African Soul, American Heart

The Perfect Storm

2011-12-18T03:35:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Duk has more than the usual number of AIM Air flights landing here recently. Besides my arrival with Moses and cargo two weeks ago, one flight arrived with medical staff and cargo Tuesday, another one is arriving today with more docs and supplies, and Friday morning we are expecting more ASAH materials, including tiles for the showers and toilets. They'll be beautiful and hygienic compared to the bare concrete in the pit latrines on the clinic compound.

In spite of hardships like this, the JDF Lost Boys Clinic is doing amazing work in Duk Payuel. Hundreds of people have come from all across the county and beyond—blind people holding sticks held by family members leading them to the promise of sight.

These doctors from the Moran Eye Institute have systems in place, though there are difficulties presented working here where there are no surgical facilities or surgically-trained staff assistants. Nevertheless, they have trained the clinic staff to assist in all aspects from screening to documenting, and the machine looks well-oiled to me.

There is a perfect storm causing blindness here—more percentage of blind people than anywhere else in the world. There is an abundance of UV rays from the ever-present blistering sun, there's a lack of antioxidants in the diet. The insects and infections and disease that cause glaucoma, trachoma and river blindness are also factors here. In addition, there is a high level of congenital cataracts here. One 18-month-old girl arrived on an AIM flight. She has cataracts, but the surgeons discovered she has additional causes of blindness that are not correctable. Some patients will return home still blind, some will have limited sight, but many will return to their lives with near-perfect vision. There are some whole families—mother and children, who have regained their eyesight.

Welded

2011-12-16T23:56:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Maduk is welding the elevation structure for our 5000L water tank. Soon workers will begin digging four – three-meter holes for the legs as the structure will be set into the ground for stability. The structure is huge and will require a good number of people from the community to set upright, carry to the insertion site, and to plant. I think they'll use ropes and trees for leverage. I hope to get this on videotape before I leave.

We've confirmed that the balance of our plumbing and electrical and other materials will arrive on Friday morning—wall and floor tile, outdoor lights, paint, soap dishes, toilet paper holders and so on.

We worked out a temporary agreement with IRD to share fuel costs for running the generator to get our water and power onsite. On Monday in Juba I will meet with IMA staff. IMA will be taking over the IRD site, so we will work out a new arrangement with them.

Late in the afternoon, John Dau (http://johndaufoundation.org/) asked if he could visit our site, and we made the walk. As we approached and he caught sight of the fence, he said, "This is your fence?! This beautiful fence is yours? This huge property is yours?" As we entered, he took a look and he said, "This is beautiful here." I showed him around the staff housing, the storage, and inside the only one of our tukuls that wasn't locked. John pointed out signs of termites, showing me the soile they have already deposited on some of our wood rafters. The solution is to have our security guard check weekly and knock off any soil that appears. We will treat the wood with anti-termite solution when it arrives—we have been waiting for one of the last three flights to bring it.

John was impressed with our toilets and showers and sinks. The clinic has nothing like this. He said to me, "I knew you were working on something here, but I hadn't paid that much attention—this is much more than I expected." And he congratulated us on our progress. Just wait until he sees what 50 educated ASAH girls will accomplish in the future!

The Blind

2011-12-15T23:55:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, December 13

Today was the beginning of a big week for the clinic. AIM Air landed with a group of medical folks from The Moran Eye Center - http://uuhsc.utah.edu/MoranEyeCenter/outreach/international.html - and elsewhere: doctors, nurses, and others involved with the upcoming cataract surgeries that will be performed beginning Thursday. Several more eye surgeons arrive Thursday. Some of the docs brought small camping tents which now dot the clinic compound; others were moved into the clinic staff tents, and these staff moved into the almost-finished block housing nearby. Because the rainy season road conditions have made getting materials here impossible until just recently, ASAH loaned mattresses and other needed items from our storage for the guests. Since my last visit, the clinic has been using two of our tables and a stool as well. I don't know what they'll do when we take them back in January, but the clinic has been a gracious host to me over the many weeks I've spent here in the past year, and I'm glad ASAH can give back.

It's lively here in the compound and the complexion has changed with the number of kuwajas (literally—foreigners, but used to designate us white folks) now present. Many of the clinic staff now spend their off hours at the new housing or on the outskirts of the gathering area, so I miss them at meal times and in the evenings, though the conversation, dotted with snippets of medical stories, reports on the day's screenings, and joke telling, is interesting.

Blind people have walked here from as far away as Bor—a four day walk—to be screened for cataract surgery. In most cases, the blind person uses a cane and holds onto a long stick as a sighted person leads them slowly along rutted, dusty, stony paths and roadways, and through the grasslands. One six-year-old girl led her blind grandmother on a two-day walk from their village.

By Wednesday about 170 candidates were scheduled for cataract surgeries, and at least one trachoma patient has already had an operation. The doctors are working in makeshift operating suites. The Lost Boys Clinic is a basic care facility, not a hospital, but this team will make it work. Unfortunately, some patients are turned away because there is no sight to be restored. There are also at least ten children under 14 with cataracts. More patients will arrive over the next few days.

Invited

2011-12-15T00:29:00.000-08:00

Monday, December 12

On Sunday, Manyok presented me with a printed invitation to the school's year-end closing ceremony. The invite was for 10 am Monday, so like an American I arrived early, and like an African I watched and waited. Young boys carried school desks from the school to the church for the assembly. The one-piece desks consist of a bench seat and a 10" plank writing area. Designed to seat two or three, the children squeezed together four or five to a desk.

On Sundays, each member of the congregation must bring their own seat, and the church is populated with colorful plastic chairs and large bent tin cans—mostly for seating children. Today the church is more orderly, the benches lined up in neat rows. One of the teachers gestured for the kids to stand and reordered them from class one to seven, right to left and back.

Another teacher ran a cable from an outside power source to hook up a sound system—amp and speakers, music and mic. Chairs had already been set up for the invited guests and teaching staff.

The program was further delayed with an announcement that we were waiting for 91-year-old Gideon, the guest of honor, but when another twenty minutes passed without him, they started up. He arrived soon after.

There was much singing and celebration, and the top ten students in each class were recognized by name and invited to the front of the church. The young primary students received a notebook, a pen, and soap—the soap here comes in long bars, scored to break off into individual bars of soap. I don’t think first graders in the US would prize soap the way they do here. The pen and soap supplies ran out, and the older students received only notebooks and certificates.

Two of our ASAH girls, Achol in class six, and Ayen in class three, were number nine in their respective classes, as was Daniel, the boy who has assisted me with videotaping and other tasks over the last year.

One student was asked to speak to the assembly—Achol, graduate of class six. She took the mic like a pro and, in Dinka, translated for me by Manyok, told the crowd how important it is to let the girls stay in school and not to marry them off when they are too young. She spoke in a strong and confident voice, turning to looking at the assembled students as well as the teachers and invited guests. She said, "If you let us stay in school and get an education, then you will see what we can do for you in the future."

Undies--Big and Small

2011-12-13T23:40:00.000-08:00

Sunday, December 11

After church, the women came to the church office compound where we had set up to distribute panties and pads. I often distribute through the school, but last week was exam week, and now school is out until February. An announcement was made at church, and the crowd that arrived was mostly mothers and smaller children, but very few teenage girls—our target population. We will distribute theirs when school reopens.

The panties distribution can easily deteriorate into a mad grab, so I asked Rhoda, a former teacher who speaks English and works with our program, to line the children up by size and age. Lillian, the clinic midwife, helped me hand them out. The little children came first—both boys and girls and babes in arms left with four pairs of panties each. A few teenage girls showed up, and then came the mothers. Thinking that South Sudan teens resemble American teens, our donors often donate women's sizes. The teens here are very tall, but thin as rails. Still, the underwear is welcomed by adult women, too.

Things started hopping before dinner when John Dau, who started the JDF Foundation Lost Boys Clinic here in Duk, arrived with a group that included Michelle, a filmmaker who will be with him until the end of January, documenting the peace initiative which he is here for, and the cataract surgeries which will begin in a few days when the eye surgeons arrive from the US. Also in the entourage were armed policemen. Nine people in a Land Cruiser plus baggage and weapons. Due to the bad roads, what might have been a five-hour drive took two days from Bor to Duk.

The arrival of special visitors means meat and potatoes along with the traditional beans and rice for dinner. They didn't know, however, that we'd been treated to fried fish at lunch. The fish is mudfish, which I usually disdain as it is stewed and rank—I'm not sure if it's rotten or what, but the whole dining room stinks to high heaven. This fish was fresh and pretty tasty with lots of tiny bones. The initiated were able to peel the flesh back and leave the skeleton behind. I wasn't so skilled.

Michelle brought a two-person tent donated to her by Marmot, who is a sponsor for her film project. Moses was gracious enough to agree to sleep there, and Michelle moved into my tent. I don't know how she would have managed in that tiny tent. She has a huge amount of film gear. It would certainly have been more difficult for her to manage, and I'm enjoying the female companionship.

Slaughtering the Calf

2011-12-13T04:29:00.000-08:00

Friday, December 9, 2011

One obstacle in this remote place is the dearth of skilled local workers. One local has carpentry and welding skills and the equipment to do the work. As the only game in town, he prices his work accordingly. We can bring Kenyan or Ugandan workers from Bor or Juba, but that is costly, too, and with the long rainy season it isn't always possible. Manyok and Dau are learning the art of negotiation. They know what things should cost, and they don't give out the contracts until the price is reasonable. Our most recent negotiation was for welding of the elevation structure for our water tank and the gates for our fence. At this particular time, we have an advantage as the Kenyan plumbers and electricians now working on our site are capable of doing this job as well.

We now have a hand washing sink on the outside wall of our ablution blocks. Not a novel concept—use the toilet and wash your hands right afterwards—but there aren't any sinks at the clinic, for example. The faucet at the clinic is a trek from the latrine through the clinic and from there to the dining compound. The water that spills from this knee-high faucet is drinkable, splashes onto broken concrete and trickles down a shallow mud ditch. From this single outdoor faucet we fill our water bottles, basins to wash clothes, buckets to wash dishes. We also wash the dust from our feet and legs and rinse our toothbrushes.

Earlier in the week, a small cow walking outside our fence managed to climb over a pile of concrete blocks and tumble into the hole dug for our septic tank. One of our crew was working on the ablution block roof, and he got down from the roof, jumped into the hole, and lifted the calf to another worker. Unfortunately, the calf sustained spinal damage of some sort and wasn't able to walk or stand, but remained alive. Someone went to notify the owner and ask him to come and determine what should be done with the cow. He declined, so Manyok and Dau went to visit him. He was angry and verbally abusive but would not offer a resolution. They expected him to send someone to examine the animal. Cows here are not sacred as in India, but they are prized and people will starve before slaughtering them. The idea is to have them and to accumulate more like money in the bank. Of course they breed them, and they use the milk, but beef is saved for celebrations and weddings.

The crew carry the cow to a grassy area and offered water. On Friday, as no one had come on behalf of the owner, they put it out of its misery. It served to feed them all. I can't understand it. If these animals are so loved, how could this calf be left to suffer by the owner? The septic tank was finished and covered. No other animals (or children) will suffer such a fate.

Harsh Light, Blue Shadows

2011-12-10T05:02:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 8, 2011

I'm pretty adaptable, but heat fatigue and hunger take a toll. I use "hunger" loosely—though I might yearn for a meal here, I have no idea what it would be like to suffer hunger. In this village, I'm surrounded by people who have an intimate relationship with the pain and anguish of malnourishment, the experience of starving, and of watching people they love die for lack of food.

Moses and Daniel and I traveled to the site for a meeting with the guardians and the girls, arranged by Dau and Manyok. The meeting was at nine, so naturally the guardians came at 10:30. Before they arrived, we heard the plane overhead, which caused Dau to head toward the airstrip to organize carriers for our materials, leaving the girls, Manyok, Rhoda, Moses, Daniel and me to set out chairs and greet the guardians.

Materials began to trickle in, but I felt bad about the guardians with nothing to do, though they were less concerned. My Western desire for punctuality and my own personal difficulty of sitting quietly without always having to "do" is continually challenged here. Manyok didn't want to start the program without Dau who had been the one to meet with the guardians when the girls were first chosen before Manyok was hired, but we had planned to serve tea and fruit, so we began preparing that.

Rhoda and Tabitha (pronounced Tabeesa) brought trays with cups of tea while Achol, one of our ASAH girls, worked at slicing two fresh pineapples and apples. Milk tea is a special treat. Though common in Africa, nothing is common in South Sudan for people who have no food, no money, and no place to buy food even if they had money. Their faces lit up, and there was much chatter as they consumed the dripping pineapple, a food they had never tasted before.

I'm frustrated taking photos. The sun is bright and harsh, the shadows deep and blue. To shoot the very dark faces of Sudanese, the darkest of Africans, light is essential. But this light is not flattering, it's hot—both in temperature and appearance—and the shadows are deep and dappled as they filter through the trees. Group shots often result in faces that are almost silhouettes.

Dau arrived and the program began. The guardians were introduced. Manyok translated for me as Dau spoke to them in Dinka about our opening date—January 15, and our expectations for the girls—that they be released to our care and allowed to remain until their education is complete, which today means primary school, but we hope to get many of them through secondary school and beyond if funds allow. We will encourage visiting and interaction of the girls with their families and the local community. They will attend the local school during the mornings and church on Sundays, and we will enlist teachers, villagers with talents and skills, and even clinic staff and visitors to share their knowledge with our girls.

After I thanked them for allowing their girls to join us and talked of our desire that they stay in the program and not be forced to marry at puberty, several guardians rose to comment. Each of them reinforced their happiness that the girls would be under our care. They told me they are unable to protect the girls from forced marriage in their households. If a potential groom—even a 50 or 70-year-old man—presents cattle dowry—the girls would be given. With us, they will be safe.

Portage

2011-12-09T07:41:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, December 7

Dau and Manyok and I met. They had prepared and printed (using the printer we bought in Juba) spreadsheets detailing the labor costs over the last few months. Some of the labor involved is portage of materials. There are three vehicles in the village, but they can't be driven during the rainy season. The roads and paths between the high ground areas flood and the vehicles get stuck. Thus men, women, and children carry things—on their heads, their shoulders, and their backs.

The most expensive portage was bags of cement carried from storage at the school (inside a classroom and protected from the elements) to our site. It takes about 15 minutes to trek this distance during the dry season, it takes longer to walk through the water, and it is particularly important not to drop the cement in the water. I'm sure few readers could easily lift, let alone carry for a long distance, a bag of this cement. I know because I loaded and unloaded these same bags into and out of a vehicle when we stored them in the first place. Some of the bags were opened and dumped into buckets or sacks and carried by women. A few men were able to carry a bag on their own. It's dirty work.

To bring the sand for building concrete block, three wheelbarrows were each loaded with sand 400 times and pushed to the site and back at a cost of 1 Sudanese pound per wheelbarrow. One Sudanese pound is about 31 cents. And, until my arrival last week with the materials to run water to our site, women carried the necessary water from the well on their heads. Many items on the spreadsheet are listed by the number of "backs" required.

Feast

2011-12-08T22:26:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, December 6

We're on Africa time. Like other hot places I've visited where clocks don't govern the day, I went to find Manyok at the site at 10 am, expecting to meet with him before our feast with the girls scheduled for one o'clock. Manyok was overseeing the workers and Dau was catching up on his end-of-term duties as head teacher. I worked on photos and the blog at IRD, the adjacent NGO site, taking advantage of their electric power and Internet access.

At 12:30, Daniel and I went to the site, but still no Dau or Manyok. The girls started arriving, and I gave them a tour. Much has changed since they visited last July. We interacted as best we could with our limited shared language. By 2, I saw that Tabitha and Rhoda hadn't started cooking the goat and knew this would be a full day affair. I figured I would miss lunch altogether, which isn't an actual hardship in a place where entire families consider themselves lucky to share one small meal in a day, and often have nothing to eat but leaves they've gathered. But it wasn't to be. The cooks had prepared a lunch of goat liver in a stew with carrots and onions for Moses and me. Not used to the heat, Moses had returned to the clinic for a nap, so I was expected to eat alone inside the tukul. Though some of you may not be fond of liver, this meat was quite tasty, and it was a treat to eat meat that wasn't tough, stringy, and accompanied by bone slivers and gristle. I could eat only a small portion, and I asked Daniel to finish it up.

Dau and Manyok arrived with the fruit I brought from Nairobi. We retrieved a knife from Tabitha—a piece of metal with a long pointed triangular blade, fairly blunt edges and a makeshift shaft. Slicing the mangos attracted hundreds of small blue flies. The mangos had been bruised in transit and storage and weren't in perfect shape, but the girls devoured them with gusto. Tabitha is saving the seeds to dry and plant on our site. Likewise, we saved the pineapple tops. The abundance of ripening fruit allowed for an orgy of eating, juice dripping from our fingers and faces. Thank goodness we now have easy access to running water at our site.

We filled the time until dinner playing games and singing songs. Dau asked me to tell them a story. Goldilocks and the Three Bears came to mind, and I drew on storytelling skills acquired in high-school speech tournaments, and honed telling stories to my children. I remembered that I have this book on my IPad and treated them to that version when I finished. The IPad entertained them for a good hour as they explored the interactive children's books and other kid stuff I've downloaded on that wonderful machine.

Finally dinner was ready, and what a feast it was. Tabitha, Rhoda, and another cook carried the dishes to our table. The girls dished up mounds of rice, goat stew, stewed chicken (also donated by Moses' uncle), and a delicious dish of pasta with goat meat and carrots. I've never seen an American child devour such a large quantity of food at a sitting, but these girls are accustomed to a single meal in a day, which often consists only of sorghum.

Since most of our supplies are in storage, awaiting completion of our compound, we had 11 girls but only six spoons. The adults, including me, used our fingers. Five groups of two girls sat knee to knee and shared spoons—a bite for one, pass the spoon, a bite for the other and so on.

Our meal finished, we brought out the sweaters I brought from Nairobi for chilly evenings, and they went home: their bellies full, their bodies warm. It was dark when we returned to the clinic, but Moses and I took a nighttime walk to the central village to meet with his sister's guardian. I have never ventured off the clinic compound after dark. Though I brought a small torch (flashlight), the bright moonlight was sufficient to light our way.

Sacrificial goats

2011-12-07T04:30:00.000-08:00

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Manyok and Dau bought a goat to celebrate our arrival. The plan was to slaughter it Sunday and invite the girls for a feast. Alas, the clinic has no firewood. Shortly after we received this gift, before we left for church, Moses' uncle Kon stopped by with a goat for us as well. The he-goat and the she-goat are tethered, bleating pitifully, knowing something is up. They have a short respite as we won't be able to slaughter and cook them today.

Daniel and I walked to church before the two-hour service finished. Two hours is a bit long for me since all the preaching and prayers and announcements are in Dinka. The singing and drumming is quite enjoyable, as is watching and listening to the movement of people and children inside the church.

As in any church, when it's over, everyone gathers outside to greet friends. Many people know me now, and their greetings are warm. People call me Deborah Dit, though I didn't t know why. The addition of "Dit" to the name is a sign of respect for elders and for people in responsible positions.

After lunch we started our long walk through the outskirts of the village on our way to Daniel's home to meet his mother. She's in her 50s, but looks older. His father is nearly 70, blind, living in Juba. As often happens when you meet parents of kids that you are helping, I was designated his second mother. From there, we tried to meet Moses' brother, Akol, at his uncle Kon's, but when we arrived we learned Akol had gone to the central town, so we will meet him another day.

Continuing our trek we headed to the site. Walking cross-country through knee-high grass is uncomfortable now that things are drying out. Prickly grasses scratch my legs and tiny thorns end up in my sandals. Daniel, Moses, and Manyok are all wearing trousers and shoes. I'm wearing cargo shorts—not the traditional dress for women, but no one seems to mind. I wear dresses or skirts for church and when meeting with elders. It's too hot for pants.

Juma, the head medical officer at the clinic, came to me in the afternoon pleading on behalf of eight tuberculosis patients—seven women and a little girl, and one man who has lost his fingers to leprosy. They have no food. Their bodies can't utilize the medications if they're starving. He asked if I could help. ASAH has precious food supplies stored here. We had expected our compound to open last summer, but the onset of heavy rains delayed materials and the crew until this trip.

Since our facility doesn't open until January, when it will be possible to travel the roads again, Manyok feels we can part with some beans and rice and powdered milk. We organized a plan with Victor, the clinic pharmacist who oversees supplies at the clinic. It isn't certain that we will be repaid, but the Lost Boys Clinic has applied for renewal of a World Food Programme grant for just this situation, and they expect it to be renewed by year-end. They will repay the beans and rice with WPF lentils and sorghum—not as desirable, but we might be able to trade the sorghum for rice. This is a life and death situation for these patients, and right now, we're the only option.

Let There Be Light

2011-12-07T00:31:00.000-08:00

Monday, December 5

Juma greeted me with enthusiasm and thanks for the food supplies at breakfast. He wants a photograph of me with the TB patients. What can a bag of beans and rice, a little salt and sugar do? It will keep people alive so they can benefit from the medications for their TB and Leprosy.

Breakfast at the clinic is even more sparse than it's been on previous visits due to the exhaustion of food supplies. There used to be two or three thermoses on the counter—one with milk, one with hot water, but they have only a single thermos now. There are no morning biscuits.

Occasionally someone remarks to me that our country has hardships and our efforts should be concentrated at home. But if you could see what I have seen, you would understand that the situations are not comparable. We have poor and sick people in the US, but it's uncommon for us to see people stricken with TB, leprosy, malaria, and other treatable or eradicated diseases, and one in five small children aren't dying of malnutrition and other illnesses prior to age five. The JDF Lost Boys Clinic here in Duk performs minor miracles daily, caring for up to 100 patients a day, some of whom walk up to 100 miles for care. Medication alone isn't enough to help them, so the clinic provides basic food to many patients.

