Why I'm Going Back and Why it's Not to Stay and What I'm Doing Next

I am planning on returning to Juba in about a week. But only for a few days.

I am going because I want to retrieve my things. I left with just my go bag. Also, Ethiopian Airways owes me a massive refund and, according to their less than understanding staff in their Nairobi office, I must do it from Juba.

I need to get the girls money sorted. I left it in a lock box under my bed when I left in a hurry and I sure hope it's still there. I need to get a secure place for it, maybe a bank? The safe at CCC? I don't know. I would also like to look into shops/other avenues where the girls could sell their handwork.

I would like to get a proper goodbye in with the girls. But I don't know if that will be possible. They are in Yei now, about 5 hours south of Juba. Originally I was planning on taking a bus down to Yei and back to see them for a few days. But that road is no longer safe. Rebels and others on it and reports of robberies and assaults. Maybe in the coming months if things continue to settle down I can go back and visit them. I don't know.

It is important for me to go back, wrap up loose ends, end well. Or as well as I can. But I can't stay. This is not only a personal decision, but one made by my organization as well.

Juba, while currently under government control, is still unstable. There is still a lot of tension in the city, and rising animosities as well as robberies and other crime on the rise. The US Embassy there has shut down. If something happens again while I'm there I have no organizational support, as well as no embassy support. They literally can do nothing to help me.

Also, I am utterly exhausted. 2013 was a hard year. If you are reading this you know about my traumatic exit from Ktown at the beginning of 2013. From July I have been working full time with street girls, and also living with them. I have been "on" for the last 7 months. When my area leader came in November to visit she was concerned. I was exhausted, at the end of my rope. She basically said my living situation needed to change. I agreed. I loved what I was doing. But there was never time to rest/recover at the end of the day.

Then, in December, when Juba went under attack I was there for the 3 nights of fighting. Listening to gunfire with 37 girls. I was scared and I was tired. And I couldn't believe I was fleeing a country for the second time in a year. It was an immense relief to leave. It was also massively hard. Leaving behind the girls, our staff. A brand new country falling into civil war again so soon. Devastating.

The following 2 weeks I spent in the UK with my boyfriend, meeting his family and friends, and trying to catch up on sleep. After that I went to Ethiopia for 2 weeks of conferences. Which were good, but exhausting. At the conference I was able to meet with our leadership as well as my Member Care people. People laughed and cried with me at the absurdity of the past year. Everyone was concerned.

We took some stress inventory thing. You mark by things that have happened in the last year and your stress level is assessed based on that. For the normal western person living in their home country, a score of over 200 places you at high risk for some sort of mental or physical breakdown in the next 2 years. The average well-functioning overseas worker scores about 600. This is because they generally have better coping abilities and a strong sense of call or purpose.

My score was 1024. Which is concerning.

I'm fine. I feel fine most days. But my capacity is limited. Tears and stress are simmering so very close to the surface. It doesn't take much. I am craving routine, stability. I feel on the edge of tipping. All of my PI leadership has told me to rest. To take time to rest. To take it easy for awhile. I am not the type to back down from a challenge and I'm not one to be easily defeated. I hate feeling like a wuss.

So I am thankful for the people who know what they're talking about, who care about my well being, telling me to take a rest. So much transition, so many changes, so much demanding work for the last several months, trauma on top of it. I want to live in Africa for a long time. But in order to do that, I need to take time to recover when I'm down.

So...I am in Nairobi, Kenya now. My org has people here, but, it's time to be said, the main reason I'm settling in here for now is because of a boy. We met in Juba and have been dating. And it's serious. And with our earlier-than-planned exits from South Sudan, his office has him working in Nairobi. So it looks like I'll be settling in here for at least the next few months. (But things change so quickly, I wouldn't be surprised if that changes again soon!)

The main thing I need to do right now is take care of myself. I need solitude, rest, nourishment in soul and body. Ideally I could do that in the States, but I can do that in some measure here I'm hoping. BUT, also, just another testament to the beautiful way God works, I've been approached to help with a project. And even in my exhaustion, I am really, really excited.

While at the conference another PI girl saw me doodling my notes. She whispered and asked if I do illustrations. I said yeah, I draw. And she told me how she's been wanting to write a children's book, applicable and culturally appropriate for East Africa to teach kids about sexual abuse.

We talked, we met with a Kenyan lady who is getting her PhD in Child Psychology,  and once I get my art supplies from Juba, I'm going to start the scary and exciting process of illustrating this book. Which is perfect. Just perfect. It is still the realm of things that I care about very deeply and work that I am passionate about. But exactly what I need right now--work that I can do in quiet, that is much less intense than the work I have been doing the last few years. It involves my gifting and skills and also can teach kids, and hopefully help prevent some sexual abuse.

