Simon's Support Team

The four of us sat together in a circle at a small outdoor seating area which serves tea, just behind and adjacent to the military hospital. We were together for one reason: Simon Akol. A few months previous, one of us had found Simon living on the street near where we live, having seen the terrible wound on his leg caused by a bacterial infection called “Necrotizing fasciitis.” This infection is aptly known as “flesh eating disease” in that it kills parts of the body’s soft tissue and it spreads rapidly. Simon’s wound began just under his knee and extended down to his foot, just above Simon’s toes. Skin and soft tissue had been eaten away across major sections of his leg; it was a terrible sight to see.

One day when Simon’s wound was being treated by the Street Children Ministry (SCM), a young man came up to us. Looking at Simon’s wound, he audibly and publicly exclaimed, “He is finished!” (meaning, he will die!) I understood the young man’s sentiment. That is exactly what I thought when I first saw Simons’ wound. However, in that tender and significant moment, I responded gently but firmly to the young man, “We do not know.” Simon was sitting there under my arms, wincing in pain, having his wound cleaned for the second time; though his English is limited, Simon heard this exchange. I can only wonder what he was thinking.

Simon Akol is from Gogrial in Bahr Al Ghazal State. His father died and his mother left Simon and his younger sister when Simon was only seven years old. His mother had joined the Sudanese army and left for Darfur. Simon and his sister went to live with their mother’s sister, but Simon was forced to leave after a disagreement. Girls, apparently, have it a bit easier as bride wealth remains a hope and promise for their family. For boys and young men, their lot is different. Placed in vulnerable family situations, they are often left to fend for themselves and find their own way. Having to abandon any hopes for education, they ply the streets selling sundry items or perform menial work in the kitchens of small make-shift restaurants, doing work which others are unwilling to do. Simon decided to join a group of youth to come to Juba to see if they could improve their lot. Simon worked for a foreign merchant for a while, but then he was afflicted by this wound.

The four of us have become “a team” of support for Simon. Achuil currently leads SCM. He and his colleagues and the children of the children’s home visit Simon every day at the military hospital, giving Simon money for breakfast and bringing him food for dinner from their home each day. Daniel Aleek is a student at Nile Theological College (NTC). Daniel has become a friend to me; he is from the same area as Simon. Daniel has served as a valuable source of encouragement and spiritual support to Simon. If Simon decides to return to his home region, Daniel will connect him with one of the churches which Daniel helped to start in that area. Juma is our trusted rickshaw driver. Juma has been involved in the care process from the beginning, helping with transportation needs, but also directly asking Simon questions about his situation so that we can better understand how to help. Lastly, I have been involved (with Kristi’s support) with initial wound care visits, visiting Simon at the hospital, and helping with medical needs. Interestingly, government hospitals in South Sudan do not have medical supplies. Thus, it behooves the family of the patient to buy all of the wound care dressings, antibiotics, and other medical supplies for treating the patient. As long as these items are provided, the hospital can accept to continue caring for the patient with a minimal charge for the hospital bed.

Simon has been in good spirits during our last two visits. Juba took him to the market to find some green sandals which he likes very much, and we found some crutches to help with mobility. Kristi also connected with a local Christian organization which donated an audio Bible in the Dinka language for Simon. We are now working with Simon to understand his hopes for the future. Simon is twenty years old; it seems that he would like to return to his home region. He hopes that we can help him with income generation. Two ideas he has expressed are buying a motorcycle so that he can be a “boda driver” (motorcycle taxi). His other idea is to start a charging station for cell phones. His schooling was interrupted at the level of primary six; thus far, it seems that he would prefer to work than return to school.

Please pray with us for Simon. He has become a younger brother to us. Regarding the ‘team’ mentioned above, Simon is the center of our team, demonstrating a courageous spirit, a commitment to healing, and exhibiting hope for his future. May our good Lord bless Simon. May the return and blessing which Simon brings to his family far extend the payment of cows his family would receive as “bride price” for a girl. May it be so!

Simon Support Team: Achuil (front), Bob,
Simon Akol, Daniel Aleek, Juma

The impact of inflation

In the last few months prices in South Sudan have increased dramatically. One of the big reasons for the inflation is because the currency, the South Sudanese Pound (SSP), is declining rapidly.  Oil, the primary export, has decreased production because a rupture in the pipeline cannot be repaired while there is active war in Sudan. Nearly all food is imported from outside of South Sudan, so US dollars are used in the purchase and import of goods and fuel from other countries. Therefore, as the currency declines, local prices go up accordingly. It is a complex mix of factors that most people cannot do anything about.

Bundles of South Sudanese Pounds. Each bundle is worth about $25

We have one friend who teaches in a private secondary school. He is paid 150,000 SSP per month by the school. In January of this year, that was worth about $150. Now it is worth less than $40. Even in January, that was barely enough to buy food for his family, and he worked other jobs to supplement. Because of the struggle to make ends meet, he sent his wife and kids to Uganda where living expenses were cheaper. Now, with the currency decline, he has almost nothing to send them.

Prices for food and goods have increased dramatically in the local currency because of the exchange rate. One liter of fuel cost about 1200 SSP in January, and now costs about 4500 SSP.  One kilo of beans was 5,000 SSP a few months ago and now is 15,000 SSP. Another friend sells charcoal and basic food items at a stand in the market. She lamented the high price of cooking oil now, and fears that her customers will not be able to pay the increased price. One shop-owner selling grocery items said he estimates that his sales have fallen by half in the last couple of months because people are cutting back on the meals they eat – some going from two meals a day down to one.

