Restless

About four each morning mid-way through my three weeks in Duk Payuel, South Sudan, I woke, restless, thinking about all I still hoped to do with the ASAH girls and staff before I left. It doesn't seem to matter how many days or weeks I've been there, I feel that there was more I could have done, investigated, learned, experienced. No matter the monotony of the diet, the insufferable heat, the mosquitos, porcupines, or bats, the time flies.

Perhaps because I'm a Libra, I'm torn between introversion and extroversion. Wishing for more time to sit or play with or teach our girls, to interact with staff, to chat with friends at the clinic or wander through the village, yet longing for the solitude to reflect, to write, to process photos, to plan, to figure expenses, prepare job descriptions, and work on policies and procedures, manage logistics, and to regroup.

Evenings, after the girls are ready for bed, I sometimes approach their tukuls - named Fargo and New York, and ask, "Girls, may I come in?" When they want to visit me, they say, "Mommy, may I come in?" When we first began, they simply barged in. Now they have learned manners. I would bring my laptop and play slideshows of the photos I'd taken over previous few days. Pictures of them leaping for the ball or falling while playing volleyball or netball elicited chortles, even when they'd watched it through several times.

The day before I left I initiated an informal game of catch, sashaying toward one girl or turning toward another, leaping to catch them as they dashed away--or made a show of dashing away. Most of them like the contact

Now I've been home for ten days, and I won't visit again until January 2013. This will be my longest absence since 2010--I've been visiting every three or four months since then--but this is a critical juncture in our development. More on that tomorrow!

Will the Dog have Kittens for Lunch?

Did that get your attention? A recent blog on nonprofits related that animal shelters and the like have tremendous social networking success and a resulting increase in donations. There is something about the big eyes of a cute baby animal. . . .

In the evening, I often visit New York or Fargo (our two dorm tukuls) and share slideshows of the photos I've taken here with the girls. When I ran out of photos, I searched my hard drive and found a few saved videos and photo PowerPoints.

The first was of a pregnant shelter dog whose pups were adopted out. she was left bereft about the same time a litter of motherless kittens arrived.The news piece was captioned: Will this Dog have Kittens for Lunch? You get the idea. Just as it would delight you to see this lab pull a kitten out of the water dish it had fallen into, carry it to the dog bed and lick it, then curl up to feed the purring group, the ASAH girls were also delighted with the video.

I'd like you to shift your thoughts from the helpless kittens and their adoptive doggy mom to our girls here, who are also orphans, and the new girls from Patuenoi, a neighboring village, who will join them in July.

They all have stories that would bring tears to your eyes. They have all experienced serious malnutrition. One girl survived when her family was murdered by another tribe. Some lost a parent to war, disease, snakebite, or childbirth. Most orphan girls no say over when or who they marry. A girl might be sold off as a second or third or fourth wife of a man decades her senior in exchange for cattle dowry. The ASAH girls are looking forward to a future of education and marriage of their choice. They will be in a position to change things for their children.

Last week one of our girls, Daruka Ayen, lost her uncle - her guardian, the only fully adult family member. She has a younger brother, and she has an older brother and older sister. Daruka Ayen will be the hope for her family in the future.

Please consider helping these lovely girls with their big eyes, minus the whiskers and floppy ears. ASAH provides all their food, clothing, supplies, educational materials, bed, and bedding, and dedicated teachers, and a matron to look out for them on our secure site.

We need sponsors for the new girls You can find out more on our website, or email us for for information. Or call me when I return to the US after July 4.

Not All Palm Trees Produce Coconuts

March 4

Our site is difficult to see from the air because of the many trees, which provide shade and beautify our compound. I don't know the names of most of them in English, but some are banyon-type trees. Banyons spread by producing long tendrils from branches that root into the ground creating a network of many trees that are all connected. We have tiny-leafed shade trees that produce a mess of leaves swept daily by the cleaners at the compound, we have broad-leafed trees, and we have a number of palm trees. When we acquired the site in November 2012, I was pleased to see coconuts nested in the palm leaves and had looked forward to being here when the coconuts were ready to eat. When the ASAH girls produced one, I was game to try it, but I've seen coconuts with the husk on—the thick covering before the dark brown "wood" we're accustomed to seeing in the grocery store—and this looked nothing like what I expected.

Up close and peeled, this huge fruit was yellow-brown. No white coconut meat inside. I had a taste and was put off by the stringy texture and the taste. I can't now remember to report on it, only that it wasn't pleasant enough to request a second bite. Josh from the clinic told me these are palm nuts and they produce oil, but I haven't been able to find anything on the Internet that matches what I saw.

Traveling on AIM Air

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.

MAF and UNMIS airlift the wounded men.

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

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

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.

Our First Rain

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.

Arrival in Duk

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.