"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."

When Takween was young, it was common for the boys from different villages among the Moro Tribe to come together and have stick fights for sport. Two guys would face off, holding a sort of palm frond as a shield and a long stick with the other. Essentially a sword fight with sticks.

So Takween went to represent Korarak, his village, one day, and came home having lost one eye. After some time, maybe a month or so, he went out for another stick fight. He came home without his second eye. I estimate he is now about 70 and has been blind since he was a teenager.

At one point during the brutal civil war that raged through out Sudan, and especially the Nuba Mountains, Takween was left to flee by himself as the government attacked. He stumbled up the mountains, trying to escape. Someone from the village found him and helped him through the mountains. That man took Takween into his home in the mountains, feeding and caring for him. That man and his family were Christians. Takween became saved and has never looked back.

I met him early in 2007 while researching the churches in Nuba. My first translator and best friend Pastor Morris Kartena is the pastor of one church in Korarak, while Takween belongs to the other. I heard Takween's story and testimony at the time, sincerely enjoying his animated story telling.

A few months ago I was able to return to Korarak, while helping to host a group of visitors and donors. It was my first time there in more than 18 months. I found Takween, and as soon as he heard my voice, he grabbed my arm. My arms are hairier than most Americans, and a whole lot hairier than the locals. As soon as he felt the hair he spoke my name, Haroun, knowing exactly who I was.

The visitors met with him and heard his story. At the end they asked him what his needs were. Takween did not seem to understand the question. He replied that he didn't need anything. Those visitors asked probably twenty people what their needs were, and everyone had a list ready for them. Only Takween the blind man, and a cripple named Kamal Tutu were able to say that they did not need anything. They were content. Paul the Apostle said, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Amazing that the two guys who had the least in the eyes of the world - a blind man and a cripple - were the only ones who had learned the secret to being content.

I was in Korarak again this past Thursday. I spent only one day, but I went looking for Takween in the afternoon once I finished work. Our compound manager/village chief told me I would find him at the church.

Takween was asleep on some rocks sitting next to the wall of the church that SP had helped to build in the 18 months that I was away. I called greetings, in what seemed like pretty good Arabic to me, but he knew me immediately anyways. We sat and talked for 30 minutes. Really we just talked at each other. It's weird that I consider him a friend though we can't speak two sentences to each other without a translator.

Pastor Morris later told me that Takween is always at the church. He is there for youth services on Wednesday and women's prayer time on Thursdays. On Sunday I am told he is the most vocal attendee, his hallelujahs raining out over the congregation. He naps beside the church when nothing is going on inside.

As much frustration as I've had in my time with this church building program, I do have this comfort: My friend Takween has a very nice wall to take his naps against.

A couple other pics.



We have some problems with the soil blocks used a couple years ago when building churches. Thus some churches have started to fall apart and we have replaced them. Though I hope this comical sight only exists in this one spot.



A tent I spent quite a few nights in back in 2007. For some reason it still lives with the family there instead of being reclaimed by SP. Whatever.



And finally, one of the moments that helped me remember why I am here.

"The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them."

- Mark Twain

Just a quote I've used a couple times recently, so I thought I would throw it up on the blog.

Again nothing great to say, but a few tidbits before I go another week without internet.

I have been mostly researching churches, driving around trying to create a good list of what is here, and learning the history of as many as I am able to meet with. Of course it is rainy season, so probably less than half of the churches are accessible right now. And I have wasted hours and hours of my life trying to reach some only to give up in defeat later. Along with a slew of vehicle problems, I feel like I've put in a lot of effort for little accomplishment.

None the less, Sudan always comes with some highlights, and what I think will eventually be fond memories.

- After being misinformed about how far it was to the "big city" of an area, I got caught in the middle of nowhere without headlights while driving at night. I was crawling, but it was pitch black and I managed to go off the road. When I tried to adjust I swung the whole back of the truck off and found myself stuck on a 45degree angle. I slept in a tent by the side of the road, and discovered that Sudan never sleeps, as people were moving by all night, singing, chatting and having a good old time. And of course plenty of people stopped to point and question me in languages I don't understand.

- While representing SP at an opening celebration for a church we helped build, I was nearly trampled by two Dinka guys having a fist fight. A lot of the boys who live at cattle camps were there, and those boys are wild. Think of how crazy people get in an all male dorm at college, then multiply it by about a hundred. More like Lord of the Flies actually.