The small-scale entrepreneurs are affected the most because their prices do not increase at the same rate. The price for a cup of tea on the street or a bag of peanuts has not increased at the same rate as imported goods. This means that the profit margin of the sellers decreases, and the profit they earn does not buy as much as it used to. Last week I stopped to see our friend Mary in her tea-shop. Usually her place has several customers, but that day it was empty. When I commented that it seemed unusually quiet, she said “Because people don’t have money. They stop drinking tea when there is no money.”

A few years ago, South Sudan introduced a new one thousand SSP note. It was a larger bill than the others with more color and added security features. At the time it came out, it was worth nearly $5. Now it is worth about 25 cents. The one thousand note bill is still the largest bill in South Sudan. I realized that we can no longer carry the money to go out for dinner in a pocket, and we hope that this devaluation does not continue at this terrifying pace.

Please join us in praying that God hears the cries of his people here – for an end to war in Sudan, for peace and provision for people in South Sudan.

Heaven Came Down to Earth!

When people have asked me, “How was your Christmas?” My response has been, “Heaven came down to earth!” We did not attend a large church gathering with thousands in attendance like other places in Juba, but instead accepted the invitation from Yagub, a former student at Nile Theological College, to come to the small church he pastors on the edge of Juba, near the Nile. I agreed to preach, baptize, and then to lead in the Lord’s Supper. It was a full day.

Worship on Christmas morning!  

As Kristi and I arrived a bit early and waited for others, we engaged Palam and Akir, two boys sitting behind us. They were active, playing with the large balloons above, dressed in their new Christmas gear. I asked them if they knew whose birthday it was today. In limited English but without hesitation, Palam responded, “Today is God’s Birthday!” Wow. What a great response! Yes, today is God’s birthday. God was born to us in the person of Jesus Christ. I do not think a more astute theological description could be made.

More people came, slowly. The chapel began to fill, mostly with children and women. I have always been impressed with the value Yagub gives to children, centering them and giving them attention. It feels like this church is a place of “welcome” for children in the neighborhood. The church is a safe place for them. Some of their mothers and other women from the neighborhood, both young and old, attend. Most speak Arabic, and some speak only their mother tongue, Dinka. One Dinka woman came over to speak with us in her limited Arabic. It was a nice moment of connection. I often feel convicted in spirit when I witness my African counterparts sit down in church; the very first thing they do is offer a quiet, humble, and unobtrusive prayer. One woman, upon arrival, immediately went to the side of the church building and leaned her head against the wall as she sat in her chair. I could see her lips moving in quiet prayer. She had come with a heart of worship and the desire to commune with God. I admired her, giving thanks for her gentle witness. Later, she would be one of the thirty-nine people baptized.

This Advent Season God has impressed on me the role of the shepherds in the Nativity story. These were humble people living on the margins of Jewish culture and society. They were not given much value. Yet, God gave them ultimate value when the angel came and delivered the message to them about a savior being born at that very moment in Bethlehem, even giving them a sign of what they would find (see Luke 2: 8 – 20). God also chose to work in and through young Mary and her husband Joseph, neither of them noteworthy by the standards of the world. And so, as I stood there on Christmas day in this humble church building on the edge of the city, reading this story in the local Arabic and then proclaiming the Good News, the Gospel truth that God centers those on the margins, I shared how though we may feel “small,” God sees us as “big,” as important.

Bob shares from God's Word
Gospel of Luke 2: 8 - 20

 

Our response to God’s Word on Christmas morning could not have been more poignant and meaningful. Heaven came down to earth. Women wept as I liberally placed water on their heads three times, baptizing them “fi isim ta Abu Allah, fi isim ta Yesu El Missih, fi isim ta Ruh El Kudus” (in the name of Father God, in the name of Jesus the Messiah, and in the name of the Holy Spirit). Children received this rite, supported by parents, adults, and pastors. I became physically tired, but not tired in spirit. I willed myself to continue. Pastor Matta, from war-torn Abyei which straddles Sudan, exhorted parents to pray for their children each morning and to instruct them in the faith. Given my role in worship that morning, I had not planned to lead us in the Lord’s Supper, but I prepared myself, just in case, for that possibility. Standing again before the congregation, I recounted the life, death, resurrection, ascension, and one-day return of the Lord, I visibly presented the elements of bread and juice; I was supported by Pastor Matta and an elder as we shared the elements with all gathered. One woman standing in the front row, the most dignified and well-dressed woman in attendance, burst into sobs as she received the elements of Christ’s Body.

Pastor Yagub asks questions to those to be baptized

 

Bob baptizes...

Kristi and I arrived home that afternoon tired, but full of God’s grace, peace, contentment, and joy. Truly, there is no greater thrill and joy in life than serving our Lord Jesus Christ together with members of His Body. No money or possession will ever match this matchless joy. God is pure existence, and we exist in Him. God is Love, and we love in Him. We are born of God, for others. May His Name forever be praised!

Differences we appreciate in Juba

 We are looking forward to returning to Juba in a few weeks, particularly reconnecting with friends and colleagues. Beyond the people, we wanted to share a few things that we enjoy or appreciate about life in Juba that are very different from life in the U.S.:

1. Easy and available public transport. No apps, cards, registrations, or monthly fees. Just flag down a rickshaw or bus and go!

