A South Sudan Adventure

While on the day I finally printed, bound, and submitted my master's dissertation, a plastic shopping bag was required to keep the sacred texts dry from the dreary Scottish elements, I have to say, there was sunshine in my heart. I praise Jesus for the privilege to write on oral storytelling and its unique capacity to create encounters with God. In the Father's grace, the academic dissertation writing was balanced by some practical on-the-ground storytelling experience earlier this summer. While my trip to South Sudan was early June, I am just now coming out of dissertation mode and feel like I need to share more in depth some of those experiences. Many of you all were praying for us (this is the trip I was away on when Sophia was bitten by the snake) - Thank you. 

Due to the amount of excitement that took place on the journey, the last night of my time in South Sudan, I felt compelled to sit down and "write an orderly account." Thus, while I am only belated sharing our story, you will sense it was written in quite close proximity to the actual events. Allow me to tell you as story...

*****

A South Sudan Adventure

The last few days have been a remarkable adventure. The Sudan Tribune published an article earlier in the week by rebels who were threatening Rumbek, which is a major South Sudanese town – the very town from which I write tonight. The report turned out to be false but it succeeded in setting off everyone's security alarms, including that of Joanna, our supervisor, Joy Phillips, and myself. Indeed, we all wondered what the week of training outside of Rumbek would hold. The good news is that we did not see any rebels or hear any rebel guns. The bad news is that there was still plenty of violence and bloodshed even without the rebel activity.

            We were trying to reach a small trading post called Aduel, which is within East Rumbek County, to train a small group of archdeacons who desired to be better equipped in Biblical storytelling. Our colleague Adhanom had organized the training with a desire to cultivate capacity within these church leaders, not only so they could better handle the Word of Truth but also so they could train church leaders within each of their own archdeaconries.

Here are most of the SS pastors. Adhanom (WGM missionary) is on 2nd row, far left and Pastor Martin (African Gospel Church Uganda) is 2nd row, centre (grey shirt). 

            A Ugandan pastor and friend named Martin, who has had extensive training in Biblical orality had agreed to accompany me in this venture. He had come from his home in Eastern Uganda and then we traveled together from Arua to Rumbek without any incident. In “Kingdom of God” fashion, when Adhanom could not pick us up due to security concerns on the road to the airport, another friend from another missionary organization graciously welcomed us to South Sudan. Apparently the immediate security issues revolving around East Rumbek County were not related to civil war or government politics but the most sacred of all South Sudanese possessions: cows. Two local Dinka clans were “revenging” each other over stolen cows and the fighting between the clans had spilled over across the main road we needed to travel to get to Adhanom and our training location. He could not get to us nor could we find a local taxi to get to him. Our missionary friend helped us book a guesthouse in Rumbek and we proceeded to wait and see what God would do.

            In another Kingdom surprise, we did not have to wait long. A couple, both of whom I had worked with before, Rossi (a doctor) and his wife, Margit (a nurse), had organized an NGO (non-government organization) vehicle to carry them to a clinic which was close enough to Adhanom that they offered to “drop us on the way.” When we inquired about the safety of the road, they reassured us that the “NGO” status of the vehicle would serve as a shield as neither clan would want to disturb the “NGO” personal as they understood they were typically in country to help the local people. In his friendly way, Dr. Rossi assured us we would be fine. So, we quickly “unbooked” ourselves from our guesthouse and headed out.

The problem was that by this time, the afternoon was wearing on and we still had to pick up several passengers from town. By the time we left Rumbek, the shadows were beginning to grow and no one was on the road except an occasional motorbike or an army truck. I am all for no traffic but being alone on a road in the late afternoon in South Sudan is not what we call “an ideal situation.” I knew my growing apprehension was not completely unjustified as the conversation among the South Sudanese riding in the Land Cruiser with us was a mixture of nervous laughter and outright spoken fears.

We all did our best though to keep smiling and pretend to care about the scattered conversation. It worked… for the most part until one of the brackets holding the diesel tank broke. The roads in South Sudan are less than “paved” and, while not a mechanic, even I know a broken diesel tank counts as a problem. The first attempt to repair the bracket lasted about a quarter of a mile. The second attempt required us all to pile out. Fortunately, our nervous over the shoulder glancing pit stop was brief as an electrical cord “rope” and some muscle had the tank tied up in place in no time.  We were soon back on the road again and before we knew it, being safely dropped off with Adhanom coming out to welcome us.

The driver and Rossi are busy "reattaching" the diesel tank.

Just outside the trading center of Aduel, Adhanom has created a beautiful oasis of a compound, literally carving it out of the bush. He has used only local materials to build a sleeping tukel (small thatched house), a living room tukel, a bathing shelter, and a “farming God’s way” garden.