- One of our key national staff broke his kneecap into three pieces while playing football, and we drove him into town this morning so we could send him to Nairobi for surgery. A bit silly that he could have had that surgery in thousands of locations in the U.S. and none in South Sudan.

- My buddy Steve Myles was pressed into duty leading worship when we stayed with some friends, when he admitted to knowing how to play guitar. But this was his first worship leading experience, and turns out he can't sing and play at the same time. Pretty funny. Steve is the guy who kept me sane for the past month, as he was my only friend for the majority of that time. He's finished his contract now and on his way home. I'm gonna miss that guy a lot.

- I was fairly far into a meal a week and a half ago before I realized I was eating a soup full of goat intestines and other unpleasantries. We have some names for this soup, but I will not share them here for the sake of keeping the blog child-friendly.

Currently working through The Pilgrim's Progress. More devotional than an exciting novel experience, but some really good things to say. I'll bet most believers would find at least one or two ideas in it that would give them pause.

Hi Ho.

- Slapstick by Kurt Vonnegut

It's been too long once again, though tonight brings no deep thoughts, just blurbs of life.

Things I have learned since last blogging.

- Eating a giant steak after no red meat for three weeks makes me feel terrible for the rest of the night. (But the steak was real good.)

- I'm not the only Woody Allen nut from the midwest.

- I will always be angry when people tell me it only takes 20 minutes to reach somewhere, when they really have no clue, and it ends up taking 3 hours. (Twice weekly here in the Suud.)

- Bob Dylan blows my mind.

- There are quite a few nights where I would rather sleep hungry than eat rice and beans again.

- My passion for all sports but soccer is on the wane. May have something to do with the lions unending hell, and the pistons descent into purgatory.

- I break every vehicle I touch. Every last one.

- I am a Vonnegut fan.

- A bit lukewarm on Henry James. Though I think I will add the phrase "another turn of the screw" to my lexicon.

- I think I would trade five years off the end of my life if I knew I would have a good cup of coffee every day until then.

- If the only satisfaction in your work is putting a check mark next to an accomplished task, it might not be the right job.

- This might not be Tottenham's season after all.

So I'm maybe a bit blue as I type, a bit discontented if you will. A product of boredom and self-centeredness I imagine. I regularly bemoan my lack of permanent home here in Sudan. I have no base and two and a half weeks is the longest I've been in one spot in nearly five months. I'm sick of it.

Yet I recall a similar problem from somewhere. And I paraphrase - birds of the air have their nests and foxes have their holes, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.

So following in some big footsteps. Now if I get a few more things right I'll be in business.

Hi ho.

The Suud remains the same. I will never lose my frustration with some things. And I will probably never feel quite at home here. But for those few friendships I have managed with the Sudanese, I will contribute the small bit I have to give, while praying it is something good.

So now as I'm leaving, I'm weary as hell, the confusion I'm feeling ain't no tongue can tell. The words fill my head and they fall to the floor, that if God's on our side, he'll stop the next war. - Bob Dylan.

"If one person is starving somewhere... you know, I-I... it puts a crimp in my evening."

- Alvy Singer in Annie Hall, as played (and written and directed) by Woody Allen.

So I thought of removing my last blog, as it was a collection of my distraught thoughts without much of a filter in place. But I'll leave it. I guess it's ok to be vulnerable sometimes. Especially in a blog that a half-dozen readers :)

To conclude the story though, things worked out as well as I could have imagined. I went to the hospital to see Peter immediately following my blog posting. I discovered that he had gone, picked up by his mother. I couldn't get any other info at that time, but later found Pastor Simon who works with us.

According to him, the boy lived in Arua, Uganda, a very, very long walk away from Yei. He had relatives in Yei and somehow walked there on his own. When his mother heard he was there, she came right away. The long walk by himself explains why he would have been filthy and dinged-up a bit. When Pastor Simon walked in with his mother, Peter jumped up excited and hugged her. It seems he has a family who cares for him. 

I don't know if I'll be able to track Peter from here. I wish I'd been present to make sure they were getting the medicine he needs. But for now I am extremely happy. It really couldn't have worked out better. 

Praise the Lord.

As for me, I am now in Rumbek for the evening, on my way to Wau in the morning. That is the second biggest city in South Sudan. Manute Bol is from there, and currently operates a hotel and restaurant there. Yes I am very excited for this.

