Raja May 7, 2008

In four more days, and if God is willing, I will be home. But in the meantime, I am trying to soak in as much of the Sudanese culture as possible. Today is our last day in Raja and we are waiting until 3:30 p.m. for an AIM plane to come pick us up. We decided as a group that if we attempted the 5 ½ hours, 25 passenger truck ride to Niyimbuli, we would be physically terminated. So, as good ‘ole foreigners, we opted for the plane ride. Seriously though, I think it is a wise choice because we are all sick/border line sick. Somehow, word got to the States that we all have malaria, which probably means our families are frantically praying for us. = ) This is a good thing. But so far, none of us have malaria.
We have named Raja “the city of mangoes” because there are mango trees everywhere.
This morning we were all sitting under a mango tree and Ja***, who is a pastor here and one of our translators, told us a bit about what happened to him and his family during the war…
…”I went to Kartum in ’83 to work and make money to send back to my family, but by the time I traveled to deliver the money, the war had begun and the border of Kartum was closed and I could not go back. My father and Sa*****’s father were killed at the same time with guns by the Arabs who were grazing their cattle in the area (the same ones we shared the Bible stories with the other day!). My mother was beaten very badly and women and children were taken as slaves and wives. When the Arabs saw that the women were not circumcised, they circumcised them (this means that they cut off their clitoris. Horror!). These are the same Arabs that had lived among us for years had sold to us and bought form us, whose children had played with our children and knew our names…”
I cannot fully fathom the grief and pain these people have felt, the horrors they have endured. What I rejoice in is that God has not forgotten them and has sent his Word to them through us. What a privilege, a humbling privilege it is to serve God in this place and way. Everywhere we have been the people have said that we are the only white people who have come to help them and give them hope. It is comforting to know that the hope we bring is the God of hope himself, and this hope will remain long after we have left.

* I have not bathed since we were in Marial Bai. Let’s just say I am sticky to the touch. Aaaack! I do have a little makeup on though.