We now had a user name which makes it easier for you to find us on Facebook.
http://www.facebook.com/ASAHSudan
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
The African Home that American Hearts Built
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. 
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
We've hired a Program Director
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 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
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.
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.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Day Three with ASAH Girls
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.
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.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Day Two with ASAH Girls
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.
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.
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