Set your TiVo!

A note to all you "24" fans and lovers of popcorn...

We don't get tv in my end of the village ;) BUT apparently this latest season of "24" is about child soldiers in Africa!

For those missing the point, this is amazing because this coming spring I'll be working with GCM in Sudan helping to rehabilitate child soldiers into their villages.

Super readers digest version...
It's quite the issue in almost every war world wide as kids are forced to pick up arms to fight someone else's war. Usually when the babies are taken from the front lines and stripped of their beloved Kalashnikovs they're often sent back home with a small pat on the back and a hopeful "Good luck". With this as only the third year of peace in Southern Sudan not much has been developed to help the kids and the reintegration process is...lacking, taking it's toll on this generation of child fighters. (Rehabilitation nightmare, to say the least ;)

So this is where we will come in. Working with the kids post demobilisation we desire to love 'em back to life. haha In short.

So...24! With that said, I'm also moving back to America. I'm leaving Africa shortly (ya, dates still undetermined, maybe a few days...maybe a few weeks...TIA) where I'll be working with the GCM and Exp.58 team in LA to develop the project and give other people a chance to get involved.

It should be fabulous, to say the least ;)

Sudan In Pictures

It's been months I know but I've finally managed to upload some pictures once again. I realised I haven't really said much about Sudan, I guess because finding the language to describe it is hard for a "blog post". They do say however, "A picture is worth a thousand words" so maybe it's best to just let my camera do the talking. I'd love to upload more but I could travel to America and back by the time the computer would have finished uploading. (eye roll)
So...here it is. Juba SS.



A New Style statement in "New Sudan" as a woman tries to find relief from the heat in the market




If you're caught taking pictures of the SPLA -Sudanese Peoples Liberation Army-, you could...lose your camera to say the least. So sometimes you need to get a little creative with some Bond moves.
Or just make friends with them...


The hot months arrived! To save ourselves from roasting inside, the beds were moved outside to where it's some what cooler

My fiery little kids bringin' the kingdom =)

Some of my fabulous little world changers that make any hard days easier

From the desert to the bushes and a short story inbetween

It seems to be the common topic of emails lately, "Where the heck are you?"
(I know, I often wake up in the middle of the night asking myself the same question ;)
So to solve the most FAQ: I'm in Northern Uganda now.

Somehow the north of Uganda became my haven and feels now like home so it's nice to be back briefly. Work is also never hard to find as I run around teaching classes at a Children's Center or working with a friend I live with and the seven teenage mothers and their babies that share our house. (Which is totally bliss as I am LOVING them to pieces)

One fabulous thing about the Children's Center that I wanted to gush about though, is the latest door that's opened.
So the GCM model is really about empowering and releasing kids to pretty much change the world with Jesus and lately I've been working with this group of kids who are absolutely fabulous. They just catch everything so quickly. As they learn about healing the sick it's sort of a given that we'd go to the hospital to practice what I've preached so I spoke to the staff. They not only said that door would be possible but they brought up a twist. They didn't see just any hospital but they brought up the military hospital, inside the barracks, having the little orphan babies pray for the sick soldiers. Haha. I'm sure many of you can imagine my delight. =)

