Reality Check

Recently, I've gotten some reality checks and harsh reminders that have me taking stock of some basic differences between my world and my students’.  Little by little, I am starting to see deeper into the actualities of their lives and into my own as well.

Events:  1) I was walking on the school playground and stepped on something sharp.  I looked down to find an inch and a half worth of a bullet.  I picked it up and exclaimed, “is this what I think it is?!”  One boy turned and nonchalantly confirmed its identity the way I might say, “you’re holding a pen.”

2) We've canceled school for the next two weeks because the land we're expanding into has to be de-mined and we can't have any curious kids running around.  We also accidentally cultivated on land that hasn't been de-mined yet (only through the grace of God did we not meet with disaster).

Reminder:  The war was fought here, on the ground I stand on every day.  On the land of these kids’ homes.  They have been exposed to war on a very personal level, and in fact, their whole lives have been shaped by it.  It’s very sobering to know that they have known such violence so close up.

Event:  During oratory, I noticed a small, sad boy sitting by himself.  I asked if he would play a game with me and he reluctantly agreed.  We played cards for a while and he started to come out of his funk.  When a third kid joined us, I taught them Go Fish (my American attention span, or rather lack thereof, means I am constantly introducing new games).  The sad boy became happy and both loved the new game.  We spent time together, just sharing our lives with each other.  More boys joined and it was all smiles until the end of oratory.

Reminder:  What does it mean to be an SLM?  It means I am here to be the body of God’s spirit on Earth, to see Christ in the faces of the kids, and to serve Jesus in the little ones under my care.  Every morning, I read St. Theresa of Avila’s poem/prayer “Christ Has No Body” to center myself and remind me of these things.  God has given me this incredible opportunity to be here in Africa not to make grand plans, not to enact big change, not to DO anything.  He has put me here so that I may BE with the children.  He has put me here to simply sit in His love and to invite others to sit in His love with me.  He has also put me here to learn about love from those who know it the best: children.  What a gift to be an SLM instead of a regular volunteer.

Event: A boy in my class told me his mouth was hurting.  When he opened for me to see, there was a huge hole from the side of his tooth that went all the way through, essentially cutting two teeth in half.  His entire mouth was one big cavity.

Reality check:  Healthcare here is improving, but it's still a difficult situation.  They don’t have any dentists in South Sudan at all.  People just deal with the pain until the tooth falls out (most of the adults have only a handful left).  In a country where getting enough to eat is a serious problem, extra care for luxuries like teeth can’t afford to be a priority.  I am living with the poorest of the poor.

Event:  As I was working in my office, I got some visitors from P8 (8^th grade – 16 to 20 years old).  One picked up my wireless mouse and asked what it was.  When I told him, he looked at me with an expression that seemed to say, “Oh Sister Cait, you think you’re sooo funny.  'Mouse.'  Ha, ridiculous.  Let’s just call this desk a Zebra, shall we?”

Reality check: They have no idea about the basic components of a computer.  The technology that we Westerners take for granted as the bare minimum to teach even our preschoolers might as well be a space ship to the kids here.  This means that one ticket out of here for these kids lies in having even the most basic, fundamental background in computers.  I hope I can help them with that while I am here.

Event:  Roffina (another P8 girl) walked in as I was tending to my addiction to CNN.com.  When she asked, I told her I was reading the news.  There was silence, then she repeated “the news” as if she were trying out the word for the first time.  “Do you know ‘news’?” I asked.  She shook her head and leaned in closer to the screen.   I explained that people write stories about what’s going on all over the world, and I read them to find out what’s happening.

“Like what?”

“Well, for example, in America [insert summary of news story 1]”

“Oh.  What else?”   [story 2]   “What else?”   [story 3]  What about here in Africa?  What about in *reads screen* Ay-see-aye-ah?  What else?  What else?  What else?  What else?”

This continued until I ran out of things to read to her.

Reality check: She didn’t know the words “news” or “Asia”, and had no concept of being able to know what is happening around the world.  She doesn’t know anything except what’s happened in this tiny village over the course of the last 15 years.  The people here, their world is small.  Really small.  They are ignorant, not because they choose to be but because they do not have the means to be anything except that.  But once she got a tiny taste, Roffina was hungry to know all about the world.  She often reminds me of myself, and this thirst for information is no exception.  The only difference between us is that I’ve always had access to newspapers and tv news broadcasts and the internet, and she’s had… well, nothing.  Only as a result of the places we were born.  This has me asking God, “why?” out of both sadness (for her) and gratitude (for me).

Despite the fact that I live here now, my life and the lives of the people are still worlds apart.  Their paths have been more difficult in many ways, there's no denying that, but does that mean that their lives are worse while mine is better?  I don't think so.  I think they're just different.  And I don't know if my kids would feel the same way because I am still very much an outsider (and perhaps I always will be), but in my view, we're all in this together.  So I'm very grateful to God for continuing to show me what is really at play here in a way and at a pace that I can understand.