It seemed like a good idea. Part 1

It seemed like a good idea...Famous last words, huh?

I'm going to do this post in three parts. Because...it warrants that many.

So my Grandma gave me some money to do something nice for the boys around Christmas. I also had some money from the last of the wire stuff that sold and my housemate had some money from extra tutoring that she wanted to use as something nice for the boys. So, since at Christmas they all get a new outfit and new shoes and a toy/thing of their choice I thought it would be cool for them to go on a little field trip.

I was still in the brainstorming phase. But I as I was sending the director lady an email about other stuff, in there I included "Hey, so I was thinking it might be cool sometime if the older boys could take a day trip to the pyramids to see outside of Ktown a little bit and learn some about their history. What do you think?"

This is where things began to swiftly spiral out of my hands.

Two hours later I'm at the center running a program and the director of the older boys center, Musa, asks to speak with me in the office. I got a little worried because this is the first time he has ever asked to speak with me privately. Turns out that instead of just emailing me back with her opinion, director lady went ahead and called Musa and talked to him about it. Yikes.

He was totally jazzed by the idea. Thought it was great and wanted to plan it for the upcoming weekend. I was like "Um...maybe not so soon? There's no hurry..." He's like well I already told the boys so we need to do it soon. Oh my.

So it ends up being planned two weekends from then. I asked him for estimations on costs. The bus, the food, etc. So I could get an idea. These are all things I had been hoping to discuss way beforehand, before anyone knew or anything was planned. I had wanted to dialogue about these sorts of things before any wheels had been set in motion. 

Too late for that.

I asked him every day that I went to the center again for these estimations. I knew I needed to give them the food money in advance so they could prep and everything.

Fast forward to last Thursday, the day before we are supposed to go. I get there and thankfully Musa is there. He's like, "Hey, we need the money for food." and I'm like "Really? Cuz I've been trying to give it to you for a week and a half!" So we sit down on the office with Mama Shama, the cook (lovely lady, calls me her daughter, super sweet), and like four of the other teachers. Shama and another teacher had wrote out a list of the food costs and it was ridiculous. Bonkers over the top.

It was a heart sinking moment. When you realize things are completely slipping from your hands.

Sat in the office for the next half hour or so while Musa went over the list line by line crossing things off and making it more realistic. I sat there thinking "Thank God!" as he said things like "Bottled water? No. We can take jerry cans. Apples (which are pretty expensive) and bananas? No, just bananas." As he is doing this some of the teachers are seeming annoyed that he is penny-pinching their crazy wish list and the others seem annoyed for even being there. At this point I'm starting to feel like, forget it! We don't even need to go! At one point they ask me what the most we can spend is. I can't really answer that because I still don't know how much the transport will cost and I don't have a good handle on the realistic cost for 30 people for 3 meals.

Musa ends up halving the food budget, thank goodness. They still were getting chicken and some meat, and eggs, so it was still special. That's fine.

Then Musa mentions that he isn't going. And so and so and so and so aren't going either. It will be me, two younger teachers that I don't know that well, and the Islamic studies teacher who I also don't know that well. I start to get more nervous. That is a lot of travel time and logistical decisions that will need to be made without the director. Plus I'm kind of annoyed because when I talked to Musa in the first place he said "This will be very good, even I have not seen the pyramids." and seemed like he wanted to go. None of the teachers had seen them and what I thought would be a cool opportunity is actually something, kind of, no one really cares to do or see. Ah!

Then the guy who will be driving the bus for us comes in and they agree on a price that seems high, but what to I know?

As I head out after all that I stop in the kitchen to talk to Shama to make sure she is coming with us the next day. She said, "Yes, of course! I told Musa that he can't leave you by yourself with all those men and boys. Don't worry your Mom is coming to look after you." I felt quite relieved. At least there would be someone there so I didn't feel on my own in the group!

I left feeling hopeful that it would be a good trip, but also recognizing the potential for disaster.

Lately

Sort of slowly started up my programs again with the boys after the break. For three days I went to the older boys center and the classroom where my cupboard is was locked. The first day I was told one of the boys had the key and was out. So I sat and chatted with them. The next day the boy didn't have the key and I was told the director had the key but he wasn't there. The day after that the director was there and didn't have the key, but thought that I had the key. Nope. No one knows where the key is. So they hammered off the lock and I was able to do a program with the boys. This is not terribly uncommon or the first time something like this has happened. I'm not a patient person by nature. God knows this all too well which may be part of the reason He has me in Africa. Oh, sanctification!

Right now with the boys we're making cups (and maybe tables next?) from scrap paper and a runny glue made from flour. (Can also be made from old bread or leftovers from porridge.) It's essentially glorified paper mache. But if you do it right, it actually makes and incredibly strong vessel. The boys were dubious when I was explaining it. So I turned the cup I made over and stood on it to show them that it really was strong. Then they said that I am light so it didn't count. So the largest of the teachers stood on it and they were convinced. :) They didn't believe me at first that it was just made of paper, but they're getting into the idea.

They keep asking me when we will start up the work with the wire again. They are eager to get some pocket money, plus it is something they enjoy doing. There are no bazaars or people buying stuff like that really until Christmas. So we'll start it up again in another month or so. I'm very happy that they want to do it again!

Yesterday and today I have taken sick days. Came home after a very long day Sunday night with some pain on my left side under my ribcage when I breathed. I wasn't able to get much sleep because it It increased and spread quite a bit into Monday along with a fever. I called a Dr lady I know who said that it is probably some infection/inflammation in the lining of my lung or something. I feel better today. The fever has gone and the pain has concentrated to just one area. Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to the swing of things. Just as long as I am better by Friday. Something super fun is happening on Friday...

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