We entered the barracks and were taken directly to the hospital. An adult on the team meeting us there I think was expecting someone...taller and as he walked directly in front of me I could hear him laugh about "Barracks being no place for women".
I just smiled. And what about the six kids "The woman" brought with her?
(It's totally safe, don't anyone hear the word "soldier" and go into cardiac arrest. Never was I or any of my kids in ANY kind of danger)
We got to the hospital and a guy shared for a while and then I got up to explain that the kids have lots of Jesus in them and that Jesus loves to heal the sick so if they wanted prayer we'd be passing from bed to bed.
Well...It was amazing. lol. I had so much fun, I can't even say. The kids were simply fabulous praying fearlessly for the soldiers and leading them to God's heart. I'm just devastated that cameras were forbidden. =)
My favourite miracle of the day was actually a lady we prayed for. I assume one of the wives of a soldier there. She had a severe case of HIV. Her body was disgustingly thin with what I guess were scabies that COVERED her from head to toe. She seemed depressed, in pain and I couldn't blame her.
With permission we all gathered around her and carefully wrapping our arms around her delicate frame, just loved on the woman as best we could. After praying we asked her how she felt and if she could, oh so carefully, test out things she couldn't do before. Immediately her face seemed lighter as she described ringing and pain in her ears that disappeared! She then started kicking out her legs saying "I could barely do this before and not without severe pain. My pain is now gone!"
She was soooo precious. Whether healed of HIV I don't know but her smile said it all.
We all left the hospital laughing with pure delight at God's undeniable goodness!

So yes. I love Uganda. Sudan is amazing but here compared to Juba is a cake walk and I'm enjoying it thoroughly.
Minus my house I guess. That's not always a breeze. lol. In the last week alone,
Our toilet stopped working,
we had an...unwanted visitor,(haha)
a mouse moved in to my cupboard and will watch me when I'm most vulnerable,
I almost died from a massive spider with hundreds of babies hatching from it's behind when we sprayed it with Doom (bootylicious...not so much ;)
and I got lost in the village as sometimes every hut just looks the same. (I felt like a puppy as I circled some of the same houses and people tryed to convince me to live with them. "It's ok. Come Come. You are welcome to live." ....um...maybe another time thx...)

So, brief life update. Congo border still on the brain, if you can take that hint ;) Kenya next week for TheCall Nairobi which is exciting as the Cali crew is coming and for those who know Nairobi, two words : Java House. =)

It ends well ;)

Sometimes when you witness something that's troubling, instead of processing we can fall victim to the vicious thing we call "self protection". I was told it'd be the only way I’d survive my hop, step and jump through the war zones. (For Kristen;) But with Jesus being my, well, everything, and love knowing "no bounds" I still think self protection isn't really an option. lol So yes, in other words - I cry a lot. ;) But another fabulous thing about Jesus, is with him, the tears always end with hope and smiling uncontrollably.
ANYWAY, I'd numbed my emotions for a little while but,
Last week I saw a little girl get beat. Or "caned". It was awful. It's technically common here but, uh. Just blow after blow. I tried to stop it but by the time I followed the screams and went through the barrier of people / translation it was over. Nauseated I was mocked for my opposition to the "discipline" and defeated I walked away.
Later the little girl (about five years old) was in my room (lol or...house should I say) and I needed to leave, emptying the room behind me. "No" she protested and gripped the chair tighter. Eventually to what I thought was no big deal, she was convinced to let go and follow me out the front door. No sooner than we exited however that she turned and wound up with a clenched fist and proceeded to beat me. Not like a temper tantrum but like "attack". With every hit there was such rage, something so much deeper than me going to the market. Suddenly I remembered her beating earlier and the flood of emotions returned.
Later that night I sat down with one of the ladies and spent hours hashing out theories of discipline and child rearing. (haha I know I'm not a mom but I've listened to Danny Silk's parenting teachings a dozen times)
By the end it felt like breakthrough as she relented that "Options ARE a good thing" and "There is another way other than beatings"
Now as fabulous as that is, yay for two less children being beat, it seems hard to forget the force to which the cane fell the other night on the little girls back. And arms. And head.
From one fight to another my thoughts somehow move to the latest Congo occurrences.
250, 000 refugees in two months, rebels taking over villages and the UN states there are reports of "rapes and acts of violence".
Good job Sherlock.
Slightly worse then a canning.
And so again I make the decision: No self protection.
This isn't just another "African Outbreak". Stats on a page. Would that little girls beating have affected me so had I not heard the thuds of the stick? BUT would it have made it any less real.
It just all makes me step back a little. The stories provoke an "upchuck" reflex of the brutal sexual assaults and children joining the army action cause life is somehow still worse on the civilian side.
The issue is so much deeper than the last two months.
Though...with Jesus it always end with uncontrollable smiling. lol. "Never Again". As horrific as it is, I can't conceal the giggle inside of me. This is our chance to write history. Sure the ball was dropped with Rwanda, Northern Uganda, Sudan...but not Congo, not this time. I'm oozing cheese I know I know but we're called the "Hero Generation" and I think this story ends differently. No complacency. "Evil triumphs when righteous men stay silent" No self protection. No silence. Sidelines are not our only option.
"There is another way other then beatings"

