These are a few of the more important email updates that I have sent out in the last month and a half. I realize that some of you that check this blog are still not on my email list. I hope these letters might clear up some of the confusion. Oh, and if you would like to be on my email list, please let me know!
June 22, 2009 -
Evacuation NewsDear friends,
There is a time to stay and a time to go, this is something I’m learning a lot about since coming to Sudan. The Didinga are a difficult and complex people. After being there for 8 months, we thought that we had began to understand the people, to have good standing in the community, and beginning to see God working in our ministry. Maybe we did have all this, but things can change so quickly. On Thursday our team was forced to evacuate within hours of an unforeseen event. Here is the description of the events from one my team members, Deborah Moss.
Dear friends, family, loved ones,
italics Although the subject of this e-mail wasn’t the advertisement to which myself and my team members responded, it describes accurately the demands placed on us by recent events.
How do I begin to describe the hike we took yesterday? Conditions were certainly not ideal, as myself and Kim had been sick in the days leading up to the hike. Kim, in fact, inaugurated the hike by retching violently just outside the Miller’s compound. Amber and I both have cut up feet and blisters. Elly doesn’t like long hikes, especially not under pressure. Then the menagerie of three dogs and two cats weaving their way around our ankles just made it difficult. Perhaps the most difficult thing, though, was that we were hiking at night to evacuate from a situation in our community that had rapidly escalated yesterday, culminating in a direct death threat against our team leader.
Some of you might have recently gotten letters from me talking about the greenness of the land and the growth of my garden. When we left for our vacation May 31st, I planted a few rows of lettuce, radishes, beets, onions, etc. , expecting rain from heaven to take the place of my hand-watering efforts. When we returned, none of my new plants were alive. No rain had fallen since we left. It turns out that the community, especially of an area to the east, near the “tall mountain” (MurKuzhen) were blaming the white people for this problem. Since this area is actually quite far from where I live on the western ridge, I wasn’t even aware of this until Tianne (the “tall woman”, aka NaKuzhen, appropriately enough) told me about it on yesterday during clinic hours. “They’re saying we took away the rain and took it to America… I think they’re really upset. I’m not sure what’s going to happen if it doesn’t rain soon.”
Then as the clinic closed, I heard the sound of a large crowd coming, singing and blowing horns. Fifty or a hundred young people came into the compound, waving leaves, blowing horns and singing “Gadio-gadio-oo….” (I’m not sure what the song means, but it was a most impressive sound to hear them all in unison singing it over and over). I personally only recognized a few of those gathered, and none of them were my close neighbors and friends. They called David out to talk with them, and the rest of us quickly closed the clinic doors and went in to pray for wisdom and grace. Their accusation was simple, if not entirely logical: “You took the rain away on a plane to America. You must come to a trial and we will decide what to do with you. This is your fault.” This complaint was lodged primarily at those who lived closer to them, so I slipped away when it seemed the crowd would disperse (I expected the real confrontation would come the next day). When I got home and turned on my walkie talkie, it became evident that the confrontation had escalated, with Tianne and Janette (the two who were on the compound when the crowd showed up who live near the MurKuzhen community) and David (our team leader) being towed along to be “tried” for the crime of stealing the rain.
Both Tianne and Janette were pushed along, essentially forced to go to the meeting place at MurKuzhen, where an elder interrogated Tianne especially about what she had done to make the rain go away (several of our team members had hiked with Didinga friends in an area the community apparently considers sacred, and then when we went on vacation May 31-June10 or so, it didn’t rain at all, and hasn’t rained since).
“What did you take?”
“I didn’t take anything!”
“You took something and now it’s not raining. What did you take?”
“We didn’t take anything! What do you think we took?”
“You took the rain away. You took away the rain and put it on the plane and took it to America.”
To this final statement, all Tianne could do was repeat the assertion: “We didn’t take anything.” Yet all the while she knew that the people would never believe her; even as she stood before them, the eyes of the200-300 community members present bored into her with sheer anger, hatred, and disgust. Both she and Janette later said they felt quite prepared to be beaten or even to be killed because of the community’s need to blame someone or something for the lack of rain. (note that this is a local community but not actually our own neighbors and friends who were leading this “trial”, although friends and neighbors who were present didn’t speak up on their behalf either).
Then the elder who had led the interrogations had a final demand for David: “Bring two bulls tomorrow to sacrifice, or you die!” When David responded, truthfully saying, “I don’t have a bull to bring. What should I do then?”, the elder reiterated: “Bring two bulls tomorrow to the meeting or you die!” According to David (corroborated by Tianne and Janette and Dario who were also there), the tone of the meeting and the anger expressed by the mob left little doubt that they might actually follow through on their threat. What then could we do but evacuate?