Today Reuben, a 19-year-old young man from Patuenoi, walked to Duk Payuel for medication with a fever. He has been looking over my shoulder as I type this in the clinic office. I asked him how large Patuenoi is compared to Duk. He told me that Patuenoi is a village and that Duk Payuel is a town. Moses had also told me that he was surprised by how large Duk was—that it was not a village, but a town. It still looks like a village to me. Duk has a population of about 3000 people spread out a great distance across pockets of high ground, as the lowlands flood during the rainy season. There about 500 of these households, though the population is fluid, people coming and going between villages seasonally and with their cattle. Manyok and Dau tell me that Duk is only a village, but because of the clinic and IRD compound, (and our developing program and site) it looks like a town to many from smaller communities.

My trip to the site today was rewarded by the discovery of light in the tukuls. Long single-tube fluorescent lights are installed in the large tukuls, and smaller energy-saving bulbs in the small ones. Though so far the power is only turned on to the tukul where the crew is sleeping, it was wonderful to see the light.

The she-goat was slaughtered at the clinic this morning—fortunately out of my eyesight--and roasted for lunch. Any kind of meat is a real treat at the clinic, and goat meat is prized by Sudanese. The staff is always pressing me to eat more, but I tried to satisfy them by gnawing the fibrous meat off one bone while chewing with care to avoid bone slivers—a given when the meat is butchered with a hatchet.

Some of our ASAH girls came by in the afternoon as we were preparing the pineapple I brought from Nairobi, so we shared it with them and the clinic staff. None had tasted pineapple before, but more shocking to them was that it was straight from the refrigerator. They could hardly manage to chew as they had never had cold food in their lives.

After dinner one of the cooks lit the enormous trash pile. The resulting bonfire was a treat for us all, the night cool without wind. From my bed in the tent—I'm close enough that it could have presented a problem if it were windy—I enjoyed the crackling of the fire, the flames still burning bright as I went to sleep.

Let There Be Water

2011-12-06T01:18:00.001-08:00

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Even before the local villagers finished digging the long trench from IRD's compound to ours, we had water running out of a faucet on our site. A real faucet! That means we don't need laborers to haul water from the well, and Tabitha can cook for the men without hauling water as well. You can imagine what a miracle that is. Today, the doors of the toilet and shower stalls are framed and the roof framework is in place.

Our program director, Manyok, and I went to IRD, the adjacent NGO site to get Maduk the carpenter/welder who has been (slowly) building our fence. Maduk will be welding the elevation structure for our 5000 liter water tank and the pedestrian and vehicle gates, and we needed him to let us know what additional materials are needed to complete the work.

It isn't like you can walk down the street to Ace Hardware. The closest location is Bor: four or five hours by car because of the terrible road conditions, three days by footing if you are walking through flooded land, about a half hour by plane. Right now, though the heavy September flooding has receded, the last leg of the journey to Duk from Bor is still too wet for road travel. We are hoping one of the AIM flights coming to Duk this week can land and then return to Bor to pick up the necessary materials so they will be here when the crew needs them. The coordination of these mission flights is complicated as they must calculate weights, fuel loads, and as there are no lights on these landing fields, there is no flying after dark. AIM doesn't work on the weekends, so it will be Monday before I will hear from them.

Too much sun for me today. When I returned to the clinic I was a bit dehydrated in spite of drinking water. One doesn't have to pee much here because you lose the water sweating.

Six of our 11 girls stopped by to hang around. Since they don't speak English, our relations are a little awkward. I brought a puzzle of Africa—each country on the continent is a separate piece, and the outline of the pieces shows on the puzzle when the pieces are out. This was the first puzzle they had ever seen, and it was interesting watching the girls try to fit round pegs in square holes, something US children are exposed to at young ages. I drew their attention to a couple of pieces, pointing out the angles and shapes and gesturing for them to find that on the puzzle.

After that we shared the universal language—food. I gave them each a banana encouraging them to eat them now, but they insisted on taking them home, probably to share with their families.

Fresh fruits and vegetables are a rarity in the village. There are coconut trees all around and many growing on our site. I'm told the fruit begins to ripen in January and coconuts are available through March. Moses tells me that the British coconut trees were planted by the British. Other fruit trees will grow here, but there aren't any in the village now. We will plant mango trees on our site with the seeds from the mangos I brought to share with our girls and the clinic staff.

Achol

2011-12-05T11:04:00.001-08:00

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Members of Moses' extended family came to the clinic in the morning with his lovely sister, Achol, who is 14 and will start class five in January.

Moses' Uncle Kon told us he would be gifting us a goat. Though they have no food except what they can gather or hunt, they won't share in the feast with us. Instead, we will share it with the clinic staff. The goat is borrowed.

There is a tremendous shortage of food in the village. Though I saw flourishing crops of sorghum and maize throughout the village, the rainy season picked up in September, and the crops were drowned out. Since people rely on these crops for their food supply, and the flooded crops also meant flooded roads, there is no way to transport food, and the few local shops have no supplies to sell. People with goats are reluctant to sell them. There are lots of cattle, but cows in Sudan are like money in the bank, parted with only for dowry payments and slaughtered only for celebrations, though families with cows enjoy milk and butter.

Though we can't solve all the hunger problems in this village, I talked with Moses about how we could offer some help to his family. We decided to give them some money to purchase food, which will require a two-hour walk each way to Poktop where the marketplace is accessible by road.

We talked with Dau and Manyok about Moses' sister Achol and learned she is a top student in the school. We are considering her as a candidate for our program. The family wasn't living here when we assessed orphans in March, so she wasn't identified. The criteria we used to select students was to choose girls from each area of Duk Payuel, not unfairly benefitting one chief or family over another. Eligible girls must be able to benefit from the program; we chose a target age of 10 to 15, but the current group ranges from seven to 16; the guardian must be willing to allow the girl to enter our program; and the girl must want to join.

If you're interested in sponsoring Achol or one of our other girls, please email me.

Shivering

2011-12-05T04:19:00.000-08:00

December 2, 2011

During the night the temperature dropped to 60 degrees. My bed sheets and fleece camping blanket/sleep sack weren't sufficient to keep me warm. It was so chilly, I woke up and slipped light sweatpants under my sleeping shirt, a sweatshirt on top, socks on my feet, and laid the lightweight cloth wrap I carried on the plane over the blanket along with more clothing items on top. In the morning I requested one of our heavy wool blankets from the store. Moses already had one, so he was toasty warm, but I've never been that cold on any prior visit, even during the rainy season. Most nights a sheet is sufficient. In our busy day we forgot to get the blanket, so I spent another night shivering.

The high point today was the visit to our building site. I couldn't believe the progress. All six tukuls are thatched, skirted with smooth concrete lips around on the outside, and they have concrete floors as well. Most windows are screened but awaiting frames. The office tukul's door is padlocked. Soon all the tukuls will have doors and framed screened windows. The ablution blocks—one toilet and shower for staff and one toilet and shower for the girls—await the roof, doors, toilets, sinks, and water hookup. We will even have toilet paper holders and towel racks—the first in the village.

The fence is up though the gates are temporary, awaiting materials for framing pedestrian gates and a large one for vehicles. One side of the fence is not complete as the floodwaters are just receding, but I think it will be dry enough soon to put in the last fence posts.

The sound of an airplane drew us back to the airstrip. Our AIM Caravan pilot had taken clinic patients to Bor early in the morning, and he returned before noon with our crew—two plumbers and an electrician—and more materials. Again many people and children gathered to carry things to the site, which is much farther from the airstrip than the clinic. Manyok paid the children small amounts for their labor. To carry large heavy bags of calcium, we borrowed a wheelbarrow from the clinic since our wheelbarrows were too heavy to come on our flight.

Tabitha, the church's lay pastor lives on our site, and we arranged for her to cook for the men who brought their own food from Bor. Manyok got mattresses for them to sleep in the newly-built tukuls—our first guests—but they went the night without bedding. I can't imagine how chilly that was for them. They have bedding now.

Reunion

2011-12-05T04:12:00.000-08:00

December 1, 2011 Cont'd

We had alerted Dau, the head teacher, and Manyok, our program director, that Moses had siblings in the area. Dau knew of the family. I thought they were in a neighboring village, but while I was busy greeting old friends, meeting new ones, and watching as our cargo was transported here and there, Moses was spirited off by Daniel, the 15-year-old boy who has assisted me on all my trips here. Daniel helps with videotaping, finding me people when I need them, and keeping my camera batteries and computer charged. What neither Moses nor I knew is that the younger brother and sister he didn't know—they were born after he was separated from the family—is that they now live here in Duk. Neither of these children were identified as orphans on our list because they were living in Poktop when we assessed the families.

I missed the reunion. His brother, Akol, is 11 in class three and his sister, Achol, is 14 in class five. He tells me there was excitement and tears, but I don't have a photo or a snippet of videotape to share. Moses has agreed to record his feelings about this reunion and to share his impressions of the village.

Traveling on AIM Air

2011-12-04T07:32:00.000-08:00

December 1, 2011

Moses and I arrived at Wilson Airport in Nairobi at 6:30 am. Outside we met our favorite pilot, Jon Hildebrandt, and his family. Jef Foss and I stayed in their guest house last spring because we couldn't catch a flight to Nairobi that day.

His wife and two children would be flying with us, but Jon had to fly commercially as our cargo was heavy. Including passengers, we're allowed 1000 kg on the caravan. Our heaviest item, a 3' diameter spool of underground cable was too heavy for AIM's scale. To accommodate our cargo without leaving too much behind the plane loaded only enough fuel to get to Eldoret. We landed, refueled enough to get to Loki, landed, and went through immigration AGAIN even though we hadn't left the country, THEN we flew to Juba. Now that the country is independent, all the flights have to go through immigration instead of landing directly in villages. So we stopped again, had the visas stamped, and then we flew to Duk Payuel.

The poor pilot wasn't done. He had to fly to Pieri to refuel for the morning. Then he returned to the village and stayed with all of us at the clinic. In the early morning he took several sick passengers to the hospital in Bor, picked up our electrician, two plumbers and additional materials, flew back to Duk to drop them off and then on to the rest of his day: the life of an AIM Air mission pilot.

We were greeted as usual by an entourage of children, villagers, clinic staff, and now our ASAH girls were waiting, too, wearing their hot pink t-shirts.

There are three vehicles in the village. None are in working order, so our bigger girls carried duffle bags on their heads—each weighing 50 to 60 pounds. The smaller girls carried other items on their heads. Boys typically carry things on their backs or shoulders, though a few of them did the head carry. It took many people to bring our cargo to our storage at the school, the clinic and the site, walking in hot afternoon sun, for 15 to 30 minutes with heavy loads.

Kenya--November 26-November 30

2011-12-03T07:25:00.000-08:00

Ron Saeger spent nearly a month in Kenya with our nine Kenyan students—Moses, John, Joseph, Michael, James, Simon, Abraham, Deborah, and Sarah. They go to six different schools in Nakuru, Kenya. There is much to do when a school year ends, and Ron took care of them with much help from Moses, who just finished Form 4 and is now a high school graduate.

All the kids did well in school—James is top of his class, competing against Kenyan native students; Deborah was fourth in her first year of secondary school. New to our program and fresh from Kakuma Refugee camp schools, which are very inadequate, she had completed only two terms of the previous year in grade eight. We suggested she repeat because though she improved greatly over the two terms, her final test scores weren't high. The scores determine what type of high school she can attend. She refused and told us she could do it. Shiners High School, a sister school to Roots Academy, her primary school, accepted her and she proved us wrong. We're happy to be wrong.

I arrived in Kenya on November 26 and met them Ron and the kids at Mayfield Guest House, owned by AIM Air. James was absent--he chose a Scouting trip over Nairobi The guests here are all missionaries or other humanitarian workers. The dormitory-style housing is simple, the food served family-style. On every stay we meet interesting people doing good work in South Sudan and Kenya.

Except for Moses, none of our students had been to Nairobi before, That didn't stop the older boys from taking off to explore on their own. With them, we visited a baby elephant orphanage and a giraffe center, and on a day when I was away, Ron treated them to their first movie in a theater. They saw "Happy Feet."

In Nairobi with our Kenya Kids

2011-11-27T08:56:00.002-08:00

I'm giving thanks for the opportunity to share Thanksgiving dinner with my husband and about half my children and grandchildren at our son Adrian's house last Thursday, since I left the following day for Nairobi--about 23 hours of traveling. Once again, Delta came through for us, letting me check seven bags of underwear, sanitary napkins, clothing and other supplies for the ASAH Home and School for girls at no charge.

Two weeks earlier, I went with Board member Ron Saeger to see if they would allow him the same. When we arrived at the counter, the two agents said, "oh, we know you. It's no problem." Their support of our program allows us to take needed suppliies to South Sudan, along with thousands of pairs of donated underwear and washable sanitary pads to Kenya, and Kenya customs lets me through because the bags are on their way to South Sudan.

The Mayfield Guest House driver was waiting for me after I collected my bags. I expected the guard at the gate to give me the key, but instead I was met by Ron. He came with the kids a day earlier than I expected. Moses, John, Joseph, Michael, Simon, Agot, and Sarah all greeted me. Only James was missing. He is spending the beginning of his school break on a trip with his Scout troop.

Mayfield is owned by AIM International (Africa Inland Missions). Guests here are missionaries and their families and other humanitarian workers working in Kenya and South Sudan and other places. It is very inexpensive with simply furnished rooms with a sink, toilets, bathtubs, and shower rooms are along the halls. It is a cozy house with a living room and large dining room, with many dormitory additions up, down, and across, nice outdoor garden seating, and a friendly staff. Meals are simple, too, served family style, with Sunday lunch the best meal of the week. We had fried chicken, potatoes, gravy, mixed vegetables, Chai, and ice cream for dessert. Sunday dinner is a little simpler--tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches--and the ever-present ice cream. Ron wasn't able to get the large group of boys to understand that they needed to let us know if they would be present for meals, so they missed lunch, which is a problem for the Mayfield staff as they prepare the food based on expected number of guests, and this is a budget operation which doesn't waste food unnecessarily.

This is the first trip to Nairobi for all but Moses, so there are delightful things to see. They'd gone to a small amusement park nearby. After lunch, Ron, and Moses, and Agot and I walked about a mile to the Nakumatt, a large department store, to buy more supplies for our compound in the village. Three hoes (actually just the hoe part, they'll fashion their own handles), rugs for the inside of the tukuls, batteries, biscuits, nuts, dates, powdered juice, sweater jackets for the girls on cool evenings (Agot snared one for herself), and mascara for me. I don't know how I missed packing mascara. Believe me, the Nakumatt makeup selection is limited. Tomorrow morning, Sammy, the purchaser for AIM who has acquired our plumbing and electrical supplies, will come to pick up my bags and the new purchases to take to Wilson Airport, the airport where AIM and other small airlines are based. I've known Sammy since my first trip in 2007, as he was the technical guy at the Lost Boys Clinic in Duk Payuel. It's nice to see familiar faces here at Mayfield and in Nairobi. I expect to see a few more this week before heading to Duk witty Mos on Friday.

About a year ago, Moses learned he has two living siblings he hasn't seen since he was a small boy. We've got word they are In a village near Duk Payuel, and Dau, the head teacher will arrange for him to reunite with them.

Get Your Panties in a Bunch--Bismarck ND

2011-10-11T17:38:00.000-07:00

Two local news stations covered our most recent "Get Your Panties in a Bunch" luncheon held in Bismarck, North Dakota on Sunday, October 9.

KFYR TV Luncheon Promo

KFYR TV News Coverage at Luncheon

KX TV Luncheon Coverage

Easy link to our Facebook page.

2011-09-30T11:03:00.001-07:00

We now had a user name which makes it easier for you to find us on Facebook.

http://www.facebook.com/ASAHSudan

The African Home that American Hearts Built

2011-09-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

In their September issue, INSPIRED HOME Magazine ( delivered with the Forum) published, "The African Home that American Hearts Built" about the ASAH Home and School for Girls.

MSUM AlumNews Article on Deb and ASAH

2011-08-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

We've hired a Program Director

2011-07-17T05:12:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 15,

The best news this week is that we've hired a program director for the ASAH Home for Girls. His name is Manyok Phillip Khok. He was born in Duk in 1985, and lost his mother to illness when he was eight. His father was killed when Manyok was a teen. Educated in Uganda, Manyok holds a diploma in Business Administration and returned to Duk some months ago to be closer to extended family. His uncle is a pastor at the church here. He was looking for a job with the county or as a teacher, but jobs are few in this area. Dau John Awuou, our project manager and the head teacher at the local school recommended him for our program.

On Monday, his first day, Manyok began working with us, and with the girls. I'm confident that he understands the need to protect and educate these future community leaders, along with the responsibilities of overseeing staff, managing inventory, and communicating with local administrators, NGOs, and our board in the US. This is an enormous relief for me to be able to leave here, knowing that our project is in capable hands.

Our goal now is to open the ASAH Home for Girls in mid-September. There is a month long school break from August 15 to September 15, and our hope is that the girls will come a few days before school begins to orient to the facility.

The Republic of South Sudan is officially an independent nation

2011-07-17T04:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 9

Gunshots rang through the night air, causing many of the foreign workers to fear for their lives, even getting out of bed to lay on the floor—particularly when two shots rang out on the compound. Apparently, since fireworks aren't available, the locals use what they have—rifles and AK-47s—to celebrate the birth of their nation. Unbelievably, I slept through the shooting, though I was conscious of my daughter getting up and moving around. I have some great earplugs, which are a necessity in this place where there is no silence at any time of day. Roosters crowing, hens cackling, goats bleating, cows mooing, dogs barking, frogs croaking, cicadas buzzing, birds tweeting, and insects of all kind whizzing and ???

As I was waking, earplugs out, the town crier was making his rounds, as he had the night before, calling out plans for the day. As I headed out for a run, the chanting and drumming and droves of people heading toward the village center, caused me to go back to the tent for my still and my video camera, and follow the crowd, sloshing through the water that is beginning to accumulate in low areas, water that will be here for months.

When I arrived, I was enlisted by Paul, one of the clinic nurses, who is also a village elder, to videotape the speeches of the dignitaries and esteemed elders present, including the Paramount Chief. I felt a little embarrassed—dressed in gym shorts and shirt, and unshowered, but apologized, and shot the 30 minutes of tape I had available. Unfortunately, when I got back to check the tape, there was no sound. I tested the mic and found it works only on "zoom" and the "gun" setting recorded no sound at all. Such a shame as I had hoped to deliver them a DVD copy on my next trip. And I had also recorded the women church leaders dancing and singing.

They asked me to return at 1:30, which I did, but the men had retreated due to impending rain. Instead I photographed the women cooking a freshly-slaughtered bull or two or three. Back at the clinic, our cooks were doing the same thing, the bull slaughtered onsite. I walked to IRD where a crowd had gathered to watch the news coverage of the celebrations in Juba. As the rain seemed eminent, they brought the flat screen back indoors, and I jogged back to the clinic with the other staff who had wandered that way. We caught a few sprinkles, but I got inside before it began to pour. Gina had battened up the hatches before my return.

It was a gentler rain and lasted only an hour or so. The rest of the day was cool and comfortable. We enjoyed fresh beef and liver: I avoided the cooked blood. And after dinner, we enjoyed cool (not cold) bottles of Coca Cola, a luxury around here.

Day Three with ASAH Girls

2011-07-15T05:54:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 8

Watching the long-legged Dinka girls stroll toward us is like watching waves ebb and flow. Mindful of the heat, their steps are slow, their arms swinging, relaxed and rhythmic. Today we had spectators. Eight orphan girls, all hoping to join the program. I'm excited to get home and share photos and stories with the sponsors we have for some of our initial group—but we still need sponsors. To expand our program, requires additional costs for construction and staff. Your financial contributions will give this community and other neighboring villages an opportunity to watch these young girls develop into educated women with skills that will help their country develop.

I invited the tag-a-long girls to stand around our circle. We don't have enough chairs for them. For today's program we invited Lillian and Latifah, two MEDAIR employees who are working with the clinic on a nutrition program, to give our girls a lesson on health and hygiene. Lillian is Kenyan, and though Latifah is Sudanese, she doesn't speak Dinka, so Abraham Ring, one of the clinic nurses, translated, and made it participatory for the girls, who knew why they keep their hair shaved or very short—to protect from lice, why they washed their hands and faces—to protect from conjunctivitis, and so on.

Each day we share biscuits—and we included the new girls today, which means we can probably expect them again Monday. And we ended the day with Dodge Ball played with multiple balls—soccer and otherwise. Much laughing ensued.

Day Two with ASAH Girls

2011-07-10T02:08:00.000-07:00

Thursday, July 7

We could see our ASAH Girls approaching from afar, all of them dressed in the hot pink ASAH logo t-shirts we gave them. The names of ten of our girls start with A, and only one starts with N: Achol, Akuol, two Ayens, Adau, Akur, Abul, Akon, Aleul, Abuk, and Nyadak.

It was hot, so we held class outside in the shady area in the center of the clinic housing and dining area. The clinic staff doesn't begrudge us the chairs we take from under them. Everyone is supportive and proud that Duk Payuel has a program to help the most vulnerable, the orphan girls.

After the ritual hand washing and name exchange, Angie and Gina led the girls through If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands, and Head and shoulders knees and toes, which is guaranteed to generate hysterical laughter as we speed up. The highlight was making beaded bracelets. Angie brought a wonderfully colorful assortment of various shapes of plastic beads, and each girl made herself a bracelet.

Happy Belated 4th, Happy Birthday Vika!

2011-07-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, July 5

Because I am catching up on the blogs for Sunday and Monday and Tuesday on Wednesday, I forgot to mention HAPPY 4th of JULY with my earlier post. Tuesday there were a lot of celebrations in the village. We heard guns popping all day long, which made a lot of people here uneasy.

Wednesday July 6—Happy Birthday to my daughter Vika

Though I will not be with my family in Fargo today, celebrating my daughter Vika's 25th at a Japanese restaurant, I will be with her in spirit. I called her on Skype, but the connection was terrible, and we each managed only a few words.

