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.

Women waiting to vote in Boma market.

Election: In April 2010, Sudan held its first democratic election in 24 years. The elections were an important step in the 2005 Comprehension Peace Agreement (CPA), which ended the war between the North and South, a war lasting over 20 years.

Efforts towards “civic education” were carried out in certain regions to prepare citizens, many whom are illiterate, to vote. The pastor of our church in Nairobi led workshops in Southern Sudan, organized by the All Africa Conference of Churches (AACC), to support the election. As April 11th approached, we all wondered how the process would unfold.

Due to claims of fraud, several opposition parties decided to boycott the election before it began. We were all grateful, however, that the elections were peaceful.  Other positive aspects to the election include the fact that large numbers of women showed up to vote and many ran for local government and legislative positions (UNMIS media report). 

My Sudanese colleagues participated in the event with a mixture of emotions. One co-worker, who lived in a refugee camp in Uganda during the war, said, “I have voted for the first time in my life. When we were in Uganda we used to see people voting, but we had no choice. Now, we are voting… Voting is very important. It is a right. As a citizen you have to vote. Since we were born, nothing was done like that, but today we were able to vote.”

The next big step for this country is a referendum set for January, 2011. At that time, an election will determine if the country divides into two, North and South, or remains united as the Republic of Sudan.

Easter: When I arrived in Boma, I was told that the Presbyterian Church there does not celebrate Easter Sunday according to the church calendar.  They celebrate Christmas each December, but there is not an annual Easter Service.  So, I do not know if April 4, 2010 was their first designated “Easter” service, but I do know that it was my first time to preach on a Resurrection Sunday.

A week beforehand, one of the pastors said to me, making an effort to use English, “You preach Sunday.”  I was honored by the invitation, and also nervous.  Easter Sunday fell on the once a month, “Unity Prayer” day in Boma, which meant the service would be held in the open air market and four congregations would gather to worship together.

The morning of April 4^th was beautiful.  The strong wind that pushed through the trees reminded me of the power of our invisible God, who was very present to me that morning.  By God’s grace, I preached, and the service filled the market with singing and dancing.  Under the shelter of the large outstretched branches, uplifted by the music of the young people in Boma, the wonder of God exhibited in the empty tomb seemed miraculously real.  (To see a short video of the Easter service click:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfYF385VCf0 )

Youth Choir on Easter Sunday

When Kristen cut my hair, I knew I was in trouble when she started repeating, “I am so sorry.  I am so sorry,” as she unintentionally cut the back of my hair in a diagonal. 

When John in Nairobi cut my hair, I knew I was in trouble as soon as I walked into the salon.  My entrance brought a confused look to John’s face which I assume was a combination of wondering “how do you cut mzungu hair?” and “how much can I charge her?”  In Kenya, there are few set prices and few mzungus (white people). 

When I sat in the salon chair, John, perplexed, stared at my hair and asked “Do you want the whole thing cut?” 

“Yes, just cut it straight across,” I said, amused at the uncertainty of the outcome of this adventure.

A co-worker came to John’s aid, eager to join the spectacle.  The two of them, taking turns advising each other, proceeded to cut my hair “straight across” (but straight across when all the hair is pulled to the back makes the front pieces significantly longer than the ones in the back, which was not what I or the barbers intended). 

The plastic-handled scissors did not look like hair-cutting scissors to me, and without wetting my hair first, the “straight” cut was doomed from the outset.  But the experience was priceless. 

The largest difference in my two haircut fiascos was the reaction of the barbers.  While my sister was keenly aware of the damage she did to my hair and the fact that I would go immediately to a salon to get it evened out, John looked at his finished masterpiece with great pride.  “Now you will not have to worry about it anymore,” he said smiling, glad to be of help.  I thanked him. 

As I put the hair that was left in a short ponytail, John noticed a group of hairs sticking out farther than the others.  “Can I cut this one?” he asked. 

“Sure,” I responded, assuming he would cut the longer strands to match the length of the others.  I was wrong.  He just cut the longer group from its root at my scalp. Wow, I can’t believe he did that, I thought to myself, wondering how many months it would take for that part to catch back up with the others. 

John was still beaming with pride.  He then took the rubberband out of my hair and tried to create a ponytail by himself (at which point I think he was just enjoying trying something new).  He struggled to figure out how to wrap the rubberband around the hair, “I have no idea how to do this” he said light heartedly.

I have been cutting Shelvis’ hair for a year now, and that day he had his first chance to return the favor.  “Just cut it straight” I told him when I returned to our apartment. 

The experience was comic, but a good reminder of the things I take for granted being in the majority ethnic group in my home country.  I do not have to look as hard as Shelvis to find someone who knows how to cut my hair in the US. 

In the US, I do not have to wonder if “flesh” colored band-aids will match my skin.  Also, in the US, I am not given the daunting assignment of speaking on behalf of my people, which is a regular task of mine here in East Africa (sometimes I am asked to speak for all “Americans” and sometimes for all “white people”, both are impossible for me to do accurately). 