So this leads us to the hike which began at 1 am this morning (Friday) and continued until we reached the airstrip around 7:30 or so.
I would like to talk more about our hike to Nagishot. We decided to leave at 1am for some very good reasons. The community was expecting us to be at the meeting in the morning with Bulls, which we did not have, and even if we did would not want to sacrifice for rain. Leaving at 1am was best to us because most people would be in bed at that point, and early enough to allow us to get to Nagishot in the morning before people began to walk on trail. We believed that if people knew we were going there they would chase after us and force to go back or worse. We walked 10 miles with only the light from the stars. We did not use our flash for fear of being seen by someone, and we did not talk. It was a long and slow hike. A hike which I have done in 2 and half hours took the group six hours. Needless to say Thursday was one of the most intense days of my life. Having your life threatened by a mob who accuses you of stealing rain is not something I would have foreseen. Throughout the hike it felf as if God was going before us and guiding our feet.
So now we are in Tanzania at TIMO headquarters waiting for leadership to return. Next is to test, then to discuss what to do next, and if and when we should return.
Please pray for the team, for the Didinga and that God’s will is done is all of this.
Thanks you for all your Prayers and Support.
June 23, 2009 -
Baby Thabon and More Evacuation NewsHello,
Thanks so much for all your prayers and words of encouragement. It has been wonderful to hear from all of you. I truly appreciate it!
Our team is currently in Tanzania (I saw Mount Kilimanjaro peaking out from the clouds the other day), at the TIMO headquarters. Today was the first of many team debriefs. It was good for everyone on the team to formally discuss their personal fears, frustrations and worries about the situation. As individuals, our team is as different as night is from day. However, we have been blessed with a true unity in the Spirit. Many are quite fearful about returning to the Hills, but everyone is willing to do so if that is the direction God leads us.
The last week in Didinga was, for me, pretty hard.
On Tuesday, I learned that baby Thabon, the infant whose miraculous birth I was present at (if you don't know this story please check it out on my blog: firstwondergoesdeepest.blogspot.com), had been killed when he fell face first into the fire and burnt to death. His mother, Nakong, drunk on the local brew, had passed out next to him, evevidently sleeping through his screams. When I heard of Thabon's death I went over to visit his mother, my new friend, Nakong. I found her and her young brother Lino, also a close friend, sitting in the ashes around the outside firepit. The were both wailing, she was singing, "I killed my baby, my baby is dead. I drank too much Methe. I killed my baby, my baby is dead...". Women had gathered at the fence, yelling at her. "You drank too much Nakong! You killed your baby."
I didn't know what was culturally appropriate and, to be honest, I didn't really care. Separating myself from the women at the fence, I sat next to Lino. And in those moments, sitting and listening to Nakong sing and the group of women remind her of her sin, I believe that I, for the very first time, saw Didinga as our loving Lord and Savior sees Didinga. These are a hopeless people, a people without grace, forgiveness, unconditional love. A people without Christ. Hell is upon them, their hell is a present reality.
Baby Thabon was limp and lifeless for more than ten minutes after his birth. His first breaths and his short little life were a miracle. Those who gathered on that afternoon of his birth had the opportunity to acknowledge God's power, and some did, "The baby was dead when he was born and then Kim prayed to her God and the baby lived." However, others, like Thabon's mom, shackled with the sinful stronghold of alcohol, chose to ignore God's love and mercy.
It's true, Nakong's sin did kill her baby, but it is also true that God loves Nakong. Our Lord saw Nakong on Tuesday, wailing in the ashes. I believe that He saw her and wanted nothing more than to pull her onto His lap and to hear her admit her utter need and desire for Him to never let her go. Nakong is, what we all are, a sinner. The only difference is, she lives a life without our Father's grace.
On Thursday, when the angry mob stormed the Miller's compound and forced David and some of the others to the meeting, I was in bed sick again with the flu. So, when we got the message to pack our evacuation bag I thought it was anything but serious. While my roommate Elly carefully packed her belongings, I located my passport and wallet and drifted back to sleep. It wasn't until my roommates who had been at the meeting rushed into the house, scared and frantically telling me that we had to go, that I finally started to throw a few things into a bag. I was really quite sick and probably a bit in denial, so my packing attempts were less than good. I left home with the clothes on my back, my computer, camera, journals, my REALLY heavy Bible, my new amazing old lady moomoo, an extra shirt and pair of underwear and my toothbrush.
