If I could sum up my life right now I’d sum it up with the song “Big Sam Thompson” by Chris Thile. I find it somewhat ironic that I am listening to bluegrass music in the 105 degree heat of a parched Sudan, as I typically associate bluegrass music with the back-country hills of America where the music seems to blend with the beauty of the mountains and the changing of the seasons. Nonetheless, I swing gently in my hammock and listen as the music winds its way through the rafters of my thatch home; the violin’s melody hovering in the hot air, punctuated by the piercing notes of the mandolin. I sway in my hammock, sweating in the extreme afternoon heat, and let the music remind me of all that is beautiful and painful in this world, because after all, the music if filled with both beauty and pain.
I think there are times when our lives really could be put to a song that speaks of the hardships, victories and love we are encountering. We go through the day uncertain of what might befall us, trusting that regardless of what may come, there is One who knows what he is doing with our lives. As I prepare to move on from my present work, there are a lot of uncertainties that lie ahead, looming like some vast precipice on the horizon. In times like this it is far too easy to forget to look around. It is far to easy to miss the beauty that is never too far beyond our next footfall. I am reminded over and over again that we are told to “wait on the Lord”. I think that perhaps part of waiting is also taking the time to look around; taking the time to let the music lift our spirits out of dumps and just reveling in the wonder of the moment we are in regardless of all the doubt and fear it may hold.
My dad and his good friend Mukanirwa like to remind each other is Swahili, “Usi tembea imbele ya Yesu”, which simply means, “you shouldn’t walk in front of Jesus”. It is a great reminder when times are uncertain. Getting ahead of Jesus usually leads to falling off the precipice of uncertainty that lies ahead, while following him leads to green pastures and cool waters where the soul is refreshed and Jesus gets the glory.
Maybe I am just suffering a nostalgic moment on a quiet afternoon as I listen to my music, but then again, it is a moment filled with longing and waiting for the King. It is a moment when, despite the questions that plague the road ahead, I am able to rest because I know the One who knows the answers to all those questions.
Also I wanted to let you know that I have started a separate blog for some of my attempts at poetry. If you're interested it can be found at the wazi poet.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Messy Hands
I was looking at my hands, and they are a mess! For starters, they are sweaty and the sweat does a marvelous job of mixing with the dust that is everywhere to form mud. Then, of course, there is some grease and a little bit of paint dotting my fingers and the creases of my palms where it just won't wash out. Add to that the blotchy dots where my skin is reacting to the soap I’ve been using and the blister from the digging work I was doing today and it is more than apparent that my hands are a mess.
One of my favorite worship songs is a beautiful Spanish song that talks about offering our hands and our lives to the Lord because he is precious to us. I was listening to that song and looked at my hands and all I could think was – what a mess! As I was thinking that, it also struck me that it was a great analogy for the rest of my life. I come to Jesus and I am a mess just like my hands are. But I come anyway because he didn’t come to save perfect people but messed up people. He doesn’t even use perfect people to do his work but builds his kingdom on the offering of our messy lives for his service. That is a huge comfort to me.
My time here in this part of Sudan is quickly drawing to a close. I am planning on leaving here in mid-March and where I go from here is still uncertain which can be a bit daunting. What the journey looks like from here is far from certain but I am confident that the King will be able to take these messy hands of mine and use them for something noble and true that builds up his Kingdom. Sometimes I look at my hands, or my life, and I wonder what purpose they will be used for, especially in their current state. It is a good thing I serve a creative King who has a use for me!
One of my favorite worship songs is a beautiful Spanish song that talks about offering our hands and our lives to the Lord because he is precious to us. I was listening to that song and looked at my hands and all I could think was – what a mess! As I was thinking that, it also struck me that it was a great analogy for the rest of my life. I come to Jesus and I am a mess just like my hands are. But I come anyway because he didn’t come to save perfect people but messed up people. He doesn’t even use perfect people to do his work but builds his kingdom on the offering of our messy lives for his service. That is a huge comfort to me.
