"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.