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January 31, 2005
Jail or Run
The next day the lady warden appeared in a green Land Cruiser, with four game guards, and a driver. She stepped out and was nice right from the get go. It was obvious to see she was worried about possible repercussions if she let us into Uganda without higher up permission, so she was hesitant. She wasn’t going to make a decision and we all knew it. She wanted us to talk with her superiors and we knew where this would lead. From one boss to the next until we found ourselves sitting in a Kampala jail explaining why we didn’t have proper documentations to cross the sensitive border. We proceeded and Philip was on edge. He didn’t like being in Uganda and he thought for sure the soldiers would harass him just because they could. Philip, unlike us didn’t have a government that would raise a stink if we were put in jail without reason, so I could understand his fear. Two days passed and we drove 150 KM into Uganda. Every post we visited scolded us about how illegal we were and told us to go further into the interior where someone could make a decision about what to do with us. At one point on a gray and drizzly day Philip overheard the UPDF in the back of our truck, telling each other they thought they would arrest us for sure at the next check point and confiscate the truck. Upon hearing this we made a split for the border. That afternoon we crossed back into Sudan, silently passed by Lotuke and then push on the Chukudum.
Posted by Admin at 04:16 PM
January 30, 2005
UPDF and the "Slave"
We cut out of Lotuke in a hurry, all saying to each other in an echo, “When we pass back through that place we aren’t stopping.” For one hour we rolled at a slow speed through the flat bush toward the border of Uganda not knowing what to expect next. Would there be a border post? Would the Uganda forces be friendly? Well, thankful the later question was true. About 3:00PM we made it to the Uganda border. Nothing but ten mud tukus and a small, green, canvas army tent made the location notable. Small mortar pits with mortar launchers sat outside of three tukus; they were the two stand mortars that you see on old war footage that make the sound thoomp like someone was blowing into an empty bottle. The UPDF saw us from a distance and comment later that they never got vehicles coming from Sudan. We pulled the car next to the open thatched tuku and greeted the men. About 15 Ugandan regulars bored to tears all started chatting at the same time. They were young men marooned out at this forsaken posting, some of them for two years already. The sergeant of the men greeted us in a friendly mood and within in minutes he was ready to help us get to the Tausi village. “Finally, some helpful people,” I said aloud in my mind. Sudan had been long waits and mindless paper work at bush huts, but here the UPDF was more than ready to help us and they didn’t even care if we checked into the country. Only one drawback, this section of Uganda happened to be part of the Kidepo wildlife park and the UPDF first had to radio permission from the game warden for us to pass. I could tell trouble was brewing. The warden told the UPDF to put us up for the night and she would come tomorrow. The UPDF boys were a hoot. We felt like tourist. They took us to the hot sulfuric springs 100 meters from the camp. The Tausi loved the hot water and washed the dirt off their faces from the dusty ride in the back cab. Philip, our Dinka guide, went right into another story. “My brother is a Lost Boy.” He stated in reference to the name the Dinka refugees were coined with when they left for America. “He is a slave there. Why do all Sudanese who leave for America have to be slaves?” Oh, boy I thought what is this about. I entertained it, “He is a slave?” I asked with a puzzled look, “I don’t think there is slavery in America anymore.”
“Yes, he’s a slave. No good job.” At this point I realize what Philip is saying. He is calling his brother a slave in America because he most likely works at a Burger King, Walmart, or some lawn mowing service in South Dakota. I ask Philip, “Where does he work?”
“He doesn’t tell us. He just say, ‘take the money I send you and don’t ask me’.” Philip answers quickly. So Philip assumes from his brothers shameful response about his lowly job that he has become a slave. You see in Sudan you are either rich or power, with power or without power. Now when these “Lost Boys” made it to America they had no education or working skills, other than how to fire an AK-47 under attack, which isn’t a skill corporate America is currently hiring. So many of Sudanese had to take jobs at fast food restaurants, department stores, and other minimum wage job—and this was a major hit to the pride of a Dinka Sudanese. But in my opinion I couldn’t feel sorry for those boys, I feel sorry for what they had gone through, but not for their wounded pride that a minimum wage job was out of their league. All immigrant at some point or another had to start at the bottom in America and work their way up; it is the American dream to have the knowledge that one can come as nothing and make for himself whatever he is willing to work hard for. And that is why so many immigrants that come America become successful in business, because they come from nothing and now find the opportunity to make business without oppression, intimidation, or fear of war, at least for the most part. So I asked Philip, “But if your brother is a slave how can he send you money?” I said this knowing as a hard and fast rule Sudanese in America make the regular visit to Western Union to send a couple hundred bucks back to the family. “He will never be allowed to come back, they will keep him there.” He said with a smile. I laughed. This was all too funny to hear, and Philip was so sincere about it I started to see images in my mind of Philip’s brother chained to a fence being forced to paint it in the heat of the day. I shook the thought from my mind and chuckled to myself. Philip thought it hilarious as well and laughed when I laughed.
