Highs and Lows 4-030917

Day 1 – Meeting the Mayor

We’d been preparing for our meeting with Mayor Wani of Juba for two days. Michael’s friend Bol had arranged the meeting so we could learn more about schools and education in the city. I decided to dress more professional than I had in previous days and in accordance with Bol’s advice but, I didn’t take my resume.  I’ve learned that it’s best to dress to impress as some people won’t really take a look at a resume.

When we got to the Bol’s office, he made a call just to make sure that we were actually going to meet at the scheduled time.  It turned out that the mayor had just been getting over malaria and he confirmed that he would be available at the scheduled time of 2pm. So of course, we at lunch first and had tea as we discussed what sort of questions I would ask and why. It was strange to prepare to meet an official of a city that we’d only been living in for four weeks but, it was also exciting. And as we sat waiting for our food to arrive, I was able to get a good view of the city from the 3rd floor. 

 

 

After a quick lunch, we piled into the Toyota Prado and proceeded to drive across town. We passed young people playing soccer in a field; their bright yellow shirts billowing as they ran and passed the ball back and forth. We also saw many buildings in the process of being constructed which helped me feel a bit more optimistic about my new city’s future. And just as we arrived at the compound of the mayor, it began to rain: a good sign.

Formal greetings were a must as we walked through the corridors and up the steps. We must have greeted at least a dozen people and unlike the Kenyans who fist bump, South Sudanese shake hands and I swear all I can think about was the urgent need for “hanitizer”…I had no idea where everyone’s hands had and just as the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I had officially turned into my mother.

Anyway, when we finally reached the mayor’s office, we were told that he was not available at the moment. Our meeting was for 2pm and it was 2pm so we had to wait about 20 minutes. Not a problem. Then some military official walked in and straight into the mayor’s office. He was inside for about three minutes and then he came out. He recognized Bol, exchanged formal and personal pleasantries, and in the process he learned that Bol was waiting to see the mayor. This military official immediately did an about-face, told us to follow him, and boom…we were in front of the mayor without further delay.

Bol introduced himself and the two of us and then told me to take the lead…not a problem. I reintroduced myself, gave an “elevator pitch” on why I was in South Sudan and then asked for what I wanted. He slowed my roll by giving me a bit of history - as if I’ve not been married to a Dinka and had no understanding of South Sudan. He also shared his ideas for his city and we were intrigued by his vision and found that we were in agreement on the fact that something needed to be done about the street children who were not attending school.

The meeting lasted for about thirty minutes and was full of promise. We left feeling hopeful about possibly being on the right path and finally getting connected to someone who could be a partner in our work.

Day 2 – Falling Down 

So this one time….after visiting yet another “apartment for rent” in Juba, it poured rain. Well to be fair, August through November is rainy season in Juba so there are days of super African heat – the kind we all imagine when we think of Africa and apparently the kind the Bay Area has recently  experienced – blazing sun, no shade, sweat that dries as soon as it is perspired…yeah that kind of heat. But there are also days when it rains and rains and rains.

The water falling from the sky gets so loud that it’s difficult to hear someone talking. The thunder can be so strong that the building literally shakes. It was one of those days. It had rained while we were in the office waiting to go visit the “apartment for rent”. In Juba, there are neither apartment complexes nor many single family homes. There are plenty of hotels that have been called apartments but, they are not apartments in the way that we know them: complete with a kitchen, full bathroom, closet space…not that at all - think Motel 6.

We’d just finished seeing a room at the Shamrock and they are willing to rent us two separate rooms for $1000 per month. The space was the same size as the room we currently occupy; it’s just that we would have two identical rooms…not adjacent to one another.  I couldn’t help but think about the space I necessary the contents of my crate…my life.

Feeling just “so-so” about the Shamrock, we headed back to the office. I told the driver that we could walk the rest of the way back to our hotel being that it was so close. Also, I wanted to talk with Michael about what we’d seen and find out what he thought. As we walked, we were aware of the muddy water, the floating plastic bags and bottles, and the stench of raw sewage. I had on my Berks (Birkenstock sandals) and Michael had on his dress shoes so, he was walking rather slow and unsure of where to plant his foot.

Clearly we were walking to slow for the young man behind us so; he decided to pass us up just at a place where we had to go up a slimy mound then down only to jump over the stinky flow of sludge. We were about 200 feet from the hotel when I said, “Michael, you’re walking too slow…like an old lady afraid of falling.” Two steps later, I was in the mud!

I’d gone up the slope and was trying to see where the men before me had placed their foot last. It was to muddy to tell and so I placed my foot on what looked like solid ground. Instead of staying put, my right foot began to slide in the mud and before I could stop the sliding (my left foot was paralyzed and did not follow the right) my body spilled forward like a cup of molasses…slow motion.