And for tonight I thank the Lord for good food and friends to share it with. Amen.

"To be alive at all is to have scars."

 - Winter of Our Discontent, John Steinbeck

Boy a lot I could talk about right now. A strange few days have come and gone.

I volunteered to head to our big base in South Sudan in a place called Yei, to help prepare for our first annual SP Sudan ministry conference. We flew all of our expat and many national staff to Yei, for three days of spiritual refueling, good food, and a break from the bush that many probably needed.

For me it was three days of chaos, as I carried a fair share of the burden of hosting and managing details. I spent most of my waking hours on my feet, keeping an eye on our water supplies, making coffee, arranging accommodations and bedding, so on and so forth. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, while thoroughly wearing myself out.

Friday afternoon, the final of three days of the conference things took a turn. It became one of those days... One of those days that tend to stick with you for a long time. I've had two others like this. 

The first was in Bolivia in 2004. Two small boys sat beside me in church. The older held the younger's head in his lap and swatted flies away from the untreated sores all over his scalp. They were dirty and disheveled, poorer than the others in a poor country. As they walked off, our missionary host told me there was nothing we could do for them right then. I cried and tried to understand. That day changed the course of my life.

The second was 2007 my first month in Sudan. After three or so rough days out in the bush, me and Pastor Morris Kartena arrived a village by foot, because our vehicle couldn't make it past a river. I was exhausted and wanted to finish our work so I could go "home" to our tent and drink a coke. Instead we found a woman with cerebral malaria, unresponsive and dying as the village waited for the end. I still hate myself for the five minutes it took me to act. But we carried her to our truck 15 minutes away and started the three hour drive to the hospital. I spent the whole ride racked by anxiety, not sure if I was doing the right thing by abandoning the job I was hired to do, not sure if we would make it in time, not sure if I was killing her as the car bounced along the rocky and rutted roads. After we got her to the hospital and checked in, I called my mom and wept. That day I realized that life is not what I thought it was. Two days later I received word that the woman had died.

Then there was last Friday. I grabbed a truck to drive our pilots who'd just arrived to their guesthouse a quarter mile away. I saw a boy bleeding in the road, covered in dirt. I was told he'd been there for a few hours, and had "falling down disease". Code for epilepsy. He was sitting up but unresponsive. I sent word for our nurse Heather, dropped off the pilots and returned. I helped hold him as Heather began tending his wounds and sores. He cried in pain and tried to hit Heather, not understanding that we were there to help. 

And the moment of decision came. What could we do? Bandage him and leave him beside the road? Take him to the police, where they would put him in a cell and hold him til his family claimed him? If he has a family that is. If we took him to the hospital, we also needed to provide him with food, bedding, and someone to help him go to the bathroom and to bathe him. We couldn't adopt him for life, but what other solution was there? And again the same feeling of helplessness took hold, as on those other days. I could not fathom the hopelessness that is this boy's life. The worst part is this:  the easiest thing to do is to walk away and wash our hands of it, and this is tempting. Don't let the pain in. Out of sight, out of mind. Leave it and go back to a life of comfort. Ignorance is bliss. 

But that's wrong, it can't be right, it can't be morally permissible. All the boy needed is love. And care. And medicine. And family. Who can provide it. Who can care for him. Stream of consciousness. We can throw money at the situation. But for how long? Forever? And that is the easiest thing to give. What about the time, the love, the daily effort. In a country with no safety net, he will slip through the cracks. The hospital has no answer, the police have no answer.

What of the church. The local church is our only outlet. But are they willing, are they able, do they have that kind of love to give. But that was our solution. Pastor Simon who works with us found a woman, Rose. We bathed him and gave him clothes to replace his filthy rags. Took him to the hospital and took care of the initial physical needs. Found out he speaks a Ugandan language a little bit, though is probably mentally unwell along with epileptic. His name is Peter. We left him with Rose, who committed to staying with him as we search for his family. Who may or may not exist. Who may or may not care for him, even if they do. And I don't know what happens from here. I didn't go and see him yesterday. I don't know if I'm going to go right now. But I think I need to. And if he has no family then I pray to God that the local church rises to the occasion and provides a home for this boy, whose needs are well beyond those of a regular child. None of the orphanages are equipped to handle him, which leaves few options.

God help us, this is a cruel world.

"Well, if I am a man, a man I must become."