My time here in this part of Sudan is quickly drawing to a close. I am planning on leaving here in mid-March and where I go from here is still uncertain which can be a bit daunting. What the journey looks like from here is far from certain but I am confident that the King will be able to take these messy hands of mine and use them for something noble and true that builds up his Kingdom. Sometimes I look at my hands, or my life, and I wonder what purpose they will be used for, especially in their current state. It is a good thing I serve a creative King who has a use for me!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Clarity
In the past week I have twice had children scrounging through the refuse of what I have failed to eat. Life, it seems, is augmented by moments of ephemeral clarity that indelibly drive truths about love and joy and suffering into the fabric of our lives. It may be that moment in some song or in the pages of a heart-wrenching parable that shoves a lump into one’s throat and ends with tears trickling through trembling hands to muddy the dusty tennis-shoes below. Maybe it is watching ashen dust billow out from a vehicle as it winds it way through some barren wasteland at the dusk of the day, or that moment when you walk outside and gasp at the sprinkling of diamonds in the sky. Perhaps it is the scent of a rose or a hug when you needed one; for each of us these moments come in there own way and timing.
For me, these moments have often involved children in one way or another; whether it is children recklessly abandoning themselves in their parents embrace, running wild at play or the desperate look of a mother watching over her sick child. Children are the easiest examples of joy and contentment we can find around us and perhaps because of this, they also offer the starkest view of our troubled world.
Several days ago I was enjoying a relaxing moment on our kitchen porch when a small band of children came wandering up to our compound and began to sift through the garbage pit that lies just outside our fence. They eagerly shuffled through the mess that is there, looking for plastic soda bottles and anything else they deemed valuable before wandering off in search of valuables elsewhere. A few days later, I was eating outside near a street in a town north of here when a small boy approached our table as we were finishing. He looked rather pitifully at us and gestured at what remained on our table. We nodded, and he quickly grabbed what remained of the food and walked across the street to devour it. I had been contemplating eating a small ice-cream that was just handed to me…ice-cream never tasted worse!
We live in a world where children get excited about finding plastic soda bottles and are hungry enough to scrounge for food from strangers’ plates. I don’t have any answers. Everywhere I go I find hungry children, children dying from curable diseases and children who spend there days sorting through trash. Most of these children are happy if all I do is wave to them….I want to do so much more.
There are those moments of clarity when we can see such goodness and beauty around us, and there are those moments when we realize all too clearly that things are desperately out of order; moments that break our hearts, even as our King’s heart is broken. I hope I have the courage to respond as my King responds.
For me, these moments have often involved children in one way or another; whether it is children recklessly abandoning themselves in their parents embrace, running wild at play or the desperate look of a mother watching over her sick child. Children are the easiest examples of joy and contentment we can find around us and perhaps because of this, they also offer the starkest view of our troubled world.
Several days ago I was enjoying a relaxing moment on our kitchen porch when a small band of children came wandering up to our compound and began to sift through the garbage pit that lies just outside our fence. They eagerly shuffled through the mess that is there, looking for plastic soda bottles and anything else they deemed valuable before wandering off in search of valuables elsewhere. A few days later, I was eating outside near a street in a town north of here when a small boy approached our table as we were finishing. He looked rather pitifully at us and gestured at what remained on our table. We nodded, and he quickly grabbed what remained of the food and walked across the street to devour it. I had been contemplating eating a small ice-cream that was just handed to me…ice-cream never tasted worse!
We live in a world where children get excited about finding plastic soda bottles and are hungry enough to scrounge for food from strangers’ plates. I don’t have any answers. Everywhere I go I find hungry children, children dying from curable diseases and children who spend there days sorting through trash. Most of these children are happy if all I do is wave to them….I want to do so much more.
