The one and a half year itch?

I am getting antsy. When analysing my “antsy-ness,” I realised that I’ve been in Sudan about a year and a half. I also remembered that I had this same feeling in London, a few months before I left London. I’ve heard of the marriage itch – at different points in a marriage, some get a little restless, but a life itch?

Am I truly antsy at my 1.5 year mark someplace or is it because I know that I’m within a few months of leaving Sudan which gives me this feeling of anticipation? Am I destined to live my life in 2 year increments because any longer would just bore me and cause too much restlessness? I hope this isn’t the case. I hope to live a good many more years and thinking about changing places, jobs, life every two years quite honestly makes my head spin. Does this “antsy-ness” come from something greater which is encouraging me to be more settled? Am I antsy for change or actually antsy for stability? I think the vastness of the world amazes me to the point that I want to try to experience it all, despite the fact that that would be impossible.

Whatever the answer, I am doing my best to ground myself in the present. So much of our lives are spent thinking about, planning and anticipating the future or future events. I’m reminded this by one of my dearest friends who is trying to get pregnant – and waiting. She put it eloquently when she wrote, “Living in the moment is so difficult, but so necessary for any type of contentment.”

As a Christian, I’m sometimes conflicted with this. In his letter to the Romans, Paul writes, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” English wasn’t my best subject but I believe “will be” is some sort of future tense. A huge part of our Faith is on a heavenly and eternal life with Jesus Christ. However, as a Christian, I don’t think I’ve really “gotten it” if I’m setting my sites only on this future in Heaven or even 2 or 6 months down the line. One of the most unique aspects of Christianity as a faith is the emphasis on relationship – our current and living relationship with Christ, our current relationship with others. How can we be in relationship with others and Christ if we aren’t taking advantage of our current environments?

One of my favourite verses in the Bible, and the most comforting in times of anxiety is John 14:27 which says “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” I remain grateful for Christ’s promise of peace.

(Update: Unfortunately, my pal Ben did not visit Sudan. The area which he planned to visit to help open a school was facing some insecurity and because of his lack of discreteness (travelling with publicist, assistant, publicist’s assistant, etc), he decided against the visit. Thankfully, it’s not too insecure for those saving lives.)

They say...

They say, in London, that you are never more than ten feet from a rat. Thankfully in the two years I lived in London, I never saw one (well, maybe the occasional tube mouse) and also, as they say, "out of sight, out of mind." I can confirm, in Sudan, not only have I been within ten feet of a rat, I've been within ten feet of a rat's birth. I am not amused. I am actually traumatised. While working on Saturday, minding my business reconciling bank statements, I looked down to see two very odd "things." They were slightly bigger than my thumb. They hadn't been there all day which made me deduct either 1) they were live creatures or 2) they were something which blew in the office from outside as we had a very uncommon windstorm. Upon closer inspection, they were moving. I hurriedly called my colleague to investigate. I asked "What are they?" She responded "Do you really want to know?" (well, now I do). "They are baby rats." See specimens.

This brings me to two very worrisome questions - 1) Where are the others? I was told a rat litter is usually 6-8. These rats are far too young to just walk out on their own and 2) Where is the mother? I forsee a very large-scale office cleaning in the very near future.

I also think it's very fitting that they are laying on a bank reconciliation.

Oh my gosh....

I've just heard the rumor (which I think is truth) that Ben Stiller is coming to Juba - THIS WEEK! Everyone knows how much I love Dodgeball and Meet the Parents. sigh.. All - keep your fingers crossed that I coincidentally (and I say coincidentally in the truest sense of the word) bump into him. If not, I'm sure he will be doing great things for Southern Sudan anyways, apart from making my day.

What's in a name?

In Sudan, they consider my legal name to be Sara Elizabeth. I realised this when I was at the police station yesterday. I handed the officer my passport so he could get my name correct and from then on, I was Sara Elizabeth; Bonner had been dropped.

Although I’ve been here a year and a half, I cannot figure out names. Everyone has three names. Most of us in the West have three names, but we rarely use our middle name unless on a legal document of some kind. Here, the Sudanese write out all three names – on everything. What’s more interesting is that they are used interchangeably. Sometimes the name you thought was first is actually the middle or last. Everytime you see the name written, the order has changed. I’ve become really obsessed with making sure I get people’s names correct – so if I’m working with someone, I want to call them the name they prefer.

A conversation between my my staff and I -

Me – “What do you like to be called – Yanga or Elias?”
Yanga/Elias – “It doesn’t matter, you can call me what you like.”
Me – “It’s your name, I should call you what you like.”
Yanga/Elias – “Ok, I guess Yanga.. or Elias.”

A shimmer of justice

It’s hard to expect justice in a place that’s been troubled with an unjust civil war for over 2 decades. Today, though, I was hopeful. Before Christmas, one of the finance staff stole a significant amount of money from our checking account. This broke my heart. If this happened in the US or UK, I would be annoyed – there is no part of me that thinks theft is acceptable no matter how great the desperation. But, from an NGO in Sudan, by a Sudanese, it’s more disheartening – stakeholders here are beneficiaries who rely on Tearfund for basic healthcare and food, in some cases. In this type of business, it actually occurs fairly frequently, but I still can’t accept knowing that some English grandmother’s £100 donation towards aid in Sudan has now gone to some staff person who’s absconded.

