New Friends

I've been able to cross paths with some South Sudanese these last few weeks in Kenya. Some are friends of friends that I've met helping out with a beading project in a slum area once a week. Another is a neighbor here, at the place I'm staying. He's well educated and was working for an embassy in Juba and is on evacuation status here with his family right now. He comes by to visit us and it is enlightening and saddening, usually, talking South Sudan politics with him.

Both he and these other guys that I've met invited me to a South Sudanese church nearby that has just started a few weeks ago. I was able to attend this past Sunday.

It was such a joy to worship in Arabic again! Many of the songs we sang were the same ones I'd sing with the girls at CCC, and one of them was even a song that I learned in Ktown with my boys there. Heart swell!

It was a powerful service. About 45 people. Crying out to God, praying for fighting to stop, for peace in their land, for strength in this new place.

After worship, a guy got up and talked about how important it is for the South Sudanese to be interceding right now. He said to pray for the country, for the government, for the opposition, for Kiir and Machar. He emphasized praying for peace. He told people to pray so that they could all go back home. Whoa.

So people started praying in their mother tounges. There was Arabic, Nuer, Bari, Dinka, and others. When he closed he talked about Genesis 18 where Abraham is interceding for Sodom. Where Abraham asks God if he finds 50 righteous if he would spare the city and God says for 50 righteous he will spare it. Then Abraham asks if he finds 45, 40, 30...down to 10. And God says if he finds 10 righteous he will not destroy the city. The man prayed, "God, find 10 righteous! Do not destroy South Sudan!" I had to dab my eyes and so did many others.

Throughout the service it was reiterated to be encouraged, to have hope, be strong, and pray, and pray, and pray. So many of us feel helpless here. I and my ex-pat friends in Kenya are saddened and confused. Angry. Eager to help but at a loss in many ways as to how. But we're standing with South Sudan in prayer and I ask that you would too.

I am grateful for the community of South Sudanese I've stumbled upon here and look forward to interacting with them more. I count it a gift, an answer to prayer. He is good. In light of so much that is beyond my comprehension, he is good.

Fighting Continues

The fighting continues in South Sudan. Juba is quiet, but in other parts of the nation there is fighting. Ugly, ugly fighting. The fighting is tribal in nature. But it is deeper and more complex than that. These are not new issues flaring up. They are issues that are deep seated and have long histories, but that have been swept under the rug in the name of independence and before that while they were fighting a common enemy--the North.

Reports are coming out about some of the atrocities that are happening. War is horrific. It is something that I can't wrap my mind around. I don't think fighting is a good way to solve anything, but I won't pretend that I have the answers to these things either. Perhaps its one thing if its soldiers and armies fighting opposing solders and armies. It is not something I understand, but it is at least something that seems in some (twisted) way, logical.

But this fighting has not just been the government against the opposition. Hospitals are being targeted. Women are being raped and beheaded. Children and disabled people are being shot. People have been rounded up and shot just based on their ethnicity. People are crying out for peace and unity while what little infrastructure South Sudan had built up is being destroyed.

So many of us are struggling to understand. We know that evil exists in the world, but what is it that is in people that is capable of such destruction? This is beyond fighting for a cause that people believe in and in many instances it is destruction for destructions sake.

There are lots of issues. Lack of accountability for atrocities in the past. People who have been living in an independent South Sudan for a few years now and have yet to see any benefits or improvements in their own lives. People are frustrated and angry. And I know that I don't even begin to understand all of it.

And it seems hopeless to many. Is peace even possible? And I think that those who are being realistic see that if it is that it is something that will take many, many years. Decades.

I've crossed paths with a few of South Sudanese refugees here in Nairobi. One is a guy from one of the two main tribes who are fighting. He managed to escape Juba during the fighting--no small thing--as people from his tribe who are still in Juba don't even dare to venture out of the IDP camps. He has family still there. Another is a guy who just came from Malakal, in the northern part of the country. Where the opposition has taken and, from what I can gather from a lot of the reports, basically have destroyed and looted much of the town. There is fighting there because of the close proximity to oil fields and both sides want to be control of the oil. A very powerful card to have.

I think many of us feel powerless. I do, anyway. I can't be in South Sudan right now. And, truthfully, I don't want to be because I don't think I could cope right now. But if I were, what could I even do? Everything I could offer feels so insignificant in light of massive losses of life.

I hope to keep connecting with the South Sudanese community here. It is nice to feel connected. Though, powerless still. They have lost everything and still have families in unsafe areas that they can't get ahold of. I've had a rough year. But how can I even say that? I know that it is not a comparison game. But I am sad. Very sad. It is beyond my comprehension. So I keep praying though I don't always have the words. And I ask that you would do the same.

What Now

While I was back in Juba I discussed with the director about a return trip in May or so. She would like to try to bring the girls back from Juba at that time. I mostly want to go, get a proper good-bye, check in with how they're doing with the handcraft stuff and have a refresher with them. I'll be glad to have an opportunity to see how things have (hopefully?) normalized a bit. And I just love their lil faces and will be delighted, smitten, to see them.

I'll also be helping from afar a bit. Sending templates and beading designs and helping them keep the money sorted and organized as they continue to sell the girls things out of CCC. I realize the money and organization of it will likely be disastrous, as these things often go when the person heading up something is no longer there. All the more reason why I'm glad a return trip is on the horizon.