So that's what's going on for now. There is still much to decide and sort out and work through. But I need to rest. I keep reminding myself--I need to rest. I don't have much to give now and if I hope to, I need to rest and refill my stores so I can be emptied again.

"Praise to the Lord, who o'er all things so wonderfully reigneth
Shelters thee under his wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!"
Praise to the Lord, the Almighty

"You came near me when I called on you; you said, "Do not fear!"" Lametations 3:57

Home

"And I hope by thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home"

As I’ve been at this conference this week we’ve started every morning with worship. Which has been wonderful—I’ve been missing corporate worship in my life. The songs have all been good and appropriate as I’m crying out to God about the conflict in South Sudan and the uncertainties, complexities, and anxieties in my life. There have been a few songs with the word “home” in them, and each time I’d sing a line with that in it tears would spring to my eyes.

The girl I’ve been rooming with this week lives and serves in a small village in Uganda. When you get in a place where there are lots of people who can relate to your crazy life, venting tends to happen. One evening we exchanged frustrations: “My neighbors give me no privacy!” “I’m so frustrated with living in shared space!” “I just want my own freaking kitchen!” “I dream about having all my possessions in one place someday!” “Can anything ever be easy?!”

It was cathartic. I think complaining is fine so long as you don’t let yourself dwell there too long. We were venting and laughing and starting talking about how this is the life we chose. There are mega frustrations but we wouldn’t want anything else. But I am a homebody. I desire to settle in. I hate being uprooted. And, so, this whole concept of “home” has been bouncing around in my mind all week.

I’ve called at least three places home in the last year. I have belongings in four countries. (Five if you include the winter coat and accessories I left in the UK).  In the last three weeks I have slept in seven different beds. Nine if you include the seat on plane on overnight flights. I really have no idea when I will be settling someplace for more than a few weeks in the foreseeable future.

In John 14 it talks about making our home in Christ. He is our place of rest. Our exhale at the end of the day. Our exhale throughout the day, really. Our home is where we are nourished, where we are settled, and usually where the people we love the most are. It is a place of warmth, comfort, importance. I don’t know where on earth to call my home right now. But if I keep looking up, and keep my perspective on the life hereafter, making my home in Christ can mean something. It’s easier to hold the things of this life more loosely if I think of Christ as my home—my place of belonging and being, than anywhere else on this earth.

I’ve befriended a lady who was working in another area in South Sudan. An area that has been taken by rebels and has been bombed and looted. Colleagues have e-mailed her saying that there are dead bodies just lying in the streets and the stench is overwhelming. Today they sent her pictures of her belongings picked over. Her small home trashed and looted. The locks on her trunks shot off and her medical books strewn about.

I am embarrassed with myself with how concerned I am about the stuff I have in Juba and when/if I’ll be able to get it and if it will still even be there. I escaped the dang conflict! Some people have lost everything including loved ones and lives. I feel ridiculous!

I’ve been thinking about the verse in Matthew 6 that talks about not laying up treasures on earth where thieves, moth, and rust destroy. I have stuff. Lots of stuff. More than enough. And I LIKE my stuff and want to keep it! It’s not much and I already left a bunch of stuff in Ktown when I left last year! I don’t want to do it again! I’m not proud of it, but it’s true that when I’m with my belongings I feel more at rest, more at peace, more at home.

It’s not like he’s not worthy. He is. He is worth every sacrifice and more. And I canNOT live in fear of what the Lord might, seemingly, take from me next. I’ve had too many good-byes, so much moving around, heartache. We all have heartache. And bad things will come. But I can’t live afraid of what I may have to give up next. He is good. But he is more than good. He is a loving father. We are filled to be emptied again. But when we are feeling empty, when the bottom is near, we have to believe that the filling will come.

Is that what making my home in him means? To come back every day, time and again, empty and trusting that I can rest and be filled again? That’s what homes are for, right? So I’m not there yet. I’m still chewing on all of this. And though there are moments of fear, frustration, anger, I find that more and more I’m able to shrug my shoulders with an authentic, though slightly bemused smile, and look up ready to keep moving forward towards whatever lies ahead on the way to my true home.

Again

Sorry for the silence on this end the last few weeks. As you can imagine it has been something of a whirlwind, and I've just been trying to catch up.