It is good to be reminded of the things I take for granted, as it makes me aware that my experiences in the US are not the same as someone from a minority ethnic group.  So, for that reason, I am grateful to John for the unforgettable haircut.  (And Kristen, I forgave you years ago)

Sudan has many types of lizards I have never seen before!

We are celebrating Shelvis’ birthday today as well as celebrating the things we are learning and experiencing in East Africa by God’s grace.  I just returned from Sudan this week after spending two weeks in Yei and two in Boma.  The story below is about my arrival in Sudan, and there is story about the work in Yei entitled  “Yei PAP Program” in the column on the right side of this page.  

Shelvis is enjoying planning a conference for church leaders in Kenya.  The workshops will highlight the relationships between gender-based violence, the spread of HIV/AIDs, and commonly held perceptions of masculinity.  The conference is planned for May, so please keep it in your prayers.  Thank you, as always, for your love and support!

We soared past small collections of round and rectangular rooves.  Green trees dotted fields of long tan grass.  Shortly after flying over the Nile River, we landed.  Our faces were greeted by hot, thick air as we walked down the aircraft’s metal stairs.  Planes marked with the bold, capital letters “WFP” and “UN,” and helicopters were the only other carriers on the steaming tarmac slab.   We entered a small building labeled “Juba International Airport” in both English and Arabic script. 

Before leaving Kenya, I was told that every 3^rd man in Sudan carries a gun, so I was not surprised that a wooden table covered with guns and ammunition stood next to me as I waited in the immigration line.  (I have not found the 3^rd person rule to hold true).  The airport was buzzing with tall, thin soldiers in tan, green and blue camou uniforms. I took my luggage to one such man to be searched.  He moved a few items around and then pointed to a zip-lock bag of tampax tampons, and asked in a low, serious voice, “what is this?”  My mind raced, searching for an appropriate explanation, holding back a smile and trying to sound serious, “They are for women,” I said.  Without another response, he marked my bag in chalk with an unfamiliar sign, which denoted clearance. 

Outside the airport, we found the sun again waiting to meet us.  I put on my sunglasses and started sweating.  Every second car in the parking lot was a large SUV with a metal cargo rack on top.  We hoisted our luggage and ourselves into the Land Cruiser marked “ACROSS and UNHCR,” and headed for YEI. 

The 100 mile journey would take 5 hours.  From a large radio antenna on the front of the car flew a white ACROSS flag with the printed words: “Transforming Lives and Communities.”  The flag flapped in the wind, leading the car like a ship as we sailed on the rocky red roads.  In Sudan, unlike in Kenya and Uganda, cars should remain on the right side of the road.  In reality, however, drivers crisscross from left to right aiming for the smoothest ride possible, trying to avoid holes.  Of the people with bundles on their bicycles or on their heads, some wore traditional East African patterned materials, others more “western” looking attire.  All the women wore skirts. 

Every few kilometers we passed collections of traditional homes called tukuls. These mud-walled houses displayed beautiful straw rooves, which glistened like gold in the strong sun’s glare.  Between the bunches of tukuls stretched fields often charred from an agricultural method of burning the reeds and grass. 

After two hours we stopped to buy sodas and water in a small town called Lanya.  I noticed a blue kiosk with the phrase “Poverty is not a sin” painted in white letters above the window.  I wondered why the owner made the statement.  The painted words countered the message that poverty is simply an outcome of a person’s sin.  Although newly in the country, I knew enough to know that many complex factors are at play in the economic situation in war-torn Southern Sudan. 

Because our car is labeled as an NGO, we passed through the police stops freely.  If not associated with an NGO, a fine must be paid to cross.  About half way through our trip, however, we encountered a road block that we were not allowed to pass.  The hanging rope displayed a sign announcing “de-mining” was in process; no one could travel for 45 minutes.  A crowd was gathered under the nearest tree: sitting, standing, waiting.  

The unfortunate reality is that mines still lay sleeping in the fields, waiting to be awakened by an unsuspecting person or child.  My Sudanese co-passengers mentioned that hospitals continue to treat people who have lost limbs to these hidden explosives.  During the Civil War, “both the Northern government and the SPLA (Sudanese People’s Liberation Army) placed mines around the areas they controlled,” a colleague explained. 

A few miles further we found Yei town bustling with people.  Stores, kiosks, motorbikes, people walking, people sitting, people running on a large, dirt soccer field.  We pulled into the office compound, and Mary, a Kenyan colleague who also made the trip from Nairobi, introduced me to those remaining in the office after hours.  “James, Agnes, Boniface, Suzan, ….” many names and smiling faces; I longed for the day when I would truly known them.  “This is the office where our program works,” she said, opening the door to a room 3 x 3.5 meters; with my arrival, five of us would share the space.  Thomas and Ben greeted me in the small PAP office and then joined us for the rest of the tour.  