Here is Adhanom's bedroom and kitchen. Beyond the clothes line are his bathing shelter and toilet.

 Our excitement to finally reach our friend and “safety” was only slightly interrupted by our first encounter with live gunfire. We had been on the compound for approximately ten minutes when small rifle shots started, followed by louder “booms.” Adhanom informed us that those were the cannons mounted on the back of jeeps but we need not worry, as it was just to scare people. Needless to say, in my case, they were effective. Nevertheless, Adhanom reassured us that neither clan would disturb us; other than random crossfire, we were perfectly safe. While I am not sure “reassured” would be how I felt, what was there to do but enter into the evening meal and fellowship with already arriving pastors, praying that none of us would be shot in the increasing Sudanese darkness by some stray bullet.

Praise Jesus for solar power as this is how Adhanom lights the "darkness." 

We survived a sweaty night. The next morning other pastors arrived, bringing with them sad news. Cows had been raided during the night, including from a woman named Helena, who was to have been one of the training participants. Her son was to be married the coming Saturday and in Dinka culture, cows are what enable marriage as they are still exchanged at the wedding ceremony. To everyone’s grief, she had lost forty cows during the raid, effectively canceling any weekend marriage celebrations. The only equivalent I can imagine is if a father’s bank crashed and his Visa card expired the week before his daughter’s wedding.

Pastor Martin began the training by leading us through a devotional story about the Shunamite woman (II Kings 8:1-6) having her land restored. To all of our surprise, the major themes within the story center around displaced people and restored property. God led Pastor Martin and we sensed His presence with us. Day two’s devotional was on the purified water at Jericho (II Kings 2:19-22) and again God surprised us with its relevance to community related issues. We trained through the day and then in the evening, washed clothes, hauled water from the bore hole (well), and drank kerekede (hibiscus) tea.

Here we are gathered for morning devotions on day 2. One of the unique variables of training in SS is sunshine. We regularly had to move our chairs to follow the shade. While it was hot, coming from Scotland, I could not complain!

Here is Adhanom at the local borehole. Pastor Martin holds the "jerry cans" for him. Curiously, water becomes very precious very quickly when you have to haul it yourself.  

Although we did not hear any more gunshots after the first night, we knew we were not in a typical training when we started getting phone calls towards the end of the afternoon on day two. We had been working in small groups on various stories and were coming together for each team to present what they had learned when Pastor Martha received a phone call. Placing the call on “loud speaker,” she held up the phone so the entire group could hear rather frantic voice on the other end describing a gun battle, which was taking place in Akot, another trading center just up the road. Apparently a group of young cattle-keepers had ambushed a lorry (large truck) and the ensuing response by the police led to the army getting involved. The fighting was taking place even as we were getting the call with six soldiers having already been killed.

One pastor shared, "I was a good 'hunter' but my spear was not so sharp. Now STS [the Biblical oral storytelling method we use] has helped to sharpen my spear." Canon Joseph Meen, on the end in the orange and blue shirt, has likewise become an outspoken champion of Biblical storytelling. He has been a great encouragement to Adhanom and the other pastors. 

The pastors tried their best to stay involved. Other phones started ringing though with further reports and soon army vehicles carrying more soldiers to the action began passing Adhanom’s compound. Needless to say, training for the day was effectively over although my learning of the situation was not. The fear many were battling was whether the army would burn the trading center as they had done in 2010 after a similar incident. Pastor Martin and I, and even Adhanom, were desperately trying to understand what it was like for these leaders to live in such an environment. This was not civil war or even rebel activity; this was only “normal, everyday” clan fighting, apparently an expected part of Dinka culture. In some unique way, being able to experience such anxiety was actually a privilege for it gave us a glimpse into the realities that these South Sudanese families experience so often. 

A heart-breaking example came through the local radio, when in a vehicle, we later heard an English song sung by a group of south Sudanese children with a chorus that went like this: 

“We are tired of war, war, war… We are tired of gunshots, gunshots, gunshots…” 

I had only been back in the country three days and I was already tired of war and gunshots. For me, there was an almost surreal sense to the whole experience, like, “Is this really happening?” But for the pastors, it was very real with actual family members being destroyed and real wealth being robbed. Amidst all the swirl of excitement, the teaching of stories from Scripture seem very irrelevant to the raiding of cows and the firing of guns. Yet, such circumstances seemed to actually validated all the work and danger that these church leaders were enduring so that they could better understand a Gospel that they believed could transform not only themselves and their families but even, their own culture.