I had a run/walk early this morning. Running on the dry portions of the road, and stepping off to navigating the clumps of grass when the road was covered with ankle-deep water. Even so, I ended up soaking my tennis shoes. The grass here grows like crazy. In days, grass that reached our calves, is now waist-high in places. In the clinic yard, they hack at the grass with "slashers"—long, flat pieces of metal with a bend about four inches from the rounded tip.

Angie and Gina and I walked to IRD and confirmed that the pickup truck they've hired for the next ten days will be able to bring us sand for concrete blocks for the bathrooms and showers, and retrieve our short poles from the bush so we can finish the last two tukuls. We're still waiting for the plumbing and electrical materials as well. No news on that.

Then we headed into the central village area. This is where yesterday's gunshots must have come from. We passed dozens of men carrying weapons. I've gotten a couple different stories, but the closest I can tell is that they're Nuer tribesmen whose cattle are in Poktop, where they had been taken to graze since there was no water in their area, which I think is near Pajut. Now that it's raining in their home village., they're looking for an escort to get their cattle safely to their village, due to the incidents with Murle that have taken place in the county. UNMIS stopped by in their helicopter again, and it may be they will provide assistance. Anyhow, it's hard to get the full story.

This afternoon, the ten girls who will be in our program arrived at the clinic compound for our first introductory meeting. Gina and Angie prepared lesson plans with name games, songs, some reading, and ending with musical chairs and biscuits for treats. Midway through, an 11th girl arrived. There was a mixup. We'd met her grandmother, but the girl hadn't been confirmed for the program. But we couldn't send her away, so we'll squeeze her in somehow.

There was a lot of smiles and laughter. The ice is broken, and we're getting a feel for their abilities. We plan to have them over every weekday until it's time for us to leave.

Two more orphan girls came by later on. They're on the list. I hope our donors will help us expand this program during the next dry season. The need is great, the community is supportive, and the girls are hungry for the chance to learn.

Sun, Rain, Airplanes and Orphans

2011-07-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

Sunday, July 3
Angie and I carried our own chairs to church. It's a ten-minute walk, and the chairs are plastic. If we don't bring chairs, someone gives theirs up for us, and then they parade us to the front of the church where we sit with the elders facing the congregation. We were able to slip in the back without causing a stir.

It was another 100-degree day without a cloud in the sky, so we spent the afternoon in the shade at the compound. Around five, as it started to cool, Dau showed up to take us to the central area of the village to meet two more guardians and girls for our program. This was the first opportunity I've had on my four trips to Duk, to wander through the maze of family compounds. The families we visited before were in outlying areas, with great distances of grass between them. A rural setting. In the main area of the village, there's a wide road through the center, lined with a few shops and the Duk Payuel Business Group along the road and fences made of heavy thatching material, offering privacy and protection from roaming cattle and goats to the households within.

We had partial luck. At one home both the guardian and the girl were out cultivating their garden. At another, the guardian was gone, though we spoke with the girl and her blind grandmother. We have eight of our ten orphan girls confirmed.

Monday, July 4
Rain, rain, rain. We could feel it in the air when we woke up. After two full-sun days, rain was inevitable this time of year. We battened down the hatches of the tent, learning the best ways to ensure our belongings stayed dry—as long as the wind wasn't too strong. With a strong wind, there's no way to avoid it.

I was worried because my daughter Gina was scheduled to arrive on AIM Air around 1 pm. Joh Deng, the clinic manager, and I walked to the airstrip. He carried an umbrella, and I wore a yellow rain poncho and rolled up my pants. We walked the airstrip—it must be about a kilometer or more in length, trying to determine if WE thought AIM Air could land. The AIM pilots are pretty familiar with this landing strip, unlike MAF who circled and didn't land a week ago. So, though there was standing water in several places, we thought they'd chance it.

We walked back to the clinic. Learned that AIM had left Loki at 11. We got in the JDF car and returned to the strip with Lual, the driver. Walked the entire strip again, as if we could magically dry the water. Meanwhile, the rain has been steady, though not pouring, all morning. As we pondered whether to go back to the clinic or wait, we heard the plane.

Pilot Jerry landed on the sandy but squishy airstrip without a problem, and we welcomed Gina and some medical supplies for the clinic.

This is what you shall do--Whitman

2011-07-03T23:11:00.000-07:00

This is what you shall do
by Walt Whitman

"This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."

"This is what you shall do..." by Walt Whitman, from the preface of Leaves of Grass. Public domain

Happy Independence Day in America.

Celebrate the independence of the Republic of South Sudan on July 9

Site Progress

2011-07-03T01:12:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 2
Progress on the site. Two of the four mudded tukuls are now plastered with a smooth coat of mud, inside and out. On Facebook I will post photos of the hole dug by the women who did this work. It's about six inches deep and 7 feet in diameter. Dug with small, crude hand shovels and carried to the site in plastic basins to which they add water and smooth across the walls by hand.

The large tukul which will serve as our office and storage is being thatched. This is another laborious and slow job where the long grasses are attached in small bundles and beat into place with a large flat knife-like tool. The result is a roof that can withstand heavy rains and wind without leaking.

That tukul and the smaller one which will house our security guard are still awaiting short poles to strengthen the foundation before the walls can be mudded.

Tabeesa, the matron who lives on our site, but will move within a year when we are ready to expand, has dug up most of the open area and planted sorghum. The crop should be harvested in a couple months when we are ready to open our facility, which is still awaiting materials and running up against the rainy season. We've been fortunate. In two weeks, we've had only two days of rain, and only one severe rain and windstorm.

MAF and UNMIS airlift the wounded men.

2011-07-02T01:29:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 1

The first plane to land today was a MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship) flight dropping off one of the nutrition team members and picking up another. They had been informed about the wounded men, and had prepared the plane by removing all unnecessary seats. Nine of the most seriously injured men were carried by stretchers to the plane and lifted by blankets with great care to avoid jarring the broken limbs.

In the early afternoon, the UNMIS helicopter that surveyed the situation on Thursday returned, and picked up the remaining group of around 20 wounded men. Two elected to stay behind and return to their villages. One very young man who was shot through the side with the bullet exiting the other side, missing all vital organs, felt he was well enough to avoid the hospital. The other had a head wound on the back of his head. Medical personnel here felt he should go to the hospital for tests as the bullet grazed his brain and they feared problems. But they couldn't force him. And I've heard that Bor hospital is not a place to trust that the care will be adequate.

UNMIS lands

2011-07-02T01:17:00.000-07:00

Thursday, June 30

The UNMIS helicopter that had hovered, touched down, and took off again Tuesday came back and landed today with a cadre of armed soldiers of all nationalities. The guy in charge, Saju, was from India. I'm not a proper journalist, so I don't remember the rank he mentioned when he introduced himself to me, the white woman in the crowd with the camera. He began asking me for the details of the situation. And though I know many of the details, I told him I wasn't the one in charge and directed him to Juma, the head medical officer from the clinic.

I tagged along to the meeting where Juma, the head medical staff from the clinic, and Malou, our construction supervisor, briefed the men on the situation for the injured, who've been suffering for days with only the nursing care the clinic is able to provide. Many need surgery on fractured limbs, have wounds open to the bone, and internal or head injuries. These men were shot when they followed after the Murle to recover their stolen cattle.

In addition, Juma requested security for this area. There is worry as the referendum approaches that there will be more violence in Duk County. The villages where these attacks took place are several hours by car—eight or nine hours "footing," as they say here. The village of Duk has only one police officer.

From there we trekked to the school, where the two classrooms housing the patients are cordoned off with yellow caution tape. The UNMIS soldiers took photos, and then we all walked back to the airstrip and they flew off, promising to talk to their boss, who will talk to the next boss, and so on. We never got an answer as to why they stopped and flew off again on Tuesday, but it must have been a different group, because Saju said this was the first they'd heard about the incidents.

Gunshot Victims and Helicopters

2011-07-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

WEDNESDAY
Dodging puddles and mud and a pack of dogs on the airstrip, Angie and Kristine, a nutrition worker with Medair, and I had an enjoyable run in the cool air, which lasted all day. We're all praying it stays dry so that materials for ASAH and for JDF clinic will get through. One transport truck full of aggregate got stuck on the road on the way here from Bor. That truck is also supposed to get sand for us and retrieve our short poles from the bush.

Worse, there's a group of gunshot victims holed up in the school. Apparently there have been two attacks in Duk County in Pajut and in Pagalong. One on June 16 where the village was attacked by Murle tribesmen armed with automatic rifles; two women killed, eight children kidnapped, and other wounded victims. The second group who are now here, were injured the 22nd and brought to the Lost Boys Clinic on Sunday night. Yesterday, a UN helicopter, which we all thought was coming to pick them up, touched down on the landing strip and lifted off again. No one knows why. The strip was a little wet in places, but the soil is sandy here—and it's a helicopter. Maybe they didn't want to get their boots dirty.

Anyhow, the clinic isn't staffed or equipped to care for injuries like this. There are wounds of all kinds including fractures—many requiring surgery. All the nurses here can provide are painkillers, wound dressings and makeshift splints of cardboard. The men are laying on pieces of cloth on the concrete floor of two classrooms. I think there are 26 of them, and 17 are seriously injured. No one came for them today, either.

Angie and I went to the school to observe a couple of classes. The teachers here were receptive to her visiting. She will meet with them another day to offer some feedback and share some teaching methods. Few teachers have had more than introductory courses in teaching.

After school, Dau came by and we went over the list of orphans to determine which girls we would visit today. We selected four and set about tramping across paths both wet and dry and steering clear of thorn bush fences as we entered the yards. One of the girls was away fetching wood, but we spoke to her guardian, who is unsure whether she will let the girl come. In some cases, the girl provides needed labor for an elderly widow who might have a hard time getting along without her.

At three others we met the girls, but the guardian was away planting or cultivating. Our plan is to make home visits to all ten homes, then to invite the girls and guardians to meet with us at the school or the clinic compound, since our location is not yet ready for visitors.

The School, Thunder and Lightning

2011-06-30T05:17:00.000-07:00

Monday
Now we're feeling the effects of the rainy season. It was only 80 degrees when I woke. Angie and I went for separate runs in the relatively cool air. By mid-morning the temperature had dropped and it felt like imminent rain.

At ten, during school recess, we met with the teachers in the large schoolyard while children played volleyball and soccer or socialized and horsed around. This was an opportunity for us to learn more about the staff. Though none them have more than a sixth grade education themselves, most have attended teacher training—a couple of weeks, three months, nine months. Mostly, they've learned to teach by doing it.

They teach in spite of tremendous challenges: lack of materials, no textbooks, and inconsistent attendance. UNICEF used to provide the students with writing notebooks, book bags, pencils, chalk and other materials, and remaining supplies are cherished, but they have nothing to replace them with so they make do with mostly oral work and sharing materials they do have.

The rainy season also means planting and cultivating, and much like it once was in the Midwest, children are kept home from school to help with the planting. They may be in school for a few days, or absent for a week or more. And when the rain comes, hard, they stay home as well. Last fall, as the rainy season ended, the school population was over 700, now it is only 500. Some families move nomadically between villages to follow the rain. If it's too dry in their area, they bring the cows closer to rain, then move them back when their area improves. So those children are be in school only when they are nearby.

Angie, who has a Masters in Special Ed, works with students and the teachers of her students in Minneapolis. She asked if there were village children with handicaps, learning problems, and other issues that require special attention. There is a deaf child, a hearing-impaired child, a number of children with learning difficulties, and there may be others who don't attend school because there is no way to help them in the current system. None of the teachers have had any training in working with children with special needs. Angie has permission to observe the classes and work with the teaching staff if she finds some areas where she could help.

Back at the JDF compound, we inventoried the bags and boxes that I stored in one of the containers last November. I recovered the seeds—maize, beans, peas, tomatoes, onions, zucchini, green onions, watermelon, lettuce, collards and kale. There are several tractors in the village that have tilled large garden areas. We'll find a gardener to get ours started as well. There's always a risk of losing the crop from too much rain or too little.

The temp dropped suddenly, the wind picked up, and the smell of rain filled the air. Angie and I zipped up the window flaps and lifted suitcases onto the beds, hoping to have a drier outcome than during the last rain. Then I realized that I'd never secured all the tent guy wires. There weren't enough stakes, and the ground is so soft that the stakes aren't secure. Abraham, one of the nurses, put concrete blocks on some and suggested I have Daniel do the rest. But it didn't get done, so just as it began to pour, with the wind whipping around me, I scrambled to the block pile—thankfully close to the tent, and juggled solid concrete blocks and wet, whipping cords to secure the tent. Then we grabbed our electronics and ran to the dining hall.

At one point, Angie thought our tent had gone down, so I went out to discover one pole had been flattened by the forceful wind. There wasn't much I could do but sigh and scoot back to the dining hall. After about three hours, it let up for a bit, so I checked the tent. Miraculously, the tent pole had righted itself. Inside the tent looked pretty good except that we had a large puddle in the middle of the floor where the plastic table had been (we took it apart before we left) and where the tent pole had lain, allowing the rain to pour in. Our foam mattresses are wet—the rain blows under the rain cover and drips in through the screened roof. The rain lasted close to four hours.

I mopped up a third of a bucket full of water from the large puddle on the floor; Victor brought us new dry mattresses from the container and we put the wet ones inside until it dries up enough outside to dry them out.

Laundry and Church

2011-06-28T05:55:00.000-07:00

Saturday
Saturday is more relaxed at the JDF compound. The clinic opens if patients come with emergencies, but the staff have time to do laundry, relax, socialize and read. I did my laundry in a bucket alongside a couple of the male staff, who laughed because I wasn't getting suds the way they were. I told them I'm used to washing my laundry in a machine, which they thought was very funny. I got through it, rinsed them and hung them to dry. In the past, I've not been able to do it myself here because Mary, one of the cooks, always stopped me and washed them for me. But Mary is on holiday. However, Angie started to wash her clothes and one of the cooks took it from her. Angie marveled at the suds generated, and that the woman got the grimy necklines clean.

Sunday
We meant to go to church at nine and then visit with the women church leaders at 10. The service starts at eight, but the two-hour service is all in Dinka, so except for the drumming and the singing, it can feel a bit long. Angie was up talking to Mike, the JDF project manager, until about 1 am, so she slept in. I went for a run and showered. Then the Internet came on. We got there before ten and were mobbed by kids wanting their picture taken outside the church which we obliged for a while. Then we went in and the entourage followed. We were creating quite a stir in the back with the kids all chattering. The service was wrapping up so we retreated with the group of kids following and waited outside for the women.

I've met most of them before and know some of their names. Tabeesa, the matron who lives on our compound was married to a bishop, now deceased, and is a powerful woman in the church. John Dau's (JDF Foundation) mother and stepmother are part of the group as well. At least three of them are named Deborah (pronounced with the accent on "bor"), and they love it when I tell them my name is Debora Agot. I introduce Angie as Angela because it is much easier for the Sudanese to understand.

The women are so happy we're helping orphan girls. There are so many orphans here. Virtually all of them are widows. Most of them are caring for at least one orphan. They told us that when they were young, no girls received education and they didn't know there was any value in educating girls. They thought the only value for girls was to fetch water and firewood and cook and care for the children. But now they have seen the benefits for young women who are educated. They have more skills to help their families, to earn income, and to have more choices in their lives. These women want education for the girls in the village, and they think our program will set an example and encourage others to send their girls to school as well.

Building Challenges

2011-06-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 25

We had learned just before we arrived, that the plumbers hired to plumb our site had come and gone without doing the work. A plumbing contractor at IRD helped us inventory the materials for the project, and we learned that many of the materials on the list were not here. We've relayed the message to Joseph who is following up on the materials list and hunting down the workers to find out what happened.

Another blow—the 5000 L water tank delivered from Uganda arrived damaged. Something sharp and metal punctured a hole and cracked the plastic near the bottom. The plumber didn't think it could be repaired, but Maduk will try putting a metal plate outside and in. I'm trying to hunt down some epoxy which my husband suggested might help it hold the water in. Transportation companies here don't take responsibility for their deliveries arriving intact, it seems.

The aggregate for the concrete blocks for latrines and showers and the fence posts arrived by truck on Thursday before the rain. Then the Kenyan drivers freaked out and refused to go to the bush to retrieve our short poles and to pick up the load of sand. We're sharing the truck, which was hired by IRD. Another truck will arrive Monday or Tuesday to finish the work. I write this on Sunday and it's been dry and humid since the first rain.

Friday evening, Deng Sam Majok, the Duk Country Coordinator for SSRRC (Southern Sudan Relief and Rehabilitation Commission), came to meet with me. I first met him on our first visit in 2007. We discussed the ASAH project, and he requested an action plan and a job description for our project manager (not yet chosen), printed, by Saturday morning at 8 when he was leaving the village. So I was up late writing it, up early finishing it. Sam will circulate the job description to help us find the right person.

Our First Rain

2011-06-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

Thursday, June 24

Happy Birthday to my granddaughter, Isabelle, who is in the US.

Yesterday our first rain fell as we began our second day of inventory at the school. When it started to sprinkle, Angie headed back to close up our tent (we'd left the windows uncovered) and to retrieve our raincoats and umbrellas. It rained for several hours, and we headed home in a downpour. Halfway there, the IRD car came down the road and gave us lift the rest of the way.

We mopped up the water that had run under the beds and separated wet items from dry. We flipped Angie's foam mattress, which had soaked up some water, since she didn't yet have a bed frame. Then we spent some hours in the tent reading, catching up on email correspondence, and planning our next moves while the rain pelted the rain cover above our tent.

Site Progress

2011-06-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

Wednesday morning, Angie and I visited our building site with Dau John Awuou, the head teacher at the village school who acts as our project manager, overseeing the construction and setting meetings with local elders and administrators. Though there's not been as much progress as we'd hoped, the two girls' tukuls (adobe thatched huts), which will each house five girls, and two staff tukuls are nearly complete. The walls have been mudded; the roof is thatched. We're waiting for the mud to dry so it can be "plastered" and for the screened windows and doors to be built and installed by Maduk, a local carpenter and former teacher from Kakuma Refugee camp. Two other tukuls are awaiting a truck to recover the short poles for their foundation walls. The poles have been cut but were left in the bush as a truck hasn't been available. We expect them to be delivered Monday or Tuesday.

Then we went to the school, where the cargo we brought from the US and Nairobi has been stored. We inventoried the items in the bags and boxes and reorganized and marked the boxes for easier access.

Later Dau and I hitched a ride to Rubb Hall, one of two huge metal-framed vinyl-covered storage units put up by World Food Program (WFP). The food, mattresses and bed frames Joseph purchased for us in Bor are stored there. We picked out two twin bed frames, so that we could lift our mattresses off the tent floor. There seemed no rhyme or reason to the selection of side frames, head and footboards. They're all handmade of mahogany (termites leave mahogany alone) but there was no consistent design, and a number system that we couldn't figure out.

Dau and Daniel worked on the pieces we selected past sunset by the light of our battery-powered Coleman lanterns, but only succeeded in putting together one frame—wrong. Then we discovered the numbers did have a purpose. Unfortunately, we had selected the wrong size for only fancy bed—the one with tooled bedposts. So Angie spent another night on a mattress on the tent floor, graciously giving up the finished bed to me.

Staking the Tent

2011-06-26T06:52:00.000-07:00

Tuesday June 22

After initial greetings with JDF staff at the compound, we set up our eight-man tent alongside the clinic army tents that serve as their long-term temporary housing. Mike Wagner, the new project manager for JDF, and Daniel, the 15-year-old Sudanese student who has helped me on past trips with translation, videotaping, and getting messages across the village, helped.

It's a Coleman tent with full 8' height across the top, fairly unclear directions attached to the bag it came in, and an insufficient number of stakes to stake all the tent poles and guy wires. A small number of the clinic's supply of concrete block for their new housing project, which is stored only feet from our tent, is now in use holding our tent secure. The tent has great ventilation from big screened windows, we're under the shade of a tree, and it's a comfortable as it can be in a hot climate like this. JDF staff took the car to pick up a couple of our mattresses for us.

Arrival in Duk

2011-06-25T07:06:00.001-07:00

June 21

Our chartered AIM Air flight allowed for 1000 kg of cargo and passengers. We filled it to the max with our cargo, Joseph, Angie, myself, and Boniface, a Kenyan Internet serviceman flying to Duk to repair International Relief Development's (IRD) dish misalignment.

Our flight was delayed which allowed us to savor some African tea (heavy on the milk and sugar) and samosas at Wilson Airport, and to chat with a gentleman preparing to leave for South Sudan on a huge (in comparison to ours) Samaritan's Purse plane.

We stopped in Lokichoggio to drop off an AIM staff member and refuel, then to Bor, the capitol of Jonglei State, South Sudan, to drop Joseph. As we approached Duk Payuel our pilot agreed to circle our building site so that I could shoot some aerial photos, though he warned that if the large birds (I don't know what they're called, but they're huge) that make Duk home were soaring overhead, he would have to abort.

The John Dau Foundation (JDF) Lost Boys Clinic staff awaited us with a car along the airstrip, and IRD (International Relief Development) staff were there with a car to pick up Boniface. When I landed last fall, car travel wasn't possible due to the flooding, so all my cargo had to be carried on the heads of women or the shoulders of men and boys. (The position of the burden is cultural.) It took several round trips to ferry the cargo to storage at the school. The community and our other NGO partners, JDF and IRD help us out, which makes working in this difficult environment easier and more pleasant.

Kenya, Kiberra Slum Orphan school, Rift Valley

2011-06-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

Our driver, the personable and dependable Mumias, who has become a friend during my three trips to Kenya since November, took us to visit his family in their tiny two-room apartment where old airline seats, complete with unused ashtrays, serve as a loveseat. Charity, his wife, served us tea and chapatti, and his children—Ayela, Walter, and Marcy—showed me their excellent school marks and took turns reading aloud from children's books on my IPad. The baby, Dominique, was content breastfeeding and being passed around to the siblings.

With Mumias, we made two visits to Kiberra, the largest slum in Africa. Home to a couple of million people, Kiberra is a city within a city. The slum is built along hillsides offering tremendous views of a sea of colorful tin roofs. In an effort to improve conditions, areas are being razed and families moved into concrete apartment housing. While the apartments include two bedrooms, kitchens, indoor bathrooms, and subsidized rent, the $250 per month is still higher than many can pay. Built as apartment blocks with center courtyards, no provision was made for businesses, so many residents trek back to the slum to fry and sell chapatti, style hair, sell their wares, fix machines, and attend church, which we were invited to do on Sunday.

