Leaving Nasir

It was Monday afternoon, December 16^th. Laura and I made our way into town to grab a few things from the market before going to the airstrip to meet the plane that was coming to take us back to Kampala for our first Kampala Assignment. The plane carried a man from an organization that builds radio studios. He was coming to survey our current radio building in hopes of expanding it in the future. We had planned for him and the pilot to stay the night before we all flew out early the next day. We made a few purchases and walked the rest of the way through town toward the airstrip. 

After passing the commissioner’s office and the education building, we saw a small crowd of people standing under a tree near the Nasir milk bar and livestock auction pin. We wondered what was going on; as we approached, we realized that one of the street evangelists preaching. He has been known to talk a lot, so Laura and I hoped to sneak by without him noticing us. Unfortunately, walking by unnoticed somewhere in Nasir is just about impossible (as there are probably less than 20 non-African people in the town). He called out to us, beckoning us to come join the crowd listening to him. We kindly informed him that we were on the way to the airstrip to meet a plane. As we walked away, he shouted to us that there was war in Juba. This was the first news of war that we had received. We just wrote it off thinking he was making it up or that it was some small skirmish since we hadn’t heard anything until then.

When we got to the airstrip, we met up with Jared and Blaise and waited for the plane. Immediately after the plane landed and the pilot and passenger disembarked, a few airstrip security guards raced out onto the airstrip. They began to question the men, as to who they were and why they had landed. We soon learned that there really was fighting in Juba, and the airspace over South Sudan had been closed. I began to worry that we wouldn’t be able to fly out the next day.

The rest of the day was a blur as we all hustled to get everything prepared to leave. Early Tuesday morning, we said our see-you-laters to our friends and compound workers and made our way to the airstrip. Soon, our wheels went up; we were on our way. Originally, we had planned to refuel in Juba. Luckily, Bor had fuel, so we went there to refuel instead. As we landed in Bor, a few South Sudanese men along with a UN officer came to meet the plane. They were slightly more cautious than usual as we disembarked the plane, checking all of our paper work and asking questions. As we waited for the plane to get refueled, I realized that there really was no one else flying; the airport was pretty empty. Just as we were getting ready to board the plane, a vehicle drove up and two Americans got out. It was a man and woman, asking if there were any available seats on our plane. They were scheduled to leave a few days later for the holidays, but with the current situation, if they didn’t get out with us, they were uncertain of when the next flight would be. Luckily, we had two extra seats. Soon, we discovered they were from Texas AND they were Aggies!! They both worked for A&M’s Borlaug Institute, stationed in Bor teaching classes at the University. It turns out that they also knew one of my good friends who had spent some time in South Africa. SMALL WORLD! After another stop in Arua, Uganda, we made it to Kampala safely.

A few days later, we learned that the fighting in Juba had spread to other parts of the country. Bor, the same place where we had refueled, had experienced some fighting as well, as the rebel troops had taken the city.

God has been extremely gracious and caring to our team. We were originally scheduled to fly out December 20^th, but for some reason or another the date got moved to December 17^th. If we had stuck to the original plan, we would have been in South Sudan as the fighting escalated. His hand is all over our team in more ways than I can even express.

"For he knows our frame, he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all." Psalm 103: 14-19

Cowdu?

In Nasir, it is common place for girls to get married in their late teen years and start bearing children soon after (a man wants as many children as he can have). Very rarely will you find an unmarried Nuer female over 20 years old. Accordingly, in Nuer culture, a girl is not considered a woman until she is married. So naturally, some of the first phrases we learned in Nuer had to do with basic introductory conversations—What is your name? Where do you live? Do you have a husband? How many children do you have? (we also learned the answers to all these questions) —

Every afternoon, Laura, Cass and I spend a few hours out in the community practicing our Nuer with neighbors or people in the market. After a few afternoons visiting with people, we realized that everyone was very interested in our marriage situation. In fact, so interested that fairly often people would ask if we had a husband before even asking what our name was. I thought this to be a bit strange at first, but with a culture so centered around childbearing, I just figured it was a practical question. So, Laura and I both got very familiar with the phrase “han ka na kwen” meaning “I am not married”. After giving this answer, it was almost always followed by laughter. At first I felt a little like I was being made fun of, but then reasoned that they were probably just laughing because I was a “nyal midit”, a big/old girl, since I was not married.

 About six weeks went by with this being one of the first questions asked. Sometimes it was presented in strange situations. For instance, one time as I walked back from the market, I began to practice my Nuer with some young boys. Of course while chatting, one of the first things they asked was if I was married. Why did they want to know? I was confused.