There are those moments of clarity when we can see such goodness and beauty around us, and there are those moments when we realize all too clearly that things are desperately out of order; moments that break our hearts, even as our King’s heart is broken. I hope I have the courage to respond as my King responds.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Jan 9 - CPA Day!
On January 9th we celebrated the CPA(Comprehensive Peace Agreement) here in South Sudan. It was a celebration of 4 years of peace. There were a lot of traditional dances and a few speeches highlighting the importance of continuing the peace. Here are some pictures from the day. Enjoy!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Looking Back
It seems, this time of year, a lot of time is spent looking back. We look back on memories from years ago and we look back on the past year and, as is often the case, we are left to wonder how we ever made it to where we are at. As I look back on this past year, I am amazed by all that has happened and the strength that has been given to press on.
I am sure if you were to go back through my posts from this year you might begin to wonder if anything good ever happens in Sudan. I have experienced two destructive fires, a wind that blew the roof off our operating theatre, traveled through mud and dust over countless miles of ruts referred to as roads and had encounters with people who are at times more than frustrating to deal with. I, myself, have at times wondered if Sudan ever offers anything but calamity to those who live within its borders, and have spent many sleepless nights listening to the rats rustle through the thatch above my head while questioning how I ever ended up in such a backward place.
I am reminded, however, that the King did not enter a world that had its act together, but rather, he entered as light into darkness; as a breath of sanity in the midst of our insanity. We like to sing Christmas carols such as “Silent Night” and “O Holy Night” that make us think of Christ’s birth as the most serene moment in history, when in fact it, if some thought is given to the event one would be led to believe that it was most likely far from tranquil. The Author of creation, mother screaming in pain, came wailing into the world covered in birth and all that it entails, and like all new born children must have wondered at what an awfully uncomfortable place this was. Sure, there were shepherds, wisemen and angels, but there was also infanticide, a daring escape and refugee status without the UNHCR to hand out free food and blankets. Our King did not enter the world of storybook and legend, he entered OUR world; the world where we sit in the filth of our humanity, dripping with the wretchedness of our vain efforts to fix ourselves, in desperate need of a Savior.
I have had the immense privilege to be at home in Uganda with my family for Christmas. Christmas day was spent having fun in the warm waters of Lake Victoria but also came with the sad reminder of the fallen world we live in. We received news that our “home” village in Congo, Faradje, was attached by the Ugandan LRA rebel group. Our friends’ homes were burned down and many people were killed and abducted. This news has brought with it a strong mix of emotions. I find myself angry that such atrocities are committed and frustrated by my own inability to do anything about it. We do, indeed, live in a monumental mess of a world!!
This morning, a Congolese pastor friend mentioned that the story of David and Goliath has been a great encouragement to him as he looks at the troubles in Congo and his testimony has in turn encouraged me as I think of my work in Sudan and the continuing violence in Congo. The Israelites were afraid of the pagan giant and out of the bush walked a boy with a sling and some rocks to take him down. David didn’t see the giant, he saw the Great Shaddai (Almighty) and took up His battle cry. Our King entered our crazy world to give us hope and light. Sometimes it is daunting living in this world so full of darkness, but we have such a wonderful opportunity to face this darkness with the light that has been so freely given to us. May it be so.
I am sure if you were to go back through my posts from this year you might begin to wonder if anything good ever happens in Sudan. I have experienced two destructive fires, a wind that blew the roof off our operating theatre, traveled through mud and dust over countless miles of ruts referred to as roads and had encounters with people who are at times more than frustrating to deal with. I, myself, have at times wondered if Sudan ever offers anything but calamity to those who live within its borders, and have spent many sleepless nights listening to the rats rustle through the thatch above my head while questioning how I ever ended up in such a backward place.