Below steep banks runs a railroad track. A recent rain made the narrow, uneven paths even more treacherous. The mud is slippery, and the path is soft underfoot, comprised of garbage pressed solid by millions of footsteps.

We visited Little Steps Academy, a school for orphans run by one of Mumias' friends. Mary oversees four classrooms of children from nursery through primary school. Packed shoulder to shoulder in two classrooms 40 preschoolers and 50 kindergarteners entertained us with singing and pantomime. We left a donation that they used to buy flour for chapattis and a blackboard.

We finished our days in Nairobi with a drive outside the city to take in a view of the stunning Rift Valley, arriving just before the fog rolled in. Later, we enjoyed dinner with Joseph at Habesha, the wonderful Ethiopian restaurant where we ate on our first visit in 2007. Without realizing it was the same restaurant, I ate there last November with Jeremy Groce, one of our board members, who was in Nairobi on business. We arrived after dark and were seated inside at a low round table designed to hold the platter of injerra, a spongy, sourdough flatbread used in lieu of utensils, served with lentils, meats, and vegetables.

This was the end of our time with city living. In the morning, it's on to the village of Duk Payuel.

Kenya Procurement June 16 through June 19

2011-06-23T03:01:00.001-07:00

Nairobi is a city of odors, noise, and action. The belching smoke of busses and matatus (minibuses) mixes with the acrid smells of garbage, sweat, and sewer, and the aromas of chapatti (flatbread) cooking on a roadside stand. Pedestrians dodge traffic to cross streets where vehicles ignore stoplights and force their way through roundabouts by intimidation.

Angie Ostbye, a special education teacher, and I arrived late evening June 16 with nine duffle bags of supplies for the ASAH Home for Girls. Our first few nights we stayed at the Country Lodge, a contemporary-style budget business hotel. This allowed us a comfortable transition from the US and access to the Fairview Hotel restaurants.

Then we moved to Mayfield Guest House, owned by Africa Inland Missions (AIM) and populated by missionary families and other humanitarian workers. Toilets and showers and tubs down the hall, mosquito net-draped beds, in-room sinks and wireless Internet. Meals are served family-style and dinner companions may on leave from their work translating the New Testament in South Sudan, piloting evacuees from the border areas during this difficult transition to independence, teaching pastors how to use media developed for remote areas to serve their congregations, or teaching the Gospel to isolated tribes.

We spent our time in Nairobi procuring additional supplies for our boarding facility for orphan girls in Duk Payuel, South Sudan. Joseph Akol Makeer helped Angie and me bargain for shoes at one of the markets with hundreds of stalls and shops selling every kind of goods. The transactions were lengthy, but our prices were still higher than what a local would pay. Just the presence of a couple of white women starts the bidding higher.

At Tusky's, a large department store, we purchased everything from garden tools to bed sheets, from cooking supplies, food, and toiletries to plastic tables and stools. We spent many hours over three days there, leaving our goods for them to box and transport to AIM Air the day before our flight.

Fellow Blogger Angie Caruso blogged about ASAH

2011-06-09T04:16:00.000-07:00

Ripple Affect: Awareness Leads to Action.

You can find her post here: http://rippleaffectawarenessleadstoaction.blogspot.com/

Rasmussen College Raises Funds for ASAH

2011-05-23T14:31:00.000-07:00

Fargo College Students
Work for Gift to Charity

(Fargo) – A college in Fargo raised more than $1,400 for a charity recently and the students used it as a learning experience. Challenged to perform a service learning project, the Business and Communication students at Rasmussen College created several pieces of writing including business letters, short reports, press releases and visual communications to market and create awareness for their chosen charity – African Soul, American Heart.

The finished writing projects were the centerpiece of a silent auction held at the college. The student’s goal was to raise $1,000, and with donations from staff, were able to present African Soul, American Heart president Deb Dawson a check for $1,428. According to a Rasmussen instructor, this was an excellent way for the students to experience writing in the “real world” as well as demonstrating to them how writing is a tool for social action that can be used to participate in and contribute to a local and global society.

African Soul, American Heart (ASAH) is a Fargo-based non-profit foundation dedicated to helping feed, house, clothe and educate young orphan girls (ages 10-15) in Southern Sudan, Africa. The organization has recently begun building the ASAH Home for Girls. The first group of girls is expected to move in about July 1st.

Learn more about Rasmussen College.

Forum on Oprah--Deb Dawson mentioned.

2011-05-23T11:08:00.000-07:00

FROM Forum:

One of Winfrey’s philanthropic causes has been to educate women in Africa by opening a school for girls in South Africa. This work has served as a touchstone for Deb Dawson, founder of the Fargo-based nonprofit African Soul, American Heart, which provides shelter for orphans in Southern Sudan.

Dawson is not a regular “Oprah” watcher but sees news coverage of the challenges the icon’s efforts in Africa have faced. Dawson says seeing that “gives us a little heart when we run into challenges we face” helping in Sudan.

http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/320837/publisher_ID/1/

Last Day in Duk

2011-04-05T08:42:00.001-07:00

A light rain contributed to a pleasing 80 degree morning—though the temp crept into the 90s by mid-afternoon. Still not as brutal as the 100 degree days we have been suffering.

It's our last day here. Tomorrow around noon, AIM Air will pick Jef and me up on the Duk airstrip. Likely the John Dau Foundation car will carry us and our bags to the strip. When I arrived and departed last November, young men and women carried my bags on their heads through knee deep water because of the over-long and heavy rainy season. It sounds like Fargo will escape a devastating flood this year, however, and we will return in time to see the crest.

The past few days have been exciting for us and for our board back in the United States. This project has been a dream and is now becoming reality. Some members of our work crew went to the bush to cut down branches for interior support of the tukul walls as others dug foundation holes. Now all six tukuls are underway, the uprights in place, and work has begun on the braces for the roofs. Somewhere, thatch is being gathered or purchased, and Joseph Akol Makeer is in Juba purchasing materials for tukul roofing, latrines, showers, water tower and fencing.

It's too dry here to gather mud, so they'll send a truck closer to the Nile where the land is wetter. A month or two from now when the rains begin, there'll be plenty of mud here, but construction will be more difficult. We hope to have all construction finished within the next month.

This morning Jef spent time onsite videotaping and reworking his overall plan in his mind. I rode along with IRD and JDF staff to a health services coordination meeting in Mareng, where the County Commissioner is located. We had hoped to visit him last week, but he was in Bor. He was out yesterday and today as well, but I was able to visit with the Executive Director of the commission office. The health meeting was interesting. Various NGO groups, each with their own missions and funding, are trying to coordinate their efforts to avoid duplicating services in areas that are currently being served and to extend services to areas that are underserved, or not receiving any services at all.

Long Winter--a poem by Tim Nolan

2011-03-31T23:30:00.000-07:00

I subscribe online to the Writer's Almanac, Garrison Keillor's site which sends a daily poem. I reprint this without permission but crediting the author, Tim Nolan. My comments follow the poem.

Long Winter
by Tim Nolan

So much I've forgotten
the grass

the birds
the close insects

the shoot—the drip—
the spray of the sprinkler

freckles—strawberries—
the heat of the Sun

the impossible
humidity

the flush of your face
so much

the high noon
the high grass

the patio ice cubes
the barbeque

the buzz of them—
the insects

the weeds—the dear
weeds—that grow

like alien life forms—
all Dr. Suessy and odd—

here we go again¬—
we are turning around

again—this will all
happen over again—

and again—it will—

---
Here in Sudan I have forgotten not only the grass but also the white expanse of cool wet snow. Here, the long dry season has left inches of fine silt to blow across the hard-packed ground. Sahara sand mixed with dirt, it coats equipment, tables, and chairs, dries eyes and throats, clings to the sweat that covers my body, blackens my sandaled feet.

There is no dirth of birds of all sizes and colors, both beautiful and hideous in looks or nature, their voices a cacophony sounding before dawn and after dusk. No sprinklers here, no strawberries, no fruit, save the coconut. The sun's heat is inescapable, except for the occasional breeze under the shade of the infrequent tree. There is also wind, which is quite different from the breeze, carrying the bric-a-brac of weeds and trash. The weeds often come with thorns and sticks, one of which stabbed the top of my foot where my sandal didn't cover.

Insects, lizards, frogs, and bats our constant companions, along with the antelope and the occasional feral cat.

Humidity will attend the rains in May, and by August, perhaps, the roads will flood. Vehicle travel between villages will cease and the silty footpaths will squish beneath the sandals or between the toes of bare feet splashing through water ankle to knee deep. Until the rains cease and the sun sucks dry the Sudd again.

External Hard Drive Dies--March 31

2011-03-31T11:00:00.001-07:00

It was probably the ants. Two days ago, I was loading photos onto the external drive that stores my photo catalog with Daniel, my 15-year-old guide, translator, assistant. Dozens of tiny ants streamed out of it and onto my lap. I'm guessing the heat generated when I plugged it in may have upset them, or attracted them. They kept coming, so I sprayed the outside with bug spray, which killed them, only to have dozens more join the death march. Eventually they stopped coming out. I loaded the photos. Everything seemed fine, but yesterday when I plugged in the drive, my computer couldn't see it. I'm afraid their tiny little bodies may have gummed up the works. I've saved all the memory cards, so I won't lose those, but the same drive is also my hard backup. Let's hope my online backup system, which last did its job March 20, has the rest of my data--and photos from last November. The regular backup time doesn't match our Internet hours, so I better start doing it manually. I left the drive with Sammy, the tech guy here. He can fix anything from cars to plumbing to satellite dishes and has background in computers, too. It may be another day or so before I post more Facebook pics.

We have to feed the crew. The first day they worked until lunchtime, and I gave the supervisor money to buy lunch in town, at the hotel. The proprietor's name is Alice. I haven't been inside, but it consists of a few tukuls, a shower with a neck-high privacy wall of thatching materials, and buckets of water for washing. But there wasn't any food for the crew there or anywhere. So late yesterday afternoon, Sammy drove, me, Daniel, and Dau, our supervisor, to Poktop, the village on the ill-conceived canal dug to divert the Nile to bring water to the parched North. It now exacerbates the flooding in this area. Carcasses of abandoned cranes are part of the landscape there, the trees beginning to eclipse them. There's a market with a wide center aisle to accommodate trucks and people. But to find all you want, it's necessary to make several stops. The prices, however, are fair and don't adjust up when there's a white woman in the group, as happens with street vendors in Kenya.

We bought food to feed 20 people lunch for a month, the expected length of the construction time. Beans, rice, sugar, seasonings, onions, tea leaves, plates, spoons, cups, serving dishes and spoons, thermoses, wash basins, and buckets. About $500. Also, the exchange rate in Poktop--no banks there, just guys with money--is 300 SP/$100 instead of 280 in Juba, so we got more for our money.

Clearing the Land

2011-03-30T00:51:00.000-07:00

I am writing this on my IPad connected to Internet in the office of IRD, International Relief Development, which is adjacent to our site. How fortunate Jef and I are to have these amazing tools and also these wonderful partners on the ground.

Jef spent time this morning with Gache, the IRD engineer, figuring out the fencing materials list. I just sent it off to Joseph to add to our list from yesterday with materials needed for the tukuls. We expect he will bring all the materials from Juba along with our dome on Friday. He works in both Juba and Bor, which is closer to us, but higher prices. He is partner with an architect and builder in a construction firm in Bor so we expect he will get us good prices.

Jef is on the site now. There are about ten workers plus supervisors clearing and burning brush, taking out stumps, and preparing for fencing. We have to feed them as part of our contract. Later today I will see if the JDF car can take me to Panyagor, about 2 hours from here, to buy beans, rice, sugar, tea leaves, plates, spoons, cups, thermoses, and hot pots, and we will pay two cooks to feed them. All labor payments are made at the end of The job.

The job is to build 3 large rectangular tukuls, 14 by 20, to house five girls each in two of them. The other is for an office/store. We will build three round tukuls for two staff and for security guard.

The guys that go to the bush to cut down the thatching and branches for tukul walls are paid 800 SDP for the job, which includes the building. That's around $300. The exchange is 2.8 SDP/ $1.There are nine plus supervisor paid 1000 SDP. The workers who are working clearing brush and digger, here on site each get 400 SDP. Of course there will be the latrines, showers, etc. to build as well. Fence building is included in the above.

Yesterday, Jef and I spent nearly fiven hours mostly being quiet while others worked our a land dispute in Dinka. Three hours were spent in the County administrator's office. The most interesting part were the many bats flying around inside and then dangling above our heads. Fortunately, the bats didn't bother anyone, even the chief whose legs they flew between didn't seem to notice, and the administrator is one of our supporters, as it was in his office last November, that the chiefs gave ASAH the land. But last month, a Paramount chief (head) had given the land to Colorado Lost Boy group and they built a visitor's compound on part of our site. Then some representatives came and said they were given the entire site. Apparently that wasn't actually the case. In any case, all parties were satisfied.

There are many be advantages to our program to be in this area. It is close to the school and is adjacent to IRD and Mama Jean's compound. This provides security. There are other larger sites, but they are quite far away and would be harder to protect. Also in this location we can run pipes from IRD's well, and also electricity. This will save us lots of money which can be used toward getting more children in our program.

I apologize for typos in this and other blog posts. Internet access can be unpredictable, and there is little Romeo our busy day for editing.

Juba and Bor, Southern Sudan

2011-03-27T07:05:00.000-07:00

March 21-24, 2011

On Monday the 21st, we flew to Juba, the capitol of Southern Sudan, without a visa for Jef. A friendly Jetlink agent helped us to find a contact to expedite our visa, only to learn that the only individual who issues visas had been out sick for a week and no one knew when he was expected back. Joseph Akol Makeer arranged for a GOSS representative to meet us at the airport in Juba to help Jef through customs there. My visa was still valid since my November visit.

Joseph, Kenneth Masunga, Jef Foss and I had dinner at the Oasis—a paradise-type restaurant on the Nile specializing in Indian food. Delicious Naan. We stayed at the Olympic hotel for $100 a night—wireless Internet in the rooms, toilet and cold shower, plus breakfast. When Jef and Ron Saeger were here two years ago, they spent $200 a night for a tent with no amenities.

The next morning we left with Joseph for Bor, the capitol of Jonglei State. Joseph is working for GOSS in a public relations and communications arena—a group of about 75 Lost Boys and girls from across Southern Sudan who have returned from the US, Australia, and other countries to help their homeland.

Our goal was to meet with NGOs who might provide aid for our boarding project for orphans in Duk Payuel. Our first visit, to UNHCR, resulted in a tip about an interagency meeting taking place the next morning at the governor's office.

Our hotel in Bor, the Freedom Hotel, offered three meals a day plus slow and sometimes offline Internet in the restaurant—which was always packed with NGO folks and computers. Talking on Skype to my husband, we were interrupted by various groups—he said, "This place must be some kind of NGO heaven."We met a couple guys from Platteville Wisconsin who were hoping to build a school near Bor. Some of the IRD (International Relief Development) team from Duk Payuel were also there, and we made plans to caravan with them to the village the following day.

Wednesday, the 23rd, we stopped at World Food Programme and learned how we might qualify for food aid for our program—which requires fairly permanent buildings and other amenities in place—kitchen, latrines, etc. Each person we met along the way gave us suggestions about what other groups might lend us a hand through aid or guidance of some type.

From there we headed to the inter-agency meeting, only to have the car break down a few "blocks" from a garage. Joseph caught a ride on a passing motorbike and several guys from the garage came to push the car with me steering. We left the car and a garage employee took us to the meeting. We were now 45 minutes late, but being that "This is Africa," the meeting didn't start until the governor, Kuol Manyang, arrived, 15 minutes after we did. There were about 30 people, including us, seated at long tables. Each seat had a mic, a water, and a soda. Joseph sat in the back with other visitors. The meeting lasted about 2 ½ hours with the ministers of each department in the state reporting on everything from health, to education, to cattle raiding, to physical infrastructure, and more. At the end, Joseph stood and introduced Jef and me. I was pleased to be able to tell the group about ASAH and to tell the governor that his daughter and her husband, who live in Fargo, were friends of mine. We made several contacts at this meeting who will be helpful to us in the future.

The day was long, and we made plans to leave for Duk at 7 the next morning in the caravan. But This is Africa. IRD (International Relief Development) had some shopping to do at the market (fresh vegetables, which they treated us to later that evening) and said to meet them on the main street around 9. Somehow, our driver decided NOT to drive to Duk Payuel, so IRD went on alone, and we headed out with Joseph and a new driver later that morning. Gabche, a Kenyan with IRD, gave us one of their SAT phones to carry in case of problems. What kind of problems? Well, in a three hour period on a recently built but still very rough road, we passed a couple of burned out vehicles, stopped to help a stalled vehicle get started, and passed two lorries going our way. That's it. For those of you who know I had cervical disk surgery recently—I held on to the dash handle, wore my soft collar, and sat in the front seat while Jef and Joseph bounced around the bench seats in back of the Land Cruiser. What made the road travel worth every bump were the thousands of antelope—Kob and Topi, we passed on our way, plus ostriches to boot. You can find pics on our Facebook page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/African-Soul-American-Heart/48997754057

Joseph left us off at the Lost Boys Clinic in Duk. We set up a camping tent for Jef near the containers where the ground was smooth. I'm staying in the tent of the project manager, Tom Dannon, tent as he is gone to Juba for procurement with the clinic manager, Joh Deng. Tom has offered to stay in my camping tent upon his return and let me remain in his tent which has actual beds. A true gentleman.

2011 Travel to Southern Sudan

2011-03-20T07:31:00.000-07:00

I'm in Nairobi. Arrived at Mayfield Guesthouse with Jef Foss, ASAH board member and architect. The trip started out a little rocky at the Fargo airport when I reached in my travel wallet money pouch and handed the agent my passport. She said this, "This isn't a passport." Incredulous, I examined it more closely. It was a small black paper Moleskin journal. It resembled my passport in size and heft, and my yellow fever vaccination certificate stuck out beyond the edges. I couldn't believe it. I'd packed it weeks ago and just that morning, peeked in the wallet to ensure myself of its presence. When Norm asked, "Do you have your passport," I lifted the wallet around my neck and said, "Got it right here!" I had peeked inside earlier and was rewarded with the frayed yellow edges I saw. Frayed because I'd traveled with it last fall.

As I searched through every nook and cranny, Norm helping, Jef remained as calm as the Delta agent who, as have others in the past, allowed us extra free checked bags for our humanitarian work (thanks Delta). Both Jef and the agent were "confident" I'd find it. Then, my memory flashed to the file I keep marked "Travel Africa." I envisioned that faux passport with the yellow edges, saw myself selecting it and putting it in my packing pile without close examination. And searching my brain I found NO recollection of opening the safe in our storage room, the safe where we keep important infrequently-accessed things like passports. So Norm and I raced to the car as I gave thanks that we lived downtown only a short drive from the airport and that I'd told Jef to meet me at the airport a full 2 1/2 hours before flight time--never mind that he was on time and I was late.

What happens if you don't find your passport? You don't leave the country. The fact that I'm writing from Nairobi tells you I found the little book with the replacement yellow fever certificate Cass Public Health had given me last November when I couldn't find mine. Hadn't remembered I had a "Travel Africa" file from the 2007 trip.

We settled into Mayfield Guesthouse after closing hours. The security guard gave us our keys and suggested we whisper so as not to wake the other guests. Mayfield is owned Africa Inland Missions along with AIM Air, who will transport our cargo and pick us up in Bor, Sudan to take us to the village. They cater to missionaries and folks like us doing humanitarian work. The rooms are comfortable and clean, toilets and showers down the hall. Sink in the room. They serve 3 meals with the cost of the room, but you have to tell them if you'll be there to eat. And meals are prompt. When the bell rings, you move to the dining room, take a seat for the family-style service, followed by prayer and comforting homemade food. At breakfast we sat with a family who have been working as missionaries in Kenya for 17 years, their daughter now visiting from college in London. At dinner, we sat with a young woman from Madison, Wisconsin who works as a consultant for the state government, smack dab in the midst of the fiscal brouhaha. She's here for a wedding, so I'm not sure how she learned about Mayfield. There was a young English couple, but I didn't talk with them much because I sat next to an 82-year-old man who was President of World Vision in the 80's. He built the enormous Baptist church near Mayfield and all the buildings around it. And in April returns to the pulpit there for a period. He's a Scot educated at Harvard. As sharp as the cliched tack.

But, before dinner, we had intentions of hopping a flight to Juba, the capital of Southern Sudan. In fact, we'd bought our tickets before we left the airport upon arrival. When we went to check in, they wouldn't let Jef board because he didn't have a Visa. Silly me. I thought it was like to old Southern Sudan where they were almost optional. On my last trip, AIM got me my visa, and originally we were going to fly in with them, but our plans had changed, and I figured we could get the visa on arrival, the way you do in Kenya. The agent rewrote out tickets for Monday and we left.

Before we returned to Mayfield, we stopped at the local hospital because Mumias, the driver I used on my last trip, was feeling ill. Don't worry, he wasn't driving. We all rode with his friend Patrick as the day before our arrival, Mumias was rear-ended so hard his car was pushed into the car in front of him. This is a disaster for a driver, and though insured, the cost to pay the adjuster to survey the damage would equal or exceed the cost to fix the car, which he figures will be about $300, a small fortune. This body work would be thousands in the US, but we visited the car shop and the work is pretty much four guys in white coats with wrenches, crowbars, and paintbrushes.

In the morning, we'll go to Kenya National Bank to try to open an account--they have locations in Southern Sudan as well, but you're advised to count your money yourself in front of the teller before exiting. And we will deposit the cost for the GOSS visa and get a receipt--the airport agent gave Jef a contact name there. Take the receipt to the GOSS office--these are all close to Mayfield--and then return to the airport to fly to Juba. So far we don't have a hotel, but there's a chance Joseph will meet us there, along with Kenneth, Jef's Sudanese friend from Fargo, OR we'll call Jeremy Groce's colleague John who Jef sat next to all the way from Amsterdam to Nairobi. Jeremy is our board member who worked six years in Kenya and Sudan, starting Sudan Radio Services, the first station to broadcast into Southern Sudan after the war. They broadcast 10 different languages.