Today, I accompanied our lawyer to the police station to file the case and provide a statement. Surprisingly, this process only took 3 hours, far less than I had anticipated. The police station is an old building with various rooms but has a large porch with a counter where you report your case. We approached the police man at the counter and he and the lawyer had a discussion in Arabic. He proceeded to pull out a huge log book – where he wrote all the information, right to left (as you do in Arabic), all the relevant parties and even assigned me a case number - #146. After waiting sometime, I met with the investigator to provide my statement. It was a bit like the game – telephone. I gave my statement in periodic sentences in English, the lawyer translated in Arabic, and the investigator wrote the statement in Arabic. Who knows if the statement reflects anything I said

After being dropped off at the office, the lawyer went with two armed police officers to the staff person’s home. He wasn’t there of course, and whether he’s even still in the country, we don’t know. While we didn’t find justice yet, my confidence in the “baby step” development of Southern Sudan was restored. The police had a process. While it might have been slightly archaic – no computers, no database, no audio recorders, etc, they had a process - and determination to do their jobs to the best of their ability.

A faithful friend is the medicine of life.

I have amazing friends. Whether in the US, England or Africa, the people I encounter and who choose to call me “friend” are an amazing bunch of people. I was reminded of this over Christmas when numerous friends hosted me for the holidays. What I love about good friends is that you can be away from each other for sometime, but when you re-unite, it’s like you’ve never been apart. Living abroad and leaving friends throughout the past few years has taught me this.

I stayed this break with my dear friend Emma and was hosted by many other friends including Eunice, May, Farah and Caroline and got to spend time with Karen (my friend from Canada who I haven’t seen in 16 mos.) We had a blast!

Despite overtaking Emma’s lounge for nearly two weeks, she continued to take care of me, accompanying me on my many errands, cooked me dinner, planned nights out and generally chilled out with me. However, besides the conversations, the encouragement, the acceptance and laughter, it’s the little things that make friendships so endearing. It was Emma who instead of telling me my 8th margarita was not my most ingenious decision, took care of me when I realised it myself. It was May who burned me all the seasons of How I Met Your Mother because she knew how much entertainment is hard to come by in the Sudan. It was Karen who looked all over and brought me a sample of the popular Kiehl’s Eye Alert when I complained about my bag-like eyes. It was Caroline who dedicated one section of her closet in London to me for my suitcase overflow. It was Eunice who stuck by me during my intense search for a mango cutter, and it was Stacey who sent me all the measured-out ingredients for her famous Christmas cookies in the post to England so I could feel at home.

When I look back at this trip, I feel like I required a lot of my friends, rather than offering a lot. This trip, however, provided me with an increased appreciation of the friendships I have. As far as relationships go, if this is as good as it gets, I’m blessed. Thanks guys for being a part of my life!

A few pictures:

(1) Caroline and I at Boxing Day hunt
(2) Emma and I – Paris
(3) Karen and I – NYE
(4) May and I – Café Pacifico

Christmas in Dixie, scratch - England

So, I had the amazing opportunity of spending Christmas in England, a bit outside of Birmingham close to Solihull. My friend Caroline invited me to spend Christmas Eve through Boxing Day with her family. When I arrived on Christmas Eve, she gave me an excellent tour of Birmingham which included lunch along the canals and a stop at Selfridge’s (hey, it’s the architectural highlight of Birmingham). The remainder and majority of the trip was filled with excellent food, drinks and conversation. So, what is an English Christmas like? As my Canadian friend Eunice suggested, “tell me what happens, if you sit around and read Dickens or what…” I was anxious to find out.

Firstly, the Christmas day food was amazing. We had a beautiful turkey, THREE kinds of stuffing, what seemed like a million vegetables, roasted potatoes and parsnips (am I dumb or is it American that I don’t know parsnips?). For dessert, we had homemade Christmas pudding, homemade chocolate bread and butter pudding, brandy butter and Christmas cake. I still don’t know if I agree with the whole mix a bunch of fruit together, throw on a bottle of alcohol and chuck it in the closet for three months idea, but it is supremely English. After stuffing ourselves, we chatted, played the Wii and watched TV (the Royle Family Christmas special (kind of like a British Roseanne – loved it!)). On Boxing Day, we grabbed our coats and scarves and headed to Broadway, a town in the Cotswolds (a scenic English country area) to watch the “hunt.” Traditionally in England, fox hunts take place on Boxing Day. Since banning fox hunting 2 or 3 years ago, people still gather and watch the horses and hounds as they hunt a fox scent. I thought it was great but it didn’t hurt that they walked around serving minced pies.

So that was my first English Christmas! No snow, no Dickens, but loads of fun and good food. Major thanks to the Wakelings and Smiths for including me. I attach a few pictures –(1) table setting for the Chrismtas meal (thanks to Caroline and myself). (2) a picture of Selfridge’s (told you it was an architectural highlight) and (3) a scene from the hunt.

Goodbye to Chris!

We had our work Christmas party to enjoy a get-together and to show appreciation for the famous Dr. Chris on Dec 17 – a few days before we all left Juba for a break. Chris was Tearfund’s health advisor in Southern Sudan and during the last year, he was blessed with the amazing opportunity of a secondment with WHO, working with the Ministry of Health – doing major things for this country! I know Sudan is a better place because of Chris and we will all miss him dearly. Chris and his wife Karinya worked in Sudan for nearly four years and contributed immensely not just with their talents and skills as doctors, but their friendship as well. At his party, we had drinks, cakes and games (if you know Chris, this is not unexpected – he LOVES games). Me – not so much but I realised I missed a major childhood experience growing up American. Pass the Parcel. This is a game usually played (I’m told) at children’s birthday parties where you wrap loads of gifts, one layer at a time, and pass the package along to music. When the music stops, the person holding the package, unwraps a layer to find a gift. Our Sudanese staff loved this and it was really fun experiencing it with them. We also played the chocolate game which proved interesting in the heat. The chocolate bar was a melted mess by the end. Despite sweating under the Sudanese sun, this Christmas party had all the components of a Christmas celebration, laughter and fun shared among friends.