Michael watched it all unfold in front of him and could not do anything to stop it because I was about 6 feet behind him. My purse entered the slime first followed by my white kikoi (East African scarf) and then me. Amazingly, my upper body didn’t get dirty at all however; from my waist down I was freshly painted with nasty stinky mud.

As I got up, I could see the fear in Michael’s face. He thought I’d hurt myself. I let him know with the biggest smile that I was okay. He was so embarrassed for me but, I was laughing. What did I expect to happen after dissing him like that and trying to pretend that I was an Afri-CAN. Nope…I’m an Afri-Can’t…I surely couldn’t navigate the mud and slim like the other men and women around me. It was so funny to hear all the people we encountered utter the words, “sorry dear” as if they’d been responsible for my falling. I continued to laugh for the rest of the evening.

Day 3 - Wednesday Doldrums

When morning dawned, the sunlight came with chirping birds, croaking frogs, and pain all over my body. I felt as if I’d been in a car accident. My shoulders ached, my thigh was tender for over extension, my abdomen was tight as if I’d done 50 sit ups, and on top of all that my cycle started and the cramps began to settle in. I was feeling miserable so; I just lay there beginning to feel sorry for myself.

I asked the ladies in the restaurant to bring hot water and made myself some fresh ginger tea. We skipped breakfast opting to simply rest. I nursed my aches and pains with a cold shower and ibuprophen and sat around thinking about the difficulties of living in a developing country.  And just like that, I was feeling sorry for myself and a bit homesick.

I wanted some of my mom’s cooking, a drink with my brother Tony, and a good laugh with my sister Sevan Kelee. I wanted to see my friends and family and be around all things familiar and full of love. I wasn’t feeling as low as I’d felt when I first moved to Memphis.

Back then, I cried every weekend and hid it from my family. I wasn’t miserable in Memphis just suffering from my first experience living so far away from my family. Up until 2012, I’d never been more than five minute drive from a sibling and ninety minutes from my mother. So being two time zones away was a bit unnerving. But, the Memphis move totally prepared me for what I was now experiencing.

I was down in the mulligrubs and realized that I had been feeling some kind of way at least once a week. I acknowledged my feelings, waded through them for a spell, began to pray. I thought about how the move to South Sudan was truly a self administered test of faith and determined not to fail, I thought about Hebrews 11:1 – “No faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

I decided to take a walk to shake off the physical discomfort and to also lean in on my faith.

Day 4 – Thinking/Planning/Hoping/Praying

We had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to talk to so, we got lost in the silence and let our thoughts guide us. Every so often, we both get overwhelmed and have to pull out the paper that has our original thinking on it as our guide.

We looked at the list of things we said we could do in South Sudan:

Teach

Start a business

Open a school

Start a website

Open a restaurant

Education consultants

We looked at the list and began talking. We reminded ourselves of what was in the crate and what we were supposed to do with it once it got to Juba. We thought about all the things we’ve seen during our walks around the neighborhood:

Kids with nothing to do

Teens with low to no skills

Young adults with limited English

Lack of recreational space

So we thought about one of the last conversations we had at The Rose & Crown with Sue, Jim, Jen, and Julie – when we shared our thoughts with them, the idea of a community center came up. Maybe a community center was truly what we should have been considering. So we began a rough draft of a plan for just that…the Mading Community Service Center. I had been playing The Sounds of Blackness song “I’m Going All the Way” and felt the spirit of hope come over me. Michael caught the spirit too and we were on a roll with our discussion and plans.

We’ve known that we are supposed to be doing something positive in Juba and we know that a school will take at least a year or more of planning. But, we discussed the fact that a community center will only take space and a little bit of money.

So our thinking moved to planning which lead to us feeling more hopeful and of course we had to pray on it. We were still in a place of feeling overwhelmed on where to start and with whom to share and/or begin the journey with but, we were feeling much better about having each other as thought partners. We were also very grateful for friends and family who have encouraged us and who have also been thought partners. We went to bed that night feeling good.

Day 5 – Hanging Out & Learning

Fridays can be fun wherever you live and since we live in Juba, they are also just as fun.

We decided to hang out with Uncle Arkangelou at his favorite spot where he enjoys fish and Tusker. There were Kenyans and South Sudanese there as usual and there was no shortage of conversation. We talked about Kenya’s Supreme Court nullifying the recent election, talked about South Sudan’s old days, and then Deng came and began to share with me and Michael about business and struggling Juba.