BTW, Mumias doesn't have malaria, his first fear, or any other bad disease. The doc thinks it may be stress, but there's no rest for the weary. Tomorrow, he has to see if our geodesic dome gets through customs, where it's been held up. Pacific Domes is helping too. It has to get to AIM to travel with the rest of our cargo on the 24th.

I've found these things tend to work out, though not always the way you expect.

ARRIVAL in the US December 15

2010-12-18T07:37:00.000-08:00

December 18, 2010

The world of international air travel is straightforward and mysterious at the same time. I'm accustomed to lugging baggage from one place to another, a process somewhat more laborious returning from Africa than traveling from the US. First, lift the bags to travel along the belt to be scanned for contraband, then drag them to the weigh station and sigh gratefully when they're marked acceptable. Drag them to the line and show your documents—passport and ticket. Pull them, stopping and starting to reach the check in counter. Show your ticket and passport once again. And then, if you're determined to upgrade to a better seat, step behind the counter and queue at the door to the office of the single agent assigned to this task. He will not look up at the waiting passengers. He will stare at his computer until he is finished, focused on the task at hand. I'm a little irritated when an airline agent brings a passenger in front of me, and I must wait. It didn't take long, but he didn't solve the passenger's problem—no seat assignment. If you travel on KLM from Nairobi to Amsterdam, there is an economy comfort class. It was worth the upgrade fee to me. I am suffering from three prolapsed discs—one quite severe—causing two fingers in my right hand to tingle continually, exacerbated by moving my arm forward, typing on the computer, hanging my head forward—my discomfort is relieved slightly by soldier-at-attention posture—shoulders back, head upright, and by minding the way I move that arm. The seating was great—more legroom, more recline, wider seats, and a dark cabin which made sleeping much easier. My travel companion in Kenya, board member Ron Saeger, kept his regular seat, where they left the lights on, and he was disturbed by an unruly and noisy child, undisciplined by the parents throughout the flight.

Arriving in Fargo was a shock to the system after six weeks in African weather—the heat and humidity of Duk Payuel, the warmth of Nairobi coupled with cool nights, occasional rain, and the similarly delightful weather in Eldoret and Nakuru. Blog posts from these adventures will begin to flow in days to come. There was little access to Internet much of the time in Kenya, and Ron and I were busy busy busy with our eight boarding school kids.

My first night home was restless in spite of the 24 hours of traveling. The nine-hour time difference had me drowsy during the day, and I fell asleep at 9 pm. At one, I awoke—sure that I'd accidentally changed the clock. My body clock felt like 10 am. I forced myself to sleep—woke at 2, woke at 3. Got up at 3:30. Had coffee. Read a book because the newspaper hadn't yet arrived. The pets wanted to get up with me, so I fed them. Took Destiny, my aging Cavalier King Charles spaniel out at 5 am.

I live in downtown Fargo, in a condo. Despite her age and failing heart, Destiny followed me down six flights to the side door, and shot outside scattering the pristine snow that had fallen during the night. The streets were clear, the snow pushed up on curbs and into tremendous mounds in parking areas and at corners. Destiny bounced along through the chest-deep powder, my boots crunching alongside her. The air was crisp and so cool and clean in my nostrils, which were assaulted for weeks by the reddish silt that blows through the Kenyan streets, the black diesel smoke that billows from buses and trucks and matatus.

It's a pleasure to be home. I'll be with my family for Christmas, and that's a blessing for sure. But my work in Sudan and Kenya is unfinished. I'll be returning in March.

Day 13 in Duk Payuel

2010-12-08T10:17:00.001-08:00

Monday November 22

This was a day of strolling through water. From the clinic to the school; from the school to the village center; from the village center to the boarding school land; from the land back to the school; then back to the clinic.

First I sat in on a sanitation meeting with chiefs, elders, and IRD staff. The long-standing flood has aggravated sanitation problems in the village. Cattle are unable to graze the flooded land, so they're restricted to the home compounds. Their waste is gathered, picked up or swept into piles, laid in the sun to dry, and used as fertilizer. The large numbers of cattle in the village facilitate the collection process but aggravate the waste in the village and contaminate the flooded paths and ponds. The fact that there aren't many products available in the village to buy cuts down on trash, but what trash there is litters some areas. In direct view of our meeting place was a stagnant, algae-covered pond dotted with plastic bottles and cans. Another problem is human waste. There are no latrines in the village other than those at the Lost Boys clinic and the IRD compound. And some families allow their children to defecate in the yards of their neighbors and don't clean up after them, which enrages everyone, but there are no consequences.

With IRD's help, the chiefs and administrators will set standards for individuals and families regarding sanitation issues. But how to insure compliance? The chiefs want to fine villagers who don't comply. IRD staff were concerned that the suggested fines were too high, that people in the village would have no ability to pay, but the chiefs couldn't be swayed. Future solutions—a group is coming to the village in a few months to build 100 latrines. When the flooding subsides, the men will return the cattle to cattle camps.

After the meeting I accompanied Judith and the other female staff member for a meeting with village women on health and hygiene. Somehow, the communications had been confused and the women didn't come, so I missed out on this important meeting.

I'm leaving on the 24^th. It's the only day that AIM Air can pick me and the other two passengers up and leave off clinic supplies—including powdered milk for Lashes. Now my dilemma was to teach someone to feed her so that I wouldn't worry she'd starve after I left. Ever since I began caring for Lashes, I'd asked staff what would happen when I left. I was assured she would be taken care of, but I wanted someone to be in charge. Chol, one of the younger staff who works around the compound—cutting grass with a machete, for instance—was interested. So we began.

Lashes wanted nothing to do with Chol. She had begun to feed from the syringe with gusto. The battle Lashes had once put up when I gently forced her mouth open (she had no back teeth, so I got good leverage poking my finger into the side of her mouth) was now a messy, eager, can't-get-enough-milk-fast-enough fest. The syringe held only 10 ml, and she was now drinking 500 to 700 ml total, split into three times a day. Initially I fed her on my lap. Folded, her long legs became a small package, and I could support her head easily this way. She rubbed her milky mouth all over my arm and chest, sniffing me and licking me. I walked around in dirty shirts each day and had to wash myself and her milky snout after each feeding. As she got more accustomed to the syringe, she began to object to sitting on my lap. I have a long red scratch from her sharp hooves when she jumped up suddenly and slipped across my thigh.

Finally, she was eager enough for the milk she would stand near me and drink without me holding her body or her head. However, each time I withdrew the syringe she head butted my legs, slipping under my skirt, looking for a teat. The constant head-butting made it hard for me to fill the syringe and caused the staff to laugh.

Chol and I sat we sat next to each other outside the clinic dining hall—Lashes likes to be inside the dining room as well as outside—that could be a problem when she is full grown. I gave him the syringe, but I had to sit right next to him, my arm gently guiding her head toward the syringe, away from me. If I moved, she followed. If my hand wasn't near his, she wouldn't drink. Eventually, she turned her head toward Chol for the milk, but spent the syringe-refill time head butting me.

I am writing this from Eldoret, Kenya on Wednesday, December 8, which shows how far behind I am on posting. Bad Internet connections at hotels. Or Internet that is off for three days in a row. Plus too busy with the boarding school kids to recap our days. However, I have had Facebook chats and emails from staff assuring me that Lashes has adapted to the loss of her second mother, after the first day of rejecting milk most of the day. She's friendly with all the staff but accepts milk only from Chol. And she still pees on people if they lift her off the ground. It happened a few times to me, so I learned to hold her away from my body. I guess she gives a clear message about how she feels about being picked up.

One of my friends asked if I had separation anxiety from my little antelope, and another reminded me of Lulu, the baby gazelle in "Out of Africa." I read the book recently but hadn't remembered that. Here's a passage:

"She drank the milk with a polite, pernickety mien, as if she had been pressed by an overkind hostess. . . . When Lulu grew up and stood in the flower of her young loveliness she was a slim delicately rounded doe, from her nose to her toes unbelievably beautiful. She looked like a minutely painted illustration to Heine’s song of the wise and gentle gazelles by the flow of the river Ganges."

Lashes is like that too, but my description not as vivid and beautiful.

Day 12 in Duk Payuel

2010-12-05T00:08:00.000-08:00

Sunday, November 21

CHURCH
Whirlwind. Though I'm not usually at a loss for words, I've been consumed with activity and had little time or energy to compose my thoughts. Thus, I'm scrutinizing scribbles of memories, some of which are no longer time-related, though that likely matters more to me than to you. So for these narratives, you'll have to make due with memories recalled on December 4, the first day I've had time at a computer to sit and write coupled with intermittent Internet access. Also, I have an injury that's interfered. Mid-way through my days in the village, two fingers on my right hand started to tingle and go numb when I sat at the computer. This situation grew continually worse with the long flight to Loki and Nairobi.

Sunday afternoon. Tom Dannon and I trekked through the water for the last hour of the church service on Sunday afternoon. Church goes on for hours, and the preaching is in Dinka, so it isn't as though I know exactly what's going on. Other than that, it's not unlike any Christian church, preaching, read singing, drumming, and various speakers announcing one thing or another.

The church is an enormous mud and thatched hut, with very little light entering through the doors. The ceiling is high above and a miracle of construction to be built without any modern equipment. Seating is movable benches, plastic chairs and large tin cans. Tom and I took a seat in the back, but that didn't last long. We were invited to traipse down the middle aisle and take a seat to the right of the pulpit, facing the church members. At least they didn't ask me to speak to the huge crowd.

After church, we met with the women's group in a good-sized tukul near the church, which I took to be some type of office or meeting room. I gave them the still-boxed sewing machine, the table and treadle stand. There are a couple of seamstresses in the group who know how to put together and maintain the machine. There were no sewing machines in the village when I arrived more than a week earlier—now there are three.

MEETING WITH THE CHIEFS
Later, Joh Deng and I met with the chiefs. After all the formal welcoming and exchanges of thanks, they chastised me and ASAH for the delay in following through with our plan for a boarding school. Joh translated this as, "They are complaining. . ." It's easy to understand their frustration, partly because the culture takes the expression of a desire to help as a promise. And it's probably impossible for them to understand the challenges in the US for a small organization like ours to raise funds, especially in our dismal economy. They have the example of the successful clinic built by JDF, with the help of John Dau's celebrity, and to IRD, a large, well-funded NGO group. However, they once again offered us land to build on. This land is adjacent to the IRD compound. The proximity to another NGO would be nice for us, and the land has enormous trees—banyon, acacia, palm—which means shade. And though surrounded by water, it's high and dry.

They're anxious for project to succeed and give us their support and blessing. They would like us to serve a minimum of 40, preferably 50, girls from the two payems, Duk Payuel and Pateunoi, half the number from each. The ASAH board will visit after my return to determine the numbers and our final plan. The chiefs told me the payems are closely related and since Joseph Makeer's father was from Duk and his mother from Pateunoi, it would be appropriate to serve both villages in their memory.

There's never been a boarding school in Duk County, and currently there's no secondary school, either. Our school will set an example for everyone in the village of the benefits of educating girls and helping orphans. To quote Joseph Makeer, "If we raise these kids up from the level they are, and give them what they need, they will be leaders in our country, and in the world." They promised us their assistance in succeeding with our project.

Referendum--Season of Prayer with the People of Sudan

2010-12-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

A friend sent me this information from the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church Association) regarding the Season of Prayer with the People of Sudan. I am sharing this to raise your awareness of the upcoming referendum where Southern Sudan has an opportunity to vote for independence from the North. This is an opportunity for joint prayer with people in Sudan if you wish to join with them.

deb

----- Original Message -----

From: ELCA e-Advocacy Network

To: Edgar and Dorcas Dorow

Sent: Monday, November 29, 2010 3:13 PM

Subject: A Season of Prayer with the People of Sudan



Prayer is always in order for the people of Sudan. Prayers are particularly in order as January, 2011 draws near. Why? A referendum on self-determination for the people of South Sudan is scheduled for January 9. On that same day, a referendum is also scheduled for the Abyei region where the people will vote on the question of whether to retain Abyei's special administrative status in the north or become part of Southern Sudan. What Can You Do? Our sisters and brothers in Sudan are in prayer now and will continue in prayer until, through, and after the referendum. We have a number of opportunities to join them. One is through the Season of Prayer with the People of Sudan. In this initiative, a number of faith communities will come together in prayer in Sudan and in the United States in the month before the election. Specifically, we are invited to pray for thirty minutes on: Friday, December 3 Friday, December 10 Friday, December 17 Friday, December 24 Friday, December 31 Friday, January 7 Saturday, January 8 Sunday, January 9 Monday, January 10 Our sisters and brothers in Sudan will pray at 6:00 p.m. in their country. In the United States, we would join them by praying at Noon (EST); 11:00 a.m. (CST); 10:00 a.m. (MST); 9:00 a.m. (PST). Many in Sudan plan to engage in the spiritual discipline of fasting on January 7 through 9. If this is a spiritual discipline that speaks to you, consider joining them. This season of prayer is open to all people. Pray wherever you are; pray individually or gather with your community or an ecumenical community or an interfaith community; pray in a manner you feel comfortable praying. Please feel free to share this invitation widely.

DAY NINE in Duk Payuel

2010-11-30T06:02:00.000-08:00

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Thursday—no school today or Friday. The schoolteachers are helping the clinic with the assessment of children ages six months to 59 months. They measured height and weight and other criteria to determine the extent of malnourishment in this age group. Preliminary results showed about 20 % of the young children are severely malnourished. The clinic will use this information to appeal to NGOs like World Food Program for nutrition supplementation.

A group of girls arrived once again to draw and paint. It was wonderful to see the chose their paper and paints or markets and spread themselves around the clinic compound: some on the concrete porches of the tents that surround the open area near the dining hall and some on plastic chairs scavenged from here and there. There's a shortage of chairs at the clinic. The colorful plastic chairs are routinely in motion, carried from the dining hall, to the outdoors, to the clinic, to the tent porches—wherever they're needed. After the girls helped me put away the supplies, many of them gave me their drawings with their names written on them, and many of them wrote "Love."

Joh Deng said that some of the girls who came for the art classes don't attend primary school, yet they have come for this. As they worked, some of the clinic staff stopped to talk with them and admire their art. Like all children, many of these girls have talents, but here there is virtually no opportunity to express them. Girls who don't attend school have nothing pleasurable to keep them busy that also engages their minds, which Joh believes is critical to changing the future for their community. And then he said, "Those who believe in forced marriage should watch out—Debra is coming. She will change things."

This second visit to the village has confirmed my resolve to follow through and address these needs. ASAH has raised their hopes, but we've been slow in bringing the boarding school to life. Insecurity in Sudan, the difficult economy in the US, and other things have conspired to slow this part of our work. But now is the time. Joh believes that a boarding school for female orphans will set an example and will cause village mothers, even if illiterate themselves, to strive for their daughters to have chances like this. If girls have an opportunity to be educated, the village will change.

Mid-afternoon, a group of girls from Patuenoi stopped by wanting underpants. I was sorry to disappointment them. The panties were long gone. All I could tell them was that ASAH would send more after the referendum. Imagine waiting two months for one or two pair of panties.

Day Eight in Duy Payuel—Art Classes and John Dau’s moms

2010-11-22T03:58:00.000-08:00

Tuesday and Wednesday, November 16 & 17, 2010

In the morning, some girls came by for needles to pierce ears. We used a bit of sign language. They pointed to the holes in my ears—and the diamond stud I have in one ear—it’s too hot to wear dangling earrings. And then they made a sewing gesture, and then pointed to their ears. I was concerned about causing a raft of infections, so I asked them to follow me to the clinic. Peter explained they must sterilize the needles and clean their ears with “spirits.” Then he filled a bottle for them to share. Over the next few days, girls came to show off their new “earrings,” which in most cases were the stick pins I’d given out in sewing class, with the colored ball heads. They were short pins, but I think they somehow cut them shorter—most girls now had three in each each ear, and some had pierced a nostril as well. Other girls had braided threads in their holes, and some sported thin thorns from prickly bushes or trees.

One girl came alone to sew this morning. Though this was impromptu, I sat with her in the dining hall and we sewed together, mostly silently as she didn’t speak English. I couldn’t get her to understand the need for knots, but she happily sewed a pad, and I added a few stitches and knots to reinforce it. I hope it holds together.

After lunch, John Dau’s mother, who has returned to Sudan from the Syracuse, NY where she had been living with his family, came by with one of his stepmothers (this is a polygamous society). They brought me a delicious meal of pumpkin cooked with millet and sorghum and seasoned with sim sim. I am not sure what sim sim is, but it had a pleasant aroma and taste—almost a little cinnamony. Though I had already eaten my fill of lunch, I had to be polite, and the food was delicious. There was plenty for the staff to share. This courtesy visit was a great honor. John’s father or uncle is one of the chiefs, and the family is prominent in the community. And John’s mother is particularly special due to her excellent English skills and experience in the US.

We sat and talked for a bit. John’s mother thinks Syracuse is too cold and people stay indoors too much. She missed the freedom and friendliness of the village, and so she returned. Also, she complained she got too big in America and didn’t like that. Here there isn’t as much food so she is losing weigh, but she's still a big woman, particularly by village standards. And she's more than six feet tall. In spite of her distaste for cold weather, she did agree that the toilets were a lot better!

Some time later one of John’s other stepmoms appeared. I remembered her from the church distribution, and from my trip here in 2007. Her photograph is titled, Woman and Palm. The lines in her face mirror the lines of the palm tree behind her. It’s one of my favorite photos, and I had it blown up four by five feet for the exhibit at the Rourke Art Museum. This woman requested that I donate one of the sewing machines to the church. They have two women who know how to assemble them and sew with them. I agreed. So now it is worked out that one machine will stay at the clinic, one will go to the school, and one will go to the church. I have additional supplies and spare parts and oil for the machines and will leave them for the clinic to distribute as needed. I’m pretty happy about this arrangement as it will give opportunities for girls to learn to sew, for women to begin sewing through the church, and for the clinic to mend their uniforms and other things. The girls are anxious to be introduced to the sewing machines, but we have to get Maduk back this weekend to get them purring! (A correction to the above. The sewing machine did go to the church. The other two are remaining at the clinic until Maduk can train some people at the school to sew and to maintain the machine).

Here are things I’ve learned:
1. Small children draw flies. They hover around the little kids, so if little kids are hovering around me, I get the flies, too. I can pick a dead fly out of my milk and drink it.
2. You get used to flies. My skin has desensitized. They don’t really bother me much unless I am covered with milk from feeding Lashes.
3. The mosquitos mostly bite my ankles. They usually itch only in the morning. Sometimes I put on a little cortisone cream. Lashes does NOT like the smell of bug spray.
4. The roosters don’t wake me up any more. The cacophony of people noises, music, insects, birds, and cows bellowing the first two nights kept me awake even with earplugs and a noise machine. I still use the earplugs, and I turn on the noise machine in the morning if a rooster wakes me up.
5. Village girls like me and want to be around me. They also like to touch my hair.
6. My legs are stronger and I am used to the squat. When I come the next time, I’ll have to practice up to be in shape for it.
7. Daniel and Chol, who have helped with the video camera, make sure to keep the batteries charged.
8. People really want a boarding school for girls in the community.
9. The girls really enjoy learning.

On Tuesday, more than 25 girls came. Instead of sewing, I hauled out marker pens and pads of paper and coloring books. I should have brought more pads because they offered a hard surface to draw on. Those that didn’t have a pad sat on the verandas of the tents and set their paper on the rough concrete. I didn’t do any real teaching. I simply put out the supplies. I gave most of the purchased markers to the school, but Meg Foss gave me an enormous bag full of Prisma art markers—with two ends, a wide and a thin. The drawings they made were full of color. Many of them drew flowers—fanciful, curving, multi-colored blooms. There were a lot of huts with colorful thatching. Daniel drew a strong man, cartoon-like. Boys and girls make different choices. One girl drew a hyena. Probably not a choice most American girls would consider in a drawing. They drew for more than two hours, then I had them pack up. When they were finished, we gathered them together to take a group photo with the pictures.

But I didn’t expect them Wednesday, and I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught, so I asked them to come on Thursday instead.

Wednesday was the first day I have had much time to catch up on the photos and on my blog. There is a fine balance to work out--working on my computer with the power off until the battery is drained, and then finding power to charge it again. Wednesday I got them to charge it in the lab so I could work a little more. And then there is the intermittent Internet access, which is dependent to a great deal on the sun and how much power the solar panels can store. It’s been partially or mostly cloudy these past days, so not much Internet available.

Then a storm started to brew. Tom and I retreated to the tent and battened down the hatches. It was extremely windy. It rained for a while, and then stopped, and now as I type, I hear distant singing and drumming. Tom thought it might be from the church, the music carrying across the thread of grasshoppers, cicadas, frogs and birds calling.

That afternoon women and girls came by often looking for panties—some revealing the tops of their panties to me and smiling. Unfortunately we are all out. The other hot item is safety pins, which the girls are using to decorate their clothing. I have no more supplies to share with individuals—the rest will stay with the sewing machines and the women in charge of those.

A note about Lashes: She was very skinny that first day, and didn’t eat much. I got 100 ml into her on Wednesday. On Thursday 170. I asked my husband to call the zoo (not open until the weekend) and find out how much to feed a baby antelope. He watched a video where a zookeeper was feeding a baby antelope about 100 ml five times per day. So that’s my goal to get her to 500. The zookeeper has a bottle and the baby could suck. Norm said the baby antelope loved it. Lashes doesn’t have that luxury, just like children in the village. So much that we take for granted is simply not available in any form here.

I am thinking of weighing her to see what kind of progress she is making. There must be a scale at the clinic since they are assessing heights and weights of children age 6 months to 59 months. So far, it looks as though 20% of the young children in Duk Payuel are severely malnourished—a higher percentage of them are girls than boys.

