Loriann in Sudan

A few weeks ago was the first time I transported my moving day belongings via a four wheeler through muddy paths and tall grass!  I’ve been spending some of my nights each week out in Gondollo, the Ganza village nearest to Yabus and the missionary compound, about 3.5km south of Yabus.  I have found this move to be invaluable for the way it connects me with the people.  I am getting a taste through experience of what real life in Sudan is like for real Ganza people.  I’d say that what it takes me to learn in months worth of daily visits I’ve learned in days of living with the people.

September 4, 2008 unpacking and repacking in the Chicago airport when we found out how expensive the extra baggage charges were

I recently wrote a brief email to an old friend about what I’ve been up to the last year.  “I’ve been living in a remote area in Sudan learning a tribal language of an unreached people group that hasn’t been learned or studied by an outsider before.”  I stopped dead in my tracks.  What was I thinking?  If I knew then what I was doing…But, I didn’t know then what I know now, and I’m happy for that. 

Lori Hofmeister, not a single credit of linguistic training, no Bible training aside from church, parochial school, and Bible studies, no missions history, no missions in the family.  I feel nervous to write this, like someone might find out the truth of how unqualified I am and send me home! But I write it anyway, why?  Because for whatever reason, God brought me hear a year ago, unqualified, unaccompanied, unprepared to a people who are unknown, unreached, untouched.  Though I don’t know what I was thinking, I trust that God knew what he was thinking as he brought me here out of love for me and love for them. 

One year ago marked the start of the most “set apart” year of my life.  A year full of experiences I can compare with nothing else.  I cared for a starving baby in my home, cried when I realized even seat cushions were part of the cost of this choice.  I’ve been a part of praying for an out of place rib that was simply healed, a boy’s horrendous fever than simply left, a sick baby whose long lasting diarrhea simply stopped.  I’ve learned a language, learned to trust God in the dark.  I’ve learned to sit down and just watch.  I’ve learned to stand in awe of God and be OK with not having any idea WHY things went the way they did.  I’ve learned to have faith not in what will come, hope not in what will change, trust not in the outcome, but to stand in darkness surrounding in every direction and have faith, hope, and trust in CHRIST ALONE who IS my hope, joy, and strength. 

It has been a good year.

We gathered together under a tree on the white sand of Gasmalla’s compound with all the people from the village of Dugabelle.  We shared as we had the two mornings prior, but this time was far more relaxed, and after listening to their stories of the beginning, I enjoyed sharing the story of the beginning from Scripture.  The people were not only receptive and attentive but nodded and participated and urged us to continue talking.  They were responsive and displayed genuine hunger for more. 

When I introduced myself to Gasmalla, he repeated my name a number of times with curiosity.  He seemed to study me with curiosity throughout our time of asking questions.  As we shared he seemed exceptionally responsive and eager for us to continue.

 It was not at all like I expected.  I expected that I’d have some sense of “fear” in the presence of a man who has such a clear story of having been “entered” but some sort of spirit.  However, sitting there on his compound with the people gathering, placing hope in him to heal them, I wasn’t remotely afraid, rather full of compassion.  He was trapped.  He did not feel free to leave.  He carried the weight of expectations and hope for healing that people place on him, a weight he was never intended to carry.   

We packed up, and headed out on our thirty-four kilometer hike home.  We talked, sang, discussed, and prayed our way back to SIM, arriving sometime after dark through the beautiful country of Ganza land, through a little bit of rain, some slippery mud, and welcomed the fabulous meal and long shower when we got home.  We all slept very well.

My sandals once caked with pounds of mud on each foot grew slowly lighter as the soil beneath my feet made a welcome change to sand after the thick black cotton soil, sticky from the falling rain as we trekked through the Sudan bush well after sunset.  Thick grass lining our path up to our necks slowly gave way to thriving fields of maize.  Faint fires sparkled in the distance before the grand shadow of Dugabelle Mountain.  We set up camp near some vacant houses and the nearest neighboring women carried firewood on their heads to welcome help us set up camp and cook dinner.  We pitched our tents on the strange soil swirled with black and white sand.

The white swirl of sand drew and sobered my attention because it began to fill in the picture I had imagined of the home of a man living in Dugabelle who is visited by many in hopes of healing.  The story says that his child died and as he took the child to the grave, something came and took the child out of his hands and placed the child in the grave.  The thing then entered into the man, and gave him power as long as he agreed to stay within the confines of his compound.  He agreed and has remained in one cleared area for the last eight years.  The ground surrounding his home is reportedly pure white, like the swirl of white sand beneath our tents that night. 

The air seemed calm and peaceful, but not vacant.  A shirtless man approached wearing black shorts and a crown of dreadlocks, with an ere of quiet regal I’ve never noticed in a Ganza man before.  I didn’t expect to see him away from his compound, I believe it was the man introduced to us as “Gasmala” a “swak” or “god on earth” to the Ganza people.

 I didn’t realize how close we camped on the outskirts of the “swak’s” land.  We could plainly see his home from where we camped, where the streak of white sand swirling through the soil came to a complete cover of perfectly white sand covering his whole compound.  Though the ground surrounding his home and his compound is completely white, one deep scratch in this pristine surface and a dark black sand beneath it is revealed.  Startling imagery.

Camping in the vacant market center in Wa

 Day 2: We woke up early and cooked Sudanese porridge, washed dishes in the creek, and waited as the entire village gathered under a tree to hear the message that we brought with us.  Eli, Yohan, and I shared with the group that gathered under the shade.  I got good practice on Ganza as I shared the message of God who made all, the one who sees and knows and loves them, who is above all and more powerful than any other god, who is different and greater than all things.  The chiefs and others shared their concerns for water and education and their desire for us to return and share more of these words. 

• On a personal note, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more overwhelmed in my life on a cultural, physical, and spiritual level.  Culturally I felt the pressure of what it would say about me as a woman if our second round of cooking in the bush turned out like our half cooked beans the night before.  In this culture, the visitors are served first, then the men, then the women and the children.  We didn’t have enough plates for everyone, so Kristin and I served food and then waited for the men to finish, wash their plates and then serve the next people.  On a physical level, I was rather hungry and felt anxious about the long day of hiking ahead of us and looked at the pot of dwindling food, saw more visitors gathering, and wondered if I was going to get to curb my hunger with what was left.  For the first time in my life I had a hint of what it must be like to worry about if I would have food to eat.  Such a base need that I’ve never really felt stressed about.  It was good to catch a tiny bit of understanding for the stress that is a daily experience for many of the people here. 
• Above all, an ENTIRE VILLAGE was gathering to hear what we had to say, and I was responsible for sharing with them in Ganza.  Would they understand me?  Would the words we prepare enough?  With a whole village eagerly waiting, should I have prepared a longer message?  I was shaking a little and could have used a moment away to just cry, but instead I got up and shared what we came to share.  Thank the Lord for such a responsive audience.  They smiled and laughed when I shared about how we are all from the same father and mother that we have different skin but still bleed when we are cut and have pain when we give birth.  They were very responsive and seemed to understand our words.  They seemed genuinely eager for us to return and share more.    

Immediately following the discussion we packed up the donkey and headed off to our next stop.  We stopped along the way to pray together, have a lunch of biscuits and cakes, and give the donkey a rest before heading off again. 

When we arrived in Wa, we were thrilled to hear that there was a water source.  See my post on “water in wa” for more details.  Upon returning to camp after getting water, Eli directed our attention toward the chicken waiting for us to prepare.  One friendly man gave us a chicken as a welcoming gift and before Eli could explain that he’d like to check with Kristin and me to see if we were up for cooking a chicken, the chicken was killed and waiting for us to pluck it!  It was fantastic!  I was so thankful for the times I had cooked chicken with Victoria, our Nigerian colleague back in Yabus.  Yakub, one of our Sudanese travelers helped a lot, and it turned out to be a great dinner.

We “showered” in the moonlight and Kristin said, “It’s incredible how incredible that grass shower at Yabus seems.”

We walked the hour path to Gondollo that I know well, but due to HEAVY rains the day before that delayed our departure one day; it was one of the muddiest stretches of the hike.  We gathered our Sudanese partners, made sure the donkey was packed properly, washed our feet at the Gondollo bore hole and headed off to Hilla Jadid, a half hour past Gondollo and then two and a half hours more to Gwasha.  When we arrived, the ladies of Gwasha left with jerry cans on their heads to go and bring water for us.  Kristin and I were excited to join them, but 8 minutes into the walk, one of the ladies said, “The water is far.”  When a Sudanese tells you it’s far, it’s true.  We weren’t sure what we had gotten ourselves into, having already grown tired from our four hours hiking in the hot Sudan sun.  It turned out to be quite a nice stream, about an hour round trip, nothing compared to the 5 hour round trip that the ladies from Gwasha make when the stream we walked to dries up and they need to go to surrounding areas to carry water. 

We returned to find our camp set up and fires started, Kristin and I assumed the role of Sudanese women and cooked for our travelers, the chief, and a few extra visitors.  We found out an hour into cooking that beans take THREE hours to boil, we finally gave up and ate semi soft beans and rice, not the most delicious meal either of us have ever cooked, but better than waiting until 11pm for dinner.  We sat under a tree on a tarp spread out to welcome us and a bench made from a log as we talked with the chief and another elder from the village.  We heard about their concerns for water and education and food.  One man recounted his experience during the war as he squatted down on the ground and covered his head and imitated the sounds of guns shooting that led him to hide out in the bush with nothing to wear and nothing to eat but the leaves they found on their way.  He shared how great his joy was when he finally received word that the fighting had ceased and they could return again.  When asked to share their thoughts about God, they had strikingly little to say.  If they do have collective ideas and beliefs about God or shared stories of the history of the world and origin of man, they did not share them.  Perhaps the stories have been lost over many years of war, perhaps they were reluctant to share, perhaps they are consumed with immediate concerns of food and water, perhaps they hadn’t given the topic much thought.