Reunions

John Akwan

After Kristi and I finished our run on an early Sunday morning, we walked it off through our Hai Malakal neighborhood. Suddenly a young boy collecting plastic bottles standing in the middle of the road fifty feet ahead of us made a loud shriek as he saw us coming. He stood there, transfixed. He stood there in recognition. He stood there in silent surprise. The woman sitting at her corner shop shouted to silence the boy until she was arrested by the unfolding scene.

“Simon?” I asked, tentatively.

“John Akwan,” the boy asserted, standing in the road half-naked in the lightly falling rain. Yes, I said to myself. Of course, it is John Akwan. It was the meeting of souls long estranged, a poor discarded child in the heart of a war-ravaged land and two white persons of privilege from a far off place. We exchanged pleasantries and I explained that we had returned to Juba. I moved towards the boy and grasped his arm in fellowship and loving concern.

John responded, “Ana gait” (I am here, I am around).

As we turned to walk on, the eyes of the woman at the corner shop turned towards the ground. “John Akwan, you are alive!” I whispered to myself. “You are here,” I thought. Praise the Lord! I wondered then about the others, particularly Grovener and Simon. These lost boys who live off the streets of Juba live in my heart. Thank you, Lord, for John Akwan.


Daniel Mawer

My phone rang. I answered it. The other side felt garbled, difficult to distinguish voices which seemed somehow in conversation with each other and not with me. Suddenly, I heard my name. Then I heard the voice on the other end identify its owner, “I am Daniel Mawer.”

“Daniel Mawer?” I answered in grateful surprise and joyful recognition. Daniel was at a loss for words. Nuer men do not cry, but it seemed that my former student was choked up. I gave him a moment to recover.

“Teacher, you are back in Juba.”

Yes, I replied. Daniel gave me a short update on his life. Though our conversation did not last more than ten minutes, I walked away from my phone feeling blessed, reconnected to the life of one of my dear students. Over the next few hours, I recalled special memories I shared with Daniel – my first meeting with Daniel at the college in 2017, going with Daniel to visit his pastor in the hospital, getting caught together in a massive rainstorm and huddling together under a large Neem tree, visiting Daniel’s church and Daniel treating me afterwards to a Nuer specialty called “Wal Wal” at a local eatery.

Daniel shares about the challenges of life in Juba,
October 2017

Stephen

Stephen was one of my first students. Classes had become a challenge for Stephen, being separated from his family. The then Acting Academic Dean and I, along with other faculty members, were sympathetic to Stephen’s plight. Stephen faced many challenges but pressed through them all. On graduation day, Stephen’s smile remains indelibly imprinted on my heart.

Together with Stephen on graduation day, 
December 2018

     

When our current Academic Dean mentioned the name Reverend Stephen as the one we were picking up on our way to church last Sunday, I wondered, “Is it same Stephen?” Sure enough, it was my former student. Stephen packed into the car and we enjoyed exchanging greetings. Stephen leads a ministry to street children at a new church plant on the outskirts of Juba, teaching the children about trauma healing and giving them simple instruction which they would otherwise miss, not being in school. Stephen leaves his home every day at 6am, Monday to Saturday, to take three buses across town to go and minister to these abandoned children.

Various people support Stephen in different ways. Stephen expresses gratitude to now have his family with him in Juba, and he expresses profound gratitude for the gifts given to sustain him and his family and his ministry. I am humbled by Stephen. I stand in awe of his posture of service and his heart of gratitude.

Of course, there are many other “reunions” I could recount since our return, but may these three serve as a sampling. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. Amen!