Note: Today’s post is longer than the others I have written. This is necessary because of its nature of being the first blog post from my new home. I encourage you to read it in its entirety if you would like true insight into my life here, but if you are overwhelmed, at least give the last paragraph a glance.
It has been almost three weeks since my last post (sorry, Mom!). I hereby vow to post regularly from now on. Part of the reason I’ve been slacking it because I am much busier now that I am at my permanent site. But I’d be lying if I said that was the main reason. The truth is, I’m a little overwhelmed. Not by my daily activities, but by my inability to put into words what has happened here in the past weeks. This challenge is… comfortingly frustrating. The experiences I have had thus far can never be adequately expressed through words [thus the frustration]. The fact that they have such depth for me is something to be very grateful for [thus the comfort]. I consider myself a “words person” – I like when things make sense on paper. Though at this point, I am at a complete loss as to how the English language (or any language) could possibly do justice to my life here. But for you, dear reader, I will try…
< Faith >
My days start with 6:30 morning prayer. Though still a bit hazy at that time, I breathe in as much of the breviary as I can. Mass follows afterwards. When I sit down in the church, there are a few people scattered amongst the front rows. Then a child joins me in my pew. Then two slide next to Grace. Then there are voices praying from a few feet behind me. By the time Mass is over, there are 60 people bowing their heads. Actually, 60 children bowing their heads. They come in bright school uniforms, but it is not their shirts that light up the morning – it is their faith.
There are two groups the children may join to be more active in the Church: the Altar Servers and the Daughters of Mary. At each daily mass, attendance is taken, but the spirit is not to see who has failed to come, but rather to let the kids know that their presence is valued. They are proud when they shout “preeesent!” as though they want to make sure God hears them. Never before have I seen a group of children so committed to Christ. They are not ordered by their parents to come. They are not brought as accessories to the adults. They are there because they love the Lord, simple as that. There is a reason Jesus tells us, “Amen I say to you, whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.” (Mark 10:15)
For Sunday Mass, the Daughters of Mary don beautifully bright uniforms and perform joyful liturgical dances in the aisle - It. Is. Awesome. The women of the Legion of Mary also wear color-coded dresses. They wave purple flags and vibrantly yell/trill a high-pitched “yayayayayaaaa” when the Spirit moves them. I was definitely not expecting the very first one I heard (from 6 inches behind my ear) on Day 1 in Maridi, but now I love it! The adults here are overwhelmingly welcoming. They seek out Grace and me to shake our hands each week and to engage us in conversation even though I have no idea what they’re saying and vice versa. Mass here starts anywhere between 9:30 and 10:15am (“Africa time”) and goes until about noon/12:30. If you’d told me a month ago that I would love a 2½ hour long mass, I would've said you were being too kind. But the time flies and I am disappointed when it's over.
Everything here is very community-oriented and the priests’ homilies are no exception. They are catered specifically to this town, to its successes and its difficulties. They are as I believe all homilies should be: not just a comment on the Gospel, but a direct connection between the Word of God and the people. As an outsider, this gives me greater insight into the realities of life here.
Everything here is very community-oriented and the priests’ homilies are no exception. They are catered specifically to this town, to its successes and its difficulties. They are as I believe all homilies should be: not just a comment on the Gospel, but a direct connection between the Word of God and the people. As an outsider, this gives me greater insight into the realities of life here.
Weekly Adoration is inspiring as well, due to its simplicity. The parishioners who attend (again, mostly children) call out, “Jesus bless our” or “Jesus, thank you for [fill in the blank]” which the congregation then repeats 3 times. So simple. So pure. So beautiful. After Oratory every evening (playtime with the kids), 30 or so boys stay to pray the rosary. I get lost in prayer underneath the most majestic skies one could ever hope to see. Again, the time flies by as I reflect on the Power that has brought so much grace into my life. After Rosary, someone gives a Goodnight Talk, short and sweet. And the boys really listen. Grace spoke one evening about her most cherished saint (shoutout to St. Therese of Lisieux) , and the next day Fr. John Peter was bombarded with questions about saints/sainthood.
11 October marked the start of the Year of Faith in the Catholic church. Perfect! Because it is/will be, without a doubt, my biggest year of faith. The ways in which God is piercing through my every being is incredible - He is filling my heart with Joy, Love, and a burning desire to become closer to Christ His Son. My understanding of my own faith and curiosity for the as-yet-undiscovered grows exponentially each day – sometimes hour by hour I feel myself growing closer to the Lord. October is also the Month of Mary. How wonderful! A Marianist woman at my core, this focus on Our Lady warms my heart each day. I have just decided to teach my class the Marianist Doxology: “May the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit be glorified in all places through the Immaculate Virgin Mary.” There are very few things I love more than sharing anything Marianist (“Ask me what my pendant means! Ok, now ask me again!”). AND, to top it all off, this month we focus on Our Lady of the Rosary. And I – Love – The - Rosary! ‘Nough said.
< Language >
The Arabic I was learning in Juba is, while not completely useless, is not a necessity here. Almost everyone speaks very good English (even the littlest ones know enough). And the local language here is Zande (a tribal language). I’m not too disappointed – I was terrible at Arabic. I want to learn Zande so I can communicate with the adults and show the kids that I want to embrace their culture (knowing what they're saying about me can’t hurt either ;-] ). But since I don’t have to learn it, I’m not giving it as much effort as I should. I hope by my next post I can report otherwise.
