chaos, laughter...what else?

Africa, to me, is full of contradiction. I’ll speak for South Sudan and Uganda; that’s what I know. It’s a place where chaos and tranquility exist all at once. A place that carries, deeply embedded, some of the greatest pain known to the human experience, but at the same time, some of the most extravagant beauty. A place wrought with challenges and obstacles that make you feel like digging yourself a hole in the ground or pulling your hair out, but at the same time, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. A place where countless problems arise that seem insurmountable, and then…breakthrough! A place where you meet such coldness and cruelty, and such hospitality and kindness. I think anyone who comes for an extended amount of time is greatly transformed on this South Sudanese soil.

In April, we helped care for a woman who had been gravely traumatized by experiences of extreme abuse. She hardly spoke, except to exclaim and rant when she was agitated, and would not tell us her name. We affectionately called her “April.” She was mentally unstable, and we searched for a way for her to receive medical and psychological care. It was quite an ordeal. She would wander around the compound, trying to escape, stealing kids’ clothes and shoes, and would become agitated when intervened with. We had to pursue her, wrestle her down when she struggled, fend off her punches and kicks, and desperately try to show love and compassion upon this person who was beyond difficult. – chaos

 Among the clothing “April” stole was a missionary’s shirt, another missionary’s sandals, and an 11-year old boy’s t-shirt. (She attempted to walk off with a laundry basket full of clothes but was gently apprehended, the clothing recovered). The boy approached me, so gently one day, with no anger or offense, and said, “Rina, that woman has taken my t-shirt. Can I have another one?” – beauty. I laughed sympathetically and said, “Sure.” I later saw “April” wearing the confiscated t-shirt; it was yellow and read “I HAVE ISSUES” across the front. I laughed hysterically and said to myself, “Yup, lady, you do.” – laughter

We contacted everyone we could think of regarding “April’s” case – the UNHCR, government officials. We held meetings for hours, racking our brains for solutions. Finally, there was a light. Through a series of connections made, I was put in touch with an agency in Uganda which could transition her to a rehabilitation center. After some arrangements, two escapes on her part, and a road trip involving spitting and peeing in the car and “April” attempting to jump out and pull the driver out of his seat, we finally got her to the agency. – challenges, breakthrough, and a whole lot ‘a laughter

The 2 times “April” escaped, our head pastor and staff supervisor, who was overseeing this whole case, was absolutely brilliant. He worked tirelessly to find “April”. When she was spotted once at a lodge, he went straight down and waited for 4 hours for her to turn up again. He went into town every day for hours one week, just driving around searching for her. I was touched by his compassion for this woman. Where most people just saw her as a crazy lady who's a burden, to be cast off and run off, he worked vigorously to help her. He kept saying that God really has a plan for her life because He has gotten so many people involved in her situation. I think he just really felt God's love for her and felt Him calling us to run after the 1 lost sheep. – beauty

The night before “April” was found (after her 2^nd escape), we had a terrible storm. No one in Yei had ever seen a storm like this. It was just normal rain at first, but then, for half an hour, it turned into a hurricane. The wind and rain were so strong that it blew off the roof of one of the kids' houses and sent it flying across the compound, almost blew off another roof, and knocked down the massive coconut tree that stands in the middle of the compound. Amazingly, this happened in the middle of the night, so none of the children were harmed. If it had happened mid-day, when kids roam around the compound, someone could have died. – Jesus, purely

South Sudan keeps me on my toes. When I think I’ve seen it all, I often find I am mistaken. The appearance of new challenges, new craziness, is unpleasant at times, but it always makes for a great story, and certainly a great laugh.

thankfulness

I’ve had a real perspective change the last few weeks here. It has hit me that I am not going to be in South Sudan forever, and this has made me realize how much I love it here. Let me just talk about that. I love the African way of life. I was made for it – the slow-pace of life, the priority placed on relationship over completing tasks and maintaining schedules. I’ve had work days where I’ll sit and talk with a co-worker for hours about their life, their experiences, and put aside my work until the next day, because here, it’s more important to build and maintain a relationship than complete the job. I love the kids. They are crazy, loud, unruly, disobedient, sweet, hilarious, hard-working, lazy, helpful, all at the same time. I’ll be pulling my hair out one moment because I’ve told them for the 10th time to stop littering on the compound, and the next moment, reveling in the sweetness of having a few over at my house coloring on the floor or dancing to Shakira. I love the craziness of it all. I love that I’m excited every day to get up and go to work, that I don’t dread it. How many people get that? I love the freshness of each day. Sometimes new wonderful things happen, sometimes new hard situations arise, but there’s no mundane-ness to life here. Every day takes on a life of its own. I have more funny stories and crazy experiences than I can count. Sudan is intense – full of life and laughter, pain and trauma, but it is anything but boring.