On Dec 18, after 3 nights of shooting in Juba, the US Embassy ordered an evacuation and I left Juba. It was an amazing display of grace--a miracle really, the flight that I got out on. A friend called in the morning and said that Samaritans Purse may have extra seats on their chartered evacuation flight and that I should call them immediately and see if I could get on. I did. And they did! I needed to be at their office in 20 minutes. My go bag--with my computer, a change of clothes, warm shoes, and not much else, was already packed and ready to go. I grabbed it, hurried good-byes to the girls, and ran over to the SP office. During this time my boyfriend, Daniel, was already at the airport, trying to get on any flight. He wasn't having any success. I called him and told him to call the same number that I'd called. They told me they only had one extra seat, but I encouraged him to call anyway. After a few phone calls they said that they'd change the manifest and he could have the last space! We were THRILLED.

So we made it out on one of the first flights out after the airport opened. For FREE. Which is no small thing, as other people were paying up to $1,000 for one way tickets to Kenya. A miracle in every way.

I spent the last 2 weeks in the UK with Daniel and his family. It was lovely. I'm now in Ethiopia for 2 weeks for conferences. These conferences seems timely. Many of us from South Sudan who were forced to leave and are in a time of waiting to see what will happen--if the peace talks will be successful, if it is safe (enough) to go back. It is a great time to be together with people going through the same thing and to process and talk through what is going on.

It was my second forced exit in a year. To be forced to leave a countries you've made your home twice in such a short time is hard.

Even before everything kicked off in Juba and in South Sudan with the fighting, I was gearing up writing a post about how exhausted I was feeling. I've been working full-time at CCC, and also living in the dorm with the girls. Across from the 5 year olds. I hadn't slept through the night in months because of the noise in the dorm. Getting a day off has been difficult, as my home is in the same place where I work. Establishing boundaries has been difficult. I've been exhausted.

So, the ever bugging question--what's next? There are many, many factors at play. Any and all decisions are dependent on many factors. This week I am going to talk through things with my Member Care people and others. While it may be too soon to make a plan, I'd at least like to establish some sort of framework to work from. I'll need to return to Juba at some point to tie up loose ends (and I can't really bear to leave most of my belongings in yet another country!)

There is a lot to think about and a lot to discuss. I am completely emotionally spent. It took most of my strength and lots and lots of faith to pick up and start over again in South Sudan after what happened last year. My work the last several months has been highly intense, I've been "on" constantly, and to deal with 3 nights of shooting and an evacuation and a country and people I love in turmoil... I don't know. Africa keeps breaking my heart. But I still want to be here. I may need a break and some recovery for awhile, but I still love that I get to live here.

John 16 is a chapter I come back continually when things get tough. Especially verse 33--a forever favorite of mine: "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Indeed, where can I find peace, if not in him? And he does bring peace. He brings rest to our hearts when they are hurting. I am sad, and I feel unsettled all over again. But he is good and his promises are true. And indeed he has overcome the world. And one day he will in full. I rest in that hope. What other hope is there?

So the path ahead is again foggy. I can barely see the next step. But it will lift. The way ahead will make itself known. I am worried for the girls, nervous about things, but my heart is at rest. All will be most well. Will keep you updated as plans develop. Your prayers for direction for me, Daniel, and South Sudan are appreciated.

"Even when it hurts
Even when it's hard
Even when it all just falls apart
I will run to you
Cuz I know that you are
Lover of my soul
Healer of my scars
You steady my heart, You steady my heart"
Steady My Heart-Kari Jobe

 

Safe

Well, to summarize, I was evacuated from Juba on Wednesday. Kind of a miracle, really, how it all worked out. I was evacuated to Nairobi and have now just arrived in London. Lots to process, and completely exhausted. Between gunfire and weird flight times I haven't slept really in several days. Reeling a bit from being forced to leave my home for the second time in a year. But thankful to be safe and out. As I start to process in the next several days, and hopefully get some sleep, I'll update here with more details of the situation. Thanks for all the thoughts and prayers. The Lord answered! Keep praying for South Sudan!

Unrest

If you have seen any of my Facebook posts, you know that there is serious unrest going n in Juba right now. The last two nights and into the day have been met with heavy gunfire and artillery. Fighting is going on in many parts of the city. Not where we are, but nearby. It is unsettling to say the least. The last two days have been spent quietly waiting it out, and trying to keep the girls happy and distracted. The airport is closed and not many people are venturing out. We have enough food and water for now, but we are hoping and praying the situation will calm down.

I am comforted to know that the arms of the everlasting are around. But, my nerves are pretty fried and it is stressful being responsible for little ones at a time like this. Please pray for peace, security, and wisdom. Once things settle down or I am able to get out, I will do a more in-depth recap of things.

Prayers appreciated.

Booking a Flight

I have a PI conference in January in Ethiopia. Decided to loop in a trip to the UK for New Years(!), because I've been wanting to go there soon anyway (may involve a certain British boy...) and it's cheaper to combine both trips into one. I tried to book online through the airline. Several times. They don't take credit cards online apparently. Womp womp.