2. Greeting people (even strangers) along the road as you walk or while in the market

3. Venders who walk the road selling their wares. Need a broom, some peanuts, a suitcase or a new pair of underwear? Just wait for someone to walk by selling what you need. Definitely not an easy business to do, as these venders have to keep moving. We appreciate their hard work and ingenuity.

This young man is selling shoes

(photo taken through the bars of a veranda on the road)

One girl's basket of roasted peanuts and sesame cakes for sale.

4. Tea shops along the road. Watch the world go by as you have your tea. These shops might be just a few chairs by the side of the road, but can be an important place for neighbors or friends to connect, play chess, or hear the neighborhood news. And, of course, when it is hot in the afternoon, one way to cool down is to drink hot tea! :) 

Mary, preparing tea at her stall in our neighborhood.

5. The expanded view of time. We admire that South Sudanese are rarely 'rushed' like Americans are. I have been asked "why are you walking so fast?" as I try to save time. Yes, sometimes a 3-hour long church service is tiring, but we do appreicate that they savor the time in worship and connecting. As they say, "Americans have watches, but Africans have time."

6. The Nile River - The Nile passes through Juba on its long journey north through Sudan and Egypt to reach the Meditteranean. The Nile provides water for much of the city of Juba, and we often see the water trucks loading up near the river. The lush green trees and the shorebirds near the river provide a refreshing place for a quick recharge in Juba.  

We hope you are inspired by some of these differences. What stands out to you? Any questions about other aspects of life in Juba? We would love to hear your thoughts!

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!

Weddings and Funerals

Most South Sudanese people spend a lot of time attending funerals. We hear friends lamenting that it feels that there are so many funerals, and death comes too early and often here. We admire the way that people come together when death happens, and the way that they commemorate the person with multiple gatherings over a period of up to a year. People also take seriously celebrating the joyful occasions in life, like a wedding, perhaps because they know life can not be taken for granted. This month we have attended a few funerals and a wedding, so wanted to share some pictures from this significant part of life in South Sudan.

The funeral service at the church

commemorating Elder Daniel's life

Elder Daniel was an active member and influential leader in the South Sudan Presbyterian Evangelical Church. He passed away in June after a short period of sickness. He also held a high position in the government, so his funeral was attended by thousands of people. They first held the service in the church followed by burial at the home on the day that his body was brought from Nairobi. A few days later, they had a larger gathering to celebrate his life and pray together. Next week marks 40 days since his death, so another service of ‘final prayers’ will be held at his home.

The all-day funeral prayers for Elder Daniel

held at a field in order to accomodate the large crowd

Today, I visited Elder Daniel’s wife, Mama Achol. She remains at home for 40 days, and some close family members stay with her to keep her company in this period of mourning. Friends and relatives come to visit – today while I was there, several other women came just to be with her and the family. The women shared news and told stories, laughing and lamenting at the same time. We admire the real sense of community in South Sudanese culture and the way that people are present with each other, particularly in times of grief.

The ceremony of the burial at the home of Elder Daniel

Last week, Bob visited a colleague whose son had just died. Bob was not able to attend the funeral, but wanted to express his condolences. Visiting someone who is grieving is an important expression of solidarity. However, suddenly having the expenses of a funeral and hosting visitors can also become a burden to the grieving family, particularly for people wrestling with poverty and in a country where it feels like many people go from one crisis to another.

A joyful wedding in Juba

And then, some celebration! Last week I attended a wedding. It feels like there are far more funerals than weddings in Juba, so it was a rare treat to be invited to a wedding. A wedding also has several components and ceremonies –the dowry or engagement, the traditional ceremony, a church ceremony, and finally a reception. These might all happen on different days, so we admire the time and expense people invest in celebrating these life milestones. I attended the church ceremony last week – a joyful service with lots of singing, words of encouragement by relatives, and an exhortation by their pastor, emphasizing the importance of God being first in their marriage, because God dwells within us.

We are so grateful for the people around us in South Sudan, and the gift of being in relationship. We continue to look for advice sometimes on navigating the cultural protocol around these life events. But we have wonderful models and coaches in our colleagues and friends, and it makes us appreciate the gifts this culture has and the ways people make a great effort to stay connected.

New house in Juba

One morning this week we watched the sunlight stream through the windows and listened to the birds sing and said "this is amazing! We are so glad that we are here!" Another evening, we sat outside in the moonlight with a cup of tea, enjoying the cool breeze and the gift of being outside. We have been in our new house in Juba for one month now, and are slowly more settled and organized.

Enjoying the morning light in our new house

After 4 1/2 years in our previous apartment, packing up felt like a big project. Several friends and even one of our neighbors pitched in to help us transport our stuff 1 mile down the road to the new house. We were a little embarrassed at all the things we have accumulated in four years! 

suitcases and boxes ready to be moved. The piles kept growing!

We now are in a small pre-fab house - about the same size as our previous apartment, but divided into more rooms. This means that Bob and I each have an 'office', and we even have a spare bed. Anyone want to visit? We are still working on curtains and decorations, but we see progress! We have enjoyed getting to know some of our new neighbors, as well as people who are working in remote parts of South Sudan who pass through for a few days.

picnic tables and green space by our new house

One of the perks of our new location is that Bob can walk to work in about 10 minutes. We have also started taking more frequent early morning walks, trying to take advantage of the cool and quiet mornings for getting outside. Now we are hoping to find a neighborhood tea shop to visit, although we really miss the people that we met at Mary's stall in our old neighborhood!