Anyway, it's been on my heart so it comes out in a blog. Guess that's serious post #2 though. Sorry. Try to think of something light to cap off with...A large spider in my shower, that only seemed to come out at night, forced me to bathe outside for a week. Ya, lets just say even in the dark...I still glow. lol.. I think I've solved the mystery to my many Sudanese suitors... ;)

-If this is the first time you've heard of the Congo fighting than you live in a bigger bubble then I do (which is saying a lot) and I suggest you turn on the BBC- ;)

Should mercy and justice be separated?

Mercy and justice were described to me as: “Hundreds of people keep falling from a hill. Mercy takes care of the wounded below while justice runs to the top to stop them from falling above.”

I’ll never forget my trip to Thailand last spring to work with children and the prostitutes caught in the sex trade. I think I bawled for the next month straight totally gripped by the injustice on those girls. I’ll never forget their stories from our brief encounters over a couple diet cokes between their clients. Their faces seem forever etched in my mind.

A different sort of injustice here but it carries the same DNA. A battle of equality. The value of life torn from its foundations and shaken until nobody flinches when say... genocide takes place or every year 4 million people are bought or otherwise treated as slaves or in that same year 1.3 million unborn babies are killed.

So, how do we battle injustice? How do we team it with mercy, and should we be separating the two?

What sparked this (most recently) was a newspaper article I saw stuck to the floor of a pee stained latrine. “Nuba mountains at risk for increased conflict”. I covered my nose and bent over the paper to read more. The column talked about how with attention on Darfur, this region was now the “target” and armies were “beefing up” (lol my words not theirs).
My button was pushed. At first thought I think “Peace is in the Kingdom. Kingdom’s in me. Nuba needs some Kingdom. Let’s head to the Nuba mountains!”
But realistically (for now) I look at history for the “likely future”. War breaks out. People are killed and thousands become IDP’s (Internally Displaced People) or refugees.

Now in mercy, WFP steps up with their bags of maize.
Great. However daily food rations replace farming. War brings development to a halt and disease goes wild in a humanitarian nightmare called IDP camps.
Feeding programs are fabulous and oh so needed. I love them. Mercy, saving lives, but I’m thinking; only if they’re just the foundation.

I look at Uganda and with the horrific war in the north causing over a million people to live in IPD camps where the refugees sometimes described themselves as “prisoners in Hell”. What started as a great way to protect people from abductions is now ending in disaster. Not saying I have the solution or that I think IDP camps were bad. No. BUT is this a case of mercy without justice? Feeding them today but not preparing them for tomorrow? Or even really working hard to ensure they have a tomorrow with rebels still chillin in the bush.

Mercy and Justice.
I see the mercy in setting up schools but I see the lack of justice with school fees making it just out of reach for children coming from poor families.

I see the mercy in giving out medicines but where’s the justice when people die from a lack of knowledge of basic health care.

Signs that read:
“Watch out, malaria kills!” But you can’t afford a bug net.
“Careful, AIDS ruins lives!” Yet you don’t have access to condoms (or education on self control for abstinence ;)

Mercy is great. Honestly, I don’t want to under value it. I’m always giving out a dollar to the beggar or a bread roll to the hungry kids but... should you separate mercy and justice? Why is that child hungry or the beggar clued to his park bench? Perhaps justice is more work, or it costs more. But if it costs more, then does it yield a higher return?

