Eid Week

This past week was Eid. Starting Sunday everyone celebrated the end of Ramadan with visiting/food/presents/prayers. Kids got a week off of school, most businesses were closed, and everyone spends the week visiting and traipsing around in their new clothes.

One day last week my housemate and I went and visited upstairs with our landlord/neighbors. It is a lovely couple with an ornery two year old and another little one on the way. We count ourselves very lucky to have such lovely, good natured folks not only as neighbors, but also as the owners of our flat. We feel well looked after and cared for, which is a great blessing.

They are finishing constructing the fourth floor of the building right now. We asked them what they planned on doing with it and they said they would rent it out. They told us to keep an ear out for any people we know who need a place. Hajaar (the lady) said they didn’t want Sudanese. We laughed, and she did too, but then said, no, really, Sudanese are more difficult. We laughed and said we’re difficult! It is not the first time I have heard this sentiment from houseowners who rent out. Foreigners overall are ideal renters because they are known generally to take better care of things, complain less, and have less demands. It is just a little funny to me though because, at least since I moved in, we have not exactly been the easiest tenents. For one, hello!, a housefire! Ok, I guess it wasn’t really our fault, but still Yasser had to oversee three weeks of reflooring/repainting/rewiring in our flat. We also struggle with constant electrical problems and recently my roomates door got slammed shut from the wind, the knob broke, and he had to come with two workmen and basically break into the room. Even with all that (and more) for us to still be considered less problematic and preferable to a local family is kind of nuts.

No less nuts than a lady singling me out on a bus full of Sudanese, and asking me directions on how to get to an area of town. It happened to be the same area of town where I was headed so she said "Ok, I'll come with you." We got off together, and got on the other bus. I didn't know the name of the place she was going, but explained to her where the bus would go and suggested she ask someone else who would probably know better when we got on. I have no idea why she picked me out of the bunch, assumed that I knew Arabic, and assumed that I, a person clearly not from this city/country/continent, would know the area of town she was trying to get to. It felt great to be on the other side of that equation and to help someone else find their way around. A somewhat odd, but lovely interaction.

Skeches

A glimpse into a couple of pages from my sketchbook.



One of the littlies at the center. Colored pencil.



A friend while the group of us were in Port Sudan last year. Ink/Graphite.



Empty glass Pepsi bottle. Pronounced "Bibsi" in Arabic. Ink.

Rickshaw. But in real life they are much more beat up and much more heavily decorated. Graphite.



Man in a jalabiyya. Mostly graphite/a little ink but then I got lazy.



One of the boys from the older center. Graphite.



Director of one of the centers. Graphite.



Ladies in Tobes. Colored pencil.



One of the older boys. Graphite.



One of the older boys.Graphite.



One of the littlies. Ink

Come Back

Remember him? He had been doing so well for months. Not running away. Less arguing and fighting. Was doing so well in school and one of the most clever in his class. Loved the art programs and always took them really seriously. It was amazing.

Another boy who had been at the center for awhile and then left for a few months came back about the same time I got back to Sudan. Then, when I went this week to the center, they were both gone. I asked where they were. Gone, ran away, back to the market.

It makes me so sad.

I saw them yesterday. They came to the door and peeked in while I was doing the program with the other boys. Then they ran off. Their eyes were glassy and I'm sure they are back to sniffing glue.

I'm sure they'll come back. I hope they do. They've run away and returned before. I'm hoping they'll exhaust from the life and remember what it's like to be in a place that is loving and safe. Praying God gives them wisdom beyond their years and sense to see that street life is a life they need out of.

Please bring them back, Lord.

Chats

I had a really nice afternoon one day last week with the littlies. I didn't exactly feel like going and dealing with multiple buses after 4 hours of Arabic class. But I went, of course, and it was good. The project for the last couple of weeks was having them make books for themselves. We took paper, made holes, bound the books. Then each day I gave them something different to write/illustrate on each page. Self-portrait, family, friends, school, future, goals etc. A few of the boys always take what we're doing very seriously and really work and try and sometimes I literally have to weild the pencils from their little hands when the time is up. I'm grateful for this.

