“It was difficult to see the women and children, who are not used to living in the bush, laying on the ground suffering,” Rev. Tubuwa told me at a recent RECONCILE training.

This violence continues a cycle of inter-ethnic fighting in the eastern region of South Sudan.  Above the northern border, people from Nuba Mountains remain in caves to avoid airplane bombs, a tragedy George Clooney’s arrest highlighted.  In the western part of the country, soldiers, including US troops, gather to track down General Joseph Kony and the Lord’s Resistance Army, the cause of mass murders, rape, and kidnapping of children.

Rev. John Tubuwa

We live in the southern part of South Sudan, which is stable, and we work with a peacebuilding ministry called RECONCILE.  We feel honored to serve with those who are “on the other side” of violence: the peacemakers.  The group photo above includes Southern Sudanese from different ethnic groups and high conflict areas.  They just completed a 2-week training at RECONCILE, which strengthened their skills in identifying root causes of conflicts.  While together, they encouraged each other to focus on love and the peace of Christ, and then they headed back to their various states.    We were amazed by their bravery, the tragedies they endure, and their unwavering commitment to heal communities and transform a culture of war to a culture of peace.

My wife and I have been called to serve in efforts of reconciliation in South Sudan, a nation which endured Africa’s longest standing civil war.  We come to this tree each day to learn the local language, from the community, and we leave with a sense of renewed hope.  Most mornings of language learning begin with prayers and conclude with praise songs led by the children. Our classroom extends past this canopy of Mango leaves into the homes and public spaces of the community.  We learn from elders sitting beneath straw thatched roofs, women gathering greens for their families, and men heating bricks for their homes. They share their language and their lives. Most have witnessed tragedies that eyes should never see; some were chased into exile; and many lost their families, but all have committed to helping strangers feel loved and welcomed.

Loving God,

Help us to be people of faith, hope, and love in a world that needs it desperately. Help us to express your love like so many in South Sudan. Teach us to cling to the possibilities of your transforming power, and allow us to help others to do the same.

In Your Loving and Welcoming Presence we pray,

Amen.

“Even though we got your reservation,” the man at the guesthouse in Juba explained, “we just learned that a group of one hundred is coming, so you cannot stay here.”

We were sent to a new hotel and carried our big bags to our room.  Children stopped their movements and stared at us silently, unresponsive to our efforts to greet them. Language differences blocked my desire to interact with the women cleaning the hotel.

“It is possible, even with all the thought and prayer you put into this decision, that you were wrong.”

Thirsty and exhausted from a whirlwind of travel, we grabbed our empty water bottles and headed towards the common dining area.  As we walked down the dirt road to the cafeteria, tables in front of the building led our eyes to a river… and to a revelation.

The Nile claimed the ground before us, powerful and beautiful.  The ancient friend called me to sit close and calm my spirit.   Bumping past stones, smoothly sliding by, reflecting the dancing sunlight, the river carried a sense of comfort to the anxious soul at her side.

In the Christmas season we celebrate the mysterious reality of “Emmanuel,” God with us.  Though God’s presence is at times difficult for me to discern in my life, our connection becomes abundantly clear when I am near to nature’s wonder. Through the soothing sounds of the Nile’s waters, I felt the Prince of Peace affirming me, “Yes, this is where you are to be.”

Throughout this Christmas season, an old song held new meaning for me: “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”  Since returning to the US, I have not stopped thinking about my friends who remain in the Sudan.  The celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace shared space in my mind with the knowledge that January would commence a critical chapter in history for the Sudanese people.  As I listened to carols and wrapped presents for my family in Atlanta, I wondered if the crack of gun-shots provided background noise for the Christmas festivities in my recent home in Sudan. 

The New Year brings a referendum for which Sudan has waited 5 years.  The 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement requires a vote takes place to determine if the country will divide in two.  In the wake of a 20-year civil war, the Southern Sudanese will decide if they will split from the North and birth a new nation.  The voting will take place January 9-15,  2011.  Unfortunately, decades of mistrust between North and South loom over the referendum like a thick fog that makes it difficult to see what will really happen. Many fear the country will slip into another tragic civil war.  

Colleagues Santino and Jacob Kuju encouraging church members in Boma, Sudan to be light in the midst of darkness.

Recently, I asked Jacob Kuju, a Sudanese friend who is remaining in Sudan for the referendum, if he thinks peace is truly attainable.  “Nothing is impossible with God,” he responded.  He encouraged me to invite others to pray for peace.  So, I am asking you to please join with me in praying for peace in Sudan:

Gracious God of Peace,

We pray that You will touch the hearts, the minds, and the spirits of

the leaders of Sudan,

the peoples of Sudan,

international leaders,

and the peoples of the world. 

Remind us all that in You, war is not inevitable in Sudan,

in You, peace with justice is possible in Sudan. 

May the leaders of Sudan,

the peoples of Sudan,

international leaders,

and the peoples of the world

act with compassion, pursue peace, and establish justice throughout Sudan. 