Isaiah 58- “Loose the chains of injustice... AND feed the hungry and clothe the naked”

The two are put together. But for the sake of my bias, when we look for solutions it seems justice often gets the short end of the stick. Why?
Where are the William Wilberforces of our time? Those who chose to take action before the Nuba mountains become the Nuba flat lands. The Davids who bring food to the battle field AND kill the giant.

As Margaret Mead once said “Never doubt that a group of concerned citizens can change the world-indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

So, lol. When changing the world, should mercy and justice be separated? Or is it true, some people are meant to implement mercy while others fight for justice?

I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud.
I used to be all about mercy but as I’m faced more and more with impossibilities that attract heaven I’m falling more and more in love with justice, to now, my thoughts leave me asking the questions about the marriage between the two.

It’s a huge topic, I know, one that could fill much more then just a little blog post. I’m just gripped with a million different questions and topic issues and the tip of this one just happened to make the blog.
=)

juba to kampala and back again

It was just the other night in Kampala, long after everyone at the Red Chili backpackers place had gone to bed, where I laid outside under a blanket of stars and started to cry. Can I do this? Round two in the bush, no communication, no basic amenities, hot and dirty to say the least. Am I able to stand, really stand, on the promise that Jesus is enough and thrive in a recovering “war zone”? It wasn’t long though ‘til the tears turned to giggles and still with minimal understanding I knew it had nothing to do with me. He’s enough. His love..Enough. Even for Sudan, and even for the one’s who face it’s giants.

-Step back- My parents are leaving the country for a months and so with me being in Sudan unable to phone chat it was looking like we weren’t going to have contact for three months. That’s a lot for a mothers heart who’s “baby” lives overseas. In attempts to change that I was trying to find a way to get out of Juba, bumping up a later trip to Uganda so we could at least have endless conversations for a day or two before they left. Looking into flights all planes were expensive or booked so I weighed my last option, a 12 hour bus ride from Juba – Gulu, Northern Uganda. ( I can hear the gasps from those who know the route. Lol. ) Traveling on a poor excuse for a road, I was recommended by locals that air was the better way to move. However with my parents d-day fast approaching I glanced at Jesus for the green light and got a one liner about protection. SO, I hopped on the early 7 o’clock bus late last week. Now I don’t feel a blog is the best place for…”bus stories” but I’ll just say it was quite the adventure. Lol. At one point we came across a large sign in the middle of the road “STOP! DANGER! Road closed. De-mining in process!” My driver waves to the soldier by the sign, the soldier, clutching his AK-47 under one arm waves back with his free hand and without a wince or probably a second though we proceeded past the sign on to Gulu. Travelling through the south I kept trying to figure whether there were more soldiers patrolling the area or whether there were just more guns, as those often carrying the AK’s weren’t dressed with the same camouflage as most SPLA. The ones dressed up did seem to have more purpose though. Focus maybe. About half a dozen standing on the back of a “pick up” type truck, a couple of them manning a “big shooter” (lol, no idea what it’s called. The large da-da-da-da-da gun bolted to the bottom of the truck?) They seemed like they were ready to shoot at any moment, which is strange considering we live in peace. Guys and guns I guess. Haha ;) (maybe not so funny to some ;)
Anyway, I arrived safe in Gulu and was able to surprise my parents with phone access and the sweet sound of my voice (lol. Who let me get a blog…?)
From there a friend and I took another treacherous yet much safer bus down to Kampala. Uganda’s capital. It was such a delight to laugh and joke together while getting $5 pedicures and eating cakes and curries. She’s fabulous.
Kampala’s luxuries (electricity AND running water) made me realize though just how much I love civilization and really forced me to question whether I could move back to the ‘bush’. Which is good. It’s good to be challenged and to be certain…lol. After a semi difficult ‘yes’ to the great unknown before me the grace kicked in. Oh how we love the grace! I’m now back in Juba with “renewed focus”. (It’s not that I don’t love Sudan it’s just a little difficult at times is all) But as soon as I stepped off the plane ( Yeah I was NOT taking the bus ride back) it was as if everything was beautiful. If we were on a play ground I’d be getting my butt kicked as I was like “That’s fabulous” “What a lovely trash pile!” “Gorgeous latrine!” It was as if all I could see was potential. It was pretty funny. (Sadly that’s now sort of passed as the latrine wreaks, as does the trash pile)
Well I have no clue how to end this. No clue really what it’s purpose was. Just random ramblings perhaps. Perhaps just the nature of most blogs sometimes ;)