There was drumming and singing late into the evening. A wedding in the village.

Day Seven in Duk Payuel—The Baby Antelope

2010-11-21T21:38:00.000-08:00

Now I have a baby antelope. I didn’t go looking for her. I came here to help orphans—the two-legged variety, not four-legged with hooves. She is within our target group because she’s a female, determined by Peter, the nutritionist, who was bold enough to feel around.

Hunters found her nestled in some grass, picked her up and carried her to the compound. They said they didn't shoot the mother. Antelopes are protected in Sudan. Perhaps the mother had left her to graze and returned to find her missing. Or the mother may have been killed by the lion spotted near the village a few days ago. Life is harsh in the bush.

A thin rope, about four feet long, was tied around her neck. They tied the other end to a tree, but she pulled and bucked, and I feared she’d strangle. Then they moved the rope to a leg. Again, pulling struggling, yanking the leg. I didn’t think it was my place to interfere. Finally she gave up and settled down. She’s tiny—less than 10 pounds, maybe 18 inches high. We figure she’s only a couple of weeks old. When I checked on her a half hour later, I could see her leg was starting to swell from the tightrope. Then someone tried tying her around her hips. That was a disaster. She jumped and fell on her side. And again, and again. Some of the tin forms for the concrete bases of the tent poles are still in place—a real hazard—and one of them was in jumping distance. I feared she’d land on it, so I took the rope off and took her into my tent where she lay on the bed with me, curled up. Then she got interested in looking out the window and slipped off the bed, between the frame and the tent wall. It didn’t seem to phase her. I coaxed her out, and she crawled into a corner and curled up on the floor.

While she slept, I sought food for her. The hot milk was still out for breakfast. I asked the clinic for a bottle but the closest they had was a 3/4 inch diameter syringe with tiny spout and a squeeze bottle to fill it from. I fill the bottle and insert the syringe, which fits in and seals the opening, then draw the milk up into the syringe. The milk was still boiling hot. It takes awhile for me to sip from the cup in the morning because it’s steaming. I let it cool and then set about the business of feeding her.

She didn’t like having the big hard plastic syringe shoved into her tiny, narrow snout. The trick is to stick my index finger in the side of her mouth where she has no teeth. This pops her mouth open, revealing a row of tiny teeth in the front of her mouth. In the back she has molars, which sound like rock on rock when she grinds them. I’ve tried putting the syringe straight in, and sideways. Sometimes she accepts it in far enough that she drinks a few gulps, but other times she shakes her head and pops the hateful object out of her mouth, shaking and dripping milk all over herself and me. She struggled on my lap, fighting the awkward thing, which didn’t allow for sucking. It was hard to know the proper pressure to push the plunger—too fast, too much milk. But she jerked her head away every few seconds, and reinserting was an unpleasant process for both of us. I think I got about as much milk on me as in her mouth.

Rebecca thought she should have 500 ml per day. That would be 50 syringes. I got three 10 ml syringes into her the first day. I couldn’t imagine torturing her through 50. Caroline thought maybe 100 ml would do. So that’s my goal for tomorrow. But the cooks weren’t going to supply me with milk—they make it up only in the morning. So Sammy gave me a can of the powdered milk. This is what we’ve been drinking every morning—full butterfat powdered milk. Hot. No wonder it tasted so good. Add a little Nescafe or pour the milk that already has tea mixed in.

Though the baby didn’t like the process, feeding her apparently qualified me to be her new mom, and she began following me wherever I went, curling up and sleeping if I stopped for a bit. People asked me what her name was. I had considered naming her, but that seemed like claiming her, and I thought someone would come and take her, or, I don’t know. There didn’t seem to be a plan for her. I certainly didn’t think she’d become my pet. I pondered names—a Sudanese name? An American pet name? I studied her and it came to me—Lashes. Have you ever seen an antelope’s eyes up close? The lashes are jet black against her light fur and an inch long, top and bottom. She sounds like a child’ toy, squeaking when she wants my attention, squeaking when I have gotten too far away walking—a signal for me to wait., though sometimes she gallops. But she’s a baby, and not all that great at navigating uneven terrain. On her first attempt to jump onto our concrete verandah, she missed. And she’s stumbled a couple times jumping down.

By Wednesday she was used to me, and I got 100 ml in her. On Thursday, 170. But I’ll only be here until the 26^th. So then, who knows. Caroline, the nurse midwife, said she would take care of her, but she leaves for Kenya December 13. All the foreign staff is leaving until the referendum count is over, which probably won’t be until February.

So nature may take its course. I'd carry Lashes on the plane with me, but I imagine there’s some big time paperwork required for that! Jeremy Groce took his pets from the US to Kenya and back when he lived there working for Sudan Radio Services. But I don’t think exporting antelope is the same. She’s not much bigger than a puppy. Maybe she could pass. But what would I do with her at hotels in Nairobi, Nakuru, and Eldoret? I’m sure she'll be unhappy when I disappear, but she adapted in a day to the lost of her actual mother, which must have been much worse. She often nuzzles me as though there might be a teat under my knee or in my elbow. Then licks my legs or arms, licks my fingers and toes. Her tongue is very soft. Though by Thursday, she got a little more independent—would hang out outside the tent when I left to shower or go to the clinic computer center. She likes hanging around the latrine area—tall grass for grazing and curling up in. I usually check her out after a while. The compound is fenced, so she can’t get lost, and dogs and other animals that might hurt her can’t get in. I’ve learned to be careful picking her up when she is supposed to be following, but is simply standing still. Sometimes she’s urinating. I’ve been peed on three times, which I notice by the warm, wet feeling on my hip. You can’t tell—she’s noiseless and doesn’t squat. There’s always a chance she was excited, or letting me know she didn’t want to be picked up. I don’t know much about antelopes.

The first night she slept on my bed. I took her out twice during the night when she woke. But one time I was too late. She stood on the bed, and I didn’t know the was urinating until I felt the wet creeping toward me. I changed my bed, my bedding (thank goodness I brought a sleep sack), and flipped the foam mattress. It seemed none the worse for wear in the morning. Doesn’t seem to smell. But as soon as we have a sunny day, I’ll bring it outside to air out.

Since then, I put a little sleep sack on the floor at the head of my bed. She curls up there. The second night she squeaked twice and I put my hand through the headboard slats and stroked her. Last night, not a peep. And this morning, she really didn’t want to get up.

Joh Deng, the clinic manager, assured me that he would find someone to take care of Lashes, so I could see how big she was by March.

deb dawson

School Year Is Over For Our Students

2010-11-20T14:43:00.000-08:00

I tend to be a night owl so I was awake when Moses called at 1 a.m. - 10 a.m. in Kenya. He hadn't received the money transfer reference number necessary to pick up the funds which I had sent yesterday. His sim card hadn't been mated to his phone which he leaves with Mama Akuand, an elderly Dinka lady who lives in Langa Langa, a residential area on the south side of Nakuru near the National Park boundary. Her home is a sanctuary for them to spend a night when they can't be at their school, or to leave personal items for safekeeping. I re-texted the information and other missed messages and all was well when I called him back as he rode the matatu to Lanet (Roots).

When I called to confirm that he had the info, he was enroute to meet James, Simon and Abraham at Roots Academy and travel with them back to Nakuru, where they would meet secondary school students John and Joseph. Abraham Akol is Michael & Agot's brother who stays with a family in Langa Langa when not in school and does not return to Kakuma UNHCR Refugee Camp.

Moses, Joseph and John each registered to vote in the January Sudan CPA Referendum which went smoothly and it only took them five minutes. This will be the first time that they and many other Southern Sudanese in the diaspora, of all ages, will have cast a vote for anything.

I called again at 1 p.m. today, when I knew they would be back at their house in Eldoret. What I learned then is that the school year had also ended for John and Joseph at Victonell, and for Michael at Narok High School. All had travelled to Eldoret together and Michael will proceed to Kakuma at 9 a.m.

An e-mail that Moses had sent today with everyone's grades and end of term letters did not make it to my inbox and I assume that it was too large. However, one of the things that they were trying to communicate was that Victonell has been sold to a university and will no longer be a high school. Therefore, we will have to find a new school for John & Joseph in addition to Agot, who has now taken her KCPE primary school graduation exam in Kakuma. We will see what Mrs Njau and Mrs Mwangi, principals at Roots and Kirobon, respectively, recommend. It is my hope that we will be able to meet with each of them when in Nakuru.

For Agot, secondary school will begin at the beginning of February. She will not receive her scores until they are released nationwide on 30 December. If Agot's grades are very good, it may be possible for her to attend Kirobon, where Moses will be in his last year. If not, we will have to seek a "second tier" school that accepts students with lower certificate scores.

Moses had tried to make a follow-up visit to his TB doctor in Nakuru but he was not in today, so we will probably do that when he returns to Eldoret from Nairobi with Deb and me. James got some of his meds resupplied and tomorrow Moses will take him to see his doctor in Eldoret.

While Moses is running errands with James & Simon tomorrow, the older boys, John & Joseph, will shop for food to restock the kitchen. The "elders" do most of the cooking.

And so it goes ....

Helping with panties projects

2010-11-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

The most common question we at African Soul, American Heart get is "how can I help with the panties project?" This question usually comes from a sewer or a quilter, and of course these people are essential to our project because they are the ones making the re-usable pads (at least until the women of Duk Payuel master the use of their sewing machines). All of our initial pads have been a fold-and-snap variety, but for our next shipment, we hope that some of the sewers willing to help us out will try the belted style.

In addition to making pads, we always need help getting the pads to Duk Payuel, something that comes down to straight donations. We haven't found a secure way to get the pads to Duk yet, so the first two deliveries have been personal: Joseph in April 2010, Deb in November 2010. Deb hopes to be able to go back in March 2011, and donations could help pay for the bags on the flight (unless Delta gives Deb free bags again) or the plane rental from Nairobi to Duk (about $2,000). Please visit our main website if you are able to donate: http://www.africansoulamericanheart.org/you_can_help.php

Thanks to many for their great interest in the panties project.

Day Six in Duk Payuel

2010-11-17T23:19:00.000-08:00

Monday, November 15, 2010

Monday morning I gathered up volleyballs and the soccer equipment and balls. Chol helped me carry them all to the school. Meg Foss's daughter, Brianna, donated about six used soccer balls, ball bags, corner flag posts, ref shirts and hat, a whistle, a team score keeper, and miscellaneous other cool stuff. I bought a few more soccer balls and some volleyballs-some in pink-and two pumps. Zachariah helped me pump them up, but before we were finished, he'd broken both pins. Oh well. Brianna had sent a pump, too, so I got them all blown up in time. Later Victor found me an extra pin, so I'll deliver that to the school for future use. I'll have to remember to bring pins next time. I tried to buy extras at Scheel's where I got the pumps, but they didn't have any.

We'd hardly started down the path when a teacher from Patuenoi (a 15-minute-water-walk from here) stopped and asked for soccer balls for his school. It just didn't seem right to refuse. So I gave him three balls (I think). Anyhow, I had about seven balls left—I never counted them. I gave one to Zachariah for his help, but I haven't seen it around since then.

We delivered the balls to the school office. They'll let me know when they organize a game, so I'll return for that. The school has a volleyball net, but they've had to play with a football, (which I am thinking is a FOOTBALL, but of course is a soccer ball) so they were very excited about the volleyballs. Easier on the hands.

I toured the main building, built by IRD. It houses an office and a small library which has some UNICEF textbooks, but no selection of basic reading books for children that I could see. There are three classrooms for grades five through seven. Outside under the trees sit the nursery school students. As I approached, they stood and serenaded me with the "We Welcome You," song. There is no playground equipment, though the grounds are large enough. They have 13 teachers for 714 students. The primary classes 1a, 1b, 2, 3, and 4 are held in the huts. I'm serenaded at each hut. Inside, there are so many children crowded into the hut, the noise of their singing is deafening. The 4th grade class is smaller, mostly girls. They sang me a different song, though I can't tell you what it was.

I asked the teachers to select five or 10 girls who spoke English and wanted to learn to sew. And I asked them when the girls would come. I assumed after school, which ends about 1 pm. But the teachers said 10 am when they had a break.

Chol had gone back, so I headed toward the clinic on my own. Apparently the reason people get lost in the woods is because they don't turn around when they're walking through and see what the return path looks like, so they don't recognize the way and walk in circles. I stopped at the registration tables to chat with the two men in charge of registering voters for the January referendum. Each registrant receives a laminated card with his ID information. This card allows the bearer to vote—but only in the place of registration. Then I headed toward a path, but it didn't go through, saw another—same problem. I felt a little idiotic as I know people were watching—probably thinking I was a pretty dim Kawaja. One of the registrars walked toward me. I threw up my arms and he directed me toward the clinic path.

At the clinic I set everything up in the dining hall for the morning class, but no girls came. The cooks and cleaners were interested, particularly in the sewing machine, but it's not yet working properly. Victor came back to work on it. It's fixed, but the belt isn't quite tight enough, and we decided we need Maduk. Perhaps this weekend. Since that wasn't working, I gave the women a few safety pins, a needle, some thread. Such small gifts, so greatly appreciated.

Mary and the Athiai, the pregnant cook, decided to sit down with me and sew. Athiai mother of three girls, is pregnant with her fourth baby. No ultrasounds here to determine the sex. I told her I was the oldest of four girls; she came from a family of five girls. She had to return to her duties, but Mary stayed and finished a pad, so I gave her one of the ten sewing kits I'd brought for the girls. She was my very first student.

Then it rained, hard enough to retreat to the tent and wait for it to blow over. The good thing about the rain is it cools things down for a bit. The bad thing is it doesn't help the eventual humidity and keeps the flood levels high.

Around noon, a teacher arrived with ten girls and gave me a sheet with their names, ages, and grade level. The girls ranged from age 10 to 16, in classes three and 4. One of the eleven-year-olds was in class four. Unfortunately, noon isn't a good time. The cooks are preparing lunch, so the dining hall is in use. I asked them to return at three.

Apparently the dining staff assumed the sewing kits were available for the taking. Four had disappeared, so I would have to make do with the five main kits, and miscellaneous smaller travel kits, and the extra needles and thread I brought from the US and bought in Nairobi. The staff will put them to good use, anyhow.

Once again I unpacked and set up. It was 2:30. Five girls appeared. I figured—great—five girls. Very manageable. Sufficient kits to go around. We got started. By three there were 10 more. Ten minutes later, another 10 girls arrived. Now I'm digging out needles and thread from my stash.

Most of the girls had rudimentary skills. When they didn't, they showed each other. I felt a little inadequate as a teacher who couldn't speak the language and had to continually interrupt Daniel, who was either sewing or videotaping the group, to interpret questions and answers between the girls and myself. When he explained the steps to sew the pads together the girls giggled with embarrassment, though it didn't bother Daniel a bit. In fact, he and another boy sewed each sewed one. Many of the girls came to show me their results, which was gratifying. Even those stitched in big loopy stiches, the tops and bottoms not aligned, were pleased with their finished pads. I showed them how to hold them together with stick pins for sewing, but many of them didn't quite get it, or they simply skipped the step. With 25 girls, it was hard to stay on top of things. I have no idea who the original girls on the list were. If these girls spoke any English, they sure didn't let me know.

One of the issues with the precut pads (from the generous sewers in Bismarck, ND) was that I had no snaps. I had racked my brain trying to figure out what to do about that—the snap deal is more challenging—either sewing on the tiny snaps by hand, or using a snap fastener. I decided safety pins would work. So I gave each girl a safety pin. Who knew safety pins would be such a desired item. I ended up giving each of them four safety pins. I brought hundreds, and it felt odd dishing them out this way, but I wanted to be sure there were enough left for the unsewn pads and to leave with the women who will be in charge of the machines. A few aggressive girls came back for more, hoping I wouldn't realize I'd already given them pins. I caught on to that, scolded them and slapped their outstretched fingers playfully. They laughed.

Introduction to our Kenya boarding school students

2010-11-17T22:20:00.000-08:00

Moses Deng, our eldest Sudanese boarding school student in Kenya, called in the wee hours this morning. He has his last exam tomorrow - chemistry - and he says he is doing well this term. This is much better than the last when he couldn't get out of bed and was diagnosed with tuberculosis. He has been on medication for five months and has a couple more to go but says he feels fit.

After he calls, I always call him back since inbound cell phone calls are free in Kenya and they can save their calling time for other necessities.

He was supposed to get out of school on Friday morning but he will be delayed a day since his high school is having a special event. They have had new construction in preparation to become a provincial school and will have a ceremony attended by the Kenyan Education Minister and other dignitaries. They have been doing a lot of sprucing up of the place and were planting flowers today. When we were at Kirobon Secondary School, near Menengai West, last year, I observed some of the best looking dairy cows that I have seen. Moses says that everything looks much better since the multi-year drought has now ended.

Moses will be able to leave school at 6 a.m., Saturday morning, and have a busy day before ending up "at home" in Eldoret that evening. He will make a pass by Mama Akuand's home in Langa Langa, near Nakuru, to pick up his cell phone which is not allowed in school - although he takes his sim card which he can use in a school or teacher's phone, or for internet wireless access.
Then he will pick up a money transfer from me before going to Roots Academy in Lanet to pick up James Deng & Simon Matiop, our youngest students in grade six, who are also ending their term and school year. Moses will make a follow-up visit to his doctor and resupply his meds. He may also need to get meds for James' vitiligo skin condition which are not available in Eldoret. James will revisit his dermatologist, an Egyptian lady, in Eldoret on Monday. Before the 2 1/2 hour matatu trip, Moses will also register to vote in the Sudan CPA Referendum to be held in January.

Agot Thuch, the eighth grade girl we sponsored at Roots, returned to Kakuma refugee camp at the end of October to take the national KCPE test which is required for graduation and to enter secondary school. She registered at Kakuma before we began sponsorship and could not write the test at Roots where she has attended since May.

Michael Garang, Agot's oldest brother, will get out of school at Narok HS on the 27th and return to Kakuma via Eldoret, spending a night with our five boys who live together in a rented home. Michael and Agot also have a brother, Abraham, who is a fourth grader at Roots Academy and lives with a family in Langa Langa. Their father died a few years ago and their mother died in 2008 following childbirth in or near Juba, Sudan, where she worked. The toddler and a sister, Nyan Kuach, live with their 68 year old grandmother in Kakuma refugee camp.

Joseph Deng and John Mading, who attend Victonell HS in Nakuru, will also register to vote when they get out of school on the 26th. The registration began on Nov 15 and ends Dec 1. It is best for them to register in Nakuru vice Eldoret since they must vote where they sign up and they will be back in school when the referendum occurs.

I will rendezvous with Moses and Deb in Nairobi on the 29th and spend a couple of weeks with the students before returning to the U.S. on the 14th. I told Moses today that I am getting excited to be with them again. They are all great kids and it is good to see what they can do when given a chance. James was number one in his class last term and that is in spite of poor Kiswahili skills.

And so it goes....

DAY FIVE IN DUK PAYUEL

2010-11-17T03:15:00.000-08:00

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2010

On Saturday I had taught Daniel, one of the boys in our documentary, how to use the video camera so he could shoot video at the panties distribution after church. Daniel is 14 and in grade five. He hangs around the clinic a lot and does odd jobs from time to time. He's smart, helpful, reliable, and speaks English quite well. I also enlisted Peter Thiong'o, a Kenyan lab technician in the clinic, to shoot photos with my second camera, because he had been asking questions about my camera and expressed interest in learning more about photography. My husband insisted that at least a few photos include me. I have to say, though, I'm not able to put on my most photogenic look—this is the sweating, untamed hair, no makeup, dressed for the African bush, Duk Payeul version of Debra Ann Dawson—Debora (with the rr's rolled) Agot.

PANTIES AND PADS DISTRIBUTION

Church starts early—around 7 or 7:30 and goes until 10 and beyond. Caroline and Rebecca, the midwives, accompanied me and some young men who helped us carry the bags filled with panties and pads for girls and women through the water route to the church. Perhaps it will be dry in a month or so. It was drying up a bit around the compound, but we've had rain and sprinkles since, so it's a little muddy in spots.

At the church, Caroline laid out a tarp, and we laid out the piles of panties I had sorted by size. The size six pile was high in comparison to the smaller sizes, which was too bad because the girls here are stick thin. We're grateful to our donors, but realizing that we can't picture an American teen when selecting underwear for Sudanese girls. They're thin partly from malnourishment, but also because the Dinka are extremely tall and thin—supermodel material. (In fact, Alex Wek is a beautiful Sudanese supermodel who wrote a book about her own escape from Sudan. She has a line of beautiful handbags whose purchase helps support girls in Sudan.) Many women in the village are more than six feet tall, and the men are even taller. It's quite extraordinary. I'm 5'7", and I generally feel tall in a group of women. Here that's not the case. Still, all the panties will find homes—some older women have broader hips or a little weight on them, but we are best off bringing girl's sizes 8-14 and women's sizes 4 or 5. In the end, we gave out more than 300 pair of underpants and about 400 pads. Not close to enough in a village of 4500 people, with about half women.

We invited schoolgirls first. They each chose two pair of panties and four pads—which caused a lot of giggling. It started out well-organized with a front and a back to our station. The first girls selected, and then more girls came out of church and selected, and then we invited the women. There were so many of them. The organized piles started to look like a sidewalk sale table, and the women began to crowd in as the supplies diminished. Caroline and Rebecca solved the problem by picking everything up and putting it in the bags and waiting. We got the women in a line and started over.

Some women from Patuenoi, a nearby village, had to return home after church, and we promised we would save some for them. But it wasn't possible. After we returned to the compound, other girls from the village—perhaps not at church—came by and the panty supply was depleted. The leftover pads will stay at the clinic for distribution to their maternity patients.

SEWING MACHINES

Back at the ranch, Victor had started putting together one of the three treadle Singer sewing machines I bought in Nairobi. There was quite a group helping him. These are the first sewing machines in Duk Payuel. We got it up but couldn't get it running. I know how to use an electric sewing machine pretty well—I like to quilt, but I have never used a treadle machine. It comes with a leather belt that has to be adjusted and cut to size. Within a day it had loosened in the humidity. The instructions were all pictures. Nice for multi-language communities, but the pictures weren't easy to understand. Eventually we got it threaded and got it to sew a few stitches. But we weren't very smooth.

