Embracing the Chaos

For all of us, there are those days when life seems to be throwing all its got in our direction and we wonder if it will ever let up. Then there is Sudan. Sudan is a daily in-your-face kind of place, and you begin to wonder if there is such a thing as a normal care-free day. Now, this maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but the point is - Sudan has its fair share of rough days.
Example:
You send a vehicle to the market to buy onions and an hour later get a call on the radio that the truck's been stuck in the mud for past 45 minutes. Buy the time you get the tractor ready and pull the vehicle out of the mud another hour and a half has gone by and a simple trip for onions has taken two and a half hours. Not to mention the discovery that the four-wheel drive doesn't work and the bushings need to be replaced...again.

My recent discovery has been that tripping over your computer cord can have devastating consequences. I haven't decided yet if my computer cord was severed by my falling computer when I tripped over it or if I somehow had the great fortune to have a rat eat through the cord on that same night - I may never know. The point is, my computer is now waiting for some way to be charged (I guess you can't just solder the wires back together - either that or I also managed to knock the connection lose inside the computer...now that would be Sudan!). Our team here is now enjoying the close fellowship of all sharing the same office computer.

Now, I know at this point it may sound like I am quite fed up with the way things are going - and to some extent I am - but actually, this is pretty much how life is sometimes and we just kind of have to get over ourselves and keep on going. A friend of mine, who spent the last two years here, recently wrote me and encouraged me to embrace the chaos that surrounds me. He knows, and I know, that it is far to easy to get caught up in the day to day details of our work that we forget to enjoy the amazing people that are around us and the craziness that makes up our days. Onions might take two and a half hours to buy, but digging the truck out of the mud has some pretty exciting moments. It is easy to get frustrated with the logistical nightmares that exist in a place like this, and so it is good to have the reminder to take it as it comes; embracing the chaos as it envelopes me...and in Sudan it always does!

On a slightly different note: I probably won't post an pictures until my computer is somehow charged again.

Rainy Sudan

It is raining. It is that soft, quiet kind of rain that rustles on the leaves of trees and glistens on the grass when the sun gets its moment of glory in a day shrouded by a prevailing layer of grey clouds. The rains have come. They came first with thundering storms announcing their arrival, and have now set in for days at a time with the soft pitter-patter that comes and goes, lulling the world to a slower pace of life.
It is a slower pace of life for everything but the grass and shrubs which seem to know that if not now, they will never grow. Already the grasses are four feet tall and in a few weeks time they will be seven feet, and then ten. The trees are bursting with leaves and spreading in every direction; this is their chance at life before the months of rain come to an end and everywhere green has covered this earth that only a few months ago lay barren, blown with dust and ash.
The evenings are cooler, by Sudanese standards, and I find myself putting on several layers of clothing. It is only 75 degrees and I laugh because I know my friends have their air-conditionings set to 70, but still, when the temperatures have been above 95 degrees for the last 8 months 75 feels like a winter of sorts. I have started wearing gumboots because my flip-flops just aren’t up to the task at hand, but thankfully this year several of the roads in town have been repaired and I am no longer pulling vehicles out of the mud on a daily basis.
This past week has seen many changes come to our compound. My friend Fletcher has finished up his contract and is headed back to the US. He has been replaced by another friend, Angelo, who spent the last year working at another location further south of here. While I am sad to see Fletcher leave, I am confident that Angelo will be able to pick up where Fletcher left off and the work will go on as usual. With Fletcher gone, I have moved tukols (mud huts) once again, replacing Fletcher in his larger, more spacious tukol. I anticipate being able to stay in this tukol for the rest of my time here which will be nice.
We have also just received a Kenyan engineer to start the work on our hospital ward that was burned in a fire in February. This is not the most ideal time of year to be building in Sudan but we are going to go ahead with it nonetheless and I will be quite busy ensuring that the proper supplies are gathered for the work to continue.



My New Tukol - Inside
My New Tukol - Outside
My "Dry Season Bed" In The Yard
My Yard
Flowers
Out on the Road
Everything Is Very Green
There Are A Lot of Donkeys Around
We Had A Vaccination Campaign For Goats, Sheep and Cattle



Fletcher and Angelo

Refugee

Compound

Town




“Half the babies born in the world are born in Asia today. Half of the world’s refugees are in Africa today going from country to country to find bread. Jesus, born in Palestine, that’s west Asia, the African refugee, understands the problems of the people…” Ray Bakke, Urbana 06

I’ve been doing some thinking today about Jesus the refugee. In the Christmas story a lot is made about the shepherds and magi, about the angles and the worship, but very little is made of the escape; of the little boys being slaughtered while the King made a daring dash across the desert to the green banks of the Nile. Jesus was a refuge, and in Africa nonetheless!!!
Refugees have a far too common presence in Africa. Country after country has displaced its people in wars over power, entitlement, wealth and food. The people set up mini-cities made of tents, which after years become more and more permanent as hope of a return home becomes bleak. They live on rations labeled, “From the American People” or “A Gift from the European Union”, and are supported by the booming business called International Relief. After years the people forget what it was like to dig a garden or have a job and the children grow up on stories of a home they have never seen.
Jesus was a refugee. I wonder what stories he heard. I am sure he heard of Moses, the great deliver, who had turned the water into blood and later parted the sea. Perhaps he was told of the temple, where he had been blessed by Simeon, and about the green hills of Galilee. We might never know what he was told, but one thing is certain, all refugees tell stories of home.
Jesus was a refugee. Somehow I find comfort in that. I find comfort in knowing that the King understands. He understands the children who are returning home to Sudan without having seen it. He understands the years away from home. He understands that this world we live in is not an easy place, or a fair place – after all, a whole village of boys died because he was born there.