All conversations here begin exactly the same way: “Hello. How are you?” / “I am fine. How are you?” / “I am fine.” For me, this is literally the entirety of many of my exchanges. The South Sudanese handshake is a must with everyone I come into contact with. Even the infants will put their hand in yours when you hold it out! But BY FAR, my best way of communicating is through a beaming, sincere, loving SMILE. I have no shortage of those (you wouldn’t either if you lived here). The way the kids’ faces transform from “who are you?” into “I love you” is nothing short of magical. I have started winking as well, and this is even more effective than a smile is alone. Their faces light up immediately (“immeeeeeeediately” as I apparently say it).
< School >
In the weeks before we were given official classes, Grace and I taught simple Praise & Worship songs to the kids - the ones with hand motions, which I love. The kids get REVVED UP about the songs. They shout at us, “again! again!” They’d do it for an hour straight if we let them. They beam with excitement, and when I ask “do you love Jesus? No, no, I mean DO YOU LOVE JESUS?!” they respond with shouts of joy and dance with passion. They now know that “singing is praying twice” and “dancing is praying three times” – I made up the dancing part but it seems to make sense to me, so hey, why not?
One of the most inspiring things I’ve ever witnessed/been a part of was a group of 72 fifth graders absolutely bringing down the house with a song whose only lyrics are “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I love you” and “I want to love you, Jesus”. You would think it was a Justin Bieber concert in the States (is that still a valid reference?).
We have an "Informal School" where kids of various ages gather in the mornings to learn. The difference is these children’s inability to pay school fees, which range from $7-$20 USD per semester, depending on age. The Don Bosco school is as committed to these youngsters’ education as they are to those who can afford an education. Right now they meet in the Church. Next year, they will be worked in to the regular classrooms. I am proud to see these kids sing the alphabet and recite the English words for body parts (props to Grace for bringing back “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes”). The nursery school kids don’t know much English but they are excellent at memorizing and mimicking anything they’re taught. All the grades are taught exclusively in English (South Sudan’s official language), so they learn quickly.
At the moment I am charged with teaching P.5 (Primary School Grade 5) Christian Doctrine. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I came here with this whole plan of what kind of a teacher I wanted to be. I was going to light the fire in their minds & expand their critical thinking skills & lead a thoughtful discussion-based class and, and, and… Turns out that I have 72 students (ages 11 to 15 – the war disrupted everything about their lives, and their education was no exception). What this means is that learning all of their names the first week like I had planned was impossible. It also means that at any given time, 20 kids are paying absolutely no attention to me, and the ones that do listen don’t have much interest in a participating in a discussion on the Gospel of Mark. They like to see things written on the board, copy them down, and memorize them later. I’m a little frustrated with myself so far. I know it will just take some time, but patience was never my best virtue.
I have to remember, though, that I am not here to revolutionize the education system. I am here to love the children. That is my job. Yes, I need to impart some knowledge unto them about the Bible. Yes, they need to learn something. But what I most want them to know is something that I repeat at the end of each class: “Always remember: God loves you, Jesus loves you, and I love you too.” I want them to do well on their exams, of course, but I need them to know that they are loved. End of story.
< Recreation >
Oratory for me has consisted of sitting and talking with the children, them teaching me Zande (which they love to do), playing card games, frisbee, volleyball, and especially soccer. Soccer is huge here, the main sport, and the only sport that the school has an official (boys) team for.
I have been entrusted with the task of forming and training a girls’ soccer team. This is my favorite duty. When I am with them on the field, (playing, or reffing or coaching), I am in my zone. If I am discontent with my teaching, I am thrilled about my coaching. The girls are hungry to play. They once played a 2 ½ hour game w/ no water break, and then wanted to “train” for another 1 ½ afterwards. The girls here do not participate in Oratory. So they (as I believe all kids do) need to play on a team. Growing up, sports was essential to my development. They aren’t aware of it, but they are learning discipline, teamwork, commitment, respect, persistence, focus, and many other things. Since Grace and I are the first women to volunteer in Maridi, I hope to be a strong female role model for the girls, if they’ll have me. They play a basic pee-wee game of Ball Herding but are slowly learning positions, ball handling, and the idea of passing. The biggest lesson they learned so far, however, is that I will not tolerate any fighting on my field. A few girls had to be escorted away after a tussle, so I laid down the law. I have a year with them; by next October they will be champions! Fr. John Peter is committed to this project. He let them play in uniform shorts and will be getting them a game v. another school sometime in the near future. I am excited for them (and for myself too).
< The Kids >
As a group, these kids here are the best I’ve ever worked with. They are...
- Committed - to everything they do
- Respectful - if kids are disruptive, they shush each other with a "shhh" and/or (occasionally) a swift whap on the arm
- Courteous - no one dares point out something embarrassing (I haven't gotten a single comment about the shorts I sat in paint with)
- Spirited - they are vivaciously engaged when Christian songs are being sung and when a soccer match is underway
- Eager - to learn, to play, to work, to worship, to love each other and Jesus, and to make friends with me
- Truthful and trustworthy - I have never met a group of kids that keep each other so honest
- Sweet, kind, pure, beautiful little angels sent straight from Heaven wrapped in God's love
None of the above sentences adequately describes my life here in Maridi, South Sudan. No adjective can convey the true beauty of the children; no adverb is strong enough to modify the ways in which God is changing me. The closest I could come to putting a label on this place is to say that "agape" love is present here (shoutout to Miss Rondon on the Greek). It’s in the air. It’s in the smiles. It’s in the church, the school, the playground. It’s in the quiet sunsets and roaring laughter. It’s everywhere! Walking the path of my life is like straddling the line between Heaven and Earth – one foot in Majesty, the other in Humanity – and at any given time I do not know which foot is where, they blend together so perfectly.
I am the most blessed woman in the whole world.