We put up a sign over our door that says
beyt'a amin, "house of faith"

Listening and learning

We are grateful to be reconnecting with colleagues and friends in Juba! There are several people who have come to our home this month and shared their joys and struggles of the last year. These conversations have been a valuable window into our friends’ lives and the common struggles of life in South Sudan. Here is a snippet of what we have heard…

We sat with Pastor Awadiya, who has planted a new church on the outskirts of Juba. She has worked with the community to get a primary health clinic started and a clean water source, and also to equip a new primary school. She described how God has opened doors and given her the strength to overcome obstacles to meet these significant needs. She is known and respected throughout the community now, and many people have been drawn to the church as a result of seeing her hard work to meet the needs of the community.

Pastor Awadiya in our home

We also enjoyed a visit from Pastor Toma, who lives in the rural region of Pochalla. He shared the encouraging ways that different churches are working together in Pochalla on initiatives related to trauma healing, evangelism, and education, and regularly worshipping together. He has felt the challenge of addressing educational needs in his community for several years now. Most public, government-run schools teach only sporadically because the teachers are paid a salary (about $5 per month) that does not make it worth it for them to teach. There was not another option of a school in his neighborhood, and he realized his children were not being educated. So Toma asked one organization to donate chalkboards, and the government contributed some textbooks, and with the help of some volunteer teachers they started teaching children under the trees.

Teaching students in Pochalla

Pastor Toma teaching in the school

In this first year they already have 250 students in the primary grades, which shows the demand in his neighborhood. But convincing the parents to support the teachers and the school has not been easy, because many of them were not able to go to school themselves and do not comprehend its value. Toma described the closing ceremony of the school year, with government representatives, parents, and students present. As the top students in each class were recognized, the parents started to appreciate that maybe their children were learning something worthwhile. We prayed with Toma for God’s provision of uniforms, a building, and support for the school.

The closing ceremony of the new school in Pochalla

Daniel, one of Bob’s students at NTC came over and we enjoyed seeing pictures of his visit with his family in a refugee camp in Sudan. He described the 5-day journey just to reach the camp from Juba, which included a flight, several buses, and a border crossing. You may have heard us describe Daniel’s harrowing escape from Malakal with his wife and young children during the crisis of 2013. Daniel has persevered in his studies and is finishing a few classes this semester that will allow him to complete the degree he started eight years ago. Even in the few months of his visit in the refugee camp to see his family, Daniel was active in discipling youth in the church and teaching in one of the schools in the camp. He shared the burden that he has for his people and how he looks forward to serve in the church full-time, even with the challenges in the refugee camp.

Daniel, on the left, with the Media Team at NTC in 2019

We are so inspired by these friends of ours, and excited by the ways that we see God at work in them and through them. It truly is a privilege to get to connect with them and learn from them here in South Sudan. We pray that God continues to help us keep our ears and hearts open to the people around us.

“I have seen you”

Recently on a Sunday afternoon I was sitting at the edge of our couch, dusting one of our two statues representing the pastoralist Turkana people of Northern Kenya. I heard a voice in the hall followed by an exclamation of surprise, then a knock at the door. When I opened our door, shock, disbelief, and joy were felt on each side of the threshold. “Susan!” I exclaimed. “Bob!” Susan cried out. Kristi joined the circle and we reveled in each other’s presence. Several times during that chance encounter Susan said, “Rabuna fi,” “the Lord is here.” Susan, a former cleaner in our building, happened by the building that day and saw me from the hallway. We were so blessed to experience her presence and her friendship again. Susan saw us and then acknowledged the presence of the Lord. It was a holy moment.

Dusting statue of a Turkana pastoralist

Kristi with Susan (middle) and other woman also
named Susan, August 2017

In The Primal Vision, a seminal work on African Christianity, John V Taylor describes the delight and wonder of human relationships in Africa. As he describes the agreeable and amusing account of twelve-year-old Nantume paying him a visit while ironing a shirt in his hut, the reader is mesmerized by the glory and beauty of human interaction and connection. Taylor describes Nantume's curiosity in the hut, coupled with her sense of feeling at home as she leans her body into the wall, "as relaxed as a young antelope asleep in the sun.” Taylor describes how in Africa one can enjoy the presence of another without pressure or feeling hurried or troubled, whether in conversation or in silence. 

I confess that I often struggle with this concept. I feel like I need a purpose when I visit someone. I also feel like there should be conversation when perhaps silence and just being present to one another is the more agreeable option. Taylor describes how in Africa a visitor is never an interruption. In the introduction to Taylor’s book, theologian J.N.K. Mugambi depicts how the interaction between Nantume and Taylor is about presence. Nantume closes her visit with the words “I have seen you.” The primal vision, as Bishop Taylor describes it, is a world of being present to one another, of seeing one another. It is the universe understood in the language of “I and Thou.” While such an encounter between Nantume and Bishop Taylor sounds simple, Mugambi describes it as the core of the Gospel, that even as God encounters us in Jesus Christ, Christian mission should be first and foremost about acknowledging the presence and integrity of others, of 'seeing the other’ as modeled by Jesus in his life on earth (Taylor, 2001).