On that same day one of the graduated boys who now lives in the halfway house and is going to start university soon was there visiting. He's got a gentle, thoughtful nature about him. We ended up leaving about the same time and rode the bus to the station together. We didn't talk the whole time, but for the majority of it. It was nice just...not being alone. It was nice to have someone to walk through the station with. Having someone talk with me in one of the parts of my day that are usually done solo made me feel less...alone. It was nice.

Made me think about how when someone just takes time to talk to you, acknowldeges you, makes an effort, it does mean something. When I do that with the boys its not meaningless. Sometimes I'll stay chatting with the older ones until it starts getting later/the sun starts going down. There have been a handful of occassions where they have said something about wasting my time or making me suffer them.To which I say, in more words, "Um, no. You're the reason I'm here." They're important. Worth my time, always.

The last two weeks I have had a different version of the same conversation with one of the older boys, Asbuur. (The same one I talked about here.) His big goal in life is to be really rich. So we've spent time talking about that and I've brought up how lots of money isn't really good and certainly not the most important thing in life (Lord, people, relationships). Some really good talks. I feel almost hypocritical, though. I don't lack for anything. I never have. I have never known hunger or what it's like to not have money for food. I don't know the poverty each of these boys have seen and faced or exactly how their families lived. I feel a little ridiculous denouncing these notions of wealth and material things. Because...I live in that world. I don't need for anything. But I do want them to see that money isn't the answer to everything and not the aim of life. That giving and not getting bring true joy. That the people they see on TV are not all they are cracked up to be. I pray that God gives me wisdom as I talk with these boys. That my words will reflect Him. And, too, that they'll be more than words and my life will share the same message.

Yes, conversation. I have been encouraged in it lately. Working on some new cool stuff with the older boys. We'll see where it goes!

Overthinking

I have so much going through my head these days. So much I feel like I'm working through or mulling over at least. Who I am and what in the world to do in these coming days of my life. For any sort of work here I feel like there must be someone better. More qualified, less awkward, braver, and better in new situations. I can't possibly be the best person for the the job, any job, here. But I feel like God led me here. I was willing to come. And here I am. The fact that I'm here is something. God uses willing hearts...right?

But I look around and see poverty. I read about sex workers. I know slavery exists here and I know it exists even especially in America. (Google about tomato workers in FL, among other things) In light of all this nothing feels like enough. Nothing I can do will hold a candle to these crazy, cruel, unfathomable beasts in our world.

I struggle with living off of financial support. I often feel guilty that I'm not doing enough or being enough to justify the resources that are keeping me here. What would be enough? I really don't know. In chatting with friends in similar situations, even people who I think are incredible and doing great things, feel the same way. That makes me feel a little better. I feel like I easily see the ministry and love in the lives of others. Bringing good and light to their corners of the world. Sometimes I struggle to see it in my corner. I go to class, learn Arabic, sometimes get to talk about Truth with teachers there. I spend most of my afternoons at the center's watching silly tv, eating, sitting, talking about Justin Beiber and what I don't know about the WWE and doing arts and crafts with the boys. Is that enough? Is that advancing the kingdom at all?

I have to believe so. I have to believe it is for now. I don't think being here is a mistake. And if it's not a mistake...then God ordained it. Even a cup of cold water offered in Jesus' name advances the kingdom. Even the things that don't bring visible dramatic change can still in small and seemingly insignificant ways bring his kingdom come. I have to believe what he said is true.

It kind of boils down to trust, doesn't it? Do I trust that God is using me? Am I demanding proof from him? Will I remain unconvinced unless God shows me? It even comes down to...do I trust in the promise that he will use is not only in spite of our weaknesses but in them? I'm needing to see with my eyes and and feel with my hands in order to justify my worth and value to myself that I'm being useful. I should be living and trusting that when I walk with God, when I give my best, He uses all for good and works in and through is whether I can see it or not.