I’ve been thinking about how dwelling on past hard times or letting the many various daily challenges get to you really takes away from your enjoyment of a period in your life. Challenges will come with any season, and focusing on those things steals the joy of that season. So in realizing I won’t be here forever, I’ve been able to let difficulties go, when they occur, and instead, drink in the joy of being here now. I’ve started to focus on what I have instead of what I lack, on the dreams that have been fulfilled rather than the desires that have (yet) not been. I know that one day I won’t be here, and I know how deeply I will miss it once I’m gone.
If I had never come to Sudan, I may be married by now. I may have never experienced some of the devastating loneliness and isolation that were my habitual companions during that first year. I may not have lost 20 pounds the first 6 months because I had no stove and had to eat basic compound food. I would not encountered heart-breaking corruption and harassment because of my skin color. And I definitely would not have had malaria 7 times. But…I also would never have matured in my worldview – of poverty, of cultures, of the affects of Western aid on the African continent and how to help in a manner that is healthy and sustainable. I would not have had the romanticism of missions knocked out of me. I would not have encountered God in the depths of disillusionment and brokenness and had Him reform my understanding of who He was and who I was to Him – that He was Father and I was Daughter, above all else. I probably would still be sinking in the selfish ambition that I tried for so long to defeat but was only fully overcome through that season of isolation, a crucible God used to crush it and purify me into more of His likeness. I would not have witnessed how true the Gospel is – that He makes all things new. I would not have heard laughter from some of the poorest people on earth – the most genuine sound from people who truly possess joy. Materially-speaking, they have nothing, but I have learned that in matters of the soul – the richness of community, friendship, and ability to enjoy life – what they have is unquantifiable, and we Westerners need a lot more of it.

All that to say, I have felt overwhelmingly thankful and extremely lucky lately. My life is great 

recent days and miracles

I haven’t written in a long time…sorry :). Mid-November to January, I was in the US on holiday and had a great time. I returned to a birthday celebration and a new found contentment in Sudan. I think I finally feel at peace with myself and where I’m at in life. My heart went through a lot of turmoil the last few years, questioning almost everything – who I was, who God was, where I was going, what I should be doing, who I should be with. Past surety and confidence were replaced with fear and instability. Life in Sudan did not happen as planned, and I did not feel as I expected to feel. Missions is not what I thought it would be – my romanticized, Western, I’m-gonna-save-the-world mindset was shattered, and a lot of who I thought I was and what I believed God had put in my heart was shattered with it. I felt abandoned, forgotten by God, and I struggled to understand, trust, find that He was good and very much at work. As time went on, some pieces would slowly mend; others refused to and continued to break. Through hard times, and amazing times as well, for one reason or another, peace seemed to always evade me. The last few weeks, for the first time in a long while, I’ve begun to feel content again. Not that everything is well, the near future clear, all my questions answered and doubts relieved, or that all the painful experiences have been explained and comprehended. Not at all. Actually, God has not made sense of everything, and He may never. Nevertheless, God has shown Himself faithful and most importantly, present, as One who cares, guides, reveals. I’ve begun to feel a not-so-familiar contentment that I’ve longed for desperately. I’m enjoying the feeling.

The last 2 months have been wonderful. Admittedly, for the first time in my 2 years here, I’ve felt the general toll that this place has taken on me. Not an overwhelming tiredness, but a realistic sense of the accumulation of all the deaths, cultural misunderstandings, corruption, lack of electricity and decent food, witchcraft, malaria, and 110 degree heat, has had on my soul. But…I’ve also felt amazed anew by this place, and so grateful for the privilege to have been and still be here. I’ve witnessed God’s beauty and laughter among people I have come to know as some of the most beautiful on earth. I have learned to see quiet, everyday miracles.

