2009: Inshallah

There were two things that Stacey loved about Sudan, now one is dead and buried behind our tent. Fortunately, no, it’s not Jeff.

Not all is bad in Sudan, but we did get off to a less-than-stellar start when Jeff’s cameras and Stacey’s computer were nabbed from our (locked, I swear I locked it despite “no evidence of forced entry”) rental car in Jerusalem—on the Sabbath, nonetheless. Also stolen were all of our completed thank you notes from our wedding, arguably our biggest loss, which all of you who are married will appreciate. Interestingly, the only reason we had returned to Jerusalem that day was for a follow-up visit of Stacey’s emergency oral surgery and Shabat dinner with her surgeon, which, by the way, was a fantastic bright spot on an otherwise dark day.

On returning to Sudan we were happily reunited with the better third of our young family—now sans ovaries in preparation for her planned expatriation to America. Unfortunately, not long after, Panda became sick and rapidly succumbed to an unknown illness. It is still a source of heated debate as to whether antibiotics and/or an IV would have helped, but in any case she rests peacefully behind our tent now after dying in Stacey’s arms.

Since then, Panda has been inadequately replaced by “The Snowy Owl”, a new white kitten thought dead following her birth and subsequent disappearance immediately before Christmas. Fortunately, in the days following Panda’s demise, “The Snowy Owl” was found to be living in a pile of rubbish in the corner of the compound before Mamma Kitty moved her to under our bed, apparently impressed with the care Panda had received immediately before her death. (Incidentally, “The Snowy Owl” came by that name as part of an effort to educate Amin, our Sudanese logistics coordinator, on rare animals that he’s never before seen, like the “Panda/bear, indeed a very beautiful creature”. The snowy owl seemed only too appropriate.) Despite her inadequacies at not being Panda, Snowy is growing on us and brings light to Stacey’s (and my) world here.

We endured the dry season, marked by about 2 straight weeks of sleepless, suffocating, sweaty nights, primarily by escaping to our favorite spot on the river in the mountains behind our village. Though the water level has dropped considerably, the few pools that remain and the small waterfalls provide essential relief and rejuvenation. We now have a relatively consistent crew for our Sunday ventures, marked in particular by Nico, our new Italian friend who loves the river as much as we do.

We also had the chance to escape to Egypt and the Red Sea for a few glorious days of R&R. We are now fully certified to remove our masks underwater and die of the bends as “Open Water Divers”, despite lying about watching the mandatory video. Our newest friends Ahmed and Ishmael taught us not only about everything that can kill you underwater, but about Egyptian culture and hard days of work on the beach. Incidentally, they also defied the PADI manual daily by smoking 3 packs of cigarettes and a hukah on the beach before each dive. Unfortunately, this newfound knowledge of Egyptian culture failed to help us navigate the hordes of hagglers and trash pits at the pyramids in Cairo. It’s not that we regretted visiting one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, but the rugged coast, underwater wonders, and dinners around campfires in Bedouin-style restaurants of Dahab were more our speed.

The rains have now returned in Sudan, so we’re thankfully in a beautiful window period where the temperature has dropped but the roads remain passable and the compound isn’t reduced to a large mud pit. I’m busy in the clinic where we continue to see diseases long forgotten in the western world—3 polio cases, several cases of measles, and daily cases of whooping cough in the last 2 months. Trauma is commonplace and this is the only place I’ve been where two large stab wounds to the back aren’t considered emergency enough to warrant immediate transport to the hospital. A particularly shocking discovery is what can be done here without even local anesthesia—certainly enough to invite several lawsuits in America. Fortunately for my inexperienced hands, the Sudanese have a superhuman tolerance for pain and no functioning legal system. Aside from the femur fractures that barely elicit a wince, I’m particularly impressed when we explore and debride gun shot wounds without even an Aspirin on board.

Stacey has her hands full managing several projects to build and support primary schools and adult education centers, though still finds time to rescue girls from early marriage. Not all rescue missions are successful, with at least one ending with a blind, drunk man chasing her and her team from the village with a cane. Fortunately, some are, and one girl is now blossoming in secondary school in Uganda under the support of Jeff’s parents. Safari returned home for Christmas from primary school only to have a group of men come to her home to abduct her for marriage at age 14. After the same thing had happened to her younger sister (12 at the time), Safari’s mother successfully hid her in the house until she could safely walk over the mountains to Isohe where we were able to send her to Uganda for school. One of the biggest challenges here for Stacey is to develop schools and an education system in a culture that doesn’t yet value education, especially for girls. Fortunately, with more and more children attending school, we hope that we’re on the front end of a shift in attitude and values among children and especially their parents.

So despite President Bashir’s antics, empty threats from Khartoum, and fresh State Department warnings to flee the country (about which Harvard got very excited), we're as safe here as if we were in the middle of eastern Washington and everyone was drunk in their pickups with guns. For now, the work continues and we’re optimistic for the rest of our time here.