- The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling

Contrary to popular belief, I was not swallowed by the dust storm mentioned in my last blog about two months ago. I am alive and well, just so busy that I haven't had time to blog. I've barely been getting an hour of volleyball in each day. Life is rough, huh?

Here are pics and a quick synopsis of my last weeks - in reverse order (because that's how I arranged the pictures and I'm too tired to fix it.

R&R - On my first break I took it pretty light, and spent a few days on the Kenyan Coast, before hanging out closer to Nairobi. Below are Chris and Jeremy, coworkers and R&R buddies. We took the overnight train, which worked out swimmingly. Shades of Darjeeling Limited, though of course our train ride only lasted about 14 hours each way. This is the dining car, but we had a sleeper car to ourselves as well.

The Kenyan Coast, Diani Beach. Not the greatest beach ever, but they had camels. Can't complain if there are camels. 

The Harrison Group - One of our big supporters brought out a group of 15 people from his church. I was one of our staff who helped to host. Which meant I pretty much made coffee and helped to drive them around. I think they had a good trip, and I got to spend a couple extra weeks in the Nuba Mountains, my favorite place in the world. Below is dancing after we had a big service in one of the churches that SP built.

And here is cameraman Eric filming my buddy Steve. Steve is awesome, not least because he also has a plan of buying and living on a sailboat. Which is my current life goal. I'm shooting for the stars. Also Eric was from Michigan and wore his Tigers Hat. This allowed me to tell my Sudanese friends that our hats were our tribal markings. Beats cutting lines across your face, right? 

Below is my Dinka holiday. I spent three weeks in Dinka-Land doing research. Not the easiest place to work, but we have some cool staff there and some other perks. I had to drive my four-wheeler through hundreds of cows like this one. Praying all the while that none of them stick me with their giant horns. The Dinka love cows. 

Below is something that passes for a road. This was after only one rain. I think if a truck had passed along the road before me, it would have been impassable. Trucks often tear up the road and leave huge ruts, which make life hard if you are on a smaller vehicle that becomes stuck in those ruts.

At one point I wanted to reach a church across a river. So I stripped to my boxers (thank goodness it wasn't a briefs day) and swam across. When we came back I wanted to dry out before replacing my pants. So I drove along to the next church in my boxers expecting the church to be empty. Unfortunately there were about 20 women and children there to greet me. I sheepishly put clothes on as they sang some songs. (Caution: man thigh below)

Before that time I was killing time in Nuba, because as you know a dust storm delayed me for a week. These are photos from the Bible School we have helped to construct. On the right is a woman carrying water in the local manner. Some women walk hours each day to bring back that amount of water (about 5 gallons). On the left are some guys pretending to work. They are digging a trench to lay pipe. Our water guys were installing a water tower with a pump, that would then pump water all over the compound, instead of needing to be carried. All those workers were fired the next day because they were only pretending to work in an attempt to draw out the job and make more money. Sudan rocks.

Basically, my wife was immature. I'd be at home in the bath and she'd come in and sink my boats.

 - Woody Allen

I knew the rain would be an issue, but didn't know the dust would be dictating my life. I'm stuck in the Nuba Mountains. The above pictures are unaltered. The first is from a rainy day. The second is this past Thursday. I was scheduled to fly out. Instead the dust kept rising as the morning went on. It was like seeing everything through orange lenses. The next days was just kind of yellow, and now we've had two more days with no visibility but the colors are more normal. Now it seems like a fog, but really it's still just dust in the air. I'm stuck here til this Thursday, a week lost because of dust. The dust is settling in our kitchen, office and tukuls (huts). Someone said it looks like their tukul hasn't been lived in for a hundred years. The dust is that thick. Below is a picture of my keyboard as I type. The Woody Allen quote is only there because I love Woody Allen, nothing to do with the dust.

In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.

 - you know where that's from.

Abdul Azziz... The hope of the Nuba people. I've heard the word salvation used by educated people. They believe in this guy. I want to believe.

Background: Sudan fought a civil war from 1983 until 2002, north versus south. Depending on what you read, you might hear it was over religion and race. Arabs against Blacks. Muslims against Christians. The truth is never that easy. Muslims fought for both sides. So did Christians, though not always of their own free will in the north. Black Africans fought black Africans, with some groups switching sides throughout the war, often based on years of bad blood between tribes. 

