13 Adults, 2 Babies and a Goat

    I have been learning about different cultures of the world for the last few years. The majority of my education has come from textbooks, Wikipedia or National Geographic. During each of these educational opportunities I sat safely and comfortably in my own home, sipping black coffee and far from the world. To avoid culture shock I always thought it was best to learn from a safe distance, or if given the chance slowly acclimate myself into a culture.But why wade into the water when the diving board looks so inviting? Why the woods?
    Yesterday around noon I hoped in the back of a small white pickup truck which was not much different than the 1981 Nissan that my dad and I used to load up with a dozen bags of trash and take to the landfill. I got settled on the side of the bed, held my bag tightly between my legs and looked up to see 13 adults, 2 babies and a goat all staring at me. A man next to me slapped the side of the truck, signaling to the driver to take off. I glanced down into the cab which contained 4 people (including the driver), and I noticed due to the lack of space he was actually holding his door shut with his free hand. I smiled to myself and looked up at the blue sky that was complimented by cumulus clouds stretching as far as my eyes could reach. I fumbled to tie my bandanna behind my head, covering my mouth in an attempt to not eat too much dust during the 15 mile trip.
      During the two hour journey (to go 15 miles) I began to think about the things I have learned by being submerged in the Kakwa culture. Very seldom is a person seen alone. Goats, lizards and other creatures I'd rather not think about wander in and out homes. Medicines and food are all from the ground or nearby trees. Every one's occupation is a farmer. There are a few who can say that they are also teach school or a build, but it stops there. Sixty two degrees in the morning calls for winter coats and shivering locals. From scalding water to heaping baskets of produce, women carry all things on their heads. They miss the elephants and the antelope that used to litter the grassy fields of Wadupe before the shooting began. They do not think twice about over loading a vehicle to cheaply get to their destination. They are as quick to say hello to passing strangers as we are in the American south. They wear watches, but they do not keep time. The men are always joking that we are so concerned with what time of day it is, but they are not because they are, "on local time." Local time means you show up when you want or in some cases, not at all. Promptness, appointments and deadlines do not exist.
    Patience has been a chronic battle of mine since I knew there was a such thing as time. In the period of a week the community cleared off the land for the first school building. They dug the footers and laid the iron. Anyone who is familiar with building or grading would know that with proper equipment it would take about three hours to do what we have done in a week. These men are working very hard, in very extreme conditions. We are very thankful to be where we are at this point in the project. But fewer men come each day to help. Bill and I are leaving in December. We would like to have the building ready for use when we leave, but part of the community seems to have lost their drive. For those who come to work each day they do not have to look far for inspiration. The current school is located next to the building site and the children stare out underneath the decaying roof watching the work being done.
    It is easy for me to get caught up with deadlines and time, because that is my culture. Yesterday Bill reminded me that the project is the people, not the building. I am praying for patience and continued understanding of their culture. It is easy to learn things, but to live those things can sometimes be difficult.
But, why the woods? The people.

Greetings from Sudan!

Hey! I am currently in Yei using the internet at the Danish Refugee Council. I am returning to the Village Wadupe this afternoon. There will be a meeting with the village, a feast and celebration! Groundbreaking for the school will begin tomorrow! I miss you all back in the states, see you soon enough, and thanks for reading!
I stepped off the plane in Uganda and walked through the airport, realizing my thoughts were much different than last year, when I cautiously crept through the same building not knowing what lied beyond the dim lights of the exit. This time I was experienced. I knew we would catch a taxi and enter complete darkness, save the headlights that stretched out in front of us. I knew we would pass many villages and the shore of Lake Victoria on our way to Kampala. I knew we would zoom past slower vehicles, nearly hitting oncoming traffic, the driver beeping them out of our way. I knew the night would end with us at a hotel that would not have an indoor pool, HBO or toilet seats. I felt relaxed as I slept and I knew the next two days would be spent traveling by bus up into Southern Sudan. I knew the ride would be hot, bumpy, dusty and exhausting. I knew the officials at the border and at least one checkpoint would give us a hard time because we were white. I knew the roads in Sudan would change from bumpy pavement to mud and potholes for the rest of the journey to Wadupe. I knew the people of Wadupe would greet us with smiling faces and be nothing but hospitable. There were no surprises and my expectations were met.
After resting and greeting the people for a few hours I inflated the soccer ball that I brought for the kids. We played for over an hour. I eventually stopped to catch my breath and get some water. I drank a huge bottle of water and after finishing it I used the cap to balance the wobbly table and carelessly tossed the bottle to the side. A little girl named Sunday quickly came over and took the cap from underneath the table leg and grabbed the bottle as well. I smiled at her and told her she could have the bottle. After resting a bit longer and explaining to everyone were "Big Thomas" was, I decided to walk to the well and wash myself off before dinner. Luckily a few kids were playing at the well, so they could pump the water while I rinsed off. A small girl named Mary pumped the water for me while I washed my arms off. I stuck my legs under the flow of the water and all of the dirt washed down into my shoes. I was too tired to take my shoes off and clean my feet so I thanked Mary and headed back towards the compound. As I turned to leave, Sunday called my name. I spun around and she was holding the water bottle which I had intended to throw away. She extended towards me, full of water as a sort of offering. I smiled and said, "No thank you, you can keep it." She looked towards the sky over her left shoulder searching for words, after not finding any, she followed behind me. She pulled on my shirt tail and kept repeating my name as we walked. I made it back to the compound stopping just before the garden. Monday still called my name. I turned around to ask her what she wanted. As I began to speak she dropped to her knees and with one hand around my ankle, she used the other to loosen my shoe. As I began to realize what was happening, a myraid of thoughts raced through my mind. Monday poured the cool water slowly down the back of my ankle and scrubbed my bare left foot clean with her hands. As she moved to my other foot, she looked up at me and smiled. I tried to say thank you but my words were choked, inaudible. She placed my feet back in my shoes, grabbed the empty bottle, got to her feet and ran off. Immediately, I recounted what had occured to Billy and Stan. I stared at the grass ceiling of our house that first night in Wadupe and realized that a twelve-year-old girl had taught me love and humility. At God's feet now lie my expectations.



Sunday with her brother Condition



Season of love

The air is getting cooler in Boone, autumn is in the air. I can sleep at night now because it's not too hot. Leaves are slowly starting to litter the ground. Best time of the year to play golf. Football season just kicked off. My sister and nephew's birthdays are coming up. My brother's birthday. My birthday. Horror movie marathons. Pumpkin Pie. Thanksgiving.
Three days from now, my summer will be extended by three months. I will be joining my friend Billy and his dad on a trip to Southern Sudan. I will leave Charlotte on Monday and arrive in Entebbe, Uganda sometime late Tuesday.  From there, we will fly into Sudan and eventually stop in the village Wadupe. We are going to this place in the name of love, the name of God. Our hope is that while we are there the village will be able to construct classrooms for their children (they currently have a couple structures that have nearly collapsed and the younger children meet under mango trees). My personal role in the village will be to build relationships with the people, assist Billy, teach them freedom through art, and allow God to do his thing. I visited Wadupe last year with no expectations and could write a book about my two month stay with stories that were incredible blessings from God.
In late October South Sudan's rainy season turns to a dry season. High temps around 96. There is no pie and they do not watch college gameday.
Last summer in Wadupe I experienced love like I never have before. This season I will miss all of the things that come with fall in Boone. I am missing one season of my life in the states to experience a season of love with the people of Wadupe. And that is worth it.