So I'm excited that a return and check-in trip is being talked about and planned on. But I am disappointed in myself to say, that I am glad that I am not going to be in Juba until June as was the plan a few months ago. Just being back for those few days even without the girls was enough to remind me why I feel exhausted and burnt-out. Juba is hard. Living where I worked and with 37 children was hard. It was a give-your-all sort of situation, and I did. I gave my all and I was happy to do it. But it has left me with very little energy or in reserve. Even though I loved my work and I loved the girls, I can't cope with being accessible by 37 children and 15 staff all the time for more than a season.

My pace of life needs to slow down and I need to be involved in work that is less demanding for a little while. My member care team and leadership are concerned for me. It's nice to have people I respect not be as hard on me as I am on myself. My heart is still in Africa. And I am still absolutely committed to helping vulnerable children and sharing Christ with those who have never heard. But my cup is empty. I have been emptied and these last 3 years, esp this last year, has been really hard. So I'm not stopping, but I am slowing down. I have chosen to be involved in these projects very intensely. And I am still going to be involved in helping kiddos and vulnerable women, but in a less intense way for a little while.

The next few months I'm going to be doing some illustrations for a project informing kids about sexual abuse and teaching them that their bodies belong to them. I'll also be helping a woman working with poor non-believing women in a slum here in Nairobi. She's training them to do bead work. A different sort of beading than I do, but I'm happy to help and learn. She is heading up the project, not me, an important distinction. I love this work, but I am happy not to be the one in charge and responsible for it for a while.

There also could be some opportunities working with Sudanese here in Nairobi. We'll see what happens with that but I'm thrilled with the prospect of being able to help a people that I love and hopefully getting to use my Arabic!

Entering a new season that is a little ambiguous, but shaping up to be full of possibility as well as hopefully somewhat restorative.

"We belong to a generation that wants to see the results of our work. We want to be productive and see with our own eyes what we have made. But that is not the way of the God's kingdom. Often our witness for God does not lead to tangible results... As faithful witnesses of Jesus we have to trust that our lives too will be fruitful, even though we cannot see their fruit." Henri Nouwen

To Juba and Back

I went to Juba for a few days last week. To collect my things, meet with the director, get the girls money sorted, get a refund from Ethiopian Airways. Wrap up loose ends.

It was strange being back after the way I left. There were soldiers everywhere. In all sorts of different uniforms. South Sudanese soldiers in every shade of camo (beige, blue, green) and Ugandan troops. I have never seen so much heavy artillery in my life. Juba was a city with a pretty heavy military presence before the December crisis, but not only are there now soldiers with AK-47s everywhere, on every major road are groups of soldiers set up with giant guns. I have no idea what they're called, but the big ones that are mounted in the back of pick-ups. So many. Good grief.

I didn't find it unsettling. Nor did I find it comforting. Just a reminder, really of the air of uncertainty that remains. Juba is still operating under an 8pm-6am curfew. And when I went for my morning jogs there are far less people out in the morning. Otherwise, Juba seems to be shuffling right along in the day to day. There is a calm in the city as people have gone back to routines, but it is an unsteady calm. A facade of normalcy. People know that the conflict continues. There are IDP camps. And people from certain tribes scared to even venture out of these camps, fearing for their lives if they do. Tragic.

I arrived Monday morning and happened to walk into the first staff meeting since the crisis. It was joyous to see all the staff again. Smiles and hugs abounded. As I was there a few days I learned that the brother of the boyfriend of one of our day staff was killed in the fighting in December. Staff haven't been paid because some of CCC's funding has been pulled to be used for emergency aid by the agencies instead.

The girls remain in Yei for now. It is safer for them there. Especially with so many soldiers in the city. Our girls are quite vulnerable and it's not a good situation. I have a few friends who live there and agreed to deliver little typed notes that I wrote for each girl. It's weird and hard having left the way I did and being at CCC without them there. They are dear to me.

It took me two days to track down where the girls money had ended up. I was very relieved when I finally had it in hand. Only to count what was there, and have my heart sink. About 2,700 ssp (About $650) had gone missing, even though it had been locked away. Hard to find out exactly what happened during those chaotic days. Likely some of the girls? But I really don't know. Hugely disappointing, in any case. (Some of my clothes and shoes that I had packed away also somewhat mysteriously went missing.)

This was the girls money that they'd earned for their savings. I can't very well divide up the loss and punish all of the girls. So I used my own money to make up the difference. It is now all tucked away in the safe. (When I was evacuated the person with the safe key wasn't there and so I couldn't have put it in there before I left.) There is a corresponding list of amounts and names. But I'm nervous. I'm nervous that the girls may not ever actually get the money that is theirs. I'll be devastated. And really, really angry. But for many of them it's a few years out, when they'd be able to access their savings. So it's something I need to relinquish control of because I can't control it. Ah, like so much else.

It's a relief to be back in Nairobi and it feels strange. It is not at all the sort of place I expected to find myself settling for any length of time. But here I am. Life seems to be full of things we could never even try to plan. I am planning on returning to Juba sometime in the next several months. But I think I'll save that for the next post.

"Vines must be pruned. This looks like a cruel business. Perfectly good branches have to be lopped off in order for better branches to develop. It is a necessary business, for only the well-pruned vine bears the best fruit. The life of the vine is strengthened in one part by another parts being cut away. The rank growth has to go and then the sun reaches places it could not reach before." Elisabeth Elliot.

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