute resolved our problem in a way I had just been told was impossible.

And that’s the way things work in South Sudan.

James' family in Juba...

James has very kindly offered for me to stay with him and his family in Juba. In addition to saving us a lot of money at South Sudan’s over-priced hotels, I get to enjoy their warm South Sudanese hospitality.

Let me introduce you to a few of the family…

Jacqueline "No-Need" Agiyo

Elario is James’ older brother. He has been blind for about 18 months and doesn’t leave the compound. I gave him one of the bananas provided for our afternoon tea yesterday and when he had finished he threw the peel in the direction he thought was over the roof. It missed me by a few centre metres causing everyone to laugh. He was very embarrassed. “Sorry kawaja. Sorry sorry kawaja.”

Brother number three is Lukudu. He also has impaired vision, thought to be from repeated exposure to artillery. For about 7 years the family thought Lukudu had been killed in the war. James even brought his wife and children to Australia. Then they discovered that miraculously he had survived and had been living in the bush. His wife and children haven’t yet had the chance to reunite.

Agiyo is the daughter of James’ eldest brother. She is the one who does most of the cooking and cleaning for us. Her parents lost four of their six children within a few months of birth. So when their next daughter was born and they were asked what her name would be they simply replied “Agiyo” meaning “no need”. And that became her name. I prefer to call her by her Christian name Jacqueline.

Despite their various hardships, this family has welcomed me into their homes and their lives and shown unending kindness.

Feeling At Home...

I attended a funeral today. I was the only white person in a crowd of about 500 people and 5000 flies. It was hot and humid and not a breath of wind. I didnt know the language let alone the songs, and I'd never met the man we were paying our respects to.
About a quarter of the way through the five hour event one of the speakers seemed to be addressing me. My friend James interpreted: "He is saying feel at home. Feel at home."
I smiled to myself and thought I would struggle to find a place more un-like home anywhere on God's good earth.
But surprisingly, and in a way I cant understand let alone explain, his words had their effect and I found myself feeling completely at home.
That is Sudanese hospitality.

The day has come...

About six months ago I made one of the craziest decisions of my life – I resigned from my job and commenced making plans to move to South Sudan. What was even crazier was that no-one except me seemed surprised! But my head was spinning as I came to terms with such a radical re-definition of my life.

Now, the day has come. In a few hours I will land in Juba and, if things go according to plan, will remain in the country for the next six months.

I admit to feeling a bit nervous about entering a country that has been on the verge of war. And in addition to security concerns the challenge of being away from family and friends for so long is daunting. Somehow this vulnerability makes me more dependent upon God and the community of supporters who vicariously share the journey.

A few days ago a friend shared this poem…

To Risk (By William Arthur Ward)

To laugh is to risk appearing a fool,

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.

To reach out to another is to risk involvement,

To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.

To place your ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss.

To love is to risk not being loved in return,

To live is to risk dying,

To hope is to risk despair,

To try is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.

He may avoid suffering and sorrow,

But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or live.

Chained by his servitude he is a slave who has forfeited all freedom.

Only a person who risks is free.

So here we go…

A Lesson on Grace...

I was walking the streets of Addis Ababa yesterday and got chatting with a man who happened to be going the same way. This is common in Ethiopia – people are generally very friendly and also quite curious about foreigners. I’ve also come to realise that some will do their research, knowing which hotel I’m staying at and will have a story prepared which is designed to get me to part with a small amount of cash.
Having learned that I am spending some time here in preparation for working in South Sudan the gentleman enlightened me with his philosophy – how some will travel to the other side of the world to give help and show kindness, while those living right there line up to kill each other.
I smiled at his simple summary of global politics – and his attempt to flatter me.
As the conversation progressed he told me about his sister Sarah who works in the laundry at the hotel where Im staying, and about his daughter who contracted malaria while in Bahir Dar recently. Would I give 150 Birr so he can buy her medication? I had my doubts about his story but gave him 50 Birr – about $2.50.
Back at the hotel the receptionist told me they don’t have any employees named Sarah and I found myself reflecting on the concept of grace - undeserved kindness.