I am reminded, however, that the King did not enter a world that had its act together, but rather, he entered as light into darkness; as a breath of sanity in the midst of our insanity. We like to sing Christmas carols such as “Silent Night” and “O Holy Night” that make us think of Christ’s birth as the most serene moment in history, when in fact it, if some thought is given to the event one would be led to believe that it was most likely far from tranquil. The Author of creation, mother screaming in pain, came wailing into the world covered in birth and all that it entails, and like all new born children must have wondered at what an awfully uncomfortable place this was. Sure, there were shepherds, wisemen and angels, but there was also infanticide, a daring escape and refugee status without the UNHCR to hand out free food and blankets. Our King did not enter the world of storybook and legend, he entered OUR world; the world where we sit in the filth of our humanity, dripping with the wretchedness of our vain efforts to fix ourselves, in desperate need of a Savior.
I have had the immense privilege to be at home in Uganda with my family for Christmas. Christmas day was spent having fun in the warm waters of Lake Victoria but also came with the sad reminder of the fallen world we live in. We received news that our “home” village in Congo, Faradje, was attached by the Ugandan LRA rebel group. Our friends’ homes were burned down and many people were killed and abducted. This news has brought with it a strong mix of emotions. I find myself angry that such atrocities are committed and frustrated by my own inability to do anything about it. We do, indeed, live in a monumental mess of a world!!
This morning, a Congolese pastor friend mentioned that the story of David and Goliath has been a great encouragement to him as he looks at the troubles in Congo and his testimony has in turn encouraged me as I think of my work in Sudan and the continuing violence in Congo. The Israelites were afraid of the pagan giant and out of the bush walked a boy with a sling and some rocks to take him down. David didn’t see the giant, he saw the Great Shaddai (Almighty) and took up His battle cry. Our King entered our crazy world to give us hope and light. Sometimes it is daunting living in this world so full of darkness, but we have such a wonderful opportunity to face this darkness with the light that has been so freely given to us. May it be so.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
More Fires, Etc....
Some of you, I am sure, have been wondering where I have disappeared to for the last little while. For those of you who have been eagerly awaiting my next post…I apologize.
A lot has happened since my last post, and you would think that it would give me lots to write about, which on one hand it does, but on the other hand it has meant that I have been super busy. Two weeks ago I got back from my R&R in Kenya where I was able to spend some time with my parents and cousins which was great fun. We went go-carting for my birthday and tried to crash each other into the tire walls. I was also able to go up to Rift Valley Academy, my former high school, where I spent a few days hanging out with two of my former classmates who are on staff as well as with some former teachers. It was good to go back and see how much has changed and to realize how much I have changed since my time there. It was also nice to spend some time in the pottery room working on some coffee mugs, which is something I really enjoy doing.
When I got back here there was a lot of work waiting for me. Angelo, our program manager, went to the states as I came back from Kenya which left me in charge. We are currently finishing up a building project at the hospital while also trying to start one at a school in town. At the same time we are also running our usual projects around town. A few days after I got back I had to travel north for an important government meeting as well as to purchase some supplies for our compound. When I returned our school had its closing ceremony which I needed to attend so that I could give a speech on behalf of our organization. The next day I was invited to give another speech at a neighboring school that was also closing. As you may have guessed, Sudanese love speeches.
The second speech day was also Thanksgiving. We were able to get a turkey from Kenya and I am quite proud to say that I successfully figured out how to cook it in our small gas oven. We had a few guests over to celebrate, and in spite of the speech giving, we were able to take most of the day off. I celebrated by taking a nap in the 100 degree heat in my hammock on the porch. I would have willingly shared some of my heat with many of you farther north suffering in the cold!