One of the most amazing ones, and truly one of the best moments of my life, happened recently with one of our young men, “John” (name changed for privacy). He grew up in the Nuba Mountains, an area that seems to constantly be at war. In the midst of extreme poverty and conflict, John had a thirst for knowledge and a natural aptitude for leaning. He used to sneak behind his older sister to school and stand at the back or the classroom, not having the proper attire. He remembers the school shifting into the forests or the caves, hours away, when the bombs of the 2nd Civil War were dropped on his homeland. He came to Iris Ministries at age 16, leaving behind family and all he knew and entering a completely new culture because of his yearning for an education (note: South Sudan, mostly Christian and Black, is very different from the Arab and Muslim North). He wasn’t an orphan, like most of our kids, or a Christian, but Iris’ late Sudanese director saw God’s hand on his life and made a way for him to come to Yei. John persevered through culture shock, loneliness, and bad food, to attend school, and met Jesus along the way. He quickly soared in high school, maintaining a place at the top of his class all 4 years.

Last year, I watched John’s face change as bombs were dropped on his beloved homeland once again. I sat with him as he cried, expressing anger and guilt for leaving Nuba, feeling like he should be there suffering with his people. I looked at him straight on and reminded him of how he came to Yei, how God had picked him out, how brilliant he was. I told him of the destiny on his life, that God brought him out so that he could one day attain a place of influence and enact change on behalf of his people. I don’t think he really cared for what I had to say in that moment, he was so heartbroken, but deep down, I believe he knew it was truth.

John completed his high school exiting exams in October. These exams are issued by the Ugandan school system because that is the curriculum used in South Sudan (South Sudan does not have its own). They’re extremely difficult, especially for South Sudanese students whose education system is so poor and not anywhere near the caliber of a Ugandan school. But both Ugandan and South Sudanese students take the same exams and are evaluated on the same level. So John studied…hard. And where others came back from the day’s testing complaining how hard that day’s test had been, John would say, “Yeah, it was fine” – confident. John wants to work in government, so he needed to continue his education beyond high school. In East Africa, a student cannot got to university directly after high school but must complete 2 years’ study in a post-high school secondary school first. The closest secondary schools are in Uganda, none in South Sudan/ The problem was, exam scores traditionally don’t come out until March for South Sudanese students, and many of these secondary schools begin their semester end of February. (Results for Uganda students come out 1st week of February. The injustice of this is a topic for another time). Not only this, but Ugandan schools are very competitive and most of the spots fill up with Ugandan students quickly. So if John were to get his results in time to get into a secondary school this year, he had to have done extremely well and it had to be an absolute miracle. My friend Wendy worked tirelessly to make it happen – bombarding the exam center and South Sudan Ministry of education with emails, calling everybody, visiting education offices…everything. We prayed a lot too. All the contact caught their attention because the head of the Ministry of Education, “Stephen”, emailed and assured us we would obtain results for John early. He even said he would personally travel down to Uganda to make sure this happened, if necessary. Through many phone conversations and the absolute favor of God, we reached an agreement where John could retrieve his results in person from the South Sudan education representatives in Kampala (the capital of Uganda). Stephen specifically contacted these reps to make this arrangement on our behalf, for John. John traveled to Kampala with one of our missionaries, preparing to pick up results when they came out and visiting various schools on the faith-based assumption he’d get his results in time and perform well enough to be enrolled. We called every day to check on the status of the results, and sure enough, the day after they were officially released, John picked them up. Wendy gets a text that day and screams, shows me, I scream. And we both just screamed and jumped around for several minutes. John got one of the top grades possible on the exam, of all Ugandan and South Sudanese students collectively, and was in the top 10 for all of South Sudan!!!! It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life. Not only was John able to retrieve results a full3 weeks before ANY other Sudanese student, he got one of the top grades of ALL exam-takers that year. His grades and the entire process were nothing short of a miracle. Even the Sudanese educations reps in the office who handed John the results were ecstatic. He proceeded to some of the schools with results in hand, catching the attention of the principals, one in particular, who, even though most of the spots in his school were already filled, could not believe a student from the South Sudanese [awful] education system could achieve an exam result like that. Noting his brilliance, the principal made a spot for John. John started school 2 weeks ago, very well on his way to being that man of influence to affect change for his people, God’s favor and love on his life.