Then one day, while in a language session, some light was shed on the situation. We discovered there was another way, besides what we had learned, to say “what is your name?”—ciotdu pronounced chiodu—.It sounds very similar to “do you have a husband?”—cowdu pronounced chooowdu—. With the combination of our limited Nuer and the difficulty we have determining and pronouncing tones, words that seem vastly different to the Nuer are vaguely different to us. (Try saying elbow and eyeball…they sound very similar. English does it too!) So for a good six weeks, when asked, “what is your name?” I simply responded “I am not married”. And this is why I got laughed at…not because I am a 24 year old girl. We all got a good laugh out of this, and I’m sure many more language mishaps will occur in the future. Thankfully, there is grace, and these mess-ups sure make for great learning experiences.

My language notebook

Laura practicing her Nuer with NyaRet, one of our compound workers

A Day in the Life

Life in Nasir is very different from the states, as anyone can imagine. It has been a huge shift as we have been trying to figure out what work looks like here. Everything is very dirty, so no matter how often the floor is swept, it can still use sweeping. Laundry by hand is time consuming, but quite a workout…. So it’s kind of a two in one deal. Cooking takes a lot more time as well because everything must be made from scratch on the kerosene stove; there is no just opening a can of beans. Dishes must be done regularly as well.  Initially, I thought that just staying on top of things and surviving was all I could manage. I didn’t see how there would be any time to do anything else. However, with some practice, we have been able to get a system down and are much more efficient with our time. So here is an outline of a typical work day in Nasir:

8am—team prayer, devotional, and any business discussions

9am-12pm—classroom style language learning (we sit in a circle with our language tutor, asking how to say different words and phrases)

12pm-2pm—lunch/chores/answering emails/reviewing language (sometimes a short nap can be snuck in)

2pm-5pm—language practice in the community (we either visit neighbors, practicing what we have learned or we go to the market)

5pm—dinner preparation (we rotate dinner preparation between houses, so if it is not my night to cook, this is when I catch up on emails, more chores, or practice my ukulele/clarinet)

6pm-bedtime—dinner (sometimes with the whole team), then personal/family time 

On the weekends, Saturday is our rest day/house project day and Sunday is church—4 hour service in the morning and team church in the afternoon. Then comes our favorite tradition on Sunday evenings... taco night and watching a few episodes of the office.

Dominique

Our houses are built awesomely cool…temperature wise. There is about two feet of screen between where the walls stop and the roof begins allowing for air to blow through, giving us natural air conditioning. However, there is a small gap between where the screen stops and the roof begins. It is just enough space for small animals to fit through. 

Periodically during the day, we have birds in our house (many of which are beautiful blue and yellow birds). At night, there are a few bats that make the rounds between our houses. It’s pretty much clockwork. Around 6:45-7pm, right at dusk when you can barely see, two or three bats come soaring into our house. Initially, I was fearful of them. I knew that bats carried rabies, and I was convinced that they were here to attack us.

One night in particular, as Laura and I were sitting on our porch as the sun was setting, we were suddenly dive bombed by three bats. It was seriously like they were fighter jets coming straight at us, as one grazed my back. We quickly moved our chairs outside. (noting that it is bad that we made the conscious decision to be out among the mosquitoes instead of being in a confined space with the bats.

On another night, while Laura and I were still sleeping in the tent, I was rudely awakened by a smack of something against the tent. Whatever it was scurried up the side. After a few minutes of debating what it could be (a mouse, bat, snake, bird, lizard or large insect), we realized that it was a bat that was chasing bugs. This continued throughout the night. Every time we’d hear the smack of the bat landing on the tent, either Laura or I, half asleep, would whack the side of the tent to knock the bat off…thus the invention of the game, whack-a-bat.

Then one day, after moving into my own room, things changed. I realized that the bats were flying through the house just trying to eat bugs. I greatly welcomed this! I noticed that one of the bats had taken up residence on one of the strings that held up my mosquito net.  So naturally, I had to name him. After much deliberation, I decided on the name Dominique. Every Friday night I watch a movie (gotta try to mix things up on the weekends). The light from my laptop draws many bugs, and after a short while, the outside of my mosquito net is covered. Dominique then feasts. It is fascinating to watch him land on the outside of the net and crawl along the side eating all the bugs his heart desires.

However, Dominique has moved out of my house. The short term team that was here was able to finish bat-proofing our house (extending the screen all the way to the roof), which is super awesome. Dominique is missed at times, but I am so thankful that my house is a little more secure against small creatures.

Bat-proofing process

Dominique!