Philip later told me he loves America even though his brother is a slave. Philip was the type of guy who could be a great political humorist, and I think he knew it because he kept bring up anything to do with politics. He even suggested the U.S. Should send Dinka troops to fight in Iraq.
Posted by Admin at 04:07 PM
January 27, 2005
Brawl at Lotuke
Outside of New Cush the road that had been bad, turned to worse. We began to ascend and descend rocky riverbeds, nearly tipping the Hilux on more than one occasion.
We used the machete on branches and cleared a road most told us in Loki was impassible. We arrived in Lotuke at around 1PM. The gray sky helped to cool the air and the village had a deserted feeling. This was all Dadinga country and you could see Philip felt uneasy.
A few SRRC boys met us and guided us over to a small rectangled thatched structure. We were told to park the car up the hill and Will waited with the Tausi guide and the Tausi boy as we walk out of sight to the SRRC meeting hut. About 30 minutes of pointless talk ensued and I decided to go check on Will. As I crested the Hill Will saw me and began to wave in distress. I sauntered up not thinking anything was in danger. The approaching Will I could tell by his nervous face something had happened. Dadinga kids and a group of trouble making youths were in a tight circle around the Hilux. I asked what happened. “I just say someone get beat almost to death…I was standing watching out for the car and then these drunk guys showed up. They started trying to pull the Tausi out of the back…” At this I raced to the back cab to make sure the Tausi were alright, they were thank God. Will continued, “The started yelling at them and then started to fight each other. At first a skinny guy, who was drunk, started to push this fat man, who was also drunk. He was yelling and acting like he was going to punch him. The fat guy restrained himself until the skinny guy ran from behind and sucker punched him in the back of the head. The big guy turned and with one big punch knocked him out...” Will related to me later that the skinny guys head hit the ground with so much force that it sounded like something cracked. He said the skinny guys eyes rolled back and it was obvious he was hurt critically. “…He then started kicking this guy in the head. I mean he would take three steps back and then punt this man’s face. His neck snapped back and forth and this fat guy just kept kicking him…I don’t know if his survived…I tried to stop him, but this guy was on a rampage and the crowd around him started to yell, especially the women.”
I couldn’t believe this happened in the last thirty minutes and asked in quick succession, “What happened next? Is this guy coming back?”
Will pointed over the slope of a hill about 50 feet away and said, “When the women screamed out of nowhere five guys showed up with sticks and came after him. The argued for 30 seconds then someone smashed him with a punch. The fat guy staggered then tried to run away over that slope. They ran after him and started beating him with the sticks and then I saw him fall and they pummeled him and then…he rolled out of sight.”
“We’ve got to get out of here before this turns into a gunfight.” I said with some urgency.
“I tried to send someone for you, but these kids here said, ‘you go’ so they could loot the truck.” Will said annoyed by the thought of it.
I checked on the Tausi once again and saw in their eyes nervousness and deep fear. We needed to get them out of this place. I rushed down to Godfrey who was engaged with a questioning SRRC offical and then rallied the men with guns to protect the car. We all jogged up and secured the Hilux. Within ten minutes we were out of there. Next stop, Ugandan border.
Posted by Admin at 07:28 PM
Tausi Meeting
After we picked up Philip we headed over some difficult terrain and rolled into New Cush. the sky was dark blue and I could see the first sparkling of stars. The Dinka SRRC met us and gave a few Tukus to crash in. We unload bags, and then split two chicken legs and a box of biscuits for dinner around a single candle. The next morning we awoke to meet the Tausi who had received news of our coming three days earlier. News always travels fast when you have something to give. Twenty Tausi men gathered in the SRRC compound and we chatted with them about where they lived, what were their needs, and how we can get back to them.
(TAUSI MEN AT MEETING IN NEW CUSH)
Godfrey, who works with IAS, was also on a mission to assess physical needs of the people for future projects through IAS, so hence he spent sometime asking about needs. At this point it is good for me to give you an insight to the tribes of the area.
First you have the Toposa who are cattle keepers and armed to the teeth with old British rifles and AK’s. The Toposa are a fierce people who conduct raids on other tribe’s cattle across the border in Uganda, Kenya and even in country in Sudan. They love their cows and do not eat (Unless is dies naturally) or sell them. The Toposa diet is blood of the cow mixed with milk and a sort of kasava. Decorative markings made by knives and razors, along with the lack of clothing, save a blanket wraped around the waste, give the Toposa a very stereo-typed look that most westerners think of when they hear the words, “African tribes”. Wealth means—cows, and guns mean—power.
Next are the Dadinga. Feared by everyone. We even received and ominous warning from a Dinka boy when we told him we were on our way to New Cush as he said, “The Dadinga live on those hills, they will finish (kill) you quickly.” Like the Toposa cows and guns rule life and they also are know for their raiding abilities. Darker skin and less tribal markings than the Toposa help one to identify them quickly.
Dinka: Well the Dinka’s are a different story. They aren’t from these parts in the Torit region, but found themselves settled here as they were displaced from the 21-years of fighting. The Dinka are well educated were as the other tribes still remain without schooling. The Dinka’s make up on a whole 70% of the SPLA/M fighting force in Sudan and to say that they have complete control of the government is accurate. The Dinka despise the Toposa and Dadinga for past betrayals during the heavy fighting in the mid 90’s. The betrayals being that when thousands of faminized Dinka’s fled the fighting in Bahr El Ghazal (Their traditional homelands) they passed through the Torit region (Eastern Equatoria) to find safety in Kenya, they became targets of Dadinga and Toposa snipers. The Dadinga and Toposa would sit in trees and pick off the stick figured Dinkas for no apparent reason, other than, “they are in our land”. Stories of Toposa’s killing Dinka’s for drinking from their wells is common. Well now that a peace accord with the Northern government has been signed the Dinkas, who control the government are now calling the shots. Shockingly, however, the Dinka have not struck back in force and the issue seems to have simmered down to only sporadic killings. Philip, our translator, echoes the bitter sentiment of the Dinka’s toward the Toposa and Dadinga with comments like, “Now that we have peace, Toposa and Dadinga—no school for them (meaning restiction of teaching facilities to the tribes). Dadinga are very bad people, they are our enemy.” His lack of including the Toposa as ‘enemy’ is due to the fact that he married one. The Dinka’s in the area don’t have the look of a tribe. They were second hand clothing, sunglasses, shoes instead of tire sandals, and possess the really big guns of the SPLA, which make them the force of the area.
(TIRE SANDALS)
Now in all of this mess is the little tribe named the Tausi: The Tausi are farmers. They have weapons and are on the lowest of the tribal totem pole. Tausi are afraid to own anything bigger than a chicken for fear of raids, they have been push from their land so many times by the day we met them they were not even living in Sudan anymore but on the Uganda side near the border. The Tausi were very humble and this has been caused by being looted, displaced and beat down for a very long time. They are considered the lowest, but God uses the weak things of the world to shame the wise.
So back to where I was—After talking with the Tausi we said we wanted to trek to their place for two reasons, need assessment and to preach the gospel. They were hesitant for two reasons; first they didn’t have guns to protect us from raiders and second they didn’t want to upset the Uganda authorities. The first we were willing to risk, but the whole crossing into Uganda without checking in did create a problem if the UPDF found us there. So we came up with a game plan to drive to the border (Uganda/Sudan) talk with the UPDF (Ugandan Army) and see if we could trek out to the Tausi who lived on the tops of the hills. On Tausi boy who could speak Toposa, which Philip could understand would accompany us and lead us to their place. The Tausi agreed hesitantly. As we closed they asked if we would buy them some local wine so they could get drunk. We refused and instead gave them each a packet of salt in appreciation for walking the 12hrs on foot to meet us here. We then told them we would next see them on their mountain.
So the Tausi set off, 12 hours on foot and we had and a 1-hour drive ahead to the border, then another 3-hour drive in Uganda, and then a 3-hour walk up the mountain. We picked up our Tausi guide named, Peter, and a Tausi boy who through a fit because he didn’t want to walk 12-hours on foot. We were on our way.
Posted by Admin at 12:13 PM
January 25, 2005
Philip and the Cultural Question
Our first objective was to reach the Tausi people and preach the gospel. Godfrey, IAS field worker and partner for the journey, traveled briefly in this area last year so he knew the place to start our trek to the Tausi was New Cush.
(TAUSI MEN)
We rambled on through the dry rocky lands of the Torit region until we came to a village called Natinga. At Natinga we stopped for a bit and chatted with authorities (SPLA) and then picked up a 30-year old man named Philip who would be our interpreter to the Tausi.
(PHILIP AND ME)
Philip, we would discover, was filled with sincere and hilarious conceptions of the outside world, and in quite a perdicament with his married life. Philip loved to make us laugh; he was like a comedian doing a long set. Comments like: “When the shooting stops and the elephants come back to Sudan, we will kill all the elephants and sell the ivory. There is good money in ivory; the mazungus (white people) pay 1000 shillings ($13USD) for a bracelet in Nairobi. Good business I tell you.” Or his thoughts on marriage that would break the silence as we waited at a rocky inclines or rested at a dry riverbed, “I want three wives.”
“Why?” we would ask know something completely comical was coming.
“Because I want to be seen as rich. If you have many wives people see you as rich and your business will do well.”
“How many do you have now?” we asked.
“Two. But I tell you it is difficult. I am Dinka and married a Dinka girl. She was good at first, but when I married my second wife, who was Toposa—problem! Brother I tell you problem! The Dinka one hated the Toposa (Toposa are a tribal group who are know for their cattle and fierce tribal ways) . The Dinka wouldn’t fix my food right or prepare bath and I paid many cows for her, 30!”
(TOPOSA WOMAN)
“How many cows did you pay for the Toposa?” we asked as a question of economics.
“No cows. That is great. I paid two sacks of tobacco to the brother and he said, ‘take her away’. The Toposa like me very much.”
“Did the Toposa girl like you?” we asked in a matter of fact way.
“Yes, very much. And I like her too. She fixes food every evening and always prepares my bath. She ask me to get more wives also.” We all laugh at this for a minute, Philip most of all.
“She, she…(laughter), asks you to get more wives? And what does the Dinka think about this?” We can hardly speak as we ask this, and my side hurts like fire from the laughter.
“She is angry. One day she come after me with a knife.”
Nervously laughing now, “She tried to stab you? And what did you do?”
“I laughed at her. Also she said she wanted to fight the Toposa, and the Toposa was there, so I said fight.”
“And who won?” Can’t even believe at this point that we are speaking of a real story.
“The Toposa. Toposa are very tough.”
“So why do you want three wives if you have all this trouble?” we ask quizzically.
“Because I will look very rich.”
“Your house must be full of arguing.” We attempt to prod more of life with Philip and wives.
“No my tuku (Mud home) is queit. My wives live together in a tuku and I live by myself a bit away. I tell them not to enter my home unless they want another baby.”
And on and on the domestic stories went.
Now before you judge Philip too harshly, realize this, he is from a place where wealth, love and relationships have different forms. Women have very little rights, and for that matter desire none as well, it isn’t a case of oppression, but a case of culture taking advantage of basic human rights. Philip, believe it or not, is a deacon in the ESM church and a gentle man. He doesn’t beat his wives or cause physical harm, but the mental strain on his wives must cause terrible damage, but this is the way of things in Sudan. When we addressed Philip on the issue we told him that a leader in the church should only have one wife, and for obvious reasons considering his case. We also told him about laying his life down for his wives as Christ did for the church. These are the common issues one must face in the field and this brings out one of the most important questions of all—will the gospel change cultural beliefs? The answer is: most certainly, YES—and for the good of things. This is a touchy issue in the church today, but only to those who are ignorant and do not have understanding, or experience for that matter. Cultural changes happen when the gospel is preached and believed, because, “Old things have passed away and behold new things have come.” Now I am not talking about how people style their hair, wear their clothes, or play their instruments to the Lord, but what I am saying is that cultural beliefs that harm others and violate the word of God will be lost. This has hindered many missionaries from the Western world that have been brought up in a politically correct culture that preaches, “Leave them the way they are and deliver a gospel that will fit their cultural beliefs.” There is one gospel and one truth. Believe in him and you shall not perish. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Faith attains righteousness, not works. Husbands love your wives as Christ loved the church. We are messengers of truth not the authors of our own faith; therefore we preach the word as we received the word. In the same way the Apostles of old preached the word and people who didn’t like it killed them or tried stop them; Paul at Ephesus, Peter at Pentecost, Christ with the Pharisees, and all the rest of the heroes of faith. They spoke an untarnished message and did not give regard for things of this earth, but gave regard to the lost souls of men. The true gospel cannot be altered to fit Islam, Hinduism, Buddhist, humanist, evolutionist, animist, or any other form of worship or belief that is in conflict with the word of God. Now with this message one must also realize that bashing people of these beliefs in anger will attain nothing but an enemy, so we move in love. Be kind and the hearts of men will open before you. Love and you will find many friends. Listen and the one who speak will desire to hear your words.
In the end Philip listened to our words for a long time and was impacted as he stated to us a week later at our goodbye, “Tim and Willy (Everyone loves to call Will ‘Willy’ in Africa) thanks for your words, I have learned many things.” Things always have a way of working out.
Posted by Admin at 07:24 PM
Across the border
Crossed the border seated three across the front seat of the single cab Hilux, this position would become engrained in our minds like a school child’s desk in the 5th grade, but that’s okay after 7 years of this kind of travel we were used to it.
(UN CAMP LOKICHOGIO, KENYA BEFORE BORDER CROSS)
Dust, heat, flies and feelings of, “here we go again” all hit us at the same time. The SPLA, at the border, were kind and they all like to chat to the, “Americans” (us), because “America is our friend”. The Sudanese love Americans because when much of the rest of Europe turned a blind eye to the plight of the Southern Sudanese America opened its borders and welcomed in refugees, some of whom famously became know as The Lost Boys. Well it obviously helped us at the border, being American and all, and we got through without any troubles, camera gear and the film.
Posted by Admin at 07:09 PM
January 24, 2005
Eve of Sudan: Second journey
Loki,Kenya: We are currently in Lokichoggio, Kenya, and tomorrow we drive into Sudan. We have spent our time at the UN compound sorting our gear and plotting our routes. Bandits, lack of water, hostile tribes and guinea worms are the threats of the area, but the Lord is our surety. We ask you all to pray as we head into some of the most unreached tribal regions in all of Africa. Pray for open doors and ready heart. Peace be with you all!
Posted by Admin at 07:35 PM
January 22, 2005
Cheetah!
Went to the Nairobi National Park today. One day down time before we move to our staging area in Loki. Talked the zookeeper into letting us enter the cage with the Cheetah at feeding time.
Even got to pet the kitty! Now this is how all zoo’s should be run.
Posted by Admin at 11:59 AM
January 19, 2005
Elias email after EVAC
This an email from Elias after our EVAC from Mogadishu! The "strange AK-47" we possessed was our Sony PD 150 camera.
Dear Friends,
It seems you have become Moryans (militia) so soon. We missed your company so much last night that someone remarked thats why supper was eaten late as we mourned your absence!! We are glad to have had the opportunity of traveling the road with you folks. Life is one long journey with many roads........ours in Somalia are just but one kind of the many and I am sure that you have enjoyed yourselves and learnt something worthwhile about how it is to be on the road on this side of the world. It may on the surface look like just technicals and AKs and chaos ...etc but in all this the important thing is to know that there is precious life that needs to be saved. We must say that you were excellent guets and we would be glad to host you again. However, you missed some action immediately you left, it was explained to us why you guys were delayed at the door of the plane. The pilot on seeing your strange AK...reckoned you could outgun the combined firepower of all the technicals at the airport at the time. It took the well tested negotiating skills of our friend to get them to agree to take you on board even though he had your passports at hand. Out of curiousity, just tell me....what profession is indicated on your passports? After this we sent our guys to Bakaara market to check the prices of fishing equipments. While they were there, hell visited them. Some Moryans attacked a shop with the intention of robbing. The owners, of course well armed themselves, fired back. Our two guys, the driver and guards jumped into a shop and hid there.....meanwhile a shooting contest continued outside. After a short while, all was calm. Two people lay dead and many were injured
in the crossfire and as usual neither the shop owners nor the Moryans were hit. It was inocent people. Latter in the afternoon, we went to visit Ali in the hospital (he is much better but for the loss of blood). As we left the parking and made our way in the yard towards the entrance of Medina hospital, we saw a casualty being brought in. The hospital linen was soaking with blood as the hospital staff rushed him towards the theatre...just another victim of the gunmen of Mogadishu. Our driver...hastened his pace and informed us that the man had been injured by stray bullets from the Bakaara fighting that they had witnessed. At times we wonder at these stray bullets........they have no passion for the things that we love in this life. Looking at a loaded AK 47 magazine would hardly elicit any thought of the deadly and destructive power behind the dull and cold metal that kills so sharply in an instant. Of course a bullet or a gun can do nothing on its own. It only takes a crazy man with a little more might than wit......we have plenty of those around here. Stray men on the loose....watch out!!! There was more fighting in the afternoon and shooting continued into the night...so much so that when the noise of breaking glass shattered the silence of our sleep at 2:10am, we were on our feet with torches at the ready. We ventured out of the room with Douglas towards the other bedrooms to check on Ishku. We found him and he explained that it was only a rat that had been strugling to eat a papaya on a plate on the table in Ishkus bedroom breaking a glass in the process........ no laughing matter folks!! But I allow you to laugh anyhow...for reasons I will explain soon.
Greetings from Ishku and Douglas whose ribs are almost breaking with
laughter...the guy has so much stored in him. I gues it helps to laugh at things in Mogadishu. It is the harder thing to do but if you cried, you would soon die of despair. I therefore prescribe unto you, no matter what you have seen around here, a measure of laughter and a tiny tear. Seriously though, it is not a laughing matter...... get the truth about Somalia out there! Let those that can pray do so and those that would be touched to come do so. There is work to do out here and we do not do it because we are thaaaat brave.. true courage counting the cost and facing danger with a resoluteness that defies fear. And men of courage are needed. Whaterver God speaks to you do it!! We were privileged to have guys here.
My love to you brothers,
EK.
Posted by Admin at 10:20 AM
January 18, 2005
"Ali has been shot!"
Mogadishu, Somali: “Ali has been shot!” What? I looked at my watch it was 6:30 AM. I got up in a hurry and a stiff breeze blew through the room. The sun was already up and cooking. I dressed quickly, and Will and I rushed out the door to the next room. Sitting with somber looks was the IAS staff. “What happened?” we asked making sure we heard right. “Ali has been shot,” Elias announced. He continued in a monotone voice, “Last night at somewhere between 2:00AM or 3:00AM Ali was shot in the stomach by a masked gunman.” All our hearts sank. We all prayed together that it wasn’t fatal. Ali lived about 4kms away. What would happen next? The IAS team was thinking about our safety. They didn’t know if we were targets, if the murder was exclusively aimed at Ali, if we were next, if someone would try to kidnap us, if a gunfight was coming to our front door, if, if, if…no one knew. “Can we go to the hospital?” I asked. “That is a problem,” returned Elias, “The hospital is in Medina”. He might as well have said Hades. Medina district is the Wild West and on arrival in Somalia we were told, “It is the hellhole of Mogadishu”. "Let’s do it," we announced. Ali is shot and we all wanted to see him. Elias told us to pack because after the Medina hospital run we were on the next qat plane out (Drug planes that run daily to Mogadishu from Nairobi carrying the amphetamine qat). We hopped in the Hilux’s with four more gunmen than usual. Everyone cocked there Kalashnikovs and we were on our way. Ducking and dodging militia controlled roads we squealed around corners and within five minutes we were at the hospital gates. Everyone was nervous, but the coast seemed clear. The gates opened and we entered. We rushed in to the hospital and the sounds of screams echoed through the pink halls with a horrific quality. Gun shot victims everywhere. We rushed to Ali’s bedside and there he was bandaged on the stomach and hand. His hand also sustained a wound. With lazy eyes he looked up at us and said, “I have been shot, what can I do, this is Somalia?” We told Ali we would pray for him and then said a quick goodbye. As we walked out of the gunshot ward I caught glimpses of the evil outcome of last nights bullet melees from across the city. A man lay quivering with a bandage around his head from a shot to the brain, but somehow he was still alive. His next of kin, I assume, sat by his bed with a traumatized look mixed with the plottings of bitter revenge. Gunshots to the legs, arms, back, anywhere you could think of, this ward was full, and each had their own stories I am sure. One curious injury we noticed was a man sitting calmly with a pipe stuck in his ribs, but by the look of things and how he smiled at us it seemed to have little effect on him rather than a nuisance for getting around. What could any of them do, this was Somalia?
We raced out of Medina and everyone let out a sigh of relief. We speed through the white washed city for the last time as we hurried to the “Qat air field,” so called in reference to the qat drug-planes that come 4-5 per day with loads of the stuff from Nairobi. The planes fly back to Kenya empty and offer a steady form of “regular” air service for NGO emergencies.
Guns, guns and more guns at the qat strip. Technicals sped by with 6, 8 sometimes 10 heavily armed boys looking for trouble. Only months before one of the chartered qat pilots, along with the plane, were held for ransom for two weeks until the ruling warlord of the area worked out a higher taxation for landing rights. Everyone was armed and even scarier everyone was high on qat (Qat is a green leaf that is a stimulant and one of the side effects is insomnia). We said our quick goodbye to the IAS boys and then boarded the empty cavern of the airplane. Next stop—earth! The reality of Somalia ended like being woke from a nightmare.
Upon arrival in Nairobi 2 ½ hours later we didn’t have much to say. It is like trying to tell a dream, you realize that not many will ever understand it, except you, so you say nothing. But now days have passed and ever thought is examined with the utmost detail. These are experiences and times you only leave up to prayer. And somewhere in both of us we know we will again make a journey to Somalia.
Posted by Admin at 07:12 PM
January 14, 2005
Basara
Arrived in a village called Basara today. Went to a school and worked with a medical clinic. Most Somalis in this area have never seen white people before, even the ones whose age is 30 and above. They comment on us in curious fashion; "They have no skin" or "Their skin is like mole color skin"
"Their hair is like dead grass"
"Why do they have a metal arm" referring to the camera
We felt like John Smith in Virgina 1604. Somalis petting our arms and fightened at any motion of our hands. Then once they relised we were friendly smiles and handshakes broke any fears they had of "the Whites causing any harm.
Back at the school house we posed with one of our gunmen for a photo. AK's are as pleniful as wristwatches in Somalia and to be without one is like not wearing a shirt. The gunmen only thought it right for us take the photo with an AK as well
Posted by Admin at 06:21 PM
January 13, 2005
Arrival in Mogadishu
White, blinding white. My eyeballs ached with pain as I looked out across the bright dusty limestone runway from the beach surf aircraft door. We landed 28km outside of Mogadishu at a small airstrip that sat 200 meters off the Indian Ocean. The air smelled like fresh fireworks, something that wouldn’t leave my nostrils until I returned to Nairobi, and even now when I recall my days in Somalia the smell still comes back to me. The seas air was filled with humidity and gust of wind kicked up waves of white clouds of dirt that rolled past in gentle tumbling motions, but the dust never seemed to stick to me, maybe it was the wet sea air or maybe the dust had a mind not to bother visitors. Toyota pick ups, I would say five, waited for whatever or whomever exited the aircraft. Somali men with dull purple kitenges and stained white button-up shirts loitered around the airstrip with one hand gripped on the strap of their AK-47, not in a tone of ‘ready for combat’, but like a school boy would hold the strap of his Jansport bag as he talked to his friends. My eyes were nearly shut from the blinding brightness of the limestone, and there was no escape, if I looked to the sky the sun would blind, if I looked to the ground the white surface would blind, so I opted for a little of both and kept my head fixed, with squinted eyes, level to the horizon. I could here the lapping of waves beyond the crest of a wall of rust colored rock. We walked to the hold of the plane where a Somali boy was busy tossing luggage and duck taped boxes down to the passengers. As I pointed to my bag, for the boy to hand down to me, I heard “Salaam Allekum”. Both Will and I turned to see Elias, our contact and point man for IAS operation in Somalia. “Allekum Salaam” we replied, then greeted each other with joyful hand shakes and hearty smiles. Elias then introduced us to Douglas who also heads the Somali-Mogadishu projects. Both of them hail from Kenya, but after the time these pilgrims have put in they now come from two worlds. And that’s how it is in Somalia, your not just merely in another country but it is like you have landed on the surface of another world. What could I compare it to? The best I can think of is to say it is like traveling to Mars. The environment is harsh and deadly, the place is deemed unacceptable for human life, and instead of myths of little green men Somalia tells the tales of warlords, blood feuds, and clans—but unlike the E.T.’s of mars the Somali stories are frighteningly true.
We shouldered our bags and strolled with Elias and Douglas toward the white IAS Hilux. The wind blew at us more intensely as we walked closer to the ocean. A feeling of ‘Finally after all these years I am standing in Somalia’ sent surges of excitement pumping through my veins. We loaded up and took curious note of the heavily tinted windows. Elias said of the windows, “You can see out, but no one can see in...safer that way, because if they see white (meaning us) they start to shoot.”
Zooming away from the limestone airfield our journey to Mogadishu and the rest of Somalia began...
Posted by Admin at 08:40 AM
January 11, 2005
To The Mog
Tomorrow we will take an echo air flight and arrive in the Mog, or Mogadishu. Somalia is like the wild west and it will be the hardest warzone we have entered in all of our travels. We will be working with tsunami victims in the south and we will need your prayers. Peace be with you.
Posted by Admin at 04:28 PM
January 10, 2005
Mogadishu, Somalia
Leaving for Mogadishu on the 12th. Lots of fighting currently in the capitol. Can't enter the redzones (Bakara Market and the port areas). The word we are receiving is that we will be picked up by a group of four gunmen and then taken to the compound near the national stadium.
The day after we arrive we will travel south to help with the tsunami effort, which surprisingly even effected Somalia. Nearly 300 dead and no aid in the area to help with the troubles. We also have an appointment with a Sultan and we plan to share the gospel to him and his household. The 21st should be hectic with the new government making its move back to Mogadishu from Kenya and street wars are expected. Always wanted to go to Somalia and it is in our opinion one of most difficult place in the world to share the gospel (danger-wise) ranked evenly with North Korea.
Posted by Admin at 01:08 PM
January 06, 2005
RUETERS New Story
By Michael Conlon
CHICAGO, Jan 6 (Reuters) - In the world of bug-eating, bungee-jumping
reality television, here's a twist: Christian missionaries living a travelogue
life while viewers watch their aches, pains and trials trying to spread the
Gospel.
It makes for a surprisingly slick program, a cross between vintage Lowell
Thomas and Paul of Tarsus with cheap hotels, dust storms, crowded peasant huts
and an eye-level peek at a world where most tourists wouldn't dare dirty their
loafers.
"Travel the Road" is now in its third season, reaching 250,000 to 300,000
U.S. households per show on cable's Trinity Broadcasting Network, which bills
itself as the world's largest Christian network, and uncounted others in about
100 other countries, according to executive producer Michael Scott.
Scott's brother Tim, 27, and 30-year-old William Decker are the two
missionaries, doing their own filming to record an odyssey that has put them in
dozens of countries from Tibet Rwanda.
The pair has been cursed at and threatened with death in Ethiopia, betrayed
in India by a thieving convert, attacked by leeches in Laos and bone-rattled for
hours on end in the cargo holds of third-world transports.
NO SERIOUS ILLS
Surprisingly, Michael Scott says, neither his brother nor Decker has
suffered serious illness or injury.
"Although when they were in Sudan they were riding in a truck, a UN aid
truck, and William was in the back filming and fell out the back," Scott said.
"But he got up and wasn't hurt."
The pair has just finished filming their missionary work in Rwanda and Congo
and at last report was headed for a return trip to Darfur in Sudan where a
22-month rebellion has killed 70,000 people and driven 1.6 million from their
homes.
They were also recently in Afghanistan and plan to visit Somalia which along
with the previously mentioned African stops will comprise a package of new shows
airing next autumn, Scott said in an interview.
The reality rage in broadcasting in recent years -- one that has produced
shows ranging from Donald Trump putting hopeful apprentices through a trial by
fire to cheated-on spouses confronting their mates in the act on camera -- has
whetted the public's appetite for the show's format.
"The timing couldn't be more perfect because of what was going on in secular
television," he said. "It helped pave the way."
But "Travel the Road," he emphasizes, "is not about creating a television
show. They're there to do the missionary work. The television show is more of a
byproduct."
A SUBTLE TOUCH
That said, much of the actual missionary work is covered not outright but by
references or discussions after the fact. At times the pair seems to stumble
into situations, looking for converts or even an interpreter to help carry their
message. At one point they and some colleagues got flat-out lost.
But the resulting travelogue overlay and the human focus on the two
travelers, along with highly professional editing and musical backgrounds, gives
the package an entertainment value that goes beyond religion.
The shows are backed by nondenominational Challenge for Christ Ministries,
which runs Vision Christian Bible College in Denver. The Scott brothers' father
was a president of that school.
The project was originally supported by donations from "a select group of
backers," Scott said, and now through donations and product sales -- copies of
the episodes that have been aired to date. They are being sold in stores and
through the show's Web site -- http://www.traveltheroad.com.
When the travelers return home in April, Scott said, they will do a lecture
tour across the United States. After that they may pack up their cameras, tapes
and Bibles and head out yet again.
Posted by Admin at 08:42 AM
January 01, 2005
New Years!
New Years in Uganda! Five minutes before midnight we looked out over the skyline of Kampala, Uganda waiting for 2005. Then with a scare the power of the entire city cut. Darkness. Screams started to erupt. What was happening? I fully expected bombs to start dropping due to the panicked screams, but Kampala was a safe place. Then with a brilliant burst in the sky the trail of a fire work appeared and the city again shouted, this time in joy. It was New Year’s...Ugandan style. The city didn't sleep until dawn and the beating of drums beat with wild exhilaration.
Posted by Admin at 08:30 PM