So I tried to reserve online so I could pay at the office. But the website was having issues. So I went the next day with quite a bit of money (since, also, you can't really pay with a credit card anywhere in South Sudan.) In 24 hours the ticket had gone up $300! This was most disappointing.

But then I remembered to ask the price in South Sudanese pounds. They told me the price. I did a little math on my phone and was happy to see that if I paid in SSP instead of dollars, I'd save...about $300! So I called my boda (motorbike) guy. He exchanges my money for me.

He came to the office and I handed over the dollars and off he went to get the money exchanged. When I first got to South Sudan, a friend referred me to him. I don't use him exclusively, but it's good to have a boda guy I trust if I'm going somewhere new or, as I have found to be extremely convenient, to exchange money for me.

After about 10 minutes I started getting a little nervous. Usually I have him change $200-$300 at a time. I realized without a whole lot of thought I had just given him significantly more than that. He is a trustworthy fellow...but, also, I tend to believe the best about people and their intentions and some could argue that I too often trust that people tend to do the right thing.

I told myself I'd give him a reasonable 25 minutes and then I'd call. See if his phone was shut off, which would be a good sign that either he'd been robbed or was ducking and running with my money. I tapped my foot and watched each boda that passed impatiently. At 25 minutes I called. It said the line was busy. Immediately my mind started to racing. Did I just do something really stupid? What if he takes it? What if he gets robbed? How many more dollars did I have tucked away in my room? Enough to last me until I go out of South Sudan? (Because there is no way to withdraw money here, I have to bring in or have people bring in all of my money.) How would I explain to people that I'd stupidly handed over over $1,000 to my boda guy? A fellow that, really, I barely know.

Thankfully, I only had about 3 minutes of crazy-mind-racing and dread and he called me back. Said that there was traffic, and he had to go somewhere else other than the normal place he goes to change. BIG sigh of relief. If he was going to take all my money, he probably wouldn't call to reassure me. I impatiently waited another 35 minutes, praying that he'd make it back fine and silently berating myself a little, thinking I should have stopped being selfish and should have just paid the full amount in dollars.

FINALLY he pulled up in his shiny aviators and blue flip flops and I'm pretty sure I jumped up from the plastic chair I was sitting in, so very relieved. We stepped inside the building and he starts pulling wads of colorful notes from each of his pockets. I went back into the air-conditioned airline office, waited behind a group of loud, chatty ladies who were trying to book a flight but didn't know when they were supposed to come back. They got sorted, and with the feeling of accomplishment that comes with something actually working out right here, I paid for my ticket and strut out of the office.

2.5 hours later, ticket in hand, flight booked, mission accomplished.

Thanksgiving

It was my third consecutive Thanksgiving away from home. My last two in Ktown were unconventional. A normal workday and all that, but in the evening a big potluck feast with other Americans and games. They were great. Here my community is much smaller, and much less American. I do know some Americans, though. They live on a lovely compound just outside of Juba. Weeks ago I asked if I could come for Thanksgiving. And decided to take a long weekend out at their compound. In need of a little break from the girls, but, mostly, some quiet and serenity.

Thursday/Thanksgiving morning I had to do some things with the girls, but at 9:30 I hopped on a boda (motorcycle) and rode the 40 minutes just outside of town. I was very happy to be getting a break. But I was a little sad. Another holiday away from home.

I got to thinking about homesickness. I would say that I don't get homesick very often. Yet, there are things I miss from home everyday. From the big: family, friends, autonomy. To the small: ice cream, new books, thrift stores. I don't classify that as homesickness, though. Homesickness is when I wish I wasn't here but wish I was there instead. So I was bopping along and thinking about this and my family and holiday things. And I had a moment.

Whatever circumstances or places you find yourself in, no matter how wacky, your mind has a way of redefining normal. My "normal" life here is much different than whatever my normal life was back in the US, and even much different than my normal life in Ktown. So even though my life has found some sort of normal here--even though life in Africa has become normal in some sense, I still have moments. Moments where it hits me all anew that I live in Africa. That I'm living the dream. I was riding on the boda on Thursday, bopping about on the uneven roads, and I looked to my side and saw various neatly stacked piles of things being sold along the road. People with dark skin in bright colors speaking a language that I actually understand, and tall sturdy mango trees behind. A blue sky with a sun that beats down hard and a mountain in the distance. And I smiled, and sighed. A contented sigh. Holy moly. I live in South Sudan. Life, man. It's crazy, but it's good.

On Saturday night we had a big Thanksgiving spread with friends. When you can't be with family, food helps it feel like the holidays.  It was wonderful. I am thankful.