We went to bed that night heavy-hearted as everyone expected there to be an intense gun battle the following morning as the cattle-keeping young warriors love to attack at dawn. Yet, in God’s grace, the morning woke and the reports coming in were of a peaceful night. This third day was to be the last day of the training and while many were anxious to leave, there was a sense that we would stay through and try to accomplish some learning tasks together before all dispersing in the afternoon.

Just before starting the morning devotion though, Dr. Rossi called and said he was coming to pick us up in a government vehicle; we needed to say goodbye as he would be there in less than an hour! Initially quite annoyed at some one else arranging our transport and effectively removing us from our last day of training, I pushed him hard on the rationale of not coming later in the afternoon as we had planned. Apparently there had been another incident in a different location, on the road between us and Rumbek and he flatly said it was time to get out.

Every day we had been asking God to guide our steps and now we faced a brutal decision of leaving the training early and even harder, leaving our Sudanese colleagues and friends. The reality of cultural difference was glaring, awkward, and uncomfortable as we had an official vehicle coming to escort us to safety while all these pastors had to walk home on uncertain paths.

In praying about it though, we sensed Pastor Martin and me were to leave but Adhanom sensed he was to stay. That did not make our departure any easier but after quickly organizing our few belongings, we gathered the pastors together for devotions. God was faithful again and came to our goodbye and prayer time, for which we praise Him.

Rossi arrived and the experience that brought home the reality of the potential danger our actual situation was meeting his “escort.” Rossi had gone to the governor’s office and asked for an escort to get us out. The governor had refused until he learned we were working with pastors. Upon learning this, he had offered his own truck and personal security detail. These security personal were armed to the hilt, all of them carrying AK-47s but then for added comfort, we had a heavy machine gun in the front seat and one in the rear. Martin, Rossi, and I squeezed into the middle feeling like we were a long way from Wilmore and St. Andrews.

Pastor Martin (in blue jersey) and Dr. Rossi (in yellow tshirt) with part of our escort. Note the Coke. 

My trauma education continued as I watch Rossi produce Cokes and waters for the entire vehicle; he apparently believed it’s important to keep one’s security hydrated (and comfortable) at all times; a lesson I noted for the future. Needless to say, we reached Rumbek without incident for which we praise Jesus. As if to remove any doubt about whether we made the right choice, a torrential downpour of rain let loose shortly after reaching our guesthouse and continued through the afternoon. The road to Rumbek, even if free of fighting, would have been impassible at least until tomorrow. We most certainly would not have reached Rumbek in time to catch our ride home if we had delayed until this afternoon.

            Over the years, trainings in the Akot diocese have been some of our most “exciting.” Consequently, it seems appropriate to ask, “Where is God in such an expensive training ‘flop?’ Stress, confusion, anxiety, interruption, fear, heartbreak had manifested themselves blatantly while our desired goals of growth, learning, sharpening, and transformation seemed sparse and even non-existent. Yet sitting in the guesthouse tonight, waiting to fly out tomorrow, heavy with concern for those we left, God’s fingerprints are numerous. Our missionary friend picking us the first day when Adhanom could not; Rossi organizing for us to at least get to Adhanom; safety when the petrol tank broke off; the opportunity to see God reveal himself through the devotions each morning that were much more applicable then we could have imagined or planned; through Adhanom’s servant heart; through the stories from the Sudanese pastors of how they themselves are using the Biblical stories to engage their communities for God; in the opportunity to haul water and wash out clothes by hand, neither of which occurs often in St. Andrews; then God’s prompting Rossi to organize for our departure; the governor’s favor; and even the gift of having Pastor Martin on the team.  God remained faithful even when technically, we did not cover nearly all the training material we had hope. Our burden tonight though would be for those who did not get an armed escort out. Adhanom remains, as do the pastors. Allow me to give you their Christian names as our prayer is that they might live out each of their names, many which represent Biblical men and women who have responded to God’s call: Abraham, Peter (2), Gabriel, Joseph (2), Isaac, Samuel, Martha, Victoria, and David.

            We were an international group, American, Ugandan, Eritrean, South Sudanese, and there were many cultural moments that were uncomfortable for all of us. Pastor Martin reminded us though that the Word of God, not culture or custom, has to be our life’s plumb line. Would you pray that reality in all our lives – that the Word would penetrate deep into each of our cultures and bring true and lasting transformation. Paul closed one of his letters – “Remember my chains.” Tonight, let me close, “Remember their guns.”

Myself, Adhanom, Martin

*****

Within forty-eight hours of our departure, Adhanom had to evacuate as well. He had to remain away until late August as the army brought tanks into Aduel to quell ensuing fighting. Sadly, Mango Ministries (WGM South Sudan) is seriously having to consider relocating him due to the continual insecurity. Please keep praying for him and his wife Helen, for the pastors in the Aduel area, and for God to work in the lives of those in South Sudan.