Recently I enjoyed a long phone conversation with a friend and colleague. Over the course of the call my friend mentioned how he had observed Kristi and I during a recent Zoom call. It was obvious that my friend was present to the moment and present to us, even over Zoom. He then asked an important follow up question from his observation which allowed our relationship to take a deeper turn towards mutual understanding and appreciation. At the end of our conversation, I felt like my friend could have said “I have seen you.” Another colleague, John, described for us an experience he had in Ghana. Being present to the moment and the people around him, he was able to deeply connect with a young woman who was troubled. John spent time with this young woman and spoke words of life, hope, encouragement, and strength to her. At the end of their meeting, truly, John could have said “I have seen you.”

The beauty and glory of the Gospel is that Jesus sees people. In fact, during his pubic ministry here on earth, Jesus chose to see the very persons whom others had overlooked or chose not to see. He saw the ostracized Samaritan woman at the well. He saw Zacchaeus up in a tree. He saw a man with a withered hand in the synagogue on the Sabbath. He connected with each of these persons, offering them in their personhoods dignity and value. 

Jesus sees the Samaritan woman at mid-day
Artist, Jesus Mafa (Cameroon) 

Jesus, unhindered and unhandicapped by self pre-occupation, worry, and the emotional trauma which seemingly perpetually beleaguer us, lived in the moment and was fully present to those around him. I confess that too often I fail to fully live in the moment and be present to others. I pray for growth in this area. I pray that after each meeting with someone, planned or unplanned, I can say, “I have seen you.” May that be so for all of us who attach ourselves to Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Matthew 25

And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ (Matthew 25: 40)

As a denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), we are currently embracing the Matthew 25 vision, caring for members of Jesus’ family – the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and those in prison. In the milieu of the United States, this call has been translated into dismantling structural racism, ending systemic poverty, and building congregational vitality. It is a wonderful initiative spearheaded by Rev. Dr. Dianne Moffett, Executive Director and President of the Presbyterian Mission Agency, the umbrella agency of Presbyterian World Mission with whom we serve. Congregations across the land are heeding this significant call to cross socio-economic and cultural barriers to behold and become the sweet aroma of Jesus Christ (3 minute invitation video here).

A couple of weeks ago I preached from Matthew 25 at our chapel service at Nile Theological College here in South Sudan. After the scripture was read, I asked the students to tell us what they heard and what they felt. Most of the responses were somewhat typical. Students felt compelled to action; they had a choice. They sensed that God wanted them to see the marginalized and needy as members of His family. One student, Linda, had an interesting insight. She described how African cultures tend to prioritize the needs of the ancestors, the “living dead.” She described how Africans must remember the ancestors, pay respect to them, and even provide food and sacrifices to them, otherwise they may feel the wrath of the ancestors. But here in Matthew 25, Jesus is not talking about the ‘living dead’, He is talking about the living. As I gave us a moment to reflect on Linda’s insight, it felt like a light-bulb had switched on in the minds and hearts of students. While not neglecting those who have gone before us, our priority, says Jesus, is always for those who are still with us, those who are suffering and needy…these are the ones to whom we must give attention and priority.

Last week, on our way home from visiting friends, Kristi and I stopped by Suk Malakia, the small market across from our building to buy some fruit and vegetables. As we faced Alima who was handing Kristi a bunch of carrots, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned and there he was. I was tongue tied. I could not remember his name. I felt awful. He stood tall, self-possessed, silent like a sentinel, missing one leg from the snake bite incurred near his village. Of course, it was Grovener! I fumbled with a series of greetings in Arabic, somehow feeling “small” in relation to Grovener’s stature, his innocence, his meekness, his obvious need, being homeless like so many other children here in Juba. As always, Grovener was gracious towards me, greeting me with a gentle smile, expressing kindness. Standing before me was a child of God, a son of the King, a brother to Jesus. The manner in which we receive the "Groveners of our world" says everything about who we are and the fate “the king” will one day pronounce over the two groups of people, the sheep and the goats.

Jesus’ message from Matthew 25 is stark. It is final. It is the point of no return. As one my students said to all of us at chapel, “Yes, but we still have time.” Yes, we still have time to choose rightly, to be sheep and not goats, to heed the call of Jesus, to welcome the marginalized and poor with outstretched arms and open, loving hearts.

Praying in Hope

 Women kneeling in prayer on the road

We knelt on the pavement, three long lines of women. One women at a time led in prayer, acknowledging our need and crying out for God’s intervention in South Sudan. The rest of us joined in, praying silently or quietly, and I could feel the collective passion as we publicly prayed together. Women from different denominations took turns leading specific prayers – for soldiers who are hungry and underpaid, for youth who are sucked into the gang and drug culture, for leaders implementing the peace agreement, for the economy and jobs, and for our churches and families. It was about ten o’clock in the morning, but the sun was already hot. Lively worship interspersed the times of prayer, and several women who had been passing by got in line to join the prayers.

The opening of the prayer march

After praying and singing at the starting point for nearly an hour, we marched about 2 miles on a narrow dirt road to a village called Kwarijic, singing along the way and stopping three times to pray. A woman washing clothes in the stream waved in encouragement as we passed, and barefoot women carrying bundles of long sticks on their heads smiled in greeting.