Maduk, a Dinka who works as a private contractor for himself and the NGOs in the village, strolled by, saw the machine, sat himself down in the chair and proceeded to sew like a tailor. Turns out he used to work as a sewer (seamstress?) I think his father told him it was important to learn many trades, that way if one doesn't work out, you will have another way to make a living. So he is a carpenter, a seamstress—maybe a mechanic, too? Several of the men helping to put the sewing machine together are interested in learning to operate the machine as well.

That afternoon, Joh and I walked to Gideon's compound, where he invited us into his tukul so I could see the advantages of this type of construction for our project. One of the barriers to beginning our work here with orphans is that the cost of construction is doubled by the cost to transport materials, and made more challenging by the lack of skilled labor. The tukuls are primarily made of local materials, the labor to build them is available locally, and they're suited for the climate. Tukuls are built with mud adobe walls over a framework of local wood—twisted, rough looking small branches. The roof is thatch, which is supported by "tick" poles, the same supports that form the corner posts. The tukul is cool in hot weather.

Like all tukuls, it was necessary to bow to enter the low doorway. It was much cooler in Gideon's tukul than outside or in my stuffy army tent. The ceilings and walls are draped with colorful printed fabrics—we saw this in the huts at Kakuma Refugee Camp in 2007. The ceiling fabrics keep dust from falling from the thatch (which is waterproof); the wall fabrics are cosmetic. The windows are screened with simple curtains for privacy.

One outside wall of Gideon's tukul was slightly damaged by the heavy rains during this flood season, but he will add new mud when it dries up. I shot some photos inside and out and will post them to Facebook in a few days. There are always difficulties knowing when the power will be on, and likewise when the Internet will be on. If the generator is running, which it does daily but no longer than necessary, then all is good. But the cloudy days don't allow the solar panels to charge the storage batteries, so then we conserve. And it's been cloudy the last few days. The plus for me is that it isn't so beastly hot.

After dinner, I watched "The Other Guys" with the crew and then retired to my tent. From inside I could hear them playing African Soul, American Heart. When it was over, they played the bonus features and then watched it through again.

The Internet here isn't the speediest, and the navigation tabs on many websites show up in Arabic. I guess they figure if you're in Sudan you read Arabic, so it's a bit of a click and wait, click and wait, until you find the proper page. I'll get this posted so I can catch up on Monday and Tuesday since it is now Wednesday.

2010-11-16T03:30:00.000-08:00

Day Four--Duk Payuel

2010-11-16T02:34:00.001-08:00

It’s a beautiful morning in Duk Payuel. From my tent I see a cleaning woman bending to sweep the dirt near the dining hall with a broom made of local grasses. Just beyond the tent, Tom breaks up dirt mounds in his garden with a spade. He brought kale seeds to Duk. Now people are growing and eating it.

I’m working out a plan with Tom and Joh Deng about the best way to distribute the seeds contributed by Shotwell Floral in Fargo. They gave me 35 pounds of corn, beans, and many varieties of vegetables. We are at the tail end of a much-too-rainy season, so the new growing season begins in the spring. And more seeds would be welcomed.

This morning I dragged two duffle bags from the stifling container to the shade to sort panties by size for the distribution Sunday morning. This caused quite a stir on the compound. First one of the cleaning women came by and asked for some. I let her pick one out. Soon, other cleaners and cooks arrived. We settled on two pair each. My neat piles were disrupted as the women pawed through them like at a sidewalk sale, seeking the most desirable color and the closest size. Then Rebecca, the Sudanese midwife, put a stop to it because a patient stopped by, though they aren’t supposed to come into this part of the compound. Rebecca was afraid all the clinic patients would come. We decided to give this woman her panties, but Rebecca told her to keep mum.

Later that afternoon, Gideon, the son of 90-year-old Gideon, who I remembered well from our last visit, arrived to talk with Joh and me. Gideon works for IRD, International Relief Development. They built the school here and have done some construction for the clinic. Some of the construction has developed problems with cracking and shifting. Apparently the ratio of sand and concrete wasn’t ideal. This part of the world is challenging to build in even if you have all the correct materials.

Gideon and Joh are concerned about the situation of forced marriage for many girls in the village. Keeping girls in school longer helps prevent this. And educated families are less likely to marry their daughters off for a few cows. Gideon encouraged us to move forward with our project to help female orphans, and offered assistance and suggestions to help us achieve our goal.

Along with the school teachers, they will help to assess the situation, identify a target group of orphaned girls between the ages of 13 and 15 (those most at risk of forced marriage), who are also living with caretakers who neglect them. They believe that if we educate these girls through secondary school and encourage them to learn a trade or go for additional schooling, that they will become leaders of women in the area, and will be better parents to their own children. This type of change will help bring about change in the community as a whole. There has never been a boarding school for girls in Duk County, and there is no secondary school in the county, either. ASAH would set a standard here that could be adopted in other areas.

JDF (John Dau Foundation—the clinic) and IRD will work with the Duk Payuel Community Improvement Agency to assist us on the ground in reconfirming the land previously assigned to us. Gideon will arrange a meeting for me with the chiefs as a courtesy and to elicit their support. With the help of teaching staff, they will be cautious and selective in selecting the students and staff. We would need matrons to provide counseling and oversight of the girls, a pastor to act as principal, teachers, cooks, and cleaners. In addition we would need to fence the area and provide security guards, who could perform other duties as well. They advised the purchase of a 7-ton truck to transport materials and supplies as renting transportation greatly increases the cost of these items. With a truck, we would need a driver/mechanic. This individual could also provide other mechanical assistance for a generator, grinding mill, and so on. Currently, the only grinding mill in the village is a hand mill in use at the school. But it is a small mill, not suited for large-scale use. A fuel-operated mill could also provide ground grain at a charge to people in the village. The principal would control the use of the truck and also rent it out when it is not needed. Currently the only vehicle in the village is the JDF utility vehicle.

They advised that we begin with tukuls to house the girls and Gideon invited me to visit his tukul on Sunday to see the construction and comfort of such housing. This would be affordable, perhaps 500 Sudanese lbs—about $2000? I’m not sure of the exchange rate. The school could be a tin hut to begin with. We would need latrines and shower facilities, a kitchen, and clothes-washing area. And a fence. There is already a bore hold with clean (tested) water on site.

The girls would need uniforms. Joh recommended they be white, to teach them to care for white clothing—a terrific challenge in a place like this. ASAH will work together with Gideon and Joh to develop a budget for the facilities, for salaries, and supplies.

As I relate this, I may not be expressing the reality of the marginalized life here. There is not enough food. Many don’t have clothing. Education is respected, but some illiterate parents don’t understand the value for their children. There are few jobs. Some families care for cattle, but a small herd of a few cows isn’t sufficient to support their lives easily. They are aid dependent, but the groups working here are trying to help them move toward self-sufficiency over the longer term. The village is very peaceful now. I am safe walking around throughout—as long as I’m willing to walk through the water. On the outskirts of the village one evening, a villager spotted a lion! The water has kept them somewhat safer from the Muerle, an unfriendly, uncivilized neighboring tribe suffering from venereal diseases that have caused sterility for a great number of young men and women. Thus they kidnap children, and it isn’t safe for children to go outside the village.

Gideon and Joh stressed that their preeminent concern was for the safety of these girls in a school that offered protection and education and a chance for them to eventually improve the lives of others in the village. Much as we export educated young people from North Dakota, here, with few jobs, and the low pay of jobs like teaching, some educated members move on to greener pastures. Others, like Gideon and Joh and the others here working in the clinic, gave up more lucrative positions in Juba to return home and help their community develop.

This is Joseph Akol Makeer’s dream, and ASAH will work hard this winter to realize that dream for at least twenty-five orphaned girls. The key to success is efficiency, effectiveness, and close control over the operations. The school will follow the Kenyan curriculum, which allows for three month-long holidays—December, April and August. Those girls who have a safe situation with their extended family caretakers could return home during the holidays. Girls who don’t have an appropriate place to return would be cared for at the ASAH compound.

Gideon asked me to return in March. He will arrange meetings in Juba with the larger NGOs working in Sudan and suggested the IRD will dedicate 25% of their committee men to support us here on the ground. For money transfer, we need to establish a bank account in Juba, the capitol of Southern Sudan, at the Kenya Commercial Bank. The money can be transferred from the US and picked up in Bor, the capitol of Jonglei State, which is closer to the village than Juba.

The larger NGOs provide support for smaller NGOs. For example, we can ask World Food Program (WFP) for food supplies; UNICEF for school supplies (though currently IRD has sufficient supplies to get us started) and possibly furniture—beds, mattresses, etc.; seeds, from POA (?); UNHCR for sustainability of a generator; UNDP (?). Eventually, we could work with extension workers to start a garden at the school as well.

We would need beds, mattresses, sheets, a simple cabinet for the girls to store clothing and supplies, tables, chairs, bathing kits, a generator, and solar panels, a grinding mill, small tools, wheelbarrows, pangas (scythes), and building materials. Some items are needed immediately, some can be added as funds allow. The tukuls can be built of local materials, except for the corner posts and posts to support the thatch, which must be transported from Bor.

Tomorrow I will visit Gideon’s tukul.

Day Two in Duk Payuel

2010-11-14T11:29:00.001-08:00

Thursday, November, 11, 2010

It’s 11 am and already I’m sweating, my arms and legs glistening. Isn’t sweat supposed to cool? Perhaps, if there was a breeze.

For breakfast: hot milk with a little Nescafe and a granola bar from my food supply. I share with my roommate, children, and the staff when I have enough. I gave a bag of cranberries and walnuts for the cooks to add to some of our meals, but I suggested they taste them, which also brought out the midwives, and we may never see them again. Tom prides himself on his stoicism in the face of hardship, but he isn’t immune to the lure of variety to the limited diet here. Food supplies are low due to flooding—the supply plane was unable to land in October, and only essential supplies arrived in November.

After breakfast, Joh Deng and a young Sudanese helped me to carry the supplies to the school. Heavy stuff. We arrived at ten and met with the senior teacher. I unpacked a duffle bag full of markers, crayons, colored pencils, chalk, pencils, and legal pads. For the small library: some early reading books, a picture atlas, a stars and planets book, a puzzle of the world (each country is a puzzle piece), several copies of Joseph Akol Makeer’s book and a DVD of African Soul, American Heart. As I unpacked the big bags, it reminded me of my trip to Siberia with my husband and father to adopt our daughter, Svetlana. We lugged huge duffles full of supplies for the orphanage, but after we distributed everything amongst the caretakers for each of the seven family groups of 15, my dad remarked, “It seemed like a lot of stuff when we carried it in, but it doesn’t go very far for all these children.”

I met with the midwife, Caroline, who helped Joseph distribute the first load of panties and pads. We agreed to distribute them after church on Sunday. I figured I better count them to know how many we could allow for each girl.

First, I lugged all the bags of reusable menstrual pads from the container to my tent. into my tent. More than 600 pads. I don’t think my brain works that well in the heat, though. I lined them up in piles of five to make the task easier, counted one load, and repacked most of it before realizing I couldn’t remember the total.

Late in the afternoon, Peter, the senior teacher came back and talked with Joh and me about orphans. They agreed that we should focus on females. Joh recited a quote, though I don’t know who said it first—“When you educate a woman, you educate a family.” They believe helping girls will help the community, and they are anxious and willing to help ASAH do this. They see orphans as a future burden to the community or the country—without parental support and education, they may turn to crime, robbing, dealing drugs, or prostitution.

What prevents girls from going to school:

1. Some children have no clothing at all. Some may have clothing, but no soap to wash them and are embarrassed by their grimy or torn clothes.

2. Some don’t attend because they are kept busy all day fetching water, grinding grain, taking care of the younger children and babies. Some may come for a while, and then be kept home. After too many absences, they feel embarrassed to return.

3. Some families are so poor or so neglectful that the children may come to school, returning home after one only to find that there is no food left from lunch—their only meal of the day. After a few days of this, they stay home.

4. Some children in the village are disabled, blind, and deaf.

5. Girls are often forced to marry at puberty—twelve to fifteen years old. So they drop out. Or their fathers, who make these decisions, don’t think it’s necessary to educate them, since they will marry out of the family.

6. Many families are illiterate themselves and don’t see the value of education.

7. Some girls don’t attend because they are never free in the day—after four to six hours in school, they return home and work until bedtime. No time to read or study or play. Or they may be kept home on washing day.

After dinner, the clinic staff watched our documentary, African Soul, American Heart, in the dining hall. They were a rowdy audience—gesturing and exclaiming when they recognized people and places. The clinic guard, Geu, was there to see himself in the film. Before the war, he was a renowned wrestler in Southern Sudan. He’s the man with the pink shirt and the pipe in my photo exhibit. When the movie showed the old news footage of starving children, there were gasps and sighs. Some of the staff had been those starving children. They laughed when Joseph dipped a container into a hole full of water and commented that it looked dirty today because he was coming from America—one man said—it looked good then, just as Joseph commented, “But then it was like gold.” That brought a laugh.

Day One in Duk Payuel, Southern Sudan

2010-11-12T03:46:00.000-08:00

November 10, 2010

It’s about 6:30 pm in Duk Payuel, and I’m watching the sunset from my hammock on the veranda (concrete extended foundation) of the green canvas army tent I’m sharing with Tom Dannon, the 26-year-old Duk Lost Boys Clinic Executive Director. I could hear my husband shrugging his shoulders about it when I asked if he was okay with it. It was the only real option. Tom didn’t want to displace the only staff member who has her own tent. She’s a nutrition consultant from Kenya who is here through December. The clinic compound has been taken over by uninvited guests in the past and it causes a lot of stress, even when they are here to do good work. I intend to make myself as useful as possible, in addition to easing the financial burden by contributing to food costs and so on. The flooding has diminished food supplies, and Tom is trying to arrange for AIM Air to fly some in when they are coming this direction—soon.

I just took a shower, and I’m already sweating again. I was hoping to use a low wattage hair dryer while here to preserve the “do” but it won’t do me much good in this heat and humidity. The only positive thing for a vain woman like myself is there are absolutely no mirrors. I did bring a makeup mirror, but it only shows magnified portions of my face—I can’t get the full view, so I don’t know how bad I look and can’t see how my hair is responding.

Shortly after my arrival, the cook fed me some delicious spaghetti—cooked with some lovely carmelized onions. I was the only one eating, but the same meal was served for dinner. This time, Bibiera, the Kenyan woman was serving herself, and she offered to pour some tomato sauce on the spaghetti. Big mistake. It’s a giant plastic container of sauce they use like ketchup. It’s always on the table and it’s NOT Ragu.

So how did I get here?

I arrived at Wilson airport in Nairobi at the terminal used by little airlines like AIM Air. AIM stands for Africa Inland Missions. They are costly compared to commercial flights, but they fly places commercial airlines don’t go. There are some competitors—who may be more or less expensive, but a bit less safety conscious, perhaps. A lot of rogue pilots. AIM’s pilots are all volunteers—they raise the money to pay their own salaries—so the cost of the flight is the equipment and fuel, not the pilot. The pilot prays with the passengers before takeoff.

At the terminal, I went through customs—a tiny room with a window. I passed my passport through the window to a woman. Behind her a man in a business suit slept in his chair, his arms folded across his wide chest. Most of my cargo had already gone through security—so I only had two bags to put through the screener. Outside I waited with two small groups of Americans, each flying to different locations in Sudan on missions of one sort or another. A group of four flew with me in the caravan—an eight-seater that accommodated my 400 kg and their cargo as well. Good conversation and learned a few things that might be useful for our work in Duk. The Moringa plant--also called Olipheri--native to Southern Sudan (but not grown purposely many places). Highly nutritious fruit (or nut), leaves make tea that is anti-bacterial--the roots and bark have other healthful properties.

They dropped me and my cargo in Lokichoggio, and then the new pilot and airline folks performed a miracle—they said they do it every day—fitting my load into a tiny two-seater like puzzle pieces. I don’t know the type of aircraft—I’m sure Ron Saeger, our board member/pilot knows. This is the type of plane where you wear headphones so the pilot can talk to you and you can avoid the noise. The air vents are little tubes that bring the outside air inside. We had a lively conversation about mission air service and the politics and development issues in Southern Sudan. If you talk to lots of people and read lots of articles about Southern Sudan—you’ll find lots of differing opinions, little consensus. The reality is no one really knows what will happening after the referendum.

Aside: I was cocooned inside the mosquito net in this hammock but it became remarkably stuffy. So I opened it up—cool air, not many mosquitos yet—but the tsetse flies are nasty biters. They don’t carry sleeping sickness, here, so that’s a plus. Tom advised me later to lay diagonally—better air circulation.

I should have asked pilot Jerry to fly me around the village so I could more fully appreciate the flood effect. I’m kicking myself because he offered just as we approached the airstrip, and I thought I was imposing. Once on the ground, it isn’t as easy to access. It’s wet--really wet--or it’s dry.

The airstrip was diked with sandbags and mud. After each rain villagers bail it out! But the end of the runway was really muddy and I felt the plane slide—I thought he might get bogged down in the mud and THAT would be a problem. Oh—BTW—Jerry has a year of flight experience. He grew up in a missionary family, as did his wife. He used to be an engineer and gave it up for this. He is also an airplane mechanic.

It was a good thing I brought yellow rain boots. The walk to the village is about a half a mile. When we were here in 2007, the walk was nice and dry. Today the entire path was flooded—from ankle to knee deep. My mid-calf high boots were under water much of the time, so my feet sloshed around inside. But they protected me from stepping on the plum-sized snails and other unknowns in the murky water. In front, in back, and alongside me, walked barefoot children and adults. Villagers and clinic staff carried my cargo through the water to the clinic compound on their heads and backs.

THE EVENING

I had a shower before dinner. They have a couple of them—concrete floors, gravel-like—enough room to hang your clothes on a nail, and a shower head attached to the ceiling. It’s only cold water, but it doesn’t feel so bad since the air is so hot. I started to sweat again as soon as I toweled off.

After dinner the clinic gang gathered in the dining hall to watch a movie. The dining hall was built after our 2007 visit--but the cooks still cook outside. The movie was"Jonah Hex' with Josh Brolin—I don’t think it’s one of his better films. There was a tame sex scene that got the mostly male audience roaring. I can remember as a kid that television programs showed married couples sleeping in twin beds. Things have certainly changed—but this crowd hasn’t had much exposure to television, let alone the subject matter that’s common in America today. Tom Dannon tells me the staff really loves American Westerns--the cattle rustling and gun "play" are familiar.

I went to sleep about ten and slept well until about 3:30. I haven’t adjusted to the time change—nine hours later than Fargo. I got up to use the latrine—thank goodness for the headlamp I brought along. There are a few latrines, but the one I’m using has a combination lock. It’s a pit flusher. You carry a jug of water in with you to flush it. It works pretty slick, but the old knees aren’t happy squatting.

Starting about 4 am there were babies crying in nearby tents. People talking. There were some groups walking in the pitch dark with flashlights, sloshing through deep water nearby. I later learned some of these are the cooks who come to work at that time! Sometimes it's patients. There is no way to get to the clinic without walking through deep water.

My tent is on the outer side of the compound—only a few feet from the mud dike. The sun rises on my side of the tent, the silhouetted trees reflecting in the still flood waters, the gorgeous colors bursting into the sky.

For breakfast there were several thermoses. Of what? I asked the female staff person (I don’t know her name) if it was tea. She said no. I asked what it was. She said a Sudanese word I didn’t recognize. I poured it into my cup. It was warm milk. Very tasty. As I was leaving the dining room, the cook came in with a box of tiny square biscuits. I took two. Literally the worst biscuits I have ever eaten. Like soggy animal crackers but not as sweet. Tom later told me he hasn’t really figured out the morning routine. Sometimes there are tea bags and a strainer—you pour the milk through it. Sometimes the Nescafe. And he’s lived here for months!

I’ve been asked to take the staff photo for their Christmas card. The photos they took before apparently weren’t acceptable to the graphic design person. So I have parameters to follow. I’m not really THAT KIND OF photographer—but thank goodness Norm made me take a tripod.

This is Africa.

Day 2 Nairobi—Long and slightly off-topic

2010-11-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

I’d like to say I had a great night’s sleep after catnapping on the flight from Amsterdam to Nairobi. Even if I’d been sleepy at the half point of the eight-hour flight, I would’ve been kept awake by two phenomena. First, numerous humorous Dutch men gathered near the exit row across from the aft restrooms just behind me. They were told they must sit if they were drinking alcohol. So then they gulped them down and kept talking. Loud.

Though I was able to ignore this, engrossed as I was in my Kindle version of The Curious Case of the Dog in the Nighttime was the (we later learned) drug-addled, young man who growled in a voice so low and loud I would have guessed he was old, old, old, and very very crazy. His voice was one of loud desperation, calling “Heeeelllp me, heeeelllp me, spurring various doctors at various times to offer their services. He got help in the form of handcuffs and ankle bracelets, which caused a little wrestling (heard not seen by me) and resulted in a move behind closed galley curtains. There, a few rows in front of my row, his pleas grew in intensity, his help me’s punctuated by Mama—which stirred my own instincts as though I could offer assistance, which I didn’t. He also used called other less-universal names, but they didn’t help either, and then he started up with some pretty outrageous obscenities. This continued about every ten minutes for approximately three hours. In truth, it was not nearly as tough as sitting through an airplane crying baby episode primarily due to the novelty. I imagine that would wear off if I experienced such things frequently on flights—Oh no, not another wolf-crying druggie sitting behind me, kicking the seat. One bonus about this ride—there wasn’t a single moment of air turbulence when we were asked to return to our seats and put our seat belts on. I believe officers were waiting for the turbulent passenger on landing.

This blog seems overly-long and not humanitarian-aid oriented. I’ll try to shorten it up from here. And I did feel sorry for him.

