A letter from Sharon Curry in South Sudan
January 2013
"Greetings from South Sudan"
It has been a long journey to say those words to you again! I am so very grateful for the opportunity to serve God and you here. The letter below is a brief description of my first few days in Akobo. In some ways it feels like I never left and in others it is like returning to a whole new place. I hope you enjoy the letter.
Blessings to all of you,
Sharon
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Greetings!
I was reading a book today and the words on the page were such a great description of how I feel about Akobo, I thought I would share them with you. “I looked at the people then, and I saw how busy they were, how much industry and energy described their lives. Occasional glimpses into huts revealed astonishing cleanliness…and then I saw how beautiful they were.”—Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts
First: I see how beautiful the people are.
The women are tall, elegant, graceful, their lowallas (long scarves tied over their clothes) blowing in the breeze. They just seem to glide through the air in the business of their lives oftentimes with huge baskets or sticks as tall as they are balanced on their heads.
The men are impeccably dressed, walking tall and proud, many with their walking sticks or crutches that remind me we are not so far from the time of war. They walk with purpose as they go from one place to another or gather under the trees to laugh, talk and discuss what it is that is important to men.
The children are like children everywhere who are free to romp and roam and play in the countryside and roads—throwing rocks to knock the nuts from trees, rolling their wheels down the street with a stick, playing with trucks made from cardboard boxes and old bottle caps. I laugh at the little boy with his arrow made from a stick and piece of string who hides behind our tree every day and hunts the “big game” in the grass across the road. They are a little dusty and dirty, they run, they play, they laugh and they argue and they work it out. And that is how it should be.
They are all beautiful people, full of love and life and a joy beyond comprehension.
What a difference a week makes! Last week I was sitting in a five-star hotel in Washington, D.C. This week I am sitting in a small room surrounded by boxes, trunks, parts of tents, water filters and more, praying the electricity will stay on long enough for me to finish writing to you.
What an amazing testimony to God’s unending beauty and grace this homecoming has been. I arrived in Akobo on Tuesday of last week and each day has been an incredible blessing from the people I have returned to. I know I said before that my arrival in Akobo the first time was as close to arriving in heaven as I could imagine. Except for a little hiccup or two, this was even better. It is hard to describe in words the beauty and the emotions associated with this return. Perhaps the best way is to just tell a story or two…
Our arrival this time was met with some surprise and many “You DID come back”s. I can’t even begin to describe the welcome from the ladies who cared for me at the compound where I stayed before and from the ladies of the church. There was much laughter, tears, singing, dancing, hugging and joy cries (high trilled voices raised in praised). I knew how happy I was to be returning, but I could never have anticipated their joy in seeing me again. It has all been repeated when we went to the church to give our greetings.
There is joy and there is peace. Those are some words that come to mind to describe the last few days. There is much joy in returning and there is much peace in finding my way back to the places that were familiar, and also some unsettledness in finding the changes that have occurred that are not always so good—more foreign aid workers, more NGO (non-government organization) activities with their increased traffic on the roads, among other things. And there are good things too—a community at the compound where I am staying of people committed to serving others in a very tough location.
It has been fun to watch the reactions of new people as they arrive and begin to get settled. To see the looks of amazement on their faces as they realize this is all there is. To see their surprised faces as the bats come flying in and out of the dining room. To watch them jump when they walk past the building where the bees swarm or to see the look of realization as they begin to comprehend that the chicken is quiet now and we are having chicken for dinner or lunch. It makes me realize I had all these same reactions last year, and yes, I am still ducking at the bat that is flying overhead as I type this. And I admit I picked my feet up when the mongoose wandered in, checked things out, and left again!
I also realize that I knew all of this, and more, and I chose to return to this harsh land full of beautiful people because there is no place I would rather serve God than right here, right now.
I had read the reports about the devastation left behind after the floodwaters receded. It is one thing to read the words on the page. It is another to hear them firsthand. I met with the Presbyterian Women today and one of the things we talked about was what they see as my role here, how can I help them. They want to learn new agriculture methods. The words on the page don’t have tears in their eyes as they stand in front of you and say, “The floods took all our wheat and all our sorghum. Even the forest where we can go when there is no food is gone."
I think back on the young woman who spoke today. The lady stood proudly and came to the front to address everyone. I was impressed as she spoke with conviction and passion.
She said, “We are free now. We have a voice. We have never been able to speak before. Always before the men spoke for us. Always before the elders spoke for us. Now we are free, we fought the war and now we can speak for ourselves. We have a voice. We fought for it. Now we will use it. We are young women. What you teach to us we will share with our children and we will change our lives and our country. We thank you for coming. We thank you for helping us. We will teach you and you will teach us.”
I just wanted to cry! But that is what it is all about, teaching them so they can teach others and change their lives and their country. It is a rare privilege to be a part of history like that and I thank God for blessing me with the opportunity. And I thank you for your part in bringing me here. It is not really me they are thanking. It is you, the people who allow me the opportunity to serve God, you and the people of Akobo through your prayers and support.
Peace be with you all, my friends,
Sharon
The 2013 Presbyterian Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 103
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