The women approach the village of Kwarijic

We gathered in the village’s Catholic Church, continuing our prayers and worship, and encouraged by a word from the local priest about prayer connecting us to God’s infinite power. The women’s theme this year is Romans 12:12 “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” These women reflect that verse well – I was encouraged by the hope expressed, rooted in faith and God’s faithfulness. One woman exhorted everyone to get up at 1 A.M. to pray – because that was an hour when they could find quiet and focus. When I was invited to give a word of greeting, I extended greetings from the many churches we visited last year, and told them that they are an example for us in America of commitment to prayer.

Agnes Wasuk, Director of Women’s programs at the South Sudan Council of Churches, has been organizing these ecumenical prayer gatherings for 6 years – a beautiful expression of unity and faith. For real change and healing in South Sudan, it will take not just the decisions of political leaders, but also the unity and commitment by people at the grassroots. After being away for six months, I was excited to join them again, especially because the increased atmosphere of peace around Juba meant that they could hold the prayers at a church outside of the city. When I reached home in the afternoon, my whole body felt tired, but I was energized and inspired by the sense of hope and grateful for the gift of joining these women in prayer.

Sharing tea and bread in the shade near the church

Our “Reality Check”

Twice per week Susan comes to clean our apartment. Susan does not speak English so we are wonderfully obliged to practice and speak the local Juba Arabic with her – Susan has become one of our many, patient and gracious language teachers. Susan is from the Torit area of Eastern Equatoria, and she often walks a long distance to cultivate her fields. In many ways, Susan represents the simplicity of rural life and thinking, yet finds herself transplanted into the urban metropolis of Juba.

Susan in the middle, with Kristi and another
woman also named Susan who used to work in our building  

We sometimes refer to Susan as our “Reality Check” here in South Sudan. Her life belies and represents the suffering of so many, yet "Susan mashi hal,” Susan pushes along. Having given birth to ten children, only a few remain, most having died because of disease or due to the violence and trauma which continues to inflict this land. Last year Susan's sixteen-year-old son was shot and killed in broad daylight at a birthday party. Susan’s grief was immeasurable, and her willingness to forgive divine.

Within our first few months of being here, I was targeted and overtaken by “toronto,” thieves who travel by motorcycle and swipe possessions from unsuspecting pedestrians. I came home feeling victimized. Susan, while not discounting my trauma, said to me, “Bob, do not condemn them for what they have done…have compassion, they are acting out of their own desperation.” On another occasion, Kristi and I bemoaned the fact that rats continued to invade our apartment at night, eating into our bananas and causing general havoc. When we informed Susan about our “rat problem,” she sympathized, but responded with this rejoinder – “Ah, you have rats, that means you have food. You are blessed to have food!” She later told us that in many homes, rats come and nibble at people’s toes at night because there is no food.

Most recently, since we arrived back in Juba almost three weeks ago, we rejoiced to see Susan glowing! After months of melancholy since the death of her son, Susan seemed to have regained a sense of hope and joy. Yet again, the challenges of this country would land themselves square on her shoulders. One day last week Susan confided to Kristi that in the afternoon she would go across town to Jebel to pick up the three children of her late brother and sister-in-law, taking them home to care for, to feed and send to school. The following week Susan would report to me that previously she had taken in another three children from the same brother and that of his first wife after the first wife had died and her brother and his second wife were unwilling to care for them. It seems that HIV/AIDS had wiped out at least two of the parents, leaving behind a retinue of orphans. Susan said when she thinks about the needs of her household, it is too much, she is overwhelmed. "But I put God first," she says smiling, "and have faith that He will provide." 

What can one say when confronted with the life of Susan? What words of comfort or encouragement can one provide? I am left speechless and dumbfounded by Susan’s witness of resilience and faith. Could I endure what Susan has endured and keep going? I do not know. What Kristi and I do know, however, is that Susan is our “Reality Check.” She is our inspiration.

Return home to Juba

We arrived in Juba on Tuesday, exhausted after nearly 24 hours of travel but excited to be back to our adopted home. The heat hit us as soon as we stepped off the plane, and we smiled at the stark contrast from the Illinois winter weather we had left the day before. It felt so familiar, and yet so different and strange!

On the ride home from the airport, Bob chatted in Arabic with our taxi driver. Our Arabic is rather rusty after not using it much for six months, so it feels like digging at the bottom of the closet for the word we are looking for. As I greeted some familiar women this week on the street and wished them ‘Happy New Year’, I said “Ndi mortaah kukumona”, which means “I’m happy to see you”, as long as you are understand my hodgepodge of Tshiluba and Arabic. The woman smiled at my gibberish and returned my greeting.

This week we have been busy trying to get settled again. The day after we arrived we spent the morning at the police station renewing our visas and doing the new alien registration. Another day we filled out forms and compiled documents for our work permits – the paperwork and fees required to live in South Sudan might rival that of our own country. We also have been clearing away the dust in our apartment, shopping for food, trying to get organized, and coping with our bodies that want to sleep at the wrong times. Our allergies immediately responded to the dust, and we have been sneezing and blowing our nose as we get our bodies and habits acclimated again.

Bob organizing our bookshelf to fit on new books

One sign of dry season in Juba is that there are ants everywhere – they are in search of water, so they will instantly materialize on any scrap of food or water available. One morning I opened a new bag of cereal and poured some in bowls. I could see the cereal moving, and realized that it was teeming with ants. I picked out several as they crawled around the bowl, and then asked Bob whether he thought we should eat the cereal with ants, or find something else for breakfast. “Oh, Juba!” was his immediate reply. Despite all the insects that we DID eat in Congo, we had not seen people eat common ants. “Well,” he said pragmatically “They will drown in the milk, right?” I googled “Can you eat ants?”, and the answer came back “Yes, they can be eaten raw or cooked, covered in chocolate or honey, or tossed in a green salad…” So, we plunged in and ate our cereal with ants that morning, trying not to look too closely.