Last Friday brought about some big changes to our compound. I traveled south to our farm project and as I was returning I noticed a large column of smoke in the distance. It seemed to be coming from the direction of our compound and I thought that perhaps it was the hill behind our compound burning, because it still had a lot of dry grass on it. A few minutes later I received a frantic call from one of my colleagues urging me to get back to our compound as it was on fire. I rushed back as fast as the bumpy road would allow and arrived to see smoke rising from all corners of our compound. I ran past our burning fence and arrived in time to watch one of our tukols finish burning to the ground. I walked around a bit dazed for a few minutes and utterly overwhelmed; almost all of our fence was burned down, we had lost two tukols, three latrines, two storerooms and we had many fuel drums that burned for hours. We fought out the remaining fire on the fences as it traveled near to the tukols but stayed far from the fuel storeroom as it went up in a blaze of Av-gas, Diesel, Petrol and Jet-A One. At one point a cylinder of Acetylene, which is used for gas welding, exploded causing quite a stir among those of us watching.
As a team, my colleagues and I gathered to give thanks to our King that no one was injured. The fire had come with a fierce wind that was essentially unstoppable and in so many ways it was a miracle that no one was injured. We do not understand why things like this happen but we do know that God is in control. Throughout this ordeal it has been amazing to revel in the grace God has given me in dealing with this situation. He has given me strength and wisdom when I have needed them and provided patience and the will to persevere.
Below you’ll find some pictures of the fire. Most of them are from colleagues (David Bock and Sammy Muraya) who were able to get pictures before our compound was on fire and during the attempts to put it out. The pictures from the day after the fire are mine.
The fire came from the north-west and went up the hill next to us.
Pushed by a strong wind it also approached our compound.
Once the fence was on fire, the wind carried the fire toward our storerooms.
It also carried it toward our tukols. Mine is the one in the middle of these burning fences.
The wind pushed the fire from one fence to another. (All our fences were made of grass.)
The wind pushed the fire from one of the fences onto our doctor's tukol.
I had been visiting our farm and arrived quite overwhelmed.
We had a several barrels of fuel that caught fire. Not to mention many empty barrels of Jet-A One.
We lost several quad-bikes in the fire.
We gathered to give thanks that no one was hurt.
This was our fuel storeroom.
Quadbike
Latrine
Looking at the hill.
Gaurd Tukol.
Generator/Welder
Looking at our compound from the burned hill.
The fence.
Blown up Acetylene tank.
A lot has happened since my last post, and you would think that it would give me lots to write about, which on one hand it does, but on the other hand it has meant that I have been super busy. Two weeks ago I got back from my R&R in Kenya where I was able to spend some time with my parents and cousins which was great fun. We went go-carting for my birthday and tried to crash each other into the tire walls. I was also able to go up to Rift Valley Academy, my former high school, where I spent a few days hanging out with two of my former classmates who are on staff as well as with some former teachers. It was good to go back and see how much has changed and to realize how much I have changed since my time there. It was also nice to spend some time in the pottery room working on some coffee mugs, which is something I really enjoy doing.
When I got back here there was a lot of work waiting for me. Angelo, our program manager, went to the states as I came back from Kenya which left me in charge. We are currently finishing up a building project at the hospital while also trying to start one at a school in town. At the same time we are also running our usual projects around town. A few days after I got back I had to travel north for an important government meeting as well as to purchase some supplies for our compound. When I returned our school had its closing ceremony which I needed to attend so that I could give a speech on behalf of our organization. The next day I was invited to give another speech at a neighboring school that was also closing. As you may have guessed, Sudanese love speeches.
The second speech day was also Thanksgiving. We were able to get a turkey from Kenya and I am quite proud to say that I successfully figured out how to cook it in our small gas oven. We had a few guests over to celebrate, and in spite of the speech giving, we were able to take most of the day off. I celebrated by taking a nap in the 100 degree heat in my hammock on the porch. I would have willingly shared some of my heat with many of you farther north suffering in the cold!
