Church visit in Akobo

 This is part two of my visit to Akobo in December. After we completed the workshop (read about from a previous post), we worshipped with the Presbyterian Evangelical Church congregation in town. Going to church in a new place is never a small affair in South Sudan.

Since there is no public transportation in the sprawling town of Akobo, we walked. At least 8 months of the year the roads turn to mud and are nearly impassable, but in December the ground has been transformed into hard caked clay. We had been told to set out at 6:30AM, and it was nice to enjoy the cool morning air. As we made the half-hour walk to the other side of town, we passed cows meandering down the road, women commenting that my lawa (draped material tied over one shoulder) was over the wrong shoulder, and people bringing fresh fish from the river to the market to sell. 

We arrived at the church before 7:30, and it was a flurry of activity as people were preparing for the service and as church members were arriving. In Nuer tradition, hosts will wash the feet of their guests as a sign of welcome. They brought out basins of water and sat all of us down at the entrance of the church to wash our feet. 

We were seated at the front of the sanctuary, along with all the pastors and leaders of the congregation. The youth choir sang an exuberant opening song, and we were impressed that their keyboard player looked so young. Everyone joined in some of the common Nuer hymns from their songbook, and the women's choir and an adult choir also had their turn to sing. I always enjoy hearing God worshipped in different languages and styles! The congregation had invited members of their branch congregations to come together in one location because of our visit, so the church was soon packed full.

A highlight from the morning was hearing the testimonies from two members who attended the Healing Hearts Transforming Nations (HHTN) workshop that week. One woman shared that they saw that forgiveness has to start from the family. Husbands and wives have to forgive each other and should not let their egos get in the way (this is counter-cultural!). Luka, a youth leader, said "In the workshop, we came to understand that the thief (as in John 10:10) has stolen many things from us. That is why there is conflict in Akobo. The thief has stolen love. When you see someone coming from a different place, you realize the thief has stolen love from you." 

When the offering was collected, I noticed that many people put in an ear of dried corn or some millet from their fields. I knew that money was a scarce commodity, and this seemed like a good way to show their contribution to the work of the church, particularly in the dry season when things were not growing.

After the nearly 4 hour service, we were welcomed to the home of an elder who lived nearby. First they brought soda (a rare commodity in Akobo), then big pots of food. Walwal is eaten nearly daily in many Nuer communities - it is made of flour and water that is artfully mixed by hand so that it forms small balls. They served fresh milk to pour over the walwal, which makes for a hearty meal. I was amazed to see the big pots of food serving clusters of people as nearly the whole congregation gathered joyfully in the compound.

After drinking tea and relaxing in the shade, we were invited to come and visit the home of one of the pastors. Now in the heat of the day, we made our way to Pastor Michael's compound nearby. A traditional round thatched-roof barn provided shelter at night for his cows and goats. A fence of sticks surrounded his living quarters, which comprised three small huts with an open space in the middle. He brought chairs for us to sit in the shade of a tree and his wife brought water to drink. He introduced us to other members of his extended family, then we prayed for them before continuing the journey back to our accomodation. 

We meandered through the market on the way home, stopping by a pharmacy run by a Christian known to some in our group, and he immediately brought some sodas as everyone caught up on the news from Juba and on mutual acquaintences. By the time we reached home at nearly 3pm, I was exhausted but grateful for the full day of worshipping with God's people in Akobo and seeing a slice of the life of the church there.

A Day in Our Lives in Juba

Though we have patterns and structure, life in Juba is fluid. Last Saturday our alarm sounded at 5:20am, as usual. At 5:30am the local church bells sounded, as usual. We got up, exercised, watered the plants, showered, ate breakfast, and did our devotions, as usual. That day I would be hosting a friend in the morning and doing some work in the afternoon. Kristi had a 10am meeting at the office, and then would attend the Juba Women’s Bible Study in the afternoon, as usual. Our compound was a bit raucous that morning as neighbors and friends were hosting a birthday party for fifty children from a nearby orphanage, a bit unusual.

Not too long after Kristi left, she called me. Almost sheepishly she mentioned that she had just spoken with our friend Omot who told her that today would be “final prayers,” the end of several days of the funeral service of the father of our mutual friend Ajullu Susan. Kristi said me, “I am thinking of going. Do you want to go?” Though I had some work to do, I remembered how important it is to visit people here and be with them in times of loss. “Yes. I think it’s a good idea,” I said. “Let’s go.” I called Juma, our rickshaw driver, asking him to pick me up at 12:30pm; we would then pick up Kristi at her office across town. In a moment, the complexion of our day changed.

After a nice morning of fellowship, food, and prayer with my friend Albino, Juma came to pick me up. Picking up Kristi, however, turned into a complicated affair. A high-ranking government official had recently died, and the president was attending the funeral at the large field across from Kristi’s office, which meant that roads would be blocked, and military presence would be pronounced. With creative communication efforts between Kristi and myself, outstanding driving techniques and “heads up” thinking from Juma, we found Kristi and then propelled ourselves out to the outskirts of Juba to Lologo 2, near the Nile River, where Ajullu lives and where the ‘final prayers’ were being offered.

With Albino, outside our home

With Juma, our trusted, faithful, and beloved 
rickshaw driver

Upon arrival, family and friends were busily preparing. Four large tents were erected and chairs for about five hundred people set up. After we sat down, two former students greeted me. What a gift it was to see Alfred and Peter! They are both members of the Anyuwa tribe, hailing from the same region as Ajullu and her family. The service began. Choirs sang, family members and friends spoke, and then community leaders and elders had their turn. We were struck by the impact of the life of Ajullu’s father. We were also struck by Ajullu’s commitment to him during his time of sickness. The service was conducted in three languages, Anyuwa, Arabic, and English. Like most funerals and final prayers here, the service was long. At the very end, Omot, who was leading the service, invited me to come and say a final prayer. Though I was not expecting to offer the final prayer, I went to the front, prayed in English, and then I prayed in Arabic. People were pleased. Afterward, as usual, everyone was invited for a sumptuous and large meal. We stayed to eat, yet Juma was on his way. At around 5:30pm, Juma picked us up along with our friend Rev. Paska who was the preacher that day. We had just been with Rev. Paska in her home a few days previous as she had just lost her nephew to sickness.

A choir sings at the funeral of the father of Ajullu Suan
(his photo above the choir)

When Juma dropped us home, the colors of the fading sun in the west were brilliant, a glorious mixture of orange and receding red. It was a typical day in Juba, given that life here is fluid, and plans can change in an instant!