Thomas, Ben, Me, Mary and Nelson in Yei office

The compound is filled with small homes with tin roofs.  “That is where devotions are held, over there the lunch meals are cooked, next to it meals are eaten, and this is where you will stay…..” 

As I crossed the threshold of my new residence, a feeling of being overwhelmed rose inside of me.  The four of us stood together in the entrance of the cement house for a moment.  Then Ben and Thomas, who live in the surrounding community, asked if they could offer a prayer.  They seemed happy I was there to work alongside them.  The two remained late in the office to greet me, and now they prayed that amidst all of the differences in a new environment, I would remain healthy.  The feeling of overwhelmedness resided, pushed out by a sense of peace.  I appreciated the reminder that no matter where I am, God is always present and God’s Spirit moving.  It is only for me to join in.

Nairobi Skyline

Tumefika!  We have arrived!  We spent the past few days settling into our apartment in the bustling metropolis of Nairobi, Kenya.  We are enjoying reconnecting with friends and with our Nairobi church family.  In order to give you an idea of where we are living, I am including a video on cities in Africa with several pictures of Nairobi.  While in the US, a friend explained to us, in an exasperated tone, that many Americans in her generation are afraid to visit Africa. “The reason,” she explained, “is that the only images we saw of Africa growing up were of people with bones in their noses.”  So, I thought I could try to dispel that stereotype a bit by showing a few images of skyscrapers in Africa before I head to rural Sudan.   To view the video click here.

While home, Nancy was ordained as a Minister in the PC(USA). The outpouring of support surrounding this event encouraged our hearts. A BIG “thank you” to New Life Presbyterian Church and all the people who contributed to making the moment unforgettable.

To Everything There is a Season, Turn, Turn, Turn… Kenya is a BEAUTIFUL country.  While living there, we soaked in our surroundings with awe and wonder(the great Rift Valley, the beautiful skies, the Indian Ocean).  America is also a BEAUTIFUL country, yet the two are quite different.  Unlike the seasons in Georgia (fall, winter, spring, summer), the seasons in Kenya include: the short rains, the long rains, and the dry time in between.  Until I moved to East Africa, I did not think about the fact that some people have never seen leaves change colors.  Since we were home this fall, we realized that absence does make the heart grow fonder.  Our appreciation for the brilliant colors of autumn was heightened this year. 

It’s a Small World After All, A Small Beautiful World…While living in Atlanta, we have been presenting to groups and congregations about our work in East Africa.  We spoke on over 30 occasions and were humbled by the opportunity for Shelvis to share through an interview on CNN (click here to view).  With each opportunity, we told the stories of the people who inspired us in Africa.  We felt as if we were introducing new friends to old friends.  We delighted in the opportunity to remind fellow Americans of our connections in mind, body, and spirit with our neighbors living across the ocean.  Across the ocean, we can learn from one another.  We can be enriched, challenged, convicted, and united by our similarities and our differences.

We spoke with a College Presbyterian Campus Ministry in Spartanburg, SC

Our connectedness with global neighbors overwhelmed me this Christmas season, when I met a man named Benjamin.  I was at a “Multicultural Christmas Celebration” organized by the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta, when an older man approached me and introduced himself.  He told me that he reads Shelvis and my website updates regularly.  Benjamin worships with a church in Conyers, Georgia but is connected with several churches in Mexico. He translates our updates into a specific dialect spoken in Mexico and sends the translated updates to the churches in Mexico.  “They are praying for you,” he said.

High School Classmate and CNN correspondent Brooke Baldwin interviewed Shelvis on CNN’s Faces of Faith

How is it possible, I thought to myself, that churches in Mexico, filled with people I have never met, are praying for me?  My understanding of our connection to all whom God creates was deepened in that moment, strengthened by Benjamin’s willingness to reach out to me, sweetened by the faith and love of people in Mexico willing to pray for a unknown young couple, European-American and African-American, who are serving alongside Kenyans in ministry several time zones away.  God is indeed great and this small world quite beautiful.

The Atlanta Globetrotters…We are hitting the air again, returning to East Africa.  I (Nancy) will leave Dec 29^th for Nairobi, Kenya where I will go through training before heading to Southern Sudan.  We are continuing the Presbyterian Church’s Young Adult Volunteer program, yet this term I will be working with an organization called “Across.”  Across has been engaged in community development in Southern Sudan for over 20 years and focuses on holistic transformation, in the areas of education, health, economics and spiritual formation (www.across-sudan.org).  I will cycle between program implementation in Southern Sudan (4-5 week stays) and work in their Nairobi office (2 week stays).  In Sudan I will be living and working in a rural area and may not have regular access to internet, so please accept my apology in advance for slow responses to much appreciated correspondence. 

Shelvis plans to return to Nairobi, Kenya in January.  He is excited to continue working with the Fellowship of Christian Councils and Churches in the Great Lakes and Horn of Africa (FECCLAHA) and serving on staff at Loresho Presbyterian Church.

Please know that we will miss you when we are away, but that you will remain in our thoughts and prayers.