Please bring peace, for Your glory. Amen

(An adaptation of a prayer by Rev. W. Mark Koenig, director Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations; inspired by the Rev. Petero Sabune, Africa Partnerships Office, The Episcopal Church) 

Loved Ones from our Home in the US: Since 2008, you have witnessed the images, sounds, and sweetest moments of our time abroad. You remind us that our lives in East Africa are indelibly linked with the friends and family who love us, miss us and support us back “home.” Your heartfelt thoughts, care packages, e-mails, and long distant prayers nourished us in moments when we were uncertain of where God was leading us.  You reminded us that we are loved wherever we go.

Nancy and I often think about how fortunate we are to be surrounded by such an exceptional support system. I think this is what the Apostle Paul meant when he stated, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.” Thank you for helping us to become more like the people God desires us to be.

Fun with Friends in Nairobi, Kenya

Loved Ones from our Home in East Africa: Without knowing us, you welcomed us into your homes, work places, churches and communities. From the moment that we stepped off the plane in Kenyatta Airport until now, we have experienced God’s love through your kind actions towards us. Thank you for your insight, patience, laughter, car rides, home cooked meals, hospitality, and prayers.  You have shown us what it means to truly be family, truly be community and truly be loved. Thank you for helping us to become more like the people God desires us to be.

As we discern God’s direction in our lives, please know that we are praying for you and look forward to seeing you again; but until that time, we leave you with these words:

‘Mwenyezi-Mungu awabariki na kuwalinda;

Mwenyezi-Mungu awaangalie kwa wema, na kuwafadhili;

Mwenyezi- Mungu awaoneshe wema wake na kuwapa amani.’ (Numbers 6:24-26)

Our Home in rural South Sudan

Pushing a plane out of the mud in Boma, Sudan

The irony of the moment did not escape me.  In prior months, if our activities did not go according to plan, my jovial co-workers often teased me by asking: “do you want to cry now?”  Sometimes the question came after receiving news that rain canceled a long awaited trip, or, when the electric generator broke, leaving us without power.  ”Do you want to cry now?” one of the young men would ask with a smile.

Usually when my Sudanese colleagues, with whom I ate 3 meals a day, teased me, I laughed, feeling far from tears.  A canceled trip was a lesson in flexibility and a night without electricity meant an evening of telling stories under the stars.  My last day in Sudan, however, was an exception to the norm.

As the plane pushed off the dirt runway, my eyes remained glued to the place where waving friends became dots on the horizon.  I watched intently as communities I loved turned into fading circles of cleared land and mud homes in a vast green valley.  After a minute or two, uninhabited territory stretched below us for many miles.  I could not hold back the tears.  They seemed to come from a deep place which had not been reached in a long time.  Combined with the tightness in my heart, they hurt.

My husband sat next to me, his presence bringing comfort in this long-dreaded moment.   In the weeks preceding my departure, I convinced myself that I was saying “see you later” and not “good-bye” to my home for the past year.  Once geographically distant, I faced the harsh reality that I may never return to this isolated place; a miraculous place where my voice became more confident and clear.  A place where I learned to be a better storyteller, to drive a motorbike, to see great hospitality in a glass-bottled soda, to sit and listen to others, to listen to God, to listen to myself.

Since that day, I drift back and forth between gratitude for the most transformative experience of my life and a feeling of mourning at the loss of a lifestyle and sense of community I had grown to cherish.

I take many things for granted.  If you asked me what things I take for granted, I could give you a list, yet there are some things I take so much for granted I would not even think to put them on the list.  On August 6, 2010 I added to the list an item that was previously missing: education.    

In January, I began working with Across, a Christian organization that labors alongside communities in southern Sudan to improve education, health and livelihoods as well as to strengthen local churches.  At the time Sudan’s civil war ended, access to basic health and education services was extremely limited for people in the south.  Additionally, educational opportunities for girls were further restricted by the cultural practice of early marriage and negative attitudes about sending girls to school.  In 2005, the “primary school completion rate for girls in southern Sudan hover(ed) around one per cent” (Unicef, 2005).  Five years later, “in South Sudan nearly half of primary school age girls do not go to school” (Sudan Tribune, 2010), a statistic that reflects improvement yet remains alarming. 

Until the thirtieth year of my life, I took for granted that my opportunity to attend school was not limited by my gender.  Not any longer.  I have been transformed by the voices of young girls crying out to their parents, leaders, and community, pleading for an opportunity to learn.  Last month, Across organized a celebration of girls’ education, which gave students an opportunity to share a powerful message in the town’s open-air market.  The girls addressed those gathered with the following words: “You look at us, and you see cattle,” (a reference to the dowry price paid for a wife), “but, we want to go to school.” 

In Boma, a daughter usually leaves her home and becomes a part of her husband’s family at age 15.  Therefore, many parents do not view educating their daughters as a useful investment.  The students gathered in the market for the celebration, however, urged their community to think differently.