The Nuba Mountains are the melting pot, blacks and arabs, muslims and Christians. The SPLA first entered the Nuba Mountains in 1989. Until 2002 the area was a war zone. The SPLA had a strong support base, in large part because government soldiers and militias initiated a scorched earth campaign against the Nuba people in the attempt to root out rebels. The rebels were led by a man named Yusef Kua. His second in command was Abdul Azziz. He took charge when Yusef Kua died during the war. 

He's a Muslim with one parent from Darfur and one from Nuba. But a good man by all accounts. He was forced out of leadership by the SPLA leaders after the war, according to the local story because they saw him as a threat to their own power. I believe that to be true. He went to the U.S. where he's been in school. Recently the SPLA asked him back, rumor being that they were pressured by the U.S. and others. He is now acting as the deputy governor, the head of the SPLA in Nuba. The people love him. They say he's honest, doesn't favor the Christians or the Muslims, and has what it takes to change Sudan. There's rumors of a presidential run, and a likely victory if there was a clean election. That's a heck of an "if".

To sum it up, he is the Nuba Mountain's George Washington. A war hero and a statesman. People have hope again because he is here. I want to believe.

The pictures are all from the parade to welcome him. He's above in the baseball cap.

Fear not, daughter of Zion; behold, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey's colt!

- John 12:15

Well I can scratch riding a donkey off of my list of life goals. The Biblical references to certain animals take on new meaning when you actually live among them.

I may have mentioned this a couple years ago, but riding a donkey is not exactly a sign of authority.

People who ride donkey's in Sudan (in my experience) -

1) children

2) cripples

3) dumb*** Kawaja's (white people)

Jesus entry on a donkey is a very concrete symbol of his humility, his disregard for the trappings of success and power.

Now sheep. Jesus is the good shepherd, and we are the sheep. This does not seem like a compliment. We have two sheep on our compound. They have decided to eat everything they come across (including the new roof that was being put on our office), and generally seem to have the mental acumen of a rock. 

At least if we'd been called dogs there are some good implications. Loyal, fierce, etc... But no - we are sheep. We are hopeless without a shepherd. Incapable of providing for ourselves, defending ourselves or walking in a straight line. Complete and utter dependance on God. Whether we realize it or not. Everything comes from him.

I think our aesthetic sensibilities may have gone by the wayside.

In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French. I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.

- Mark Twain

Things I've learned about myself since returning:

I believe I've grown in patience - or at least I'm not letting the little things under my skin at this point. Maybe I'll break down and lose my patience after a few months, but I feel like I've grown in that area.

But I'm struggling to muster up the heart for the people that I would like to have. As I've been glued to my computer working on reports for most of my 3 weeks of being here, it's been far too easy to not leave the compound, not work on my Arabic and not interact with local culture.

If I'm here for a 9 to 5 job then that doesn't matter, but ideally everything would be working toward the greater purpose of showing God's love to the people of Sudan. And it's all very well to say I'm doing that through my job - and I hope true - but I think true love demands more than a detached interest in the people I am meant to help. 

"The Sun's Not Yellow it's Chicken."

- a $1 IOU to anyone who can tell me the origin and author of the title quote.

Well, friends my goal of blogging regularly has already been strained, but I broke away from Easter Festivities to do a little typing. We were playing spades.

A couple eventful days in Nairobi and then on the 8th of April, 2009, I reentered Sudan more than 15 months after departing previously. 15 months is a little to long for rest and relaxation and I am truly happy to be here. However there are a few slight irritants I had forgotten about since I left. Of note:

1) Roosters who start their day at 3am. 

2) Not being able to sleep anyways because it is so hot.

3) Flies.

4) The uncanny ability for your things to disappear as if by magic.

Community life on our compounds is a struggle I relish. I'm especially grateful to back at Kauda in the Nuba Mountains which was my most frequent home on my last stint in Sudan. I have more friends remaining than I had expected and also some great new guys are here. In the next couple of days I hope to reconnect with some of my Sudanese friends who live a few hours from this compound. 

Easter activities so far have included a sunrise service on top of the "mountain" behind our compound, a breakfast of eggs, potatoes and bacon, volleyball in a temperate 95degrees, rook, and some quality conversations with some of the guys. A couple Russian UN police are friends with my Uzbek brother Sergey and have been over making us a Russian meal for this evening. A very nice holiday over all.

Pictures!!!