Conclusion (Part 8 of 8)

Conclusion

By: John Jefferson

 

In summary, after arriving in Melut on Tuesday the 4th at 3:30 PM, by Thursday morning I was on the cusp of boarding a boat loaded with 150 100kg bags of Sorghum after spending all of Wednesday in meetings, changing money, and praying for one miracle after another. By Thursday afternoon, we had watched the tax man fight with the boat man for almost two hours, unloaders carry scores of bags onto the boat, thousands of S. Sudan Pounds pass through my nervous hands, and the sun move across the horizon burning relentlessly as the day sped along. By 3PM that same day, we were gliding along the Nile. The last 24 hours (from Thursday to Friday evening) in Kodok were a mix of intolerable waiting periods, informative meetings and interviews, and grateful moments with the brave and resilient people of Nuba Mountains.

The efforts of not a few organizations mentioned in the body of this email all contributed to the success of the mission, which was indeed successful. The churches, nonprofits, NGOs, and GOs represented all played a part either directly or indirectly, both knowingly and sometimes unknowingly.

At the Camp (Part 7 of 8)

At the Camp

By John Jefferson

At the Camp, continued…..

An interesting thing about finding the MSF tent in the refugee camp was that Dr. Kelley had to work with them to gain access to the IDP camps where he was doing the clinics. Dr. Marta Cazole, who is running the MSF operation in Melut, became a key contact for me upon my return from Kodok. She "happened" to come by our compound the morning we were leaving, and I showed her my pictures of the people at the camp and the empty tent. I told her about our mission and she conferred with Dr. K. She was glad to know it was still possible to get to the camp, and more than a bit interested in the contacts who helped me to get there, which I freely shared along with a plea for MSF to return to the refugee camp ASAP. 

Access to the Plumpynut was all due to one member of the team, a missionary with the Bible Translators. He had a contact with UNMISS in Doro, so when our AIM flight stopped there for refueling, there were several boxes waiting for us. They had run out in Nairobi, so this improbable way of getting the precious stuff was again another example of how God's plan was way beyond our ability. He was orchestrating this thing, and we were along for the ride. “Sobeit,” I said to myself.

I had a chance to meet with the King of the K-N area of the Nuba mountains. While very approachable, he did not speak English with me, although I got the feeling he could have.  He became the key contact inside the camp, and I caught some good interview footage of him and some of his people in the precious few minutes I there. The people in the camp were at first were getting help from the locals, but then the conflict in RoSS broke out and as IDPs (about 5K or more) flooded into Kodok, that support dried up along with NGOs that fled. Who knows what's happening with WFP. Tarps were the only evidence the UN had been there. Purportedly, the UN tried to get the Kao-Nyaro people to consent to getting barged four hours down the river to Malakal, then driven around the bottom of South Kordofan to Unity State, eventually reaching Yida Camp.  This location would put them well out of striking distance of their homes and families, which they were unwilling to do.  Thus, the UN and WFP aid dried up.  Bottom line, the women said they had been reduced to eating grass and roots for some time, and thus very happy this food arrived.

Arrival. (Part 6 of 8)

Arrival

By: John Jefferson

Arriving at the Camp

More vehicles were leaving Kodok loaded with people than were waiting around to be hired to take grain from the docks.  In fact, we were the only ones looking for such a service.  Thus, it was not easy to hire a lorry.  In addition, we had to get loaders from the market while meeting with various officials.  Part of the time pressure was the fact that our only option to get back to Melut was to meet the team doing clinic in Rom, a short ride across the river and 45-minute walk, or so we thought.

As we approached the camp, a patchwork makeshift Tukuls with tarps and grass rooftops appeared, flanked by fields of dry grass on one side and dense vegetation of the Nile’s edge on the other. The only "modern" structure was a large, white MSF (Doctors Without Borders) tent that stood empty save a few boxes of Plumpynut with nothing in them. We filled those boxes with 600 packets (4 boxes worth) of the nutritive paste. The only medicine available was the bottle of deworming pills Dr. Kelley gave me, which contained about 200 doses. A small crowd gathered after we pulled the truck up and started unloading the sorghum.  There are just over 3,000 people in the refugee camp. Through interviews, I ascertained that they have not had basic foodstuffs for a period of time and had been forced to revert to foraging for food in the fields. 

