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.

Rainy Morning

Last night I woke up to a thunderstorm. Pounding rain, thunder, lightning--all the good stuff. After looking out for a bit I laid in bed just listening. I just got up this morning and the air so nice and cool and it is still drizzling. The little lot below us is one giant mud puddle, as I suppose most of all the other roads around are as well.

Rain is still pattering about. A gray sky and a rainy morning in Sudan...never thought I would see the day! The few times that is has stormed in my time here they have been relatively short and always long gone by morning. I'm sure the sun will poke out later and the cool air will be replaced with very, very, hot and muggy air. But I'm soaking in this lovely morning. Because it just so happens to be the one weekday morning that I don't have to run off to language school first thing! The sound, the smell, the cool air...oh what a great gift!

Don't have all the answers. Ok with that.

The other afternoon I was sitting with two of the older male teachers at one of the centers. Two men that I respect a great deal. I ended up having quite a long, really great conversation with them. I didn't follow it 100%, but I was clued in for most of it...so far as I could tell anyway. We talked about forgiveness, war, Jesus, the Bible. All kinds of stuff. A few times they posed some really large questions that either a) I didn't really have the answer to, or b) my Arabic and/or confidence in my opinions were nowhere near big enough to explain.

Like, why were there no prophets from Africa? Why are people so weak in the faith sometimes? And questions about my ideas for strengthening the Church here. On of the few of the topics I do have some things to say. But I am intimidated! Who am I to tell these men--older, wiser, and who are surely stronger in the faith than I about what to do about certain things?

Thankfully they were gentle and didn't push me on certain topics. It certainly left me with a lot to think about. Their impression to some degree is that foreigners seem to help Muslims here more than the Christians. They also wanted to know why superpowers like the US and UK aren't stepping in and making the government stop all of destruction, especially in the areas their families are from. I told them they are trying and putting pressure on. They said we need to do more. I do agree that something needs to be done...but there are people trying to do things. It's just not that easy. I don't know how to say these things.

On a rough day I maybe would have left that conversation feeling somewhat defeated, wondering what I was doing here trying to help when I know so little myself. But instead I left feeling encouraged. My Arabic has come a long way and to even be in a conversation like that is an accomplishment. I can see progress I've made in some areas. I do need to still work on confidence in my opinions and sharing certain things eloquently (I'm much better with the written word than the spoken). But progress is progress, and I'm thankful for that.

Read somewhere recently that we are all teachers and we are all students. I like that.

Assumptions

Today I was sitting and talking with some of the older boys. This is always a highlight of my day/week. The topics range. We talk about music and America more than I'd prefer, but I still enjoy connecting with them all the same. I feel like a big sister to them and I love it.

It's funny how conversation flows. We started talking about my family and my time at home and then somehow started talking about my unmarriedness. This subject comes up frequently here, though rarely among the boys. After talking about it for a bit, they said that I would of course want to marry a Christian. To which I answered, yes, of course, he would need to be a Christian. One of the boys said "But all white foreigners are Christians." To which I responded "No! No, not all foreigners are Christians."

This is a sentiment that I get a lot. Just as it is assumed that all Arabs here are Muslims, it is assumed that all white people are Christians. I have to explain that many are not, and that there are some who are by word only and not by deed.

This is part of the problem of why many folks here don't view Christians in the best light. It is assumed that all Westerners are Christians, and therefore all of the garbage on TV and in movies, are a product from Westerners, "Christians," and therefore we all must be like this. It is for this reason that Western morals and therefore Christian morals are viewed as being rather poor.

So when I get an opportunity to bring light to this I do. And when people bring up religion I don't stop at saying that I am a Christian. I also say that I love God so much. Saying I am Christian holds little meaning here, really. It's like saying "Yes, I'm white." It is important for me to say, and show that I love God. People do notice a difference. I want to be as far as possible from the associations from the media of a young white lady.

Humility

Operation adjust my attitude is in full affect. I'm giving myself some grace because living here is hard and leaving home is emotional and all that. But I can't sit in that place. Gotta keep pressing on, you know?

I can generally gauge how I'm doing spiritually by how much I am writing. When life is dandy, which is always nice, I don't have a whole lot to work through or write about. I thank God for the good things and note the beautiful things in my day. When things are rough I tend to write a lot. I need to. It's how I work through stuff, how I slow down my mind to talk (and listen) to God. It's how I work through emotions and feelings. Get myself back to right thinking. So, suffice to say, this last week and a half or so have been rather prolific for me in terms of writing. I've had a lot of feelings to work through. God and I have had some good time together.

Can't say I've ironed out my life or figured out any big things. There have been no giant revelations necessarily. Just being reminded of who God is and what he's promised and what his Word says. I wouldn't say that I'm on the mountaintop...but the valley isn't looking quite so bad anymore.

 My sister gave me a book called "He Leadeth Me," about a priest who was in Russia and served for 15 years in a Siberian labor camp after being wrongfully convicted as a spy. I've been working through it bit by bit this week. Today after some marathon scribbles in my journal I was reading a chapter entitled "Humiliation." I almost had to smile when I read it. It's a pretty long excerpt, but bear with me if you will because this spoke to be exactly where I am right now.

