Ben Tshin

Last week was my first change of scenery since arriving in Sudan. I was one of 7 lucky contestants sent to basic security and safety training in Juba. Juba is the new capital of South Sudan and it’s literally a gold rush boom town. The gold rush here is from NGOs setting up offices all over Juba and bringing in Dollars, Euros, Pounds, etc. The longest tarmac road in South Sudan is also there, all 10km of it!

Medair has very good security policies, plans and protocols that everyone is drilled almost endlessly, since on arrival in any new location, you’re given a 30 minute security briefing. It’s good, it’s thorough, and most of all, it’s especially necessary in Sudan where fighting can break out between anyone and everyone at anytime. Ironically, I encountered my first security incident right before I got my security training. A bit of bad photographic timing, and I was seriously afraid of my near future.

That’s right, my first brush with the authorities. My intention was to capture the text on a sign: “Our Land, Our Peace, Our Oil, Our Liberty”. But picture taking apparently is not allowed from the tarmac. At least in Juba. I had done it in all the other airports (Loki, Malakal, Rumbek), and it was an innocent enough. But I looked to be some sort of Chinese agent. Chinese oil companies and by extension, Chinese people, are not looked highly upon here. He glared at me as he demanded my passport and details. It only got worse when he saw that I was missing a Sudanese entry stamp. I plead that I wasn’t checked my first time. Instead of explaining my circumstances, that only provoked a discussion (one-sided, albeit) about taking immigration and customs seriously.

Upon discovering that I was legitimately Canadian (ethnically Chinese, but not nationally), he let me off. I deleted all the pictures I had, and he was pleased that I at least took him seriously. Of course I did. I had heard stories firsthand of passports being confiscated for missing those entry stamps, and that was only part of my problem. I got out of it with a scare, but with some lessons that I took into my formal security training.

Security training was interesting. Lots of theory on the first day, but really “hands-on” the rest of the way. The best part is learning to deal with aggression. I wish I had that lesson 3 days earlier since it would’ve helped me deal with that official/guard/guy. It’s amazing how effective tension control works when you’re in high stress situations. There’s only three things: focus on your posture (show relaxed but confident body language), focus on your breathing (deep slow breathes from your belly) and recognizing and releasing any tension in your body.

Perhaps it’s only simulation, but when someone is yelling at you, manhandling you around, those three things might be a life saver. It might get someone else killed too.

We did a hostage scenario. At one point, the hostage taker asked for information, but hen no one volunteered information, one person was taken out to be shot (so we were told). Sadly, no one said anything. Me, I was too focused on my breathing, and making sure my arms didn’t go numb from holding them up. I thought that if I even spoke up that I’d be singled out for extra punishment. Even worse was when they choose me next. Again, no one said anything. You can run your imagination on what would’ve happened in real life.

It was only a simulation, but it got me thinking: “What would I do?” Would I try to speak out and save a colleague, to the risk of my own life? All hypothetical, but at least it got me thinking. I know how to placate someone with frustration aggression and someone using aggression as a tool for showing power, etc. I know all the security procedures, and what to do when things go bad. I just hope I’ll never have to use it.

1 Corinthians 13 re-interpreted by Edgar Stoesz, former chairman of Habitat for Humanity International and former director of MCC South America

We may speak the language of sacrifice and of service, but if we have no love in our hearts for those whom we seek to help, our efforts will have no more effect than a noisy gong or a clanging symbol whose influence fades away with the clamour.

We may emphasise the urgency of development, comprehend all the urgent problems and needs of the world, and have absolute faith and determination that we can imagine the masses living in prosperous communities at a respectable standard of living but have no love for the people, it is all in vain.

We may distribute the aid we possess. We may give our lives to save the needy masses, but if love is not our motive, the world will not be better for our effort.

With love we will be very patient as we confront a foreign culture with change.

With love we will not feel boastfully righteous as though we have all the solutions to all the worlds needs.

With love we will never inflate our ego at the expense of the failures and weaknesses of others.

With love we will not be resentful when our service is taken for granted.

With love our efforts will hit the mark.

Love never gives up. As for teaching, it will be superseded; as for agencies of development, they will cease. For our technology and planning and our institutions are incomplete but when our actions are guided by love and justice, then they will be complete.

We are limited in our understanding, we see in a mirror dimly. We are baffled by problems and the lasting solutions elude us. But we are learning bit by bit and we long for a day when love shall rule the world.

Thus faith that God has a plan for the world, hope that seeks the full life for all, and a love that knows no boundaries – these 3 endure, but the greatest of these is love.

Make love your goal.

Yesterday was a welcome change of plans. I went out for my first intervention to help in an Non-Food Item (NFI) distribution. On Friday, part of my WatSan ERT had been helping out, but they decided to rotate some people for the second day and I got to go. I was pretty excited to finally meet “the beneficiaries” and see the condition of these IDPs.

The distribution was targeted at households who had fled their town after fighting between soldiers broke out. From our estimates we served about 700 households. Multiplying that by an average household size of 4, that meant 2800 people. But the numbers are never accurate since some households had only one person and other households were ten or twelve. As expected with this discrepancy, there was fighting. There was fighting for food provided by WFP. Lots of fighting. There was also fighting for the NFI kits that we distributed. Almost every 15 minutes there would be a squabble large enough to summon the army, all toting loaded AKs, to help keep the peace.

Our team of four was outside in the wind and sun for five of the hottest hours of the day. I applied and re-applied plenty of 45SPF sunscreen and I still got a bit burnt. Three liters of water and no lunch were barely enough to keep me going. But we were successful in giving out all our mosquito nets, buckets (although some were broken), kitchen sets, blankets and tarpaulins.

It was a busy day, but some of the people were friendly saying “Salaam” or trying out their English “How are you?”. That gave me a chance to practise my 4-5 phrases of Arabic. But for the most part of the day it was just too busy giving out kits, opening packages, that there wasn’t even time to look up and greet people. I just took their card, marked a “K”, gave a pot or kitchen set and pointed them onward.

The toughest part was when we were finished distributing the kits and an old leprous lady with no fingers came over and begged for something. All I could say was sorry, “maalesh”. She was crying and there was nothing to be done for her. Some Sudanese staff helped her to get registered, but she had nothing and she received nothing yesterday. I felt sad for her, but strangely, it wasn’t heart rending.

Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season

Psalm 1:1-3

I read that Psalm today and I’m the tree that yields its fruit in season. I’m planted by water, but that doesn’t mean I’ll sprout fruit every day. There are the harvest seasons and I’m glad that God is in charge of that. I’m also glad that God is charge of any change of plans too!

Just reorganizing my blog so that pictures are accessible like a photo blog. To view only photos go to the pictures category.

I know this is probably late, but the lovey-dovey feelings of Valentine’s Day still hang in the air.

There wasn’t much Valentine cheer going around the Medair compound. Not enough love-struck people. But I was looking forward to my satellite phone call with Joeie in Hong Kong. It’s been three weeks since we’ve talked and our voices sounded strange to one another. It might have been the long time or maybe the satellite connection. Either way, communication is a big concern for this year apart. Not just with Joeie, but with family and friends back home and even the MCBC community. Already, I’m starting to feel as though the world at home kept on chugging along at its steady and fast pace after I jumped off.

I admit, Valentine’s Day without Joeie is lonely. There aren’t even roses, flowers or chocolate. Although, thankfully, Sudan also doesn’t have the Valentine’s Day hype either. There’s only a satellite phone. But at least there’s a satellite phone. Actually, I’m glad there’s more than one because CG forgot to charge his. Valentine’s Day without any of that would have been even more lonely and far away.