“Pilots, nurses and presidents for southern Sudan are among us!” the girls promised.  “I am a girl-child,” they chanted, “I can do what the boys can do.  I can write.  I can read.  I can play football.  Father, father, mother, mother, let me go to school!”

The enthusiastic students sang, danced, and recited poems clad in new yellow t-shirts with bold black letters stating: “Educate a Girl, Educate a Nation.”  Their energy and confidence filled the market as they displayed the benefits of education to all who were gathered.  With words they fought their fears that parents may pull them out of school, with joy they persuaded other girls to join school, and with courage and strength they convinced their leaders to listen.  They shared a burden which now weighs heavy on my heart, and I am thankful. 

A short video of the celebration:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nm1CXxcFlqU

“I am a little afraid about what may happen next week,” he says, pressing the chalk into the groves of the blackboard tray.  Then my Kiswahili teacher slumps down into the coffee colored chair.  He soberly stares at the back wall, while I struggle to understand the rich sentiment behind his words.  He is concerned about the results of next week’s nationwide vote for or against the proposed Kenyan constitution. My teacher is not alone; the nation is concerned.  So concerned, that several political and religious leaders are declaring their positions and urging their followers to adopt the same. So concerned, that the current and former Presidents have been cautioned by their advisers to use “kinder” words when critiquing each other’s opposing views. So concerned, that masses take to the streets with pamphlets and bull horns to rally support.  So concerned, that campaign trucks parade through the city with dancers cloaked in red (“no” side) or green (“yes” side) swaying and chanting until sunset.  Citizens realize the tremendous impact this vote will have on the future of their country.

 The last few years have offered several defining moments for Kenya, but August 4, 2010 may be the most positive.  Two years ago, several regions of the country erupted into violent protest over the results of the General and Presidential elections. The disharmony arose from many deep seated historical issues, and the results yielded a divided nation. Two years later, the country stands on the cusp of a new constitution which addresses several of the contentious issues. The people of Kenya want to move forward.

Whatever the results, August 4, 2010 will be a memorable day in the history of this country. Kenya will make a decision which will shape its government and people for years to come. Some argue, the proposed constitution offers more national advancement than any other document since Kenya’s liberation from colonial rule in 1963. Others assert the document has strengths, but does not fully capture the heart, vision and values of the people. All agree that the nation must move forward in unity.

As we approach next week’s referendum, my prayer is that this great nation would take another step closer to the unity its people envision.

Boma, Sudan

The Ghana game hurt.  Ouch.  We watched the match at a friend’s home in Nairobi.  When it was all over, I looked at Shelvis and said, “I have a headache,” to which Shelvis responded, “My stomach hurts.”  Perhaps we were watching with too much intensity, but we knew that Ghana was the “last hope” for Africa in the world cup.  They were the youngest team in the tournament, and if they won, they would be the first African team ever in the semi-finals of a world cup.  Their opportunity to win seemed stolen when a player from Uruguay used his hands to block a goal in the last seconds of overtime.  The game was decided in penalty kicks, Ghana lost.

Even with such painful moments, I love watching the World Cup.  Soccer unites the world in a unique way.  I love it when a response to a goal is shown all over the world.  A group of people jump up, shouting at a stadium in Europe, in a town square in South America, a restaurant in Japan… all over the world.  When I left Sudan, the youth I play soccer with there were devising a plan of how they could watch the games, without a television.  (I will let you know the result once I return to Sudan).

The international connection I feel watching the world cup came to mind in a different way as I sat in church in Kenya on Sunday.  July is the coldest part of the year here and there is not heat in the church.  As a cold breeze whisked through the sanctuary’s window crossing my face and sending shivers through my body, my experience of going to church in Bolivia, South America came to mind.  An image of my beautiful friends in El Alto, wrapped in the warmest clothes possible, sitting on wooden benches in Iglesia Immanuel in the Andes Mountains, brought a huge smile to my face.  The World Cup unites us around a passion for “football,” but there is a way that God unites us that is even more exciting.  People are worshipping God even in places where there is no TV to watch a match.

The spiritual connection we share with people around the world was evident to us as we lead worship for high school students in Montreat, North Carolina in June.  Shelvis and I enjoyed the opportunity to preach together, to serve communion together for the first time, and to be inspired by young people of faith with great passion.  Through video, I introduced the youth at Montreat to the youth from the Church in Boma, Sudan.  I shared a short clip of the Sudanese youth singing and dancing in church, and Shelvis recorded the response of the American teenagers to the video.  (To view their response click here).  The Montreat youth were encouraged by the faith of their African sisters and brothers, and I can’t wait to show the youth in Sudan how their worship strengthened young people in America. 

The passion exhibited in the World Cup is inspiring, and it reminds me of the passion shared by people all over the world who are committed to serving God, to fighting injustice, to seeking hope in the midst of tragedy, and to uplifting a neighbor in their time of need.  As people of faith, we are not striving and struggling towards our goals alone.  We are part of a global team, who can encourage us when we are tired.  Therefore, let us press on, with great passion and commitment, in the journey to which God has called us.