Pastor Angelo was one of our visitors this week

A highlight this week has been reconnecting with colleagues, friends, and shopkeepers. Bob went to buy a few things at one of our neighborhood stores one afternoon, and was quizzed on everyone’s name, offered multiple cups of tea, and of course had sit and catch up on the news with owners. Some friends have spontaneously stopped by, giving us a break from the cleaning and helping us practice the flexibility and hospitality that the South Sudanese excel at. We are excited to re-engage with our work after long conversations with colleagues, catching up on all that has happened while we were gone. And so much has happened! We look forward to sharing more updates soon here on the blog or in newsletters.

New update video!

Below is a new update video, that we hope will give you a small taste of how we see God at work in South Sudan. We appreciate very much your partnership in this ministry!

Please let us know if you have any questions or comments - we are happy to share more if you have specific questions.

Daily Challenges in Juba

There are not many ‘big’ events going on right now, so we are plugging away at the every-day tasks. Bob is teaching and staying busy at NTC, and I am meeting with people and trying to make progress related to Community Health Evangelism and some future healing and reconciliation workshops. So we thought we would share a few of the things that make life in Juba interesting, and remind us we are ‘not in Kansas’ anymore.

1. Sleeping under a mosquito net – after tucking in the mosquito net around our bed at night, it can be a challenge to get out for a mid-night bathroom run, or the net gets twisted and you feel like you can’t get away from it. We discovered that in the dry season there are fewer mosquitos, so we can sleep without the net. One night while brushing his teeth, Bob commented that sleeping without the net was “better than he had ever imagined.” The little joys in life!

Putting up our mosquito net

2. Immigration – We have to have a visa to be in South Sudan, and a work permit, and also have to register with the police every 6 months. Every time we have to visit immigration I find myself frustrated – by the unexpected fees, by the complicated process, by what feels like unreasonable requests. Recently they came out with a new registration requirement for foreigners, so I went down to the police station to register us. All the way there I prayed and tried to mentally prepare myself not to get frustrated but to accept the way things are done here. But then an officer asked for a $7 ‘tip’ for filling out a form, and in another office the worker was rude to some applicants. A Kenyan man I was standing in line with said “it is experiences like this that make me hate all of Africa!” I tried to encourage him, and found myself encouraged by remembering that this is just a small piece frustration in the larger scope of a country with many vibrant and beautiful people.

3. Shopping – I enjoy my regular walks down to the produce market, and there is a good variety of fruits and vegetables available. But availability is somewhat unpredictable, and sometimes I find myself looking for a specific thing (lemons, or bell peppers, for example) that has just gone out of season or is not available that day. At the shops, something simple like a can of kidney beans that seems to be ubiquitous will suddenly become hard to find. So for any given meal, usually food from the produce market and at least 3 different shops are the source. This week I am wondering how I am going to get to the five different stores where the things on my list can be found. So we get to practice being flexible, planning ahead, and trying to stock up when possible on things we might not find later.

One of the neighborhood stores we frequent

4. Calling people on the phone – the telephone networks here are terrible. Last night I tried calling someone, and a message said they were ‘out of the coverage area’. I tried again – ‘network busy’. I tried again – he answered, but I could not hear him. Try the fourth time – and we finally were able to talk. Most of the phone call ends up being “can you hear me? Say that again…” and shouting to try to be heard. It is really frustrating when most people don’t have ready access to e-mail that phone is also so hard. Text messages do work sometimes, but we find that with most people face-to-face interactions are the best way to make sure that we’ve connected with someone.

5. Planning – As you might know, this is an event-oriented culture, not a time-oriented culture. I still struggle sometimes with that difference, especially in trying to plan or anticipate how my day will go. A few weeks ago I came home from a women’s prayer meeting at around 3pm and said to Bob “How am I still so naive to think that a prayer meeting could just last 2 hours??" If someone says they are coming at 4pm, we know that just means the approximate time of day. “I’m coming now” can mean “I’m intending to come when I finish the current event” (which could be an hour or more from now)…so the phrase “now now” evolved to mean ‘at the present moment’. As in, “are you coming now now?”

We thank God for these little challenges that help us to adjust, to be humble, and to appreciate the differences in our cultures. You can pray for us to continue to learn, appreciate, and connect with our adopted culture in South Sudan.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” 2 Corinthians 4:17

Monday Morning Commute and Devotions

7:55am.

After bathing, breakfast and our family devotions, I kiss Kristi and am out the door. Going down the two flights of stairs I again offer myself to God. Lord, bless this day. Hitting the bottom stairwell Deng greets me in Dinka Aweil, “Invual?” “Anvual” I reply shaking his hand and smiling at him as I now leave our building into the thin, cool morning air where I greet young Lual from Aweil, shaking his hand. I then shake that of two others, Emmanuel, a guard, and a man I don’t know who adjusts his cigarette butt so he can greet me as I continue my way to Unity Drive. “Ah, mosalat” (public transport), I exclaim silently as each full rickshaw passes by. A bus stops but fills before I can enter. Just then a rickshaw stops…empty! I climb in and, surprisingly, off goes the driver not waiting for another. As we cruise along the driver greets fellow rickshaw drivers with his hand stretched out; they are like a small fraternity, looking out for each other. Getting off at “mushtefa talimi” (the teaching hospital), I give the driver a little extra for his work and because of our almsgiving during Lent. From here I walk. At the “sinia” (roundabout), I notice soldiers stationed at each corner and in the middle. “Hmmm….that is not normal,” I mutter to myself. I wonder if the president or someone else important will pass through. I slow at my prayer mound, not stopping, as usual, due to the presence of soldiers.