One incident broke my heart. While some of the kids ran away from the camera, a young boy rolled up in his little faded green smock and looked at me with the sweetest face as I noticed his puss filled eyes. He just looked up at me as I touched his head, and then he rubbed his left eye as a white substance oozed out of it. I immediately took a picture for Dr. K. (and later showed it to the MSF doctor also) I then put my hand on his back and prayed for his healing. Sometimes the kids in that situation look at the camera like it may give them some relief. That's even more heartbreaking. I hate feeling that helpless when it really matters. I prayed again all the more fervently. Later the doc told me a few days of some relatively inexpensive drops would cure the malady. One more thing on the list to return with God willing.

Kodok at Last (Part 5 of 8)

Kodok at Last

By: John Jefferson

Kodok at Last, Kodok at Last, Thank God Almighty, Kodok at Last!

The UN Mission in South Sudan compound in Kodok is not set up for visitors per say.  It does have a generator that provides one of the few lights in the city after dark, but it is very small and stark compared to many UN facilities.  Kodok is really a small port village along the Nile, which more than doubled in size as a result of people fleeing from Malakal and other places closer to the fighting.  Our arrival late at night caused the local army officials to be concerns about my safety and thus, the request for the UN to take us in.  There were a few nervous moments as we waited outside the very secure compound gate to see if we would be allowed to bed there for the night.  By the grace of God we were, and even had the chance to take a bucket shower before hitting the rack.

After a comfortable stay at the very basic and suitable UNMISS accommodations, we embarked upon what became a bit of a frustrating chapter in the story.  Though only 4 KM from Kodok , it took all day to reach the refugee camp and complete the last phase of the mission before starting the return journey to Melut. (We didn’t arrive at the refugee camp until after 2:30PM on Friday to distribute the food and other supplies) The logistics involved in finalizing the food delivery took precious time from the efforts to record the events, document the condition of the people, share the reason and purpose of ENG with the population, and articulate the spiritual element driving these efforts.  In other words, if it were just about dropping off food, then the phase from Kodok to the camp would have been a bit simpler, but all those other elements had to be crammed into the remainder of the time. (By God’s grace all was accomplished, but next time allowances should be made to maximize time in the camp vs. in the city)

Begging Permission (Part 4 of 8)

Begging Permission

By: John Jefferson

Much of what happens in South Sudan occurs through consensus and cooperation.  The human element is essential and without the right contacts and connections the gears grind to a halt quickly.  As mentioned, Pastor John provided two persons of peace in the form of Pastors Ayat and Daniel, from Melut and Baliet, respectively.  After taking advantage of a key meeting with the Commissioner of Melut (arranged by the MTWW team), we secured permission to attempt the trip to Kodok.  We had previously heard that it may be too dangerous and our efforts should focus on the local population of IDPs and residents of Melut.  Though unacceptable for this mission, the fact we were asked to stay in Melut and help their people was completely understandable and reasonable under the circumstances.  The whole conversation shifted when, after the formal meeting, Pastor Ayat and I approached the commissioner to explain the mission’s purpose and the plight of the Nuba refugees and asked for permission to go.  Inexplicably, permission was granted on the spot! 

Onward and Up[stream]ward

The security situation was very precarious. Thousands of people were flooding into Melut, there were rumors of impending military action, and there were virtually no non-Sudanese left in town. Therefore, acting alone to move south with 16 tons of sorghum was a tough ask, which might have been impossible were it not for the South Sudanese partners and grace beyond measure.

We ultimately purchased 16.2 tons of Sorghum (150 100KG sacks) and loaded them onto a large barge chartered to go to Kodok 4-5 hours south by river.  After having arrived in Melut on Tuesday, holding meetings, nailing down agreements, and closing contracts on Wednesday, we were poised to leave within a little over 24 hours, thanks mainly to Pastor Ayat who is well connected to God and men in a way that makes the improbable possible. We changed money, coordinated phone communications, expedited numerous processes outside of cultural norms, and renegotiated ever-changing, previously-agreed-upon prices, until just minutes before our Thursday departure.  