From the mountains of Nuba, war, poverty, to a top school in Uganda, to ……who know where. Sounds like the makings of a best-seller. But better yet, the story resonates and spills over with the heart and hand of our beautiful God, for those who are unnoticed and inconsequential, living in a tiny village 95% of the world hasn’t heard of. But God sees and God chooses, calls out, brings forth…all the time. I’ve been blessed to see just one instance of it with John. And I am honored to be a part of this young man’s life and to call him my friend.

i believe He heals

last week, a 15-year old girl drowned in a small pond right outside our compound fence. she was not one of the Iris children, but a community child who attended our primary school. i was getting ready to wash clothes when i saw a stampede of children run from the school across the compound to the pond. as i made my way over, i heard crying and murmurings "she died..." i got there in time to see some school teachers pulling her body out of the water and i waded through as quickly as i could, panic in my heart, softly praying. i didn't understand how someone that size could drown in a relatively shallow pool, but she couldn't swim and when she slipped and fell in, she panicked (apparently the reason many people drown when they shouldn't have). the girls with her ran to get the headmaster, but by the time he arrived, it was too late. i performed CPR and mouth-to-mouth on her for some time, to no avail. i and several others prayed over her as well, also to no avail. we ended up transporting her body to the local hospital morgue, such an eerie experience. even though i had no relationship with this girl, a child's death is a painful tragedy. on the way to the hospital, i kept thinking "if those girls had just gone to the guards (who were right near the pond) instead of running all the way back to the school....if there was a defibrillator in the hospital...." it just seemed like such a senseless death.

around here, there's no modern medicine, no ambulances, no good roads. there's nothing to lean on and no other option except the Lord's power. it's so difficult for me to reconcile the fact that i believe God to heal and raise the dead, and fully believed for it in this situation, and the fact that it didn't happen. i don't understand why, when it truly is the only hope. i guess this incident has caused me to hunger for that more, for God to move in power and manifest Himself among us, to petition God and give Him no rest (Isaiah 62:7). the people here see so much death and are so heavy-laden as a result that they desperately need to witness the life that Jesus brings to alleviate some of that burden. i guess there's not much else to do but believe God to be who He says He is and continue to cry out for Him to come.

highlights from the last few months

i haven't written in a ridiculously long time. i've been busier the last few months than i've ever been in my life. i traveled to Uganda at the beginning of September for a short holiday, desperately needing a break and some good food in my system. i laid by the pool for 3 days, got a wonderful haircut and pedicure, and had lunch with one of our recent secondary school graduates who is currently studying in Kampala. i’ve learned many things since moving to the mission field almost 2 years ago, one of them being to fully enjoy good food and pampering and not feel bad about it. i used to, thinking “the poor don’t get this, so I will deprive myself of it”. that is not God’s heart at all. if He blesses me with something, He wants me to enjoy it and enjoy life. it can’t be just hardship and sacrifice all the time. as a missionary, i’ve learned to work hard and play hard.

we battled a sickness outbreak on the compound a few weeks ago. about 25 kids had malaria and 15 had typhoid. we are not sure that it was typhoid because the tests used here are outdated and inaccurate. whatever it was, it was bad. i wasn't around for most of the outbreak. after getting back from Uganda, i felt i was still too tired to re-enter the craziness of work and went to stay with some friends in town for a few days. the other missionaries and some visitors did an amazing job handling it, treating kids and driving to the clinic as much as 4 times a day on some of the worst roads you can imagine (let's just say it takes 30 minutes to go 5 miles). We decided to medicate all the kids with a generic antibiotic that treats multiple sicknesses, to nip this thing in the bud. so followed a week long process of medicating 119 Sudanese kids twice a day – a very hectic, exhausting undertaking. eventually, all kids were treated and cured.

we took in a girl off the streets in July. she had been living in the local market for 2 years, the store owners told us. we wondered if her parents had died and she had no one to look after her. further investigation showed that both her parents are alive but dumped her on the streets because she has a severe learning disability, and the mentally disabled are viewed as less than human here. she didn't know her name, so we called her Mercy. she was pretty wild when she came, constantly running around, attacking kids, not responding to instruction. when you are treated like an animal, you begin to act like one. i wondered how we were going to handle this, and whether we should have even taken her in. but how could we have passed her by? that is not the love of Christ. even though it was going to be difficult, her life was worth it. there were many times of prayer over her, one in particular that I participated in. it was truly one of the most amazing experiences of my life. we sat together on a grass mat with the some other missionaries, kids, and staff. i played guitar and worshipped over Mercy the whole time. the others prayed as the Lord led. she sat still, the calmest I’ve ever seen her. the most beautiful part was seeing the Sudanese pray over her. in a culture where people like her are thrown out, they were embracing her and pouring out love. Eudita, our head mama, at one point took Mercy on her lap, held her, and wept over her. most of us started crying at that point. the whole experience was like watching Jesus pull the lowest, most unlovely person out of the deepest gutter and into love and worth and beauty. Mercy has greatly improved since this time. she is still rather hyper and active, but calmer, more obedient, and not violent towards the other children. God’s at it again, doing those amazing things He does.

