Making Love in Monyjieng - Beginning of the End

Early Pandemic Backdrop:

In early March 2020, I'd been trying to get in touch with my mother to no avail. On Friday, March 6th, my Auntie Annette called me to let me know that my mom was in the hospital and scheduled to undergo major surgery on her right hip on March 11^th. While talking with Annette, Michael overheard the entire conversation and was completely aware of what was going on with my mom's health: it was serious. So, on March 7th, with confirmation from Prince Nico and 2Pac as I sat at Afex trying to make up my mind on what to do, I made a unilateral decision and purchased a one-way ticket to San Francisco to be with my sweet mama. The flight would have me arriving just as my mom would be waking up from surgery. 

On March 8th, Michael was scheduled to travel away from Juba for work. His ticket was also one-way as he was not sure how long it would take him to get the job done up in Warrap State (the state his family is from) so, my sharing with him the fact that I was set to travel while he would be away did not sit well with him. And on the night of March 7th, it was clear that he was not pleased with my decision to purchase the one-way ticket to San Francisco for March 11th.

It was a night full of tension between us. Someone had knocked his car and left a dent in it. He was arriving home later than usual that night and scheduled to leave the next morning. He was more annoyed when he got in and disappointed with me when I told him that I would be leaving on March 11^th. He was more frustrated that I had not shared my plans with him prior to that evening. I simply made a big decision without him and that bothered him more so than me actually leaving to be with my mom with no clue on when I’d return. We went to sleep sulking.

We woke up and walked to the airport on March 8^th with barely a “good morning”. We didn’t even take the time to enjoy our usual see-you-later sex. He was irritated and I just let him sit in his feelings. We walked to the airport without talking and I left him there to fly up to Warrap State. He felt some kind of way about me having to go to the airport in Juba and leave without his support and I understood that. His level of anxiety was up knowing that there were so many unknowns between the two of us. Therefore, we walked in silence and he departed with the usual hug and kiss. Three days later, I left. 

My sister picked me up from San Francisco International Airport on March 12th and took me directly to the hospital where my mom had woken up from surgery just a few hours earlier. She had no idea that I was even on my way so I’m sure she thought my appearance was a drug-induced illusion. But I was truly there in the hospital room with her just as I had planned to be. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to any of us, COVID-19 was in full swing and on Friday the 13th of March, President Trump announced boarder closures for all inbound and outbound international flights. So, my buying a one-way ticket was a good idea but, I had no idea when I'd see my husband again. 

June 2020:

I’d been away for three months visiting and caring for my mother. We had a routine call 10am and 10pm Pacific Time which was 8am and 8pm East Africa Time. Technology allowed us to see each other and made it feel less like I was an ocean and continent away. I’d tell him how exhausted I was and he would listen to me complain about how difficult it was to be with my mom during such trying times. And then he would encourage me. He talked me through a number of orgasms during the three months apart but never helped himself. And when it became clear that I had no idea on when I’d return (sometime around May), I told him that if he had an itch to scratch, he could and I would not see it as cheating. My words to him were:

"Just don’t fuck around with any of those heifers at the hotel. And above all, protect me. It’s not what you do that matters: it’s how you do it. Protect my health, my love, and my reputation.”

He told me that he had not been interested in being with anyone but, I insisted that if he needed to, he could. I was opening a door that had never been seen prior to our departing Juba. It was a door that we’d joked about in the past during the years after I’d decided (without his complete approval) to get a tubal ligation once our third child was born via C-section. We had always joked about him getting a second wife if he ever wanted more children because, “I’m done!” But now the door was no longer an aberration nor joke; it was standing before us and I was the one to unlock it.

It was around this time in June that he let me know that during his trip up to Warrap State, he saw his family and that they’d asked about me. He let them know that I’d traveled to visit my mother and that he was not sure when I’d return. Due to COVID-19 and the number of people passing away in South Sudan, he spoke with his family more frequently than normal and it was during those conversations that his family took advantage of my absence and began to press him about the need for a second wife to care for him while I was away. According to him, he was in a dark place and his family didn’t help the situation at all by pressuring him about his wife and children’s whereabouts.

Sometime in early June, his phone was stolen and we went an entire week without talking. I felt like a teenage girl who’d just fallen in love for the first time. Every day I was full of expectation and longing. I found myself sitting with my phone in hand; looking at it every 15 minutes. Every day I sent messages and voice notes. I tried to call him directly and was never able to reach him. I felt like the 18-year-old Saree: pregnant by Michael and not able to reach him over the entire summer of 1990. He’d been in Egypt that long hot summer and I just kept getting bigger and bigger. I was crushed just as I had been the summer of 1990. I cried myself to sleep one night praying that all was well with him.

When I finally got a hold of him by calling the young man who worked in the restaurant in the hotel where we lived, he told me what happened to his phone. What had happened was…He’d been busy caring for his drunk nephew and left it in the chair that he’d been sitting in. Once he got home, he realized that his phone was not with him so, he went back to retrieve it from the house of his nephew but it was gone. It took him a week to pull together the funds for a new phone. It was one of the longest weeks of my life. And hearing his voice for the first time in a week was such a sweet relief. I was simply happy to be in touch with him again.

Once we were back in communication, I noticed a shift in him. Something felt different. He seemed a bit distant and not interested in conversation with me. So of course, I began asking questions. I started out joking around asking if he’d been with anyone. And he being honest said that he’d not but he may have met someone. It was like talking to a little boy who was raised to tell the truth. I asked him if he’d had sex and he said no. I asked him if he thought she could be a second wife and he said possibly. I asked him how he was feeling and he said fine. He remained truthful as he’d always been and I remained open as I’d always been. He let me know that he was talking to her and I let him know that I was fine with it.

          “We’ll talk about it more when I get back.”

So, what was I thinking and feeling back in June of 2020? I wasn't thinking about myself. I was thinking about my husband and what he needed for himself. I was thinking new beginnings and an end to the long separation between us. I was just ready to get back to Juba and be with my husband. I wasn’t thinking about what was actually about to take place nor how it would change our lives completely.