lil bit of girl talk

One of the FAQ's from strangers that I meet who hear about my adventures in Africa is about marriage. "You're doing this single?!?". lol. I smile and sort of shrug my shoulders, my answer usually depends on my mood at the moment but all in all the freedom of being single can be bliss. HOWEVER, i'm not looking for anything serious right now, BUT if anyone wants to be a stand in fake bf, i wouldn't turn it down. ;)

The problem started late one night with my house mamma telling me of plans. Tired and sort of spaced I just nodded as she told of ppl "coming around" in the next few days-weeks. Suddenly it dawned. She's only named men and their professions. Whoa! "They're coming cause they just want to be friends right?" She smiles.
We then go into a debate on why she should not try to marry me off in the next few months. I'm pulling everything i've got but in the end it amounts to nothing, and so, the awkward "blind meetings" and persistent suitors began.
I feel I could write a book on bad pick up lines. Including "Sandra... one day...you and I , could be one". lol...Something to look forward to. The men come at all hours announcing their presence with "I have come". (as if there should be trumpets) NOw I don't know if it's "love" that blinds them or if they're just not that bright but they sort of figure anytime is the right time for..."romance".
I could be in bed, middle of the night, early in the morning or sick decked out on the couch, and they could care less. Some speak english some only Arabic. I find them both equally....amusing. Some with poor english will have phrases they've rehearsed to which, no matter your response answer "thank you very much".
Ex:
"Sandra...I wish to travel with you to Canada"
"Sandra...I want to meet your father."
or my fav.
"Sandra...I will follow you today." lol.
Oh but it gets better. Some are sweet and will come with gifts. The smarter ones find out what I like and bring that specifically. But others, they think a little more from the heart and come with song. But not just one, oh no. They come with and entire hymn book. One man, i'm sure a really nice guy, said He wanted to sing for me. I protested and told him I was busy but a woman's words have little value here and he pulls out his book and raises it high. Then from 'Hymn 67' He starts to belt out "I have decided to follow Jesus". Lol. I bite my tongue not to laugh. Harder but it doesn't work. Thinking of sad things, war- famine. Nope.
Hymn 92, 27, 36...Oh my goodness FINE i'll date you if you stop! ( Where's shawn bolz's dating blog when you need it?)
Now I know this may sound rude and these are probably great opportunities to "learn to love" but really, sometimes it's just too much. I've tried your forward, i'm busy plz go, but they answer "I don't mind just watching". I've tried picking up a book or my journal, but they just keep talking. One time I interrupted, shook his hand, thanked him for coming and said i'd see him later and left. Half an hour later I returned to see him still sitting in my house "Sandra, I have waited". Lol. NOOO!!! Hahaha. Dang it, where's my foreign internet lover when I need him?
At first it was funny and I was easily amused, now though, it's gotten old.
I've spoken to my house mamma seriously and I think she's putting a stop to the more persistent ones. But I just thought I'd give you all a glimpse into my love life and bid any single lady travelers a word of advice "get yourself a fake man before you venture out. Take a picture with him, keep it in your wallet and don't lie to ppl but if they ask questions, show them the photo and leave the room immediately" =)