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.

Recovering Vision

Generally, I don't feel cute in Juba. It (Africa?) does weird things to people. Like weird infections and stomach bugs and rashes and things. There seems to always be something wonky going on with my body here. And I think that is just part of life.

Earlier this week I woke up and my right eye felt like someone had been taking a nail file to it while I was sleeping. As the day progressed it got worse and by the evening I was pretty much holding my eye closed while I was out with friends because the bright light was making it feel like someone was punching the back of my eye from inside my skull. I thought I would sleep on it and it would heal itself.

Nope. Basically woke up with a tear soaked pillow. Ok, not really, but tears running steadily down the one side of my face. ANY light I looked into made my eye throb. I tried to look at my phone but even that caused achy pains inside my head and tears in my eyes. Walked outside into the early overcast morning with my sunglasses on cuz otherwise I'd just be squinting and tripping over things. Naturally the girls were wondering why I was wearing my sunglasses at 7am. I told them my eye was paining and showed them the bright red mess inside my eye. And repeatedly they responded with giggles. Uh...thanks? So compassionate.

I went to the clinic nearby as soon as it opened. I walked there with one eye closed, without my contacts in or glasses on because it was too painful to go without sunglasses. I learned that with one eye your depth perception is off. Which is inconvenient when the walk to the clinic involves scaling a small rocky formation and over a few precariously placed rocks in a small polluted creek. I didn't fall in, thankfully, but I did look slightly drunk and off balance probably to the 10 kids I encountered. Whoops.

At the clinic the Dr. didn't even look in my eye. Said it was a bacterial infection and gave me 3 medicines and then (I found out later) charged me 4x the normal rate. Being dubious of all the medicines I just started using the eye drops and my eye is on the mend.

But, for an entire day I couldn't really look at a computer without pain. I couldn't focus my eyes to read or to write for more than 2 minutes. I couldn't focus on the beads without a headache. And certain things I couldn't do because I had to keep my sunglasses on until dusk. A couple of times I wondered (because you never know what germs and ailments and other crazy things are lurking around) what if this was serious and I was going to lose my vision and then, omg!, what would I do if I couldn't see or read or paint or bead?! The crazy would pass, I knew I was being ridiculous, but it did make me ponder. People who don't have the things I take for granted. Even living so close to extreme poverty I still take so much for granted.

My vision is returning to normal which is a huge relief. I still can't wear my contacts, and need to wear sunglasses when I go out, so that means no glasses. But I ventured to the market today and going to the market in a blurry world is less scary than I thought it would be. I feel like there is probably some lesson in that, but I'm not thinking that deeply at the moment.

And this long story about my wonky eye was supposed to be a segue into keeping vision for my life and work here. So, uh, segue.

It's been a rough last two weeks or so with the girls. They've been tough. I need a break (I'm taking a long weekend away for Thanksgiving next week. Yes!) But, there have been moments of sweet goodness that help me keep on and not throw in the towel. Like, there is a 5 year old who is super oppositional defiant and tells me at least once a week that God is going to curse me. This is in response to things like me not letting her in the dorm when she's not supposed to be there or making her go eat her lunch or taking needles that she's found. One morning this week when I was on duty she came next to me and laid her head in my lap and had a doze. So she may hate me most of the time, but she feels safe with me! This feels like a victory some how.

Another girl who is one of the most demanding, rude, and wounded children I've ever encountered asked me for help with her beading project and not only said please, also said THANK YOU completely unprompted after I helped her. I was so excited I may have given her a hug and scared her a little bit with my enthusiasm.

Yesterday I was getting the girls to sign for their money for the ones who'd had items purchased. They were talking about the money they were accumulating in their savings and one of the girls said, "Auntie, you should keep some of our money." I thought she meant I should hold on to it for them, which I'm already doing. Then she explained that I should keep some of the money from the things they're selling because I taught them and because I am selling it for them. My heart was warmed and there may have been another over enthusiastic hug from me and another slightly alarmed child.

Thankful for recovering vision in my eye and enough small encouragements to help keep my vision for life in Juba strong.

Saving

There is a guy that has been coming here a couple of days a week to volunteer for that last several months. He has taught the girls some karate, dressed wounds, and, perhaps most importantly, hung around and chatted with them. He is getting ready to leave Juba and had a going away party at CCC. He brought a bunch of work friends and they bought a bunch of the things the girls have been making. It is the most we've sold in one day. About 20 pieces, over 600 ssp ($150ish) worth.

I happily recorded all of the sales in the book, then went through and updated the girls personal accounts who sold things. Such a happy task. I was excited because we've now sold more than 5,000 ssp of the girls merchandise ($1,250ish) in about 2.5 months. That's exciting, right? I'm excited!

So as they're trickling back in from school I find the girls who made sales and did what I always do--show them the sale in the book, tell them what it was they sold, the price, and then break down the percentage to buy more materials, the percentage for pocket money, and how much will go into their savings. Then I open to their page in another book and show them what I added, what the totals are for pocket and savings, and have them sign.

Uh...signing that you have money accumulating is a good thing, right? Its something I feel like I would enjoy. And, ok, I guess the girls are usually at least neutral about it if not happy. But for some reason on Monday evverrryyyonnneee was so grumpy. So dang grumpy! I wanted to heave the book over the fence! I got grimaces and rolled eyes and accusations and complaints. Complaints! Are you kidding me?!