"Young people planning to get married, choosing a profession, or answering a vocation to the priesthood or religious life, feel an enthusiasm and an interior joy they never knew before. Then, as the years go by, difficulties increase and there is a constant need for more sacrifice and a renewal of spirit in the initial promise or vow taken. And then it in that the test of ones humility--the realization of one's place before God--really begins. That is is that the difficulties of a man's calling begin to become a burden. "My yoke is sweet and my burden is light," said Christ, but the burdens of life, the sacrifices and self-denials, the humiliations, can be so only if we see in them the express will of God. Can there be anything more consoling than to look at a burden, or a humiliation, not just as it is in itself but as the will of God entrusted to you at that moment? Viewed in that way, no matter how heavy or trying the burden or the difficulty, I am able to carry it in a Spirit that indeed can make it light, for the realization that it comes from God and is his will for me carries with it a feeling of enthusiasm, of accomplishment, of importance, that brings joy and consolation to the heart...But unfortunately those who have lost a time sense of humility--that constant realization of the relationship between each individual and God--have also lost thereby the ability to look upon their own burdens in this way. They see instead only the burden, the difficulties, the humiliation, and they become depressed...How can all of this happen so suddenly, seemingly in so short a period of time? The answer lies in a loss of the virtue of humility, a loss of the vision of life as significant on God's sight, a loss of the vision that sees all things as coming from the hand of God. Once this vision is lost, then the self very subtly begins to assume greater importance and Gods will begins to grow less and less important. It's not our failings and faults or sins themselves that bring this about; it is a lack of humility. No matter how badly the humble man fails, he will reckon his accounts with God and start over again for his humility tells him of his total dependence on God. Isn't it time you learned to be meek and humble of heart, to give up your own will and strive to conform to God's and to seek first the kingdom of God and his justice?" Fr. Walter J. Ciszek

I have a long way to go in life, in love, in humiliation. But pain usually means growth. And I always want to be doing that. So until next time...I promise to try to be a little less heavy for a little while. :)

Ramadan kicked off yesterday. A long month ahead!

About that...

So perhaps my first blog entry back was a bit more optimistic than actually accurate.

Sudan hasn't exactly welcomed me back with a sweet embrace, so to speak. I arrived safely, but my luggage did not. After a couple of phone calls to the number they gave me and many anxious prayers on my part I got it a day and a half later, much to my relief. (It does, after all, contain hopefully enough chocolate to sustain me these next 9 months!) And, of course, of course we are continuing in our series of electrical problems in the apartment. My housemate and I can only really respond with sighs. And jet lag...life just seems to me a lot harder when you're tired and can't sleep. I don't mean to complain, but it's the truth of how I'm feeling.

What is definitely the hardest part is that I was unprepared emotionally for how difficult saying goodbye to everyone would be this time around. It's caught me kind of off guard and there have been more tears than I care to admit.

Leaving home where I fell so loved and well cared for, where I feel free, and coming back to a land where things generally don't make a whole lot of sense to me has been harder than I thought. I come back feeling torn between two worlds. One where I feel comfortable and at ease and surrounded by people and things that breathe joy and life into me. And another one that I choose for myself, that I'm learning to love, but that is a really, really hard place to live. I find myself wondering if I can hack it.

Choosing to live somewhere else is almost like asking for a broken heart. Because no matter where you are, a part of your heart is somewhere else. No matter where you are, you're a little incomplete.

I'm sure the sting will wear off in a few days. When I get back into life and a  routine it will make things easier I'm sure. I didn't expect returning to be this difficult. But later today I will go visit the boys. They bring me so much joy. Will invigorate my spirit I'm sure. It will help to be reminded why I'm here, and why I was a little sad to be leaving when I left for my break. :)

|"Like all explorers, we are drawn to discover whats out there without knowing yet if we have the courage to face it." Pema Chodron

Back Home from being at Home

Well I don't think that 4.5 weeks have ever gone by so fast in my life.

Being back in the States was wonderful. It was a whirlwind, but it was great.

I wasn't sure what to expect with reverse culture shock. What would stick out and be weird that used to be normal. Since it was a relatively brief visit, I don't think I actually experience that a whole lot. I did have a moment in Target where I verged on tears, just overwhelmed with the variety of stuff. If there was anything I perhaps struggled with other than the wealth of variety of stuff available all the time, was indecision. There were just so many options of everything that I had difficulty deciding on mych of anything. Thankfully there were friends and family members around who were happy to pick for me or be a voice of reason.

The first thing that stuck out to me coming home from the airport, much to the amusement of my Mom and sister who picked me up, was the sky. It was so blue and full of white billowy clouds. I exclaimed how beautiful the sky was on the trip home more than once. In Sudan the sky isn't really blue. It's more just bright, with maybe a hint of grayish, and red on dusty days. There are rarely clouds. Its a topic of conversation if there are.

So I enjoyed seeing all the people dear to my heart. I marvelled at nature--it is so good for my soul. I shopped at farmers markets and enjoyed all the things I can't here. Wore shorts, went running, met neighbors and friends of people who were curious about a girl and her life in Sudan. I answered lots and lots of questions. (Which I didn't mind one bit!) Thoroughly enjoyed the freedom of having a car and driving again. Not relying on public transport. Feeling like a normal part of the world around me. I got rained on and loved every second. Read through books outside on a rocking chair.

I don't feel quite as rested as I was hoping I would. Then again I'm not sure any of us are ever as rested as we would like to be. But it was a welcome break. An all to brief one. But it is good to be back. Excited for what the coming days and months have in store.