We departed around 2PM after much travail with government officials, numerous negotiations, and other obstacles, landing in Kodok that night around 9PM. (a long 6.5 hrs. after departure) We had no place to stay, as our contacts expected us hours earlier. In the end, we found ourselves at a compound (UNMISS) with an initially reluctant, but gracious, host.  

Mobilization & Arrival (Part 3 of 8)

Mobilization & Arrival:

By: John Jefferson

After a Few Small Miracles - Mobilization and Arrival in Melut

First the Miracles…Having made many inquiries to people involved in South Sudan relief and missions, in the last week of February I decided I was eventually going to find a way in, and needed to get a visa.  I sent my passport to D.C. via Fedex Monday A.M. just so I’d have in and avoid panic during the minimum 4 or 5 day waiting time to get it processed and sent back in case something happened sooner than expected.  Well, sooner was Tuesday when Alan Kelley of MedteamsWorldWide contacted me about the possibility of being able to fly in with his team as opposed to using the March 9^th flight just to get to Melut.  This mean leaving that Saturday or Sunday at the latest.  He asked if I had my passport.  I told him I sent it in Monday, but had a contact in the embassy that was trying to help me expedite things.  As it turned out, while I was talking to Dr. Kelley the next morning, my wife texted me and told me my passport had arrived! (36 hours after sending it in, a new record!)  I was now on a charter flight in and out of Melut, and just had to trust God that the rest…all the rest of the plan would fall into place.

Once in Melut, the team met with several of the local contacts arranged by MTWW, which benefitted both missions. (Medical and food distribution)  Working from Juba, the capitol city, Pastor John Monychol also provided references to  two men of God, Pastor Daniel and Reverend Ayat Deng, who provided me with indispensable help in arranging for permissions, transport logistics, and foodstuffs.  Pastor John made tireless efforts to communicate with key contacts in Kodok to ensure that commissioners, officials, pastors, and even the King of the Kao-Nyaro people of Nuba Mts knew of our plan.  From the onset, the mission’s goal to purchase as much sorghum as possible and accompany it by land or river toward the zone of conflict with a three-day turnaround time was met with a bit of speculation.  Working primarily with pastors from Melut, Baliet, and Malakal (the latter two cities having been destroyed by the recent conflict), it was easier to insist that this was God’s plan rather than try to use any kind of logic or reason to justify such an impractical time line. Primarily because there really was no logical or reasonable explanation for why it would succeed given the known obstacles and many unknowns!

We began by getting permission to undertake the task and as well as an agreement from the rest of the team (MTWW) that it could be supported as an integral part of the overall mission.  This integration of missions beyond just allowing me to get a place on the plane turned out to be a critical success factor as already pointed out.  Dr. Alan Kelley and Tim Dillard were indispensable assets, along with the local NGO/church partners.

The Beginnings of a Plan (Part 2 of 8)

The Beginnings of a Plan  

By: John Jefferson

The Beginnings of a Plan Start to Form in January

As we all watched with a combination of horror, disbelief, and dismay at the situation transpiring before our eyes concerning our brothers and sisters in South Sudan, three tense weeks passed before local contacts could safely communicate and help devise plans to begin the long path to some level of normalcy.  This led to colleagues and partners of ENG - such as David Hicks of e3 and Mike Congrove of Empower Sudan, along with their Sudanese counterparts - to devise plans and itineraries to assess the conditions on the ground and initiate biblically-based trainings to support outreach to IDPs (Internally Displaced People) and refugees in both South Sudan and Uganda.  The efforts of both gentlemen to get to South Sudan within weeks of the conflict created a vital link to local knowledge of the situation, and the beginnings of a plan to bring aid to the northern part of the country where the violence was intensifying and the needs were even greater.