The girls are generally annoyed with this concept of saving. I explain that it is money for their future. That it is for when they leave CCC or if there is an emergency or something and they need the money. At one time or another I've had girls explain that haircuts, dvd's, snacks, and other silly things warrant an emergency and I should give them their money for the future. In the beginning I would laugh. But they've gotten more grumpy and accusatory with the whole thing. Yesterday a girl pushed her way into my room and sulked angrily and wouldn't leave because she had already spent all of her pocket money and I wouldn't give her any from her savings. Girls have threatened to run away and leave so I'll give them their savings. It is emotionally exhausting doing something you know is good and beneficial for them and having them be, not only ungrateful a good part of the time, but downright mean about it.

And I think it is just exacerbated by the fact that I live with them. That at the end of the day I can't go home and call it a day and be away from them and the frustrations for the evening. They knock on my door and stop me when I go to get dinner and it all starts again first thing in the morning, sometimes before I even roll out of bed. Relentless, is the word.

And yet, its not so bad. I love their little faces even though they metaphorically spit in mine sometimes. And after the grandiose frustration from Monday, Tuesday morning one of the older girls came to get some of her pocket money. She is talented and one of the harder working girls. She's sold 3x more things than any of the other girls and has over 700ssp ($175ish) in her savings from the bead work. She said that no other girls her age are making money like this. I asked what she would use her money for someday. She said to by a plot of land. Her mother is a squatter in a cemetery nearby. Many people live there, it is a very poor area, as you can imagine. No one would choose to live in a cemetery unless your situation was dire. She told me that people who don't buy a plot just end up back in the cemetery. My heart did a little leap. The thought of this bright girl not continuing in her family's cycle of extreme poverty. So here is to her ad her future plot of land. I shall continue to plug along in spite of thanklessness and dealing with grumpy girls because that, that is what this is all about.

 

Not for the Faint of Heart (I mean it.)

Seriously, heart-heavy stuff here in this one. Just so you know.

Let's talk about staff meetings. We have them every Monday and Friday morning. They can last one to three hours, and are usually about two. But, yes, that does mean that some weeks I spend six hours just in staff meetings. This is frustrating for everyone, but it's a part of things. The meetings are good. They are important. But they are not a highlight in the week.

They're good because they get all of us as a staff on the same page and are important platform to bring up issues and have dialogue and talk about concerns or questions. But they're not a highlight because usually they stress me out.

There are always problems. There are always frustrations. There are always people who are unhappy. There are never-ending issues with clothes, medicine, cleaning, duties, and a certain five year old who won't stop eating soap. We always need money. There are always girls who are running away or fighting. It can get pretty bleak.

One of our meetings last week made my heart hurt. The older girls came back from school and reported to one of us aunties that boys at school were boasting that during the tea break one of our youngerish girls was having sex with them. She's like 8/9ish. Lived in a trash heap most of her life. Still is daily told not to play/scavenge in the area where trash is burned on the compound. It's been said that she may be slightly autistic. She is resourceful and creative; always making interesting things out of bits she finds.

And then we talked about the other girls her age here who are having similar issues. Last weekend two of our eightish year olds were out all night at, essentially, a creepy dance club. And were, undoubtedly, voluntarily, making themselves available for all sorts of badness. (Shudder.) These girls are also having issues in their room. I won't go into detail. But they're basically experimenting and confused based on the pretty jacked up first few years of their young lives.

The girls who have mothers, many of them are drunks and prostitutes. They have been exposed to a lot. A LOT. Too much. And each of their precious little bodies have been touched, abused, violated. And many of them have learned to use their bodies to get what they want and/or have become to callous to care about the negative affects of such things. This happens when you are born on the streets and no one is properly looking after you.

It's not just the one girl. Apparently a few of them are sneaking off during tea break to the cemetery to make a pound. (About 25 cents). It makes me want to vomit.

Solutions? Staff to check up on the girls at tea break. Talking with the older girls and help remind them that they should be helping look after the littler ones because we are a community. Meetings with them with our psycho-social therapist about appropriate sexual behavior and teach them to identify for themselves what is dangerous. And, if what they're after is money to buy sweets and snacks, well we can work on that.

I haven't been doing beads with the girls ten-and-under because I didn't have the capacity to. I was working from two tote bags outside on the bench. There were already enough spilled beads and general chaos without the younger ones being involved. But now I have a ROOM for CRAFTS (!) and therefore have the capacity to work the with the girls in one spot, sitting down, with actual tables and chairs. They've been begging me for weeks to be involved and now they can.

And it may sound silly. But maybe it can help? If we can sell some of their things maybe it will give them enough pocket money to be satisfied. We also discussed at the meeting that this age bracket here is somewhat neglected as far as many of the afternoon activities go. They're too small for sewing, life skills, going out for volleyball. And they're too old to participate in programs with the littlest ones. So it can only help, right?

It makes you wonder, if they're already so far gone at such a young age, if they can be brought back. And while you can't restore innocence, you can help people to heal. I'm not a parent, but I'm sort of functioning as one of their foster parents right now. And, in my limited scope of this parental world, it ain't no day job. Nor is it some short contract. To do it and do it right, it takes time, commitment, community and freaking ton of love. So I hope, I hope, that as these girls grow up they have enough of all of these things from responsible people who care in their lives. And I really do believe that human love intersected with the divine has healing power. And I believe he can work in these little misguided ones, too. I won't be around forever to watch them grow up, but hopefully I can be a small part of their healing community while I'm here. Not a job for the faint of heart. But Jesus is equipping me daily, just like he's promised to.