At Home in a Foreign Land
Red dust flew up and hit me as I exited the plane. The heat felt stifling. My mind was foggy after 36 hours of no sleep and lots of sitting on planes. A person in a white safety suit sprayed me down with what I assumed was sanitizer. I followed the crowd into a small room to fill out cards before entering customs at the Juba, South Sudan airport. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I found myself standing in front of a militarily-clad man speaking rapid-fire English—too rapid for me to understand. It wasn’t the slow Hoosier English I was used to. He was getting angrier, and I was getting more anxious and frustrated because I couldn’t understand. Finally, the man pushed me toward a middle-aged man who spoke slow and clear English. God’s promise of “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” rang true. In that moment, there was peace that only God can give. Even in a bustling city halfway across the world, God was still present, and he gave comfort.
By the time I arrived at the hotel and lugged suitcases full of books up the staircase, all I wanted to do was fall asleep. However, sleep was far from me. Every two hours I was wide awake, jetlag settling in. I remember thinking, “I can’t do this. There is no way I’m going to be able to make it through four months of living here.” That feeling increased after we boarded a smaller plane to fly to Aweil. There was no announcement of where the plane was headed, and I was pretty confident we were not heading to Aweil, but that I would be lost somewhere in the vast land of South Sudan, unable even to understand the foreign tongue. However, as we began our descent, I looked out the window and saw bright red hair. Familiar faces! A wave of relief and thanksgiving for God’s protection and grace flooded through me. Normally, I am not in a huge hurry to deboard, but this time I quickly made my way through the sea of people to where Zach, Beth, Isaiah, and Alexander Smith were waiting. An overwhelming sense of relief and joy engulfed me as I gave them all hugs—even though I hardly knew them! God had brought me safely here to people who quickly became dear friends.
On our drive to Parot, my whole body relaxed. The town of Aweil gave way quickly to what I was used to seeing in Indiana: large open space with cattle roaming. Unlike on the congested roads in Juba, the bumpy dirt road was a comfort; it felt like home. Sure, South Sudan is vastly different than Southern Indiana, but in God’s grace, the Cush4Christ team is located not in a big city, but in the countryside where I quickly began to feel at home. In his grace, God was giving peace.
Looking back, it seems crazy to think that when I first arrived in Parot, everyone was a stranger, and I could not tell who was who. Those strange faces became my friends, sisters, and teachers. Those living on the compound became family. I fully expected to feel homesick, but I didn’t—not in Parot, anyway. God had given me home, family, friends, and a job to do.
My jobs in South Sudan were far from glamourous. Fixing the chain link compound fence became the top of my list, since random goats kept getting in to enjoy the fine delicacy of young trees. By the reaction of the neighborhood children, I am positive they had never seen a woman fixing chain link fence. To be honest, even though my parents own a farm, I had never cleared fence lines, laid new fence, or fixed chain link fence while wearing a skirt. I learned all about wearing skirts and living life. I learned to cook over a jikko (an outdoor charcoal stove), only ruining one skirt by catching it on fire. Isaiah was a huge help in getting my fires started, and I appreciated his enthusiasm and willingness to help me fumble my way through learning. Even though it was not an official job, I fell into the role of feeding the night security guards, who I fear suffered through my inability to make food for just one diner. Poor James Wol (a pastor, teacher, and security guard) was given so much rice one night because of my mistake, that I am pretty sure he never wanted to see rice again! However, my biggest lessons were not in learning how to cook over a fire with limited ingredients. My biggest lessons were learned from God’s people—our brothers and sisters in Christ who live in Parot and the surrounding area.
Here in South Sudan, I saw many people who lived hard, broken lives but were filled with so much joy that it radiated from them and was contagious. I could not help but eat some serious humble pie. How many times have I complained about my life, about work, or about something broken? I have never been beaten. I have never been concerned about where my next meal was coming from. There is so much that I have to be grateful for! I asked my dear friend Aluel how I could pray for her before I left. What she told me brought tears to my eyes. She was my language teacher, and often when I paid her to teach me, that was all the money she had for her family’s next meal. And she was sick with a terrible infection. But what was her request for prayer? It was to please pray that her five children would come to know the Lord and live according to the Bible. That was not the first time I was humbled by the love that was undeservedly given.
One day I became quite sick. I hated that it affected my ability to work. I was exhausted, and my entire body hurt. I would stumble on the short walk to the latrine, which felt like so much longer than it really was. Apparently, it was very obvious that I was sick, so much so that our security guard, Ding, told Agau (the wonderful woman who brought us water and washed our clothing). Agau told me to get back inside and rest. She also prepared hydration water for me, just like Jan Buchanan had taught her. Before I left, many people asked how I was going to “help the people over there.” Now that I was actually “over there,” I found that these wonderful brothers and sisters in Christ were helped me. Again, I was humbled by the love and joy that these believers show every day.
I am exceedingly thankful for the time God gave me in South Sudan, for the Cush4Christ team, and for the lessons learned. While I many not have been able to return for fulltime service, I use the lessons I learned in South Sudan every day in my work here in the United States. Indeed, God is gracious.
Julie is the new Advancement Manager at RPGM and lifelong member of Columbus RPC. She lives in Indianapolis with her husband Luke.