The Two Options

Based on initial intelligence from numerous sources, accessing any location north of Juba, which itself was at first very unstable, did not look good. As January turned into February, two options to access the Nuba Mountains refugees concentrated in Kodok emerged.  The two options involved reaching the town of Melut, where it was believed sorghum could be purchased and transported to Kodok (refugee camp location.  Option 1:  Flying in on a charter from Nairobi that was picking up a team from MedicalTeamsWorldWide (MTWW) on the 9th of March.  Option 2: Meeting Pastor Monychol of Empower Sudan in Juba and flying up on an oil company transport plane.  Neither option offered a guaranteed exit.  The goal of delivering urgently needed aid to refugees could at least be achieved, however, devising an exit plan then became a focus.  Ultimately, flying in via the charter MTWW (Med Teams) was both the optimal and only real choice.   

How it all Started (Part 1 of 8)

How it all Started

By John Jefferson:

Mission to Kao-Nyaro Refugees – How it all started

Within a matter of days, a small window of opportunity opened to bring desperately needed relief to the refugees of Kao-Nyaro a population of more than 3,000 Sudanese trapped between two opposing sides in the nascent stages of civil violence in South Sudan, and already suffering through ongoing conflict in their home region in South Kordofan, Sudan.  The End Nuba Genocide coalition decided to bring food and supplies to these people despite the risks involved.  Located in Kodok, South Sudan, the refugee camp is situated along the Nile River and contains no permanent structures, sanitation, running water, or medical facilities.  It is the barest existence imaginable, and a reminder that these policies of eradication even pursue their victims across borders.  The objective of delivering food, some limited medical aid, and clothing was achieved with less than three weeks of planning, proving that with Faith and a bit of effort, all things are possible.

Background    

                   

Prior to the conflict that erupted in South Sudan in mid-December 2013, various plans to follow up on the previous Nuba-focused work of ENG members and affiliated organizations were in motion.  Coalition participants have seen success with humanitarian relief operations in the region, but when what appeared to be either an attempted coup or dictatorial seizure of power led to ethnic violence and all appearances of a civil war broke out in South Sudan the stakes were raised.  Suddenly, the already isolated and vulnerable Nuba (especially Kao-Nyaro) population in both Sudan and South Sudan became virtually beyond hope and reach.  Anyone with even a scant understanding of the historical and present condition of the Nuba would understand how grave their situation had become.  Within this context, ENG team members doggedly pursued intelligence on the situation on the ground and possible ways to bring aid and comfort to populations already living on the edge of existence.

The Journey Home

By: John Jefferson

The Journey Home

It takes a couple of days to get to Sudan, but it only takes a minute to return.  Though what I experience there bears little resemblance to what I experience on a day to day basis here in the States, everything, even in the negative, reminds of Sudan.  Something as simple as going to the sink and having water come out of the faucet makes me think of what women have to do to get water, sometimes walking  miles.   Then the idea that I’m letting drinkable water go down the drain conjures up memories of a place where there is no water we would call potable without first boiling it for 15 minutes.  More crazy is the fact that I jump in the shower and let gallons of drinkable water run over me to cleanse myself.  And I won’t even get into what their alternative to the flush toilet is, but suffice to say most places don’t have one.  The low hum of my refrigerator, light switches, and air/heating controls remind me that gas generators roar into the night to provide enough energy for a few hours of dim light for compounds fortunate enough to have them.  Cars and paved roads to drive them on make me think of the roads choked with people, animals, cars and trucks creating large clouds of diesel smoke and dust rising to the heavens.  Waste bins remind me of piles of garbage in the street, lots or fields waiting to be burned, and recycle bins remind me that nothing that is of use goes to waste.  Costco, Safeway, RiteAid, REI, Target, Wal Mart, etc., all remind me of the markets where what you see is what you get and that isn’t a lot.  The route home from the bush, to Malakal, then Juba, followed by Nairobi brings one in successive steps toward the excesses of Western living.  The stopover at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport lets one know they have reentered “civilization” and the reminders of the lost world of Sudan abound.   Just sitting on the airplane takes adjustment with its personal entertainment systems, constant food and beverage services, and nice compact restrooms that are reasonably clean for the first few hours of the journey back.  Once home and recovered, the planning for my return begins as if a part of me was left in Sudan, and I have to go back and get it.  The reality is though, that it’s not that I leave a part of me there, it’s that all of me doesn’t want to come back and thus, some of me stays.  

