The Shooting

You never know how you're going to react in a crisis...until one happens.

Today's crisis situation in Juba ended up safely. But it was an unpleasant and frightening situation. It seems less significant in retrospect, as the outcome is that everyone is safe- but you can't know the outcome at the time.

This afternoon, about 4:30pm, I was busy in our little schoolroom at the end of the MAF compound. I had returned to "school" to do some preparation for lessons.  Our 3 children were not with me. They often play outside in the afternoons, in the common play-area on the other side of the compound. Or they may go to play at the home of another family. I have a strict rule though and this is it:

• You must ALWAYS tell Mum where you: whose house you are in or where you are playing. 

They know the rule.

Esther had duly been to tell me that she would be in little Imani's house (one of Joel's classmates).

The boys had told me, "We will be playing either in the playground or in Caleb's house". 

Caleb, aged 5, is a great friend of our boys, from another MAF pilot family. Their house is right on the opposite side of our compound from the school room. On the way to Caleb's house, Ben and Joel would cross the playground. Because we have guards on the MAF gate, I am usually confident and relaxed about the children having the freedom to play in the playground by themselves. It is situated right in the centre of our MAF compound, with houses on 3 sides.

4:40pm

 I thought I heard some shots being fired, but I wasn't sure. I opened the classroom door and listened hard. I am always alert for these kinds of sounds in Juba! Especially at the moment, when compound break-ins are becoming more and more prevalent and so many perpetrators are armed with guns. Only yesterday I had sat with a Burundian from our church over coffee while he told me that 2 of his housemates had been shot and killed in a burglary on a Saturday night, at the house where he stays in Juba. That happened just a few weeks ago. Then last weekend, we heard about a night-burglary at another Juba NGO compound where their offices were emptied of anything of value while the guards were threatened into silence by armed thieves.

I tuned my ear to the sounds coming from the neighbouring compound. It seemed that the South Sudanese children on the other side of the fence, close to our schoolroom, were playing happily. If that was so, then maybe I had imagined the gunshots? I thought perhaps I had just heard the noise of something heavy being dropped from the building site situated immediately outside of the compound walls, behind the schoolroom.

4:45pm

I had turned to go back inside to work- but a few minutes later, there was the unmistakable sound of gunshots- and very close by. So I had not imagined gunshots- but now they were louder and closer together. I jumped. Then I ran to the door again, flinging it open and listening. "BANG! BANG! BANG!" There was no mistaking the sound of shots ringing through the Juba air! But where were the shots coming from? I felt sick as I realised that they sounded like they were coming from the playground area...

That was when the panic set in. Immediately, my thoughts were, "What about my children??" I knew Esther would be looked after at Imani's house, but I wasn't sure if the boys were still in the playground, or whether they had decided to play indoors at Caleb's house. Had they made it indoors or were they in danger? Was someone shooting in the playground?? PANIC!

Suddenly, adrenaline set in- but so did confusion. I did not know what to do. Dash across the compound as fast as I could to see if my children were in the playground? I looked out of the schoolroom window. The place was deserted- except for one of our workers running, his mobile phone pressed to his ear, keeping low and close to the wall. Maybe it was not safe to run? So what should I do? If I got shot, I was not going to be any help to my children. I knew I must phone Caleb's mum and check if my boys were there, but in those few minutes before I could definitely locate them, I turned to jelly and my mind was a fuzz of indecision. 

I grabbed my phone to call Caleb's mum, Kristen. My fingers were shaking so much, I could barely pull up her number on my screen. It seemed that my fingers had been replaced by fat, uncontrollable rubber. Frustrated, I tried to focus my mind to make my fingers work. Kristen answered immediately and before I could speak, she firmly stated, "Liz, your boys are both here. They are in the house with me and my kids. They are fine." It was just as well that she spoke first, because when I tried to speak, I found that my voice was malfunctioning along with my fingers! I managed a grateful sob of relief and a few gabbled sentences. Kristen was fantastic, calm and in control and happy to keep Ben and Joel until the crisis had passed- until we knew what was going on.

 Now I must check on Esther. I had every confidence that Imani's mum, Chantal, would take good care of  Esther, along with her own 2 small children. But I still wanted to speak with her. Thankfully,  as I hung up from Kristen, Chantal was already calling me. When I answered, it was Esther who spoke to me, as Chantal wanted to reassure her that I was OK.

"Mummy, are you OK?" came her little voice. As soon as your 9 year old asks you that question, you have to be sensible, for her sake! So I took a deep breath and managed to find my Calm Voice.

"Yes, Esther, I am fine," I answered. "I am in the schoolroom. The door is locked and your brothers are safely at Caleb's. Stay with Chantal and listen to her."

"Yes, Mum. We are all lying on the floor with our heads down," she replied. 

What an image for me to think about, of my 9 year old daughter.

Now that I knew my children were in safe hands, I could think about what I should do next. Should I just lock up as best I could and remain here? Close the schoolroom shutters and carry on with work? But it was impossible to concentrate. My mind was buzzing! Looking back, it is incredible how many questions suddenly jostled in my mind. I think the worst thing about the situation was not knowing what was happening. 

Were there armed robbers on the compound? 

Would they try and break into the schoolroom, thinking it was an office with money and laptops to steal? 

What should I do if they broke in? 

Would I be shot? 

Or was there some kind of bigger trouble happening in Juba- and were we all in danger, on or off compound?

Before I came to any decision, Andrew called my phone. He had just landed at the airport across town and been informed of the situation, He was not allowed to come back to the MAF compound until we knew who and where the shooting was coming from. 

What a relief to hear his voice- so calm and sensible! My voice sounded rather wobbly in contrast. He advised me to inform the office staff of my whereabouts and to try to get out of the prefab schoolroom to a solid brick house. He had also asked another member of staff to check on me. I had not realised that I was not protected from bullets by the thin walls of the schoolroom. Naively, I had felt safe...

Over the next few minutes, staff member Stephen came by, calmly reassuring me that there was no sign of a shooter actually on the compound, that all we had to do now was be sensible, take precautions and wait for the All Clear text message. People were starting to move about. Next, Chantal delivered Esther to the schoolroom, on her way to a "Safe-Room". I called our next door neighbour, Sue and told her that Esther and I would make a run across the grass from the schoolroom to the house. She said she'd keep a lookout for us. 

When we got to our house, Esther and I did not feel like being on our own, so we knocked on Sue's door and she welcomed us in and locked the door behind us. We sat in her darkened lounge, the curtains drawn for safety. And if course, with Sue and I both being British, we drank tea! What a welcome cuppa that was :-) and even better with the bourbon creams she managed to rustle up for Esