So here I am in South Sudan. It's hard to believe it's already been six weeks. The time just flies by here, but if I stop and sit long enough, I can tell I'm wearing down. I stay on the go, going different places and doing all the assessments and never really have time to stop and just process it all. I've seen some of the most unbelievable things in my life here, some good and some bad. It's hard to find the good in a place like this, however when you see the suffering yet hear about how blessed the people think they are, it kind of balances out. Before coming here I was just like most people. Worked a job, came home, hung out with friends and family, and did it all over again the next week. I sat in restaurants and complained about food or my glass not being full. Because I knew the food could be better, and there was plenty of soda to go around so I should have what I want. Let's face it, making myself happy is all that matters right? Wrong. Coming to Sudan has made me realize that finding true happiness comes from helping people who truly need help. Learning that has helped me keep my feet on the ground. When you see people suffering greatly, you stay grounded. Everyone here obviously realizes that I'm an American, but I don't. For the first time in my life I feel like a human being, and not because of anything that I've done or any choices I've made. When you look into someone's eyes who is not just hoping, but really needing your help, it changes you. I've seen suffering on television, read about it on the internet, and even seen pictures in magazines. The difference is, it's real now. It's not "That article I read at the doctor's office," or "Something on National Geographic before I left to go to dinner," it's that guy that I had lunch with at his house yesterday. Or it's that family that killed the only chicken that they had and invited me to eat with them, and they told me about how they were tortured a few years ago. The way you and I talk about sports, the weather, church, or the neighbor's new car is how they talk about being raped, tortured, or seeing their family members shot. You would think that kind
of experience would cause someone to break down emotionally when they talk about it, but it doesn't. They talk about it while they pour my tea, with no expression on their face at all. Then they tell me how much God has blessed them. Blessed? Are you kidding me? You just said that for nearly ten years you had to eat something every night that could possibly kill you, and you think you're blessed?
Kinjuk is a root that grows in the ground like a potato. It is edible but contains toxins that could kill you. To get rid of the toxins the people would first let it soak in running water (a river) for 24 hours. Then they would boil it for about a half day. After that you could eat it, and if some toxins were left, then it would just make you really drunk and not kill you. There's nothing to do about the horrible bitter taste though. That didn't matter anyway, the people just wanted something to fill their stomachs. Hearing things like this have kept my feet on the ground. It's true what they say, if there were no suffering you wouldn't realize how blessed you are. To that I would say, come see it and then say that. I hope my experiences will help people appreciate their lives back home. When things are put into perspective, your views and opinions on things change. Before I came here, poverty was someone who couldn't shower everyday, and had no home to call their own. Now I'd say poverty is your surroundings. If you live in a civilized part of the world, then you're not poor. If you can't find water to drink in under 5 miles, then you're poor. If you can't go outside at night because you could die from a mosquito bite, then you're poor. If you cook on a fire everyday, not for fun, but because you have to, then you're poor. If you can't afford your car payment this month then you're not poor, you just got too much crap.
I'm not opposed to people having nice things and making lots of money. I am opposed to someone having three cars and a beach house and reading about my friends here in a magazine, and seeing that they are dying from leprocy while on a plane to the Cayman Islands. Some people would probably say, "You're just jaded, it's not that bad." To them I'd say, "Come visit me and let me introduce you to some of my friends."