It rained for about twenty minutes and slowed down just enough for Deng to take us to another spot. We arrived at Logali House, a place where locals, NGOs, and government officials go for good internet, food, and music. Surprisingly, Michael and I had passed the spot before but had no idea what lay behind the great white wall. I was happy to have a proper drink with ice and elated to order a fresh batch of samosas: beef, vegetable, and feta filled deep fried goodness.

Deng shared how difficult it had been for him when he moved to Juba as well as all the pitfalls that lay ahead of us. The difficulty of finding friends was the most worrisome fact he shared and I thought about my inability to remain friendless and happy. It would be impossible. The most interesting thing Deng shared was how inspired he was by our being together.

His wife lived in Canada with their children and he really wanted her with him. He couldn’t believe that Michael and I were trying to start something together. “No one in Juba does it that way” he told us and fell silent for a long spell.  I began to feel a bit uncomfortable and he noticed and suggested that we move on to another spot. Why not!?

We finally landed at Havana’s. Another bar and grill spot with a huge television showing a soccer match. The drinks were ordered and the mosquitoes were in abundance but, I was too happy to notice at the time. Our conversation about business and friendships continued. Before I knew it, the evening had gone by with me enjoying whiskey, wine, and beer – two each to be exact. I was tired of talking and ready to go to sleep. Happy to get back to the hotel, I secretly hoped that I would remember enough to write down before falling asleep.

Day 6 – One Month in Juba

We’ve been in South Sudan for an entire month. Some days it feels like it’s only been a few days and others it feels like an eternity. The short days are filled with visiting people and seeing new parts of the city but, the long days trudge on at a snail’s pace and we usually sit staring at one another; wondering what the hell have we done.

When we left, we said that we’d give ourselves three to six months to find our way and for something to happen that will help us stay and make it. Now that we are here, the challenge of not giving up has become a weekly exercise in determination and grit. I also wonder what amount of insanity mixed up in the determination and grit.

It’s been frustrating trying to explain what I am: “You’re Black American? What tribe do you come from?”  It has felt as if I’ve come from Mars and have been telling people the same thing over and over regarding my ethnicity and my origins. Educated people like to “school” me on the fact that I’m originally from Africa: to which I reply, “I know that.” Uneducated people simply don’t get it and it makes me feel really sad that tribalism runs so deep that they can’t understand the concept of one group of people all speaking the same language.

It’s been fun sharing inside jokes with Michael as well as googly eyes. We’ve refrained from public displays of affection but not silent forms of intimate body language. It has been truly amazing that we’ve lived in a 15 sq ft room without arguing and feeling cramped up. Having a partner and friend on the journey has been something that has kept us focused. We’ve been happier than we’ve ever been. And overall, the month we’ve spent in Juba has been interesting even with its ups and downs.

Day 7 – I’m Going to Leave You: I Feel Trapped

It’s Sunday and we we’re sitting in the restaurant at the hotel. Every morning there are the latest African music videos playing from Nigeria, Kenya, and Uganda. However, this particular morning, there were a number of American music videos playing: DJ Khalid, Lil Wayne, Nikki Minaj and just a few too many bouncing breasts and butts for Michael. So out of nowhere he says, “I’m going to leave you today, I feel trapped.”

Feigning disappointment, I began whining “Nooo, don’t leave me!” I was secretly happy to see him finally ready to venture out on his own. I’ve held to the belief that we will not make friends nor get to know the city at all if we continue to stay “trapped” in the hotel. I also knew that it was time for him to cut his hair and that was really the reason for his departure.

The area of Juba we stay in is safe and peaceful. We take daily walks and people along the way smile and wave at us. The children try out their English on me and I respond in Dinka driving them into fits of laughter. There are also a group of women we pass by regularly who have taken to greeting us in Dinka and I’ve tried out the various responses and they seem to understand me. We’ve also seen the awkward stares from passersby; their brains trying hard to figure out what to make of us: smiling red woman, tall Junub (South Sudanese) walking and chatting in English.

I like to think that the perplexed looks are those of wonder and inspiration. However, we are both acutely aware of the fact that not everyone has been thrilled to see us so, we tend to speak when spoken to and keep walking when the stares become glares.

Due of the power outage and the intensity of the heat, he was not gone long. He returned sweating profusely and exhausted from the half-mile trek. It was just long enough for me to finish up some writing without distraction. He seemed a bit disappointed by the inefficiencies of his new city so I left him alone for a while.

We’ve been able to give one another space as well as ride the high and low waves without getting too beside ourselves. The transformation we’ve both undergone has been positive and has intensified our commitment to each other as well as our goal to help others while sustaining ourselves.