I was worried about customs—how to physically get my eight bags from baggage claim through customs without a problem. I envisioned my two arms, one with a rotator-cuff impinged shoulder, and fine-tooth combs examining a thousand pair of undies. But a young porter named Kevin helped me get all the bags onto carts and the two of us wheeled our way through the masses to customs, where I handed my sheet which declared 35 lbs of seeds destined for Sudan among other things. The official didn’t look at the sheet, said, “Anything to declare?” while shaking his head. I shook mine, and he waved me through.

Pacing back and forth in front of the lineup of drivers with little signs—one read “James Bond,” but none said “Deb Dawson, ” I started to worry a little because I didn’t have a phone. I was thinking of asking Kevin if he had one, when I spotted a guy with a Fairview Hotel sign. I signaled. Turns out he wasn’t there for me, but had been waiting for a guy for two hours who hadn’t seen him and took a cab to the hotel. Francis was hanging around in case, by chance, someone wanted to go to Fairview. Lucky me that I stayed at the Country Lodge and ate at the Fairview a few steps away and owned by the same folks: the Fairview is the elegant elder aunt to the upstart boutique nephew, the misleadingly-named Country Lodge. No lion heads, no brass and wood—it’s all chrome and white and down. It’s the setting that gives them their names—an oasis in the midst of the city.

This morning, Carol Wamuyu appeared after six-hour night bus ride from Kisumu to spend the day helping me get ASAH business done in Kenya. She was a nurse at the JDF clinic in Duk Payuel when we were there in 2007 and is now working in the slums of Kisumu. The whole clinic crew lives in the slums as well, thus experiencing the full reality of their patient’s lives. She is continuing the humanitarian work she was doing in Duk Payuel in her country of Kenya. When I posted on Facebook that I was preparing to go to Sudan—Carol thought—I bet she’ll be in Nairobi—and arranged to come see me and help me out.

Our driver, Patrick, filled his vehicle with bags to be taken to AIM Air to be weighed and taken through customs early so as to speed our departure tomorrow.

We spent the entire day in the car, dodging pedestrians, boldly forging our way between vehicles or yielding to those more forceful than we. I asked Patrick if a lot of pedestrians got hit. He said, “No, we know they are there.”

First, we made a stop at a hard-to-locate business Ron found on the Internet—but couldn’t find on his last visit. The address describes itself as “Besides the fly over bridge.” A more accurate descriptor would be “below.” A fly over bridge is a pedestrian bridge over the highway. We were looking for treadle (manual) sewing machines. Apparently this company doesn’t keep its website up-to-date—though they do have grinding mills—all sizes and shapes. Fortunately Patrick had purchased a machine at SINGER and knew where that shop was. Still, it took several hours to complete the transaction. Deciding on the machine—should we go with the one with the sturdy table or the rickety one—we chose sturdy. And decided to get three. Which meant all of them had to be opened and assembled to make sure they work, then disassembled and repacked.

While this was happening, we went to a money exchange—got 80 Kenyan shillings to a dollar—a good rate—but the 20 $100 bills I exchanged for 1000 shilling notes resulted in a three-inch-stack. Don’t worry—I didn’t spend it all on machines—the three machines with tables, spare parts, accessories, extra oil, and so on cost about $800 total. They gave me a teeny tiny discount for buying three—I didn’t have time to negotiate as AIM wanted them by one. We loaded them up and got them there by two but had to return to Singer for the bobbins and bobbin cases that they had assured us they had in stock, but when we arrived to pick up, admitted they didn’t. If they didn’t have it, and they couldn’t get it, probably nobody could so came back. On each visit, we were the only customers in the tiny shop, though there were more than a half a dozen people working on our order—the sales girl, her manager, two finance ladies, and three or four guys who schlepped the equipment in and out of boxes. At each juncture and decision point and delay, they urged Miriam and me to sit on the two available chairs they moved in place depending on where we were in the process. There was also the unseen manager who approved the tiny discount. I wish I was a better haggler. I bet if board member Ron Saeger had been with me we would have gotten a hell of a deal.

Carol brought me to another spot for more thread. Turns out she’s working with a group of girls in the slums, and hygiene is one of the primary areas they are teaching. I dug a sack full of pads and some of the precut, unsewn pads and liners and gave them to her along with some thread and needles to get her going. Talk about paying it forward Bismarck and Fargo ladies!!

She helped me put some credit on the phone Jeremy Groce, our Kenya/Sudan work-experienced board member gave me to use on the trip. He recommended Safaricom, but she got it through Zane because you can call nation from Kenya for three KES per minute—about four cents and she says they’re cheaper for other calls, too. Jeremy Groce texted me and I texted back—no problem. And then I called my husband and he said—how does that work? All I have to dial is a + sign and 1 and Area Code and number.

Enough said. 8:30 am flight to Loki with Jon Hildebrandt, the AIM pilot we met at Mayfield Guest House, a mission hotel. He didn’t fly us, but he did tell us about Country Lodge since Mayfield was closed near Christmas and unavailable. And introduced me to Jean Wood in Colorado, working with two Boulder Lost Boys from Duk Payuel who will be adding on to the school there in February.

Yay Delta!

2010-11-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

Posting this from the Amsterdam airport at 7:01 am on the 8th--just after midnight for Fargo folks. I wanted to give KUDOS to Delta for the wonderful woman who checked eight bags through to Nairobi. Travelers are allowed 2 bags free and 3-10 bags at $200 each. An additional $175 for bags over 50 lbs. I showed her our ASAH certificate of registration as an NGO with the Government of Southern Sudan and she checked in all bags for free. She put HEAVY tags on the heavy bags. We weighed them on Norm's office scale--not exactly a digital scale--and obviously not entirely accurate. I leave for Nairobi in a few hours. AIM Air (African Inland Missions) and I have been communicating for weeks--the communication has been slow and frustration--turns out much of my mail has gone to their SPAM--but not all--so they want me to Reply All even when only one person has written to me--finance, or scheduling, or freight!!! They're getting me a GOSS visa--and asked me to send photos--which I dutifully got at the post office--and scanned. NOT okay. They want digitals! I didn't bring my hard drive with all my photos--but I had my facebook photos in jpgs on my desktop--hope one of those will work. TIA. This is Africa. But somehow it always works out.

Deb Dawson traveling to Duk Payuel

2010-11-02T17:36:00.001-07:00

Deb Dawson, ASAH Founding President and current treasurer, is heading to Duk Payuel on Nov. 7th. She will be in the village for a few weeks, collecting stories, taking photos, and re-establishing ASAH's connections with the village. Watch for updates here.

Small but successful project in Bor, southern Sudan

2009-10-06T19:10:00.000-07:00

The Davis Peace Award allowed an undergraduate from Clarkson, and a Sudanese refugee in the US, to renovate a school room in Bor county over the summer of 2009. The report alludes to the high cost of doing work in southern Sudan, but it does not give dollar figures.

Presentation Video

2009-09-24T07:20:00.000-07:00

I am presenting about ASAH today and plan to show this video before I show our documentary.

Presentation Map

2009-09-24T07:08:00.000-07:00

I am talking about and showing African Soul, American Heart today, and want to share this map with the audience.

View Refugee Journeys in a larger map

New South Sudan Video

2009-09-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

Matt Dillon filmed and directed this short piece about the current crisis in southern Sudan.

ASAH coming to Wahpeton

2009-04-21T19:44:00.001-07:00

The Wahpeton Daily News did a nice job covering Joseph's visit this Wednesday, April 22. The reporter did a great job of talking to our host, Sybil Priebe, about why ASAh is relevant to Wahpeton and their college, North Dakota State College of Science.

The "uneasy peace" gets all the press.

2009-04-18T07:06:00.001-07:00

NPR ran a long story this morning about some North-South fighting in Malakal, a border town. The fighting was in February, which be an illustration of how slow the news moves coming out of Sudan.

When Joseph presents, we often get this question--will the peace hold? A good, legitimate question. I just wish the press would also cover the work of all the NGOs and southern Sudanese trying to build peace, trying to build an infrastructure that would stabilize the country enough so that its people wouldn't feel like going to war is their only or best option.

Newspaper coverage of recent speaking events

2009-04-09T14:44:00.001-07:00

The Clinton Herald ran a nice story before we spoke in that eastern Iowa city.

The University of Iowa's Daily Iowan ran a story and included some video of Joseph explaining John Garang's Iowa-Sudan connection.

Cedar Rapids Appearances

2009-04-02T07:05:00.001-07:00

Our Cedar Rapids appearances are nicely described on the CR Gazette's website. Ellen Fisher has done an amazing job of putting together our CR tour--thanks Ellen!

The Road to Duk Payuel

2009-03-21T20:46:00.001-07:00

Joseph sent the following message to our Board of Directors. The news is great, and the quotation is so wonderful from the elder I had to share it with the world. I did ask for Joseph's permission first.

Team,
I just spoke to people at Duk. They are very happy that Philip Thon, Minister for roads and transportation has developed the road from Poktap to Duk. It is only 8 minutes to ride the car from Poktap to Duk and it was one hour by car the time I came with Kevin, Matt, Deb. The road development is proceeding to North Sudan which might give us chance of buying building Material from Malakal(Town).

Internet, good road among others attracted several NGOS to Duk. International Rescue Service(IRS) began to establish their compound at Duk. Many will follow them.

John Dau Library just arrived at Duk. The books were shifted in container from America to Duk, very exciting.

One old man I spoke to said "It is not a development but Mircles because our village never seen such things since the creation." He went on, on, on, and on thanking American people, and lastly he said Bin Laden is a pig who wanted to kill Americans who love the whole world.

Thanks,
Joseph

ASAH Updates

2009-03-12T18:37:00.001-07:00

I've been too busy to keep up to date with ASAH happenings and future events, but here is a quick run-down.

The DVD of ASAH is now available for purchase from our website, Amazon, and probably a few other locations. Great bonus features, especially a collection of Deb Dawson's stunning photos set to a beautiful original composition.

ASAH was invited to screen at the Fargo Film Festival Wed. March 4th. We don't get to play the movie on the really big screen often; it looked great, we had a nice crowd, and got good questions. If only we would remember to take photos!

The film was just accepted into the Cedar Rapids Independent Film Festival, and will screen either Friday night or sometime Saturday, April 4. I knew those 4 years at Iowa State would pay off some day.

We hope the film will screen on the 4th, because that will give Joseph and I a chance to get there. We have a wild 9 days of presentations lined up, stretching from March 31 to April 7. We have 3 screenings in Mankato planned before heading down for 4 screenings in Cedar Rapids, one in Iowa City, and two in Clinton Iowa.

International Relief and Development and John Dau

2009-02-28T10:17:00.000-08:00

ASAH's good friend John Dau signed an agreement with the International Relief and Development organization yesterday that should keep the Duk Payuel Lost Boy Clinic funded and operational for another year and half. The clinic has added cold storage so they can do vaccinations; they are distributing 14,000 mosquito nets to try and prevent malaria, and they are undertaking a massive de-worming campaign.

The building itself has added solar panels and a wind turbine, which should help all of us trying to build in Duk Payuel.

My Sister's Keeper: School Built!

2009-01-31T20:52:00.001-08:00

The organization, My Sister's Keeper, reports on the successful completion of the 900 student school in Akon, southern Sudan. Looks like it was a 3 year project with many, many challenges.

Joseph on tour

2009-01-29T18:12:00.001-08:00

Joseph had 3 presentations in 5 days in the middle of January: at Riverside Place in Fargo on January 14, at Carberry United Church of Canada in Carberry Manitoba, Jan. 18th, and Westworth United Church in Winnipeg on January 19th. All three events were well attended and well received, but the Carberry event was one of the most successful fundraisers we have run, and Joseph's presentation got a tremendous write up in the Carberry New Express.

Library Project Money Bomb!

2008-12-05T13:10:00.001-08:00

A Library Project for Southern Sudan is dropping a money bomb on Dec. 14; please visit their site and donate what you can. But first, check out their video.

Lost Boy visits Minneapolis Area

2008-12-03T20:05:00.000-08:00

The MPLS Star Tribune just ran a story about Benjamin Ajak visiting North Lake Academy in Forest Lake, MN. Benjamin is a co-author of They Poured Fire on Us From the Sky; looks like the visit made quite an impact on the students.

Trip of a Life Time essay available.

2008-11-30T21:24:00.001-08:00

I published a personal essay, "A Trip of a Life Time Doesn't Need to Come to an End," in the NDSU Magazine. The hard copy has many great pictures, not just the one at the top of the page.

Here are the first two paragraphs:

When I told friends and family members I was going to southern Sudan as part of a documentary film crew and humanitarian aid project, many asked me in different ways, "Do you think this trip will change your life?" I always answered with confidence, "no." I was just hoping to survive the trip without getting sick, shot at, killed in a plane crash, or stranded in a remote Sudanese village. I was pretty sure the trip would be memorable, a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, but not life changing.

Of course I was wrong.

A little press coverage for the premiere of ASAH

2008-11-10T06:49:00.000-08:00

The premiere of our documentary, African Soul, American Heart, got some nice press attention from the Fargo Forum and it got television coverage from all the local stations, although I have only been able to find one story online so far.

WDAY: They call their story: Donations sent to Sudan.

African Soul, American Heart Premiered!

2008-11-09T20:43:00.003-08:00

I should have been much more active blogging the lead up to our documentary film premiere, but I can at least report on a very successful day. We had over 300 people attend 2 showings; we had great questions from our audience, and lots of interest in our project.

More photos on Flickr. More news to follow.

60 Minutes story on Mozambique

2008-10-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

60 Minutes ran a story about the redevelopment of a national park in Mozambique, as well as village development in the area, all funded by an American entrepreneur. Great story!

Watch CBS Videos Online

Jef's full journal of Sudan Trip

2008-10-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

Jef Foss, ASAH Architect, has written up his experiences in Africa, from Kampala to Duk Payuel and back again. Great mix of narrative and photos; thanks Jef!

Documentaries from Sudan

2008-10-17T13:31:00.001-07:00

The return of Sudanese refugees since 2005 has resulted in many documentaries, some released, some in progress. This one, called "Long Walk Home," seems to follow three Lost Boys as they return home and rebuild schools through the New Sudan Education Initiative.

Joseph's speaking schedule

2008-10-08T19:19:00.001-07:00

Joseph Akol Makeer is available to speak to schools, church groups, service groups, house parties and really anybody who will listen to his story. Please contact me, Kevin Brooks (speaking@africansoulamericanheart.org) if you'd like to arrange for Joseph to speak to your group.

Upcoming Presentations

Friday Nov. 14, Carl Ben Eilson Middle School, Fargo.
Two screenings of ASAH, 9:00 a.m and 10:30 am.

Tuesday Jan. 20, 2009
O'Kelly's on Main, Fargo. 12:00 noon.

Monday Feb. 2nd, 2009.
Fargo Rotary Club West, noon. Holiday Inn, Fargo.

Sunday February 8, 2009.
Communiversity, Fargo ND. Location TBA.

Past presentations.

Wednesday Nov. 12
2 pm, Waterford Homes, Fargo.

Sunday Nov.9
Premiere of African Soul, American Heart, Fargo Theatre, Fargo.
Screenings at 1 pm and 7 pm.

Thursday Nov. 6, Fargo Rotary Club, Seasons Restaurant, Rose Creek.

Thursday Oct. 23, 2008.
The Refugee Experience, NDSU.
Powerful "simulation" as students got a small sense of the lives Joseph and other refugees have lived.

Tuesday Oct. 21.
9 and 10 am, Carl Ben Junior High, Fargo. Two six grade classes.
Great reception; Joseph's second presentation at Carl Ben--he will become a regular presenter there!

Jef Foss's Trip Journal

2008-10-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

Joseph and two ASAH Board Members, Jef Foss and Ron Saeger, have been to Kampala, Juba, Duk Payuel, and back to Kampala. Jef was able to start a blog and maintain it early in the trip; I'm sure he will update it further when he gets a chance. He took great notes from the conference the three of them attended:

http://drop.io/AppaSudan

Urbanization in the New Sudan

2008-10-05T06:11:00.000-07:00

Alex de Waal's post gives a rich history of the concept of "New Sudan," but he goes on to say that the real New Sudan is one of urbanization--75% of the population by 2015.

This trend makes the ASAH project even more relevant. We are trying to build a boarding school in very rural southern Sudan, but just as the small towns of North Dakota suffer from depopulation, the village of Duk Payuel may suffer from depopulation if services are not established in the next few years. The Duk Lost Boy Clinic provides one anchor for the village; our school, and a primary school, can provide another anchor. Without educational opportunities, health care, and other infrastructure, of course the rural Sudanese will be part of the global pattern of urban migration.

The significantly untapped industry in the region is probably agriculture, and for the for-seeable future, that agriculture will be labor intensive, giving the villagers potential income and opportunity. My view is optimistic, of course. The largest center if the region, Bor, is reported to have grown from 7,000 to 70,000 in about a year.

Picture an End to Global Poverty

2008-09-27T19:08:00.000-07:00

The Jubilee Network is running a campaign called "Picture an End to Global Poverty." The idea is write a sign that says "Picture an end to global proverty, cancel debt, provide more and better aid" and then take a picture of yourself, your friends, your family, your class, etc. with that sign, send it in to the website, and the network will add it to their photo stream.

ASAH's good friend John Dau is in one of the photos with his book God Grew Tired of Us.

Building Schools in Southern Sudan

2008-09-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

This story highlights the efforts to build schools and tremendous need for schools in southern Sudan. We just need to learn more about how they actually built these structures.

Salva Dut, Water for Sudan

2008-09-23T20:56:00.000-07:00

One of the many exceptional people I met in Rochester at the first meeting of the Hope of Sudan Alliance was Salva Dut, founder of Water for Sudan. A bit of his story gets told in the documentary Faces of Sudan, but a Rochester film maker has completed a documentary called "Just Add Water."

The production company's website has lots of great information, as does Salva's website, Water for Sudan.

Hope of Sudan Alliance

2008-09-21T21:45:00.000-07:00

I was in Rochester New York for the weekend (Sept. 20-21) attending the first meeting of what is now an Alliance of Sudanese Foundations. The group is tentatively called "Hope of Sudan: Alliance of International Sudanese Foundations." The local news wrote up and filmed a good story.

More on this weekend later. The building committee is also heading to Sudan tomorrow morning; I'll post photos and/or give updates when I can.

Joseph back on the speaking circuit

2008-09-14T21:03:00.001-07:00

Joseph made his first presentation of the fall at Fargo-Moorhead's Unitarian Universalist Church. Joseph made his first real public presentation at this church one year ago. He has accomplished a lot in 12 months. Last year, he struggled to get through the presentation, unprepared for the emotional strain of telling about his life in Sudan. This year, he spoke with confidence and humor, passion when appropriate.

In those twelve months, he has made numerous presentations, traveled to Sudan, graduated from NDSU, published a book, been featured in a documentary (in progress), continued to be a guardian to his younger siblings and parent to his children. This year should be similarly busy: he is going back to Sudan with two board members, the documentary will premier November 9, he will have many speaking engagements, he will be busy fund raising, and with any luck, we will break ground on a boarding school in his village.

Rough cut audio done!

2008-09-09T08:56:00.001-07:00

Matt M (also known as nightmare) shared a rough cut of the documentary with the rest of the team. He pulled out interviews and Joseph's narration from our 30 hours of footage. I had forgotten how articulate the Director at Kakuma was, and the Duk County commission got really impassioned as he spoke about the challenges facing orphans in Duk County, Sudan.

The doc still needs lots of work, but Matt has done a great job logging all the footage and taking this first big step towards pullig things together.

African Soul, American Heart

The Perfect Storm

Welded

The Blind

Invited

Undies--Big and Small

Slaughtering the Calf

Harsh Light, Blue Shadows

Portage

Feast

Sacrificial goats

Let There Be Light

Let There Be Water

Achol

Shivering

Reunion

Traveling on AIM Air

Kenya--November 26-November 30

In Nairobi with our Kenya Kids

Get Your Panties in a Bunch--Bismarck ND

Easy link to our Facebook page.

The African Home that American Hearts Built

MSUM AlumNews Article on Deb and ASAH

We've hired a Program Director

The Republic of South Sudan is officially an independent nation

Day Three with ASAH Girls

Day Two with ASAH Girls

Happy Belated 4th, Happy Birthday Vika!

Sun, Rain, Airplanes and Orphans

This is what you shall do--Whitman

Site Progress

MAF and UNMIS airlift the wounded men.

UNMIS lands

Gunshot Victims and Helicopters

The School, Thunder and Lightning

Laundry and Church

Building Challenges

Our First Rain

Site Progress

Staking the Tent

Arrival in Duk

Kenya, Kiberra Slum Orphan school, Rift Valley

Kenya Procurement June 16 through June 19

Fellow Blogger Angie Caruso blogged about ASAH

Rasmussen College Raises Funds for ASAH

Forum on Oprah--Deb Dawson mentioned.

Last Day in Duk

Long Winter--a poem by Tim Nolan

External Hard Drive Dies--March 31

Clearing the Land

Juba and Bor, Southern Sudan

2011 Travel to Southern Sudan

ARRIVAL in the US December 15

Day 13 in Duk Payuel

Day 12 in Duk Payuel

Referendum--Season of Prayer with the People of Sudan

Why?

What Can You Do?

DAY NINE in Duk Payuel

Day Eight in Duy Payuel—Art Classes and John Dau’s moms

Day Seven in Duk Payuel—The Baby Antelope

School Year Is Over For Our Students

Helping with panties projects

Day Six in Duk Payuel

Introduction to our Kenya boarding school students

DAY FIVE IN DUK PAYUEL

Day Four--Duk Payuel

Day Two in Duk Payuel

Day One in Duk Payuel, Southern Sudan

Day 2 Nairobi—Long and slightly off-topic

Yay Delta!

Deb Dawson traveling to Duk Payuel

Small but successful project in Bor, southern Sudan

Presentation Video

Presentation Map

New South Sudan Video

ASAH coming to Wahpeton

The "uneasy peace" gets all the press.

Newspaper coverage of recent speaking events

Cedar Rapids Appearances