While the team discussed the death threats and evacuating, I threw up. And although I had absolutely no idea as to what had happened throughout the afternoon, I completely trusted the opinions of my teammates and leaders. I never once felt threatened or worried throughout that LONG night of hiking. God was certainly good.
Today, in the meeting, we were asked to share with the group how we are feeling about the whole situation. It took me a moment to realize that i really feel an overwhelming sense of peace. a peace that does transcend understanding. I am completely confident that God will let each and everyone of us on this TIMO team know whether we are to return to the Hills or not. We don't have to guess or worry or fear the future. The road is prepared.
Thank you for continuing to pray and care for our team and the Didinga people.
With Love,
KIM
July 15, 2009 -
Decision DayHello,
Thanks so much for all your prayers and words of encouragement. It has been wonderful to hear from all of you. I truly appreciate it!
Our team is currently in Tanzania (I saw Mount Kilimanjaro peaking out from the clouds the other day), at the TIMO headquarters. Today was the first of many team debriefs. It was good for everyone on the team to formally discuss their personal fears, frustrations and worries about the situation. As individuals, our team is as different as night is from day. However, we have been blessed with a true unity in the Spirit. Many are quite fearful about returning to the Hills, but everyone is willing to do so if that is the direction God leads us.
The last week in Didinga was, for me, pretty hard.
On Tuesday, I learned that baby Thabon, the infant whose miraculous birth I was present at (if you don't know this story please check it out on my blog: firstwondergoesdeepest.blogspot.com), had been killed when he fell face first into the fire and burnt to death. His mother, Nakong, drunk on the local brew, had passed out next to him, evevidently sleeping through his screams. When I heard of Thabon's death I went over to visit his mother, my new friend, Nakong. I found her and her young brother Lino, also a close friend, sitting in the ashes around the outside firepit. The were both wailing, she was singing, "I killed my baby, my baby is dead. I drank too much Methe. I killed my baby, my baby is dead...". Women had gathered at the fence, yelling at her. "You drank too much Nakong! You killed your baby."
I didn't know what was culturally appropriate and, to be honest, I didn't really care. Separating myself from the women at the fence, I sat next to Lino. And in those moments, sitting and listening to Nakong sing and the group of women remind her of her sin, I believe that I, for the very first time, saw Didinga as our loving Lord and Savior sees Didinga. These are a hopeless people, a people without grace, forgiveness, unconditional love. A people without Christ. Hell is upon them, their hell is a present reality.
Baby Thabon was limp and lifeless for more than ten minutes after his birth. His first breaths and his short little life were a miracle. Those who gathered on that afternoon of his birth had the opportunity to acknowledge God's power, and some did, "The baby was dead when he was born and then Kim prayed to her God and the baby lived." However, others, like Thabon's mom, shackled with the sinful stronghold of alcohol, chose to ignore God's love and mercy.
It's true, Nakong's sin did kill her baby, but it is also true that God loves Nakong. Our Lord saw Nakong on Tuesday, wailing in the ashes. I believe that He saw her and wanted nothing more than to pull her onto His lap and to hear her admit her utter need and desire for Him to never let her go. Nakong is, what we all are, a sinner. The only difference is, she lives a life without our Father's grace.
On Thursday, when the angry mob stormed the Miller's compound and forced David and some of the others to the meeting, I was in bed sick again with the flu. So, when we got the message to pack our evacuation bag I thought it was anything but serious. While my roommate Elly carefully packed her belongings, I located my passport and wallet and drifted back to sleep. It wasn't until my roommates who had been at the meeting rushed into the house, scared and frantically telling me that we had to go, that I finally started to throw a few things into a bag. I was really quite sick and probably a bit in denial, so my packing attempts were less than good. I left home with the clothes on my back, my computer, camera, journals, my REALLY heavy Bible, my new amazing old lady moomoo, an extra shirt and pair of underwear and my toothbrush.
While the team discussed the death threats and evacuating, I threw up. And although I had absolutely no idea as to what had happened throughout the afternoon, I completely trusted the opinions of my teammates and leaders. I never once felt threatened or worried throughout that LONG night of hiking. God was certainly good.
Today, in the meeting, we were asked to share with the group how we are feeling about the whole situation. It took me a moment to realize that i really feel an overwhelming sense of peace. a peace that does transcend understanding. I am completely confident that God will let each and everyone of us on this TIMO team know whether we are to return to the Hills or not. We don't have to guess or worry or fear the future. The road is prepared.
Thank you for continuing to pray and care for our team and the Didinga people.
With Love,
KIM