The Nile

By: John Jefferson

The Nile

Despite the many challenges they face, the people of Sudan, and I’m speaking of those who identify as Sub-Saharan Africans, have a spirit that refuses to yield to the forces that have tried to remove, enslave and kill them over the centuries.  Without fail one often finds moments when the pain, suffering, corruption, inhumanity, injustice and bitter striving vanishes and you are made to feel like you just stepped into eternity and are seeing things as God ordained them to be, not as Man has caused them turn out through his evil devices.  I had just such a moment on the Nile River returning from the Nuba Mountains.  Our Land Cruiser had just had a second tire blow out.  One which had it occurred a few hours earlier deep in the bush, would have landed us in big trouble.  As it happened, there was a military base not far from where we were so some of the team went to get help.  After waiting an hour or so, a couple of us, at my insistence, followed the trail of a few of the women we had seen passing by with containers to be filled with water.  We left the dry roadside as the sun was beginning to settle on the horizon and walked along the dusty trail.  As we approached the river, the ground yielded more plants and grasses giving way to a lush flora and an inviting breeze tinged with the smell and taste of algae and moisture as the oppressive heat began to vanish.

Behind us lay a dazzling sunset complete with beams of light shooting through the gathering cumulus clouds set against a bucolic backdrop of animal cries, rustic huts, and an exploding tapestry of color.  Before us lay the Nile, an ancient snake winding its way through mountains, grasslands, and heath. 

Immediately a calm came over me as we came upon two ladies who were ending their day fishing at the river’s edge.  One had just caught a small fish, and with a childish grin turned toward us as she spoke to her companion in a bubbly sounding dialect that seemed to bounce past my ears and over the ripples of the Nile itself.  They posed for a picture and shared the moment with us, one of peace beside the cool waters and amidst the lush green reeds and grasses of the sandy banks.  As the sun disappeared, they gathered their meager possessions; plastic buckets, ragged shawls, bamboo poles, and began to make their trek back to their mud huts.  You could see from their faces and the way they walked they had led hard lives, by our standards at least.  We know they have seen war, famine, disease, and experienced oppression of one sort or another.  Yet, in the moment we shared with them none of that was apparent.  It was like a cool drink of living water passing right through us, reviving our spirits after a long hot journey. 

One of our cell phones rang, the rest of the team that had busied themselves in finding a solution to the tire problem, had resolved it and were looking for us so we could continue our journey to Malakal before nightfall.  Fall it did, but we eventually wound up back at the shores of the Nile, although a different Nile.  The blackness that now enveloped us could not hide the fact that it was not the place of the two ladies fishing along the river’s edge, but the place of transport, commerce, and human industry on the outskirts of the northern most major city in the Republic of South Sudan.  As we moved across it I thought briefly of the two friends I made and the moment I shared with them.  Once again Sudan had challenged my belief that I could really understand or define her, and once again, she won.

Got School?

By: John Jefferson

Got School?

Since the war broke out over a year and a half before we arrived, the hundreds of kids in the villages around where we served had not been in school.  Prior to that, I was told there were a couple of semi-literate female teachers that were sent from the North, but they only had the students recite the Koran.  In essence, many of the children have not received decent instruction in a long time, if ever.  More interesting still was the fact that there were a couple of teachers around, but they didn’t have chalk, pencils, paper or instruction manuals to teach the children.  They even had a school building, which we used to convene a session with some of the kids from the villages, whom I gave crayons and paper to so they could have an activity while we were there.  Upon our return to Malakal, we purchased the supplies and made arrangements to get lesson books so that classes could begin again.  The food is essential, but right behind it is the need to have the next generation prepared to lead the Nuba when the conflicts are over.  Without education they know they have little chance of success and more likelihood of remaining a marginalized and forgotten people.