I still long for the big kindnesses and acts of love and to feel like I'm making a difference in the world somehow. But no one stands alone. We are all a part of something bigger than ourselves. Lots and lots of people contribute to the success of a person of thing. I have always had some key people in my life, but I have been sustained by small acts of love all along the way. Am I not content to be a small part of something bigger? I do adore these boys. I struggle to know how to show it best or what to do all the time. But anything is something..right?

"The temptation is to look beyond these things, precisely because they are so constant, so petty, so humdrum and routine, and to seek to discover instead some other and nobler 'will of God' in the abstract that better fits our notion of what his will should be." Fr. Walter Ciszek

Oh man, and I'm learning that that surrendering to Christ, dying to self, and submitting ourselves to Christ is a daily thing. At different points in my life I have tearfully surrendered to God. I've told him I'm willing to die for him, willing to leave everyone I love and come to Africa, willing to stay single if that's what happens. But I can't do that once and then it just counts. I can't make that decision once and then it'll stick there by itself for the rest of my days. It is an every day thing.
I've been reading through the Psalms recently and it is encouraging to know that David thought along the same lines as I do sometimes. "Oh! We're all puffs of air! Oh! We're all shadows in a campfire. Oh! We're just spit in the wind. We make our pile and then we leave it." (Ps 39:6) I read this and crack a little smile. Because I feel exactly that way sometimes. Too, I have been relishing the beautiful word pictures; "And how blessed are those in whom you live, whose live become roads you travel. they wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God travelled, these roads curve up the mountain and at the East turn-Zion! God in full view!" (Ps 84:57) Oh for my life to be a road God travels. I love that.

I feel like I've been stuck in my head a little these last few weeks. This land is one where I'm fine (really) but I struggle to thrive. Maybe I thought by this point I would find my footing and be...I dunno better at this somehow than I am. But I am finding truth abounding on this road. I'm thankful for that. And for you. Maybe this post is a little too personal. I dunno. But I always want to be genuine. In any case...prayers this way are appreciated. I know they have power.

"You are more, you are more than my words will ever say
You are Lord, you are Lord all creation will proclaim"
Forever Reign-Hillsong

More than One

Muslim men can have up to four wives. Only the really wealthy have this many if they choose to. (Apparently women are expensive...? :)) I'd venture to say that the majority have one wife, but there are many who have more. The president of Sudan just recently married his third.

At the older boys centre there is a Muslim teacher who comes a few times a week to do Islam studies with the boys who are Muslim. For the centre not to do this would be illegal. I see him every now and again. He and the teachers are all friends. I love seeing that, especially as this is the same property where the church was destroyed by an angry mob a few months ago.

This week he was telling me how he has two wives. I responded with "Ohhh, difficult." He laughed and laughed and shook my hand. Was pretty tickled by the comment. I wasn't really sure what to say so luckily the first thing that popped out of my mouth he found funny and not offensive.

His first wife has no children and his second wife has. One of my friends neighbors is a lady who has been married for a couple of years. They have no children. This is an embarrassment to a couple, specifically, to a woman. These things are always viewed as the fault of the woman.*(See end note) He is taking a second wife just so he can have children. He explained to his wife that it is only to have children, not for any other reason. Can you imagine how both the first and second wives must feel about the whole thing? One not able to produce the one thing that both she and her husband want, and the other basically only being used as a baby maker. I think it's so sad.

I tread on eggshells here. It is a tricky thing. On the one hand the West could learn a thing or two about close familial ties. On the other hand...it is extremely difficult to understand how women are viewed and treated sometimes here. I know of non-believers here who have been touched by the verses in Ephesians that command wives to submit to their husbands, but on the same hand for husbands to love their wives. It is a revolutionary idea for some. I'm no going to pretend that I fully understand the culture(s) here. But I do see pain and cracks in the surface. If you look at Islam it is hard to not to see it as a religion in which women especially can not succeed.


*And in all actuality it is usually due to some malfunction in the woman's body. Usually the result of the illegal, yet still widely practiced, tradition of circumcising girls as to guarantee their purity until marriage.