on a funny note, I went to Juba a few months ago with one of the other missionaries, for work purposes. we got to eat cheese and burgers and melt in the blistering heat. on the way there, we were stopped at a checkpoint and asked to show our paperwork. as we were sitting with the immigration official, he said, “many people come to our country as missionaries or pastors but they are actually disguised as CIA agents. so, you two must be CIA agents.” i had to try really hard to not burst out laughing. we calmly assured him we were not CIA agents, and he ended up buying us water and soda. it’s a moment I will always laugh about.

we’ve gotten several new long term missionaries, as well as a steady stream of short term visitors, over the last few months. it’s amazing how God has answered my prayers of last year, when there were 3 of us total and 2 or 1 at any given time on base. now there are 7, and more coming next year. it changes your whole experience to have people from your culture, who understand the way you think and feel, to talk to on a regular basis. we found a meat grinder in town and made delicious burgers last week. i’ve learned to make hummus, fajitas, and stuffed peppers and there’s now mozzarella cheese in town. one of the newest missionaries bought an entire solar power system, so there is now power in the staff office and each of the houses. the quality of life is definitely improving around here.

those have been the happenings of the last few months. it's sometimes crazy, sometimes funny, but always an adventure.

poem for the Day of the African Child

This poem was recited by the children of Iris Ministries Dream Primary School on the Day of the African Child, a day of awareness about the plight of children. We're not sure who the author is, but it's very poignant and expresses well the pain and plea of the children of Sudan and other war-torn nations:

“War. War. War. Where do you come from?

You destroy education, property, the whole nation.

You are a killer!

War. War. War. Your work is destruction, destruction, destruction.

You make us fear. You bring worries, sorrows, crying, and death.

Children, Children, Children. Oh my dear children. What can we do?

We are left without parents, education, food, clothes.

Who can help us?

I thank God for kind people, NGOs, churches, and government for their concern for us.

Good news to the people of South Sudan. Parents, NGOs, and government.

From now forever, say no to war.

We need peace, unity, happiness, education, and development in our nation, South Sudan.

Say no to war. No to war. No to war. No to war.”

Nuba - conflict and God's heart

a few weeks ago, fighting and bombing broke out in the Nuba Mountains, located in North Sudan in a region called South Kordofan. even though Nuba belongs to the North, many of the people fought for the southern army during the civil war and many are allied with South Sudan in their hearts. they don't want to be under an Arab government, but they don't have a choice. the government gave an order for all southern-allied forces in Nuba to disarm, which created tension and led to fighting on the ground. then bombs started being dropped, and are still dropping, where about 70,000 people have been forced to flee as refugees.

3 of our boys - Malik, Kafi, Kizito - are from Nuba. their families are residing there. they were so distressed the day it began...angry, afraid, disillusioned. Malik heard talk of the people having to flee to the caves for shelter. he remembers doing this as a 9-year old boy, and how horrible it was. they hadn't been been able to get in contact with their families and were just hearing of attacks near their villages, waiting almost in anticipation to hear a report of a loved one's death. i sat with them for hours that night, wept, feeling their burden like it was my own. these guys have become my brothers, and i really felt like this suffering was happening to my family.

i felt God awakening my heart again. i used to feel the burden of the Lord for the poor and suffering so strong and just weep for hours in intercession. i'm starting to feel that again, and even though it hurts, i'm glad for it. i want to feel His heart for the poor, weep with Him, and call down His power to turn it all around.

the week of the beginnings of the Nuba conflict, and while my friend and i have been praying hard, i was teaching at a youth conference in town. a girl walked up to me and said "My name is Laughter." she was from Nuba. a few days later, a young man stood out to me in my class. i saw Jesus in Him and felt he was special. i met him the next day. he was also from Nuba. it was such a kiss from the Lord, encouragement that He was hearing our prayers and moving. please keep praying for Nuba, and our boys.