8:20am.

I arrive at the college a few minutes late for devotions. Students who are late, like me, sit in a neat line up against the “rackuba” classroom.* Having grabbed two chairs from the main office, I plant one ahead and one down next to Thon Mobil, one of my students who offers to usher me inside, but I gently refuse. Sitting, then standing next to Thon, I join in the chorus of Arabic worship. The worship leader this morning is Adam Mohamed Adam. Adam is a former Imam** in the Islamic faith. In 2003, when it was discovered that he was clandestinely going to church at night, he was thrown into prison. His life was in danger and he was only saved when someone miraculously got him out of prison and put him on a plane for Egypt. He then joined the liberation movement in Southern Sudan. Later, in the field, God spoke to him and told him to put down his gun and go serve in the church. Adam complied. Adam fully embraced Jesus in 2016 and now is one of our students! Our preacher this morning is Philip Thon Nyok, who, in his words, “struggled with all my comrades who were in the bush since 1983 until 2005.” Philip joined the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) when he was only fourteen, a child soldier. Philip thanks God because since 1988 he was taken to church by his parents and he has not forgotten his faith, today studying and preparing for God’s service at Nile Theological College (NTC). This morning he preaches from 1 John 3: 19, 20. He gives a rather long introduction about John, the author, then shares that though our hearts may condemn us at times, God is greater than our hearts and loves us. He summarizes the message of John in this short epistle, “God is love,” “God is a Spirit.”

As Philip preaches, I enjoy watching the puffy clouds in the sky with the large round tree in the foreground, one of the benefits of sitting outside (and being late!). Five planes pass near overhead during our short time together, a small Red Cross plane, the Missionary Aviation Fellowship twelve seater, then three other small humanitarian vessels, each plane off on some venture of helping those in need.

8:50am.

This is one of my favorite moments of the week. After the offering and final prayer, the preacher and conductor exit the rackuba and we move in procession to greet each of them and then stand to greet everyone else as they pass through, forming a line that grows with each handshake. I love looking into the faces of my students, shaking their hands, and singing as we begin our day and our week together. I enter the rackuba and prepare for class.


*A rackuba is a simple structure made from locally made and found material, mostly wood and some iron sheeting for the roof. We currently have two rackabas, one serving as the large classroom, the other as a study hall.

**Imam is a title for a Muslim religious leader or the officiating priest at a Mosque.

Here are a few images to give you a visual of some of the descriptions above...

Bob getting into rickshaw

Our "rackuba" classroom, students entering

Students greetings each other after Wednesday Chapel 

Simple Joys in Juba

At the end of each day we often reflect on the day and share something that we are grateful for – an event that stood out and gave us joy. I wanted to share a few glimpses of some of those joys from daily life that we have enjoyed in the last week or so.
1. Plants – Our language teacher brought us two new plants this week to add to our collection in the hallway. As Bob watered them one night, he exclaimed “if we can’t have pets, at least we have plants!”

2. Seeing our friends laugh, and laughing with them. We were at the tea shop in our neighborhood, and some of the ‘regulars’ were very intent on teaching us some Bari phrases. We all had a good laugh at our mispronounciations as we tried to imitate them and pretend that we knew what something meant. Just after Mary shared about the struggle to meet the expenses of a new term at school, she could joke with her friends with her full-bodied infectious laugh—great medicine!

Bob with Mary and her son Mogaa at his kindergarten graduation

3. Rain! After two months without rain during the dry season, the first rains were very refreshing. We pray that this will be a good season of rains and planting for South Sudan.

4. Language – On my 10-minute walk to the produce market, I usually greet several people along the way. There is Alan from Rwanda, who sells car-parts and is amused that I speak Kinywarwanda, there are the Burundian moto-taxi drivers parked on the corner who love to use their Kirundi or French, then always some South Sudanese who give greetings in the local Arabic or Bari, Bedradiin and Anwaar at the shop from Khartoum who like to teach us obscure phrases, and finally the sellers at the market who are from Uganda or South Sudan. By the time I get to the market I often feel so confused about which language is which, but I love trying to connect in various languages. Juba is a polyglot’s paradise!

5. Moonset and sunrise – this week we went for a jog one morning, and noticed the bright full moon setting as we left. Before our jog ended, we were also enjoying the big orange sun rising over the horizon. In the middle of a city, we are very grateful for the beauty of the sky!

6. A good movie – We pulled out a movie that we’ve had for a few months called “Brother Sun, Sister Moon” about the lives of Francis of Assisi and Claire. It was inspiring and refreshing, and a rare treat for us in Juba.

7. Greeting a new baby that we have prayed for. Our language teacher, Charles, has a new baby in his family, and we were excited to meet him and reconnect with their family. Joshua had to be treated for malaria at just a few weeks old, but seems to be recovering now.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever! (Psalm 107, 118, 136, etc.)