Last Friday brought about some big changes to our compound. I traveled south to our farm project and as I was returning I noticed a large column of smoke in the distance. It seemed to be coming from the direction of our compound and I thought that perhaps it was the hill behind our compound burning, because it still had a lot of dry grass on it. A few minutes later I received a frantic call from one of my colleagues urging me to get back to our compound as it was on fire. I rushed back as fast as the bumpy road would allow and arrived to see smoke rising from all corners of our compound. I ran past our burning fence and arrived in time to watch one of our tukols finish burning to the ground. I walked around a bit dazed for a few minutes and utterly overwhelmed; almost all of our fence was burned down, we had lost two tukols, three latrines, two storerooms and we had many fuel drums that burned for hours. We fought out the remaining fire on the fences as it traveled near to the tukols but stayed far from the fuel storeroom as it went up in a blaze of Av-gas, Diesel, Petrol and Jet-A One. At one point a cylinder of Acetylene, which is used for gas welding, exploded causing quite a stir among those of us watching.
As a team, my colleagues and I gathered to give thanks to our King that no one was injured. The fire had come with a fierce wind that was essentially unstoppable and in so many ways it was a miracle that no one was injured. We do not understand why things like this happen but we do know that God is in control. Throughout this ordeal it has been amazing to revel in the grace God has given me in dealing with this situation. He has given me strength and wisdom when I have needed them and provided patience and the will to persevere.
Below you’ll find some pictures of the fire. Most of them are from colleagues (David Bock and Sammy Muraya) who were able to get pictures before our compound was on fire and during the attempts to put it out. The pictures from the day after the fire are mine.
The fire came from the north-west and went up the hill next to us.
Pushed by a strong wind it also approached our compound.
Once the fence was on fire, the wind carried the fire toward our storerooms.
It also carried it toward our tukols. Mine is the one in the middle of these burning fences.
The wind pushed the fire from one fence to another. (All our fences were made of grass.)
The wind pushed the fire from one of the fences onto our doctor's tukol.
I had been visiting our farm and arrived quite overwhelmed.
We had a several barrels of fuel that caught fire. Not to mention many empty barrels of Jet-A One.
We lost several quad-bikes in the fire.
We gathered to give thanks that no one was hurt.
This was our fuel storeroom.
Quadbike
Latrine
Looking at the hill.
Gaurd Tukol.
Generator/Welder
Looking at our compound from the burned hill.
The fence.
Blown up Acetylene tank.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Cultural Wonderment
One thing that I continually find fascinating is the complexity that exists in different cultures around the world. I enjoy traveling to new places and watching how people live their lives; absorbing the beauty that exists in differing clothing, savoring the delicacies that zing the taste buds and listening to the music of each culture’s mother-tongue as people ramble on to one another with words I will probably never understand. Every once in a while though I find myself dumbfounded by the cultures I encounter. When I least expect it I am brought face-to-face with something that would never happen in my own culture (as undefined as it is, given my particular mixed-up upbringing). To explain this I thought I would use two recent examples of culturally different practices I have encountered and then add some comments on elections…since, after all, I am writing on election day.
Last week my colleague, David, returned from his work on water sanitation in a bit of a quandary. He explained that one of his workers hadn’t showed up for work and when he asked about her whereabouts he was told that she was in jail. Upon prying further he discovered that she was in jail because she had tried to run away from a marriage her mother had set up for her. It turns out she had received several gifts from the particular man involved and he had also given a substantial amount of money to the mother as a dowry payment – essentially, she didn’t have a choice in the matter. When she tried to run away, the man hired a truck, tracked her down and had her thrown in jail. After several days in jail while the families finished working out the deal she was released to go and live with the man as his second wife. David visited her several days later to give her the salary she had earned and listened to her lament about the situation she was in. Her complaint: “The first wife was beating her.”
This was a situation we found ourselves powerless to change. The girl is only about 17 years old, but even so the culture here is so accepting of the situation it is as if nothing has happened at all. Several of our most respected Sudanese staff told David that the man was completely within his rights with everything he had done. There are some things here that we simply cannot understand and at times it is heartbreaking. I am sure that this cultural practice is bound to change with time…but one can never know how long such a change could take. In the meantime seventeen year-olds are given in marriage to men who already have wives.
My second example is much lighter in content and is simply something I found somewhat amusing. We have a Nigerian family staying with us who are missionaries in an area south of here. They came here so that the wife could give birth to their second child. We have all enjoyed having them around, especially their three year-old, Praise, who is a riot. After waiting expectantly for several weeks, Victoria gave birth to a baby girl on Sunday night and we were all excited at the new arrival. Today, as I walked past one of our charcoal burners, I noticed Steve cooking something and went over to check it out. What I found was a cow foot, hoof and all, being roasted on the flames. He explained that he would make it into a huge spicy stew for his wife to eat in the coming days. It turns out that cow foot stew is a tradition for women who have just given birth in Nigeria. I’m not sure what the value of spicy cow foot is for mother and new born...and I don’t suppose I ever will.
As America goes out to vote today, I can’t help but be amazed at how blessed Americans are with our system of government and elections. With the election season in full gear we have often talked with our staff here about our system and how it will work on election day, but the fact of the matter is that in reality they cannot fully comprehend a system where people can go out and vote without fear of being shot, having their vote stolen, or having the result lead their country into civil conflict. Most Sudanese have never voted and their chance to vote in the coming years is precariously balanced atop a feeble peace agreement between the north and south. America impassively goes about it electoral duties and the rest of the world watches in wonder at something that in so many ways is a miracle.
Last week my colleague, David, returned from his work on water sanitation in a bit of a quandary. He explained that one of his workers hadn’t showed up for work and when he asked about her whereabouts he was told that she was in jail. Upon prying further he discovered that she was in jail because she had tried to run away from a marriage her mother had set up for her. It turns out she had received several gifts from the particular man involved and he had also given a substantial amount of money to the mother as a dowry payment – essentially, she didn’t have a choice in the matter. When she tried to run away, the man hired a truck, tracked her down and had her thrown in jail. After several days in jail while the families finished working out the deal she was released to go and live with the man as his second wife. David visited her several days later to give her the salary she had earned and listened to her lament about the situation she was in. Her complaint: “The first wife was beating her.”
This was a situation we found ourselves powerless to change. The girl is only about 17 years old, but even so the culture here is so accepting of the situation it is as if nothing has happened at all. Several of our most respected Sudanese staff told David that the man was completely within his rights with everything he had done. There are some things here that we simply cannot understand and at times it is heartbreaking. I am sure that this cultural practice is bound to change with time…but one can never know how long such a change could take. In the meantime seventeen year-olds are given in marriage to men who already have wives.
My second example is much lighter in content and is simply something I found somewhat amusing. We have a Nigerian family staying with us who are missionaries in an area south of here. They came here so that the wife could give birth to their second child. We have all enjoyed having them around, especially their three year-old, Praise, who is a riot. After waiting expectantly for several weeks, Victoria gave birth to a baby girl on Sunday night and we were all excited at the new arrival. Today, as I walked past one of our charcoal burners, I noticed Steve cooking something and went over to check it out. What I found was a cow foot, hoof and all, being roasted on the flames. He explained that he would make it into a huge spicy stew for his wife to eat in the coming days. It turns out that cow foot stew is a tradition for women who have just given birth in Nigeria. I’m not sure what the value of spicy cow foot is for mother and new born...and I don’t suppose I ever will.
As America goes out to vote today, I can’t help but be amazed at how blessed Americans are with our system of government and elections. With the election season in full gear we have often talked with our staff here about our system and how it will work on election day, but the fact of the matter is that in reality they cannot fully comprehend a system where people can go out and vote without fear of being shot, having their vote stolen, or having the result lead their country into civil conflict. Most Sudanese have never voted and their chance to vote in the coming years is precariously balanced atop a feeble peace agreement between the north and south. America impassively goes about it electoral duties and the rest of the world watches in wonder at something that in so many ways is a miracle.
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