Une Histoire Pour Les Romans (One for the Storybooks)

The thing about having a good adventure is that it involves a lot of discomfort. Of course, if it’s a really good adventure, you don’t usually remember the miserable moments very much, or if you do, it’s almost better for having had them because the story is so much more exciting.  I told my mom a version of this after she mentioned that she was praying for me while my electricity had been off for 4 days. I told her that once it got past the 4 day mark and then my water cut out too, I was ok. By that time, my refrigerator was gone and I’d eaten everything possible and thrown out the rest of the rotting food, but you know what? Gummy smurfs do not have to be refrigerated (one of their MANY virtues) and so I had plenty of food for survival. I explained to my concerned parent that once things get to a new level of bad, I’m ok and I kind of want to see how much worse it can get. It’s the intermediate level that I don’t really like because it’s not a good story, and it’s just annoying. She replied with the Eye Roll emoji because she is supportive like that.

Anyway, to get to the point, I’ve noticed recently that I can’t go to Koudalwa without SOMETHING happening. This should have given me pause before inviting a pastor working with the people group in the area to come with me. In my defense, I last-minute asked him, and I really thought he would say no.

Scenes from the road

 Our trip started in the usual way—an hour late. This didn’t bother me much. I didn’t expect it would bother our guest either—I mean, he lives in Chad too.  We sped down the road, Hervé driving, in the large Land Cruiser borrowed from a Neverthirst partner who had parked his car at our office while he is in the US for a vacation. (I did ask him first.) After un-installing the car seat from his car, I decided never to have children, or if I do, only to have ones I don’t mind roaming around cars in an unrestrained fashion. When I reinstalled the car seat after we got back (SPOILER ALERT: we made it back), I was affirmed in the wisdom of this decision.

He wasn't pointing out the cool cow cart,
he was greeting his friend.

 While on the road, we called ahead again to remind our friends that we were coming (they knew, but it’s always good to follow up) and to ask them to get the motorcycles ready for us (they also knew about this). Why motorcycles? Well, last time we got stuck in the mud for 16 hours in our 4-wheel drive Toyota Hilux, but with motorcycles you don’t get stuck, though you do have to carry your bike through mud holes some times.  Naturally, upon arrival we thought (naively of course) that our hosts would be prepared. They weren’t, and then the motorcycle guys saw that we had two white people and they tried to jack up the price to new and terrible levels. Hervé resented this and fought for our rights. An hour and a half later we were on the road. This was a problem because it was after 3pm and sunset is at 6pm. And we had 40km to go. And it was about to rain. And the roads were terrible. But we were committed.  Or I was anyway. Plus, I like adventures, and it is pretty fun to splash through rivers of mud, so I was in a great mood in spite of the delay and the anticipation of a long evening. I estimated our ETA back in Koudalwa at 20:00, well after dark, but early enough to get some dinner and sleep before the trip back to N’Djamena. I was wrong, very wrong, but not knowing the future can be relaxing. I have no idea what Mr. The Pastor was thinking at the time, but I imagine he was beginning to wish that his wife had put her foot down and said, “No, absolutely no spontaneous trips with that woman with the crazy eyes.” Well, too late now.

Before Hervé took over from Orange Shirt

 We splashed along, 4 motorcycles with Hervé bringing up the rear because he didn’t want me to be on the last motorcycle (he takes chivalry very seriously). We were following closely at the beginning, rushing along to try to make up for time lost to bargaining down the nasara price and lack of preparedness. Just at the last minute, my moto driver swerved around an up-ended tree. Hervé’s moto guy didn’t have the reflexes and I looked back to see his motorcycle stuck in the roots with Hervé standing behind looking dazed. Sadly, I don’t have a photo. I was laughing too hard (it seems I don’t reciprocate chivalry with a great deal of sympathy). Hervé told me later, that when he saw they were going into the tree, he just stood up and let the motorcycle continue on without its passenger. He is very tall, so he just put his feet down, voilà—he was on solid ground. He told me this later, while we were trudging through the mud together around 11pm. I was wet, cold, muddy, sore all over (I've never been saddle sore on a horse before because I don't like them enough to stay on long enough for soreness, but motorcycle saddle sores are real), exhausted and hungry and I STILL laughed for 10 minutes with this image in my mind. I noticed soon after the tree incident that Hervé had become the driver, with his little moto guy hanging on as the passenger. Hervé said, “The driver was too small, not strong enough to drive us.” That was probably true. It is also true that Hervé is a bit of a control freak.

Rainbow Snake Omen of Coming Evil

Initially, I tried to avoid getting splashed too much, but soon this was out of my control. Then it rained on us. There was a lovely rainbow that I kept trying to get videos of for Insta-stories for Neverthirst Instagram, but I never got to post them because I didn’t get into internet land soon enough. I meant to ask if Chadians also think rainbows are scary snake omens of death like the Moru in South Sudan do, but I never got a chance to do this. Maybe because I was distracted getting on and off motorcycles to wade through deep rivers. One of these times, I stepped in the wrong spot and got suctioned down in the mud. My driver had to pull me out, back onto not dry-but firmer, less-suction-y ground because I really couldn’t get out by myself.

After being pulled out of the suction

After my dress got longer because of rain and mud and began dragging on the ground.
Djibrine kept yelling at me to pull up my skirt so that it wouldn't get caught in the wheels.
My shiny white legs were scratched up by thorns and chewed on by insects.

The good part of the road.

Hervé is still smiling here.

He is plotting my assassination here, thinking about how much better it was
back in the day before I came on board. He told me this morning that he is sick
because of our trip and that we never should have planned it like this.
(Now he just told me he forgives me because I gave him half of my sandwich.)

Amazingly, we completed two reports, though one will have to be re-done, likely, as it was completed after dark, and it is not easy to get photos of Chadian people after dark in a place without electricity. I had all the motorcycles shine their lights on the pump so we can get some photos, but the main thing is that the pumps are there, completed and working. So when I take the American boss there in a few weeks, it should be something nice to show him. Though, I will have to make sure that the roads are passable first. The boss is not one for night-time rainy rides. He loves to say things to me like, “No unnecessary risks!” and “Amanda, if I TOLD you not to do that [presumably dangerous thing], would you actually not do it?” (Fortunately for my job, he has never pressed me to answer that last question because, sadly, I think we both know what my insubordinate answer would be).

Dress dragging through the mud, getting some work done.

Road conditions. This road is wider than most,
which is nice because you're less likely to get hit in the face by a tree branch,
but still impossible to drive down without pushing with your legs.

Bugs attacked me when I stood in the motorcycle beams.
My glowing skin is worrying these children.

This photo isn't too bad, right?
Hervé took it to help me with night photography.
Shortly after this last report, we lost a motorcycle to fatigue,
so we tripled up on two motorcycles.
Hervé wouldn't let me, he said that "ma reine" (as he was calling me
that night) should stay with him on the third moto. Also, I think he was tired and wanted
the smallest person on the bike with him. We had some fun conversations--
this blog post title is a quote from him, and he told me the details of the tree-crash story, and we
admired the stars and his helpfully-long legs, but time is not making this memory fonder for him.

This is what my face looks like riding in the rain
on the back of a motorcycle.

 In conclusion, we were on the motorcycles for 9 hours. We got back to Koudalwa at midnight, in time to crash on the floor of the chief’s house. I did not bring my own mosquito net tent like Mr. The Pastor, but I did bring organic bug spray that my sister gave me. I do now have mosquito bites on my scalp and all over my legs. Chadian mosquitos laugh in the face of your lavender and citronella oil. And then they bite you in YOUR face, the little bastards (sorry, Mom, it was warranted). We didn’t get dinner, but that was ok (for me-- Hervé was not happy and he ate the rest of my cinnamon peanut butter cookies that I’d made for the trip) because I didn’t feel like brushing my teeth or hair or doing anything besides getting out of my cold, wet, muddy dress and collapsing on the blanket-mat the chief gave me and using my bag as a pillow (Mr. The Pastor brought a pillow—some people are way more prepared than others who have already gotten into the habit of using the bag as a pillow to minimize the carrying of extraneous objects). I was awake just long enough for our guest to tell me that he is never traveling anywhere else with me again. So, I’m adding him to the list of people who have said this to me…he did graciously admit that there were one or two beneficial connections he made on the trip, which I found gratifying.

In penance for my bad planning (“Why didn’t you just stay there a little longer and take your time getting the work done?” people asked me. BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO! Also, because we had a UNICEF meeting the next day.), I drove 5 of the 8 hours back to N’Djamena, letting everyone else sleep when they (ok, Hervé) weren’t pointing out ALL of the speed bumps and potholes and wandering goats after I was ALREADY BRAKING for them and lecturing me about how you can’t pass someone on a bridge (I KNOW THAT TOO! I WASN’T GOING TO PASS THAT GUY WHEN I SAW THAT THE BRIDGE THAT WAS COMING UP WAS A ONE AT TIME BRIDGE—THAT’S WHY I SLOWED DOWN AND WENT BACK BEHIND THE TRUCK!) and stopping to buy watermelons. I got home at 4pm and ate two bags of gummy smurfs and ordered food to my house and was in bed by 8:30. Adventures are exhausting.

I'll leave you with this drawing of me and Hervé driving back to NDJ.
The men in the back were sleeping or asking why I wasn't wearing my seat belt
(answer: because when I hit an unavoidable bump, I fly in the air and it chokes me).
Note Hervé yelling at me about speed bumps and me yelling back that I already saw it,
and also me trying not to swear-drive because Mr. The Pastor is anglophone, and he would understand,
unlike that time I was driving with Emelie and she asked, "Amanda, what does $*#@! mean?" and
I had to tell her NEVER EVER to say that again, especially not in front of the Church People.

Regrets and Facebook Memes

The other day I saw a motivational Facebook quote superimposed over a tranquil landscape scene. It said something to the effect of “At the end of your life, you’re going to regret the things you didn’t do and not the things you did do.” It was much more elegant than that, of course, but even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter because I’m pretty sure there was a waterfall somewhere in that tranquil landscape scene, which automatically classes up everything. I thought to myself, “Yeah, that’s kind of true. I still regret not petting that lion at the museum zoo in Niger while I was there.” At the last moment I decided not to because there were lots of children around, and I thought it might not be a good example for them, as they had all run up to pet the hippo after I did.  But who cares about that? I should have pet that dang lion through the bars of his cage. When else am I going to get a chance to do that? Other countries don’t just let you walk up to the cages with carnivorous animals in them and stick your hand in to pet them. I will regret not doing that for the rest of my life.

Re-creation of Motivational Facebook Quote

Pause for the moment that it took me to realize that quote wasn’t intended for people like me. That moment lasted for about 5 minutes of staring at my computer screen realizing that I am bored writing this dumb concept note that I should have finished an hour ago and that I’m no longer thinking about wells in the Guera, but about not petting lions and not shooting that camel with the Yemeni soldier’s rusty old AK-47 and not going to that one party at that one place—no wait, I DID do that and I definitely regretted it. Forget waterfalls. That quote is dumb. Whenever I manage to stop myself from doing something at the last second, it is usually because common sense finally kicks in. Better late than never, I guess.

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Anyway, here are some things that I did before I had a chance to regret them (still waiting to see if the regrets kick in later). And some memes that really spoke to me that I wanted to share with you.

Such a tranquil scene-unlike the first time I rode a motorcycle
when I nearly drove off a cliff. I still have a burn scar on my right
calf from the knalpot (I think that is 'muffler' in English)
No regrets. Except I kind of wish I had a motorcycle here...

Rock climbing with the Captain (and Matt)

Ditching the tour to try out the bamboo swing

Climbing into this alligator pit.
My parents were with me. They must not love me as much as they say they do.

Eating a scorpion in China. Tastes like chicken.

Rolling down a sand dune in the Emirates.
Then combing sand out of my hair for days.

Convincing Melia to climb up the scaffolding with me in Jordan.

All zoos can be petting zoos if you really try.

This could have been me with the lions in Niger...SO MANY REGRETS!!!

Swimming in shark and pirate-infested waters,
off the coast of Somalia.

Kissing camels

I don't know...cannon balls are cool.

He's clearly disappointed in the state of civilization these days.

Thanksgiving Week Uganda-style

Took this photo from the back of
the boda-boda as we were racing off.
But somehow I missed photographing
the elephants and giraffes I saw...

I love Thanksgiving. I like the food, the nice-though-possibly-historically-questionable story of Squanto and the pilgrims, hanging out with family, and official (in my mind) beginning of Christmastime. Usually, however, I’m not in the US, not with family, and not eating traditional Thanksgiving food, and this year was no different. Though, I generally try to at least make something out of pumpkin (I have some in my freezer, which I’ll use when I get back to Chad). This year, I wasn’t in hotels that I could talk into letting me use their kitchens, and even if I had been, there is too much involved in pumpkin foods that would not have been available there anyway. So my Thanksgiving meal was Ugandan chicken stew, chapatis, a neon green apple-flavored Miranda soda, and later that night—mangos. Let’s be honest, would I have preferred to eat turkey and dressing, cranberry sauce (the jellied, completely unhealthy kind from the can without berries), and several kinds of pie, followed by watching all the new Gilmore Girls episodes with both of my sisters, wearing all their clothes and using all their blankets (their houses are always too cold for me). The answer is…probably. I missed my family (and I really missed the food), but I had a pretty good Thanksgiving week, and I got to spend it with people who feel like family.

Thanksgiving meal

 With the influx of South Sudanese refugees into Uganda (nearly 3000 per day in recent estimates), Neverthirst is looking into supporting the relief efforts in northern Uganda. So, as Africa Programs Directrice, I last-minute planned a trip out to visit our local partners on the ground, worrying them with my spontaneity, though everything worked out fine, as it always does. I was also especially happy to be re-united with Repent and his family, who fled South Sudan and are now living in Arua, more on that later. (Note: I’m going to throw out names of Ugandan towns like you should know where they are, and you SHOULD. Get a map.)

I arrived in Entebbe at 1am, waiting an additional 30 minutes for my one bag to slowly tip off the conveyor belt. Good news, friends: Uganda has reduced its visa price back to 50USD! Last time I was here it was 100USD. I didn’t know it was possible to reduce visa prices, but I am ALL for it. I shuffled off to the hotel that I usually stay in and slept for a few hours. Later that morning, I headed to Kampala, where I would meet up with Asiki and bus it to Koboko (about a 7.5 hour drive).

With Asiki on the bus,
eye bags courtesy of
inter-Africa travel

 Adventures in Uganda started out with a bang. Though we arrived at the station on time, we couldn’t get a hold of Asiki, and we watched our bus slowly glide out of the station before we saw Asiki, standing right there, not answering his phone to tell us that he was there. We’d already looked for him and couldn’t find him. So as we are hugging and greeting each other, our bus is driving away, and he is totally unconcerned about it. It turns out, he had no reason worry.

Apparently, enterprising young men on motorcycles (we call them boda-bodas here in Uganda and South Sudan) hang around bus stations for just such cases as this. “Hop on,” they said, “We’ll catch the bus.” So we did. I tried to get on side-saddle because I have a slight aversion to straddling a man that I don’t know, but they said, “Ride like a man!”, which turned out the be the right call as we sped through town, trying to catch up. Spoiler alert: we did.

Goat bike bag. So handy.
Get one in Uganda.

We smushed into our seats on the bus (Asiki is a large man), and settled in for the long, slightly sweaty trip. Besides getting to catch up with Asiki, the highlights were seeing a large bull elephant lumbering by the roadside (no photos because my phone was buried deep), and hearing Toto blared over the bus loudspeaker. I mean, it is important to realize that there are some African radio stations that will play that song, though it wasn’t actually raining down in our part of Africa at the time.

Yup, we are Family.

The next few days were fairly filled with work, and I’ll attach some of the photos. We were mostly in a town called Yumbe, as well as Koboko. Our partners are doing assessments of the water and sanitation situation in Yumbe, and I went to visit some local officials and see a bit of the area. Truthfully, I found myself on the verge of tears for much of the time. I spent some time just with Repent at the beginning of my time there and heard his stories of escaping South Sudan. The time his car was hijacked on the Juba-Yei road (where I traveled a few months earlier to the great concern of my boss), and the man in their group who did not have any money to give was shot in the head right in front of them, his blood splashing on Repent. Later, as Repent realized that the situation was too dangerous for him and his family to stay, he used the rest of his money to hire a car to take his family and their main belongings to Uganda. As they were leaving, they were caught in an ambush by Dinka soldiers who have been on the war path for Equatorians (including Repent and his family). Repent said that he made eye-contact with one of the soldiers, but somehow they let them pass. The cars in front and behind them weren’t so lucky. If you were praying for his family during this time (I may have hassled some people to do this), he thanks you, and believes that God chose to protect his family because of the prayers of the Church.

Home school in Uganda

As I heard Repent’s stories, my heart ached for what he had been through, but I’m also fiercely proud of the decisions that he has made for his family throughout all of this. When he decided to leave, his neighbors suggested for him to just run to the jungles with them, but knowing that he was not familiar with those jungles, as he was with the ones around Mundri, he decided to leave. Sadly, when the UNHCR brought them into the camp, they refused to transfer the things that they had brought with them, requiring them to leave them in a designated area where they could return for them later. Those things were all stolen. Another brave decision he made was while waiting in the camp, where they stayed for a little over a month. He realized that he was really struggling with witnessing the brutal murder of the man in the car hijacking. Knowing that he needed help, he went to a pastor, also staying in the camp and asked for prayer. That helped him to heal, and he is doing much better now. Finally, he decided to use his salary to move his family out of the camp. He moved to Arua, where our biosand filter partner, Loguya, helped him find an affordable house. Before leaving the camp, he informed the director of his decision, so he is still eligible to receive help as a refugee, even though he is now living in town. If he had just disappeared, he might have lost this benefit. He also set up classes for his children and his wife to help them learn English so that they can join the school system in 2017. He’s pretty great.

Camp--look way back and you can see tents all the way to
the horizon. Grass in front is being mowed to fit in more tents.

 Driving around Yumbe and Koboko, some places are filled with tents, as far as you can see. These tents are filled with South Sudanese refugees, who left behind everything they know just for a chance to survive. They are surviving in these camps, but camp-life is interminably boring. There is no work. There is no way to get work. There are lines to wait in for daily food rations that aren’t enough to fill up hungry bellies or medicines that aren’t enough to fully heal recurring illnesses like malaria or water borne diseases, likely contracted from poor sanitation. Lucky people might be near one of the hastily-constructed water points, but most are not. In these cases, they might spend their days searching for water, which might be enough to drink but not to bathe. NGOs are working to set up schools, and some are up and running, but there is not much else for people to look forward to.

Chairperson Aziz Aluma. This is a leader-
working hard for his people, generous
to neighbors in need, not in it for the glory.
If we had politicians like this, I might actually
try to find my voter's registration card.

Other places are being razed to make room for more tents and shelters that are coming soon to meet the needs of people that keep pouring in. It turns out, according to the chairperson of Keruwa Sub-county, the local population agreed to give this land to the South Sudanese refugees. Just to GIVE it to them. For FREE. Pretty impressive, huh? In his words, “They let us come in back in 1986 when there was fighting in our country. And many of us stayed for around 6 years or so. We want to do the same for them.” He also admitted that they are hopeful that NGO presence in their area will bring more infrastructure to their region, which is not as developed as other parts of the country. Apparently, most of their current hand pumps and many of their government buildings were built back in 1993 and 2007 during previous refugee relief programs. For this part of the country, where only 3 out of 10 families have access to clean water, there is need for some outside help. As NGOs prepare to help thousands of refugees, locals hope that their needs won’t be overlooked.

Water source that Ugandans are using.
They are hoping that the nearby camp will
rate a hand pump that they can share.
Some locals are actually pretending to be refugees
so that they can get access to some of the things
that refugees are getting. It's not a great idea,
but it's not a crazy one either.

 After spending a few days driving around refugee camps and local host communities, I went back to Koboko with Repent and Loguya to visit the biosand filter project. This project helps to provide filters to refugees and host communities. And I always enjoy hanging out with Repent and Loguya. We come from a breed that doesn’t worry too much about safety standards. Last we were together in Morobo, we squished 3 to a motorcycle to drive around to project sites. We did that again in Koboko, but mixed things up a bit riding in the back of a truck with the filters. Some people run 10k races on Thanskgiving, I rode in a truck and then walked around for two hours from house to house installing filters. Got a nice little chacos tan on my feet. Then, in true Thanksgiving fashion, I ate too much for dinner. It differed in that I ate mangos instead of turkey and pie, but that stuffed feeling was there without the background noise of a football game that I don’t care much about. So basically a win.

Riding in the truck.

Repent and Loguya joined me.

Robin and Victor installing filters.
Robin really liked it when I told him the
story of Robin Hood.

The first house where we installed a filter.
Beautiful view, lovely South Sudanese refugee family.

Thanksgiving pre-feast walk. Somewhere around here
Repent told me he was hungry, and we tried to finish up
so he could get some food...

About half of the family who will drink from this filter.

The family dog came with this family all the way from Yei.
That is loyalty.

Hey-I stopped working and just played with the kids.

Rose Nyoka is a woman who is going to succeed
no matter what. She and her family fled the fighting in Yei.
She then registered as a refugee, but rented this house outside
the camp where she has started a small shop, selling whatever she can.
She and her family were cheerful and hard-working. Super-excited about their
filter. It says a lot when people realize the importance of clean water and
are willing to pay a small (to us, not to them) amount to get it.
Rose was mad that her sister got the guys to install the filter in her kitchen.
She wanted it in the sitting room so people would see it. 

3 on a motorcycle. Just like old times in SS.

Thanksgiving meal in Uganda with Family.
Good food. Especially Repent liked it because he was really hungry.

After I had almost finished the meal, I saw this bug.
And the thing is, I had not ordered bugs for dinner--
you could, but I had ordered chicken.
I push this guy off to the side and ate the food that I ordered.

The school where Kambagiri Foundation is building
biosand filters has many signs like this all around.
Life lessons on plaques.
I have yet to 'think twice before acting' or 'promote patriotism.'
I also take pleasure in breaking school rules and regulations.

I also avoid the monotony of safety,
if at all possible.

This one, I got down though.
Check mark for me.

Mango Thanksgiving

My last day in the north, I decided to spend with Loguya and Repent’s families. I got to meet Loguya’s wife and adorable mischievous youngest child and forget to take photos. Then I spent the rest of the day with Repent and Joy. They were so excited to make lunch for me. Joy made my very favorite South Sudanese dishes—peanut butter greens and beef stewed in a tomato sauce served with the blob, aka aseeda aka posho aka ugali aka linya. I stuffed myself again, and it was a nice Thanksgiving 2, even though there were no leftovers. It was especially great to see where Repent is living and hang out with his kids again.

Me and Halina.
Still BFF and E and E and E.

Joy's amazing cooking. So good.

Oliver had an earache and he kept moaning.
But he let me rock him to sleep. Sweet boy.

Family photo sans Oliver.
I had just got him to sleep!

I carried Halina most of the way to the store,
and I nearly died. Glad she was a lot smaller
last year in May.

After lunch, I took them to a nearby supermarket with the idea that I would buy them whatever they wanted. My nephews and nieces love it when they get to choose, but I think this overwhelmed them a bit. I was just thinking that it would be nice to for them to have some toys, as they lost all of that when their stuff was stolen. Repent told me that Halina was crying for her doll that I’d bought her before so he had gotten her one of those terrifying plastic white girl dolls (no wonder children are afraid of me after seeing those things), but it broke into pieces a few days later. I wouldn’t blame the boys if they helped it along. (If anyone wants to make another little cloth doll for her, let me know. Shameless begging but I really think sewing people could make one for way cheaper than I bought it in the airport in Addis.) Anyway, this time Halina chose a large green car for her toy. You can pull back on the tires and it will roll by itself. Awesome. And no worries about gender-stereotypical toys for this girl.

With her car.

My time with the Repents was too short, but good anyway. Next day back to Kampala via bus, and I saw two giraffes just wandering by the road looking all cool. I was unfortunately too far away from the bus driver to yell at him to stop so I could take a photo.

Got to hold this cutie while his mom got situated in the bus
the next row over. Such a calm, beautiful baby.
So nice to be able to borrow other people's kids for a bit.
And then hand them back over so you can finish what
you were doing before, which in this case was
texting Micaela. 

The view from my hotel in Uganda at breakfast.
I should have stayed another night, if I had
known that Ethiopian Airlines would not give me
a hotel overnight since I could have taken a flight this morning,
and that would have allowed me to make their once a day flight to NDJ.
But if that is the case, then they could always deny hotels to people-
"Sorry, there was a flight two days ago to Timbuktu. Should have taken that.
Now wait 78 more hours until the next flight."
So I decided to pull an all-nighter in the airport, which is where I'm writing this.
It is after 6am, and I'm still not tired.
I've gotten a ton of work done. Maybe I should do this more often.
Maybe I am one of those people that doesn't need to sleep at all, so when I try
to sleep, I can't. And instead of getting frustrated that I can't sleep, I should just not sleep.
Of course, I don't usually have a giant bag of Haribo Smurfs with me. I think they helped.
Thank you, Entebbe Airport for having the best candy.

My beautiful friend Charity and her cousin Daniela came to see me off.
They are both university students. Daniela has a scholarship, but I'm helping
Charity. Donations are welcome. Charity is getting her degree in social work, and
hoping to work with the refugees coming in to Uganda. She especially wants to
help counsel those who have suffered traumatic experiences. She's hoping to get
an internship in one of the camps this summer.
Last time we were together, we were in South Sudan, trying to find ways to get
her to university. She was feeling stuck in Mundri, finished with all the studies there,
unable to find work. Fending off proposals from eligible and not-so-eligible bachelors.
She knew she wanted an education first--not typical for most girls her age in town.
She was willing to wait and now she is in school.
I said it on FB, and I'll say it again:
these ladies are the future of South Sudan. They give me hope for the future.
They love their country and their people. They are educated, wise, kind, and hard-working.
I hope that someday they will be in positions of leadership in their country.
I know that wherever they are--whether in a career, in the government, or raising a family of their own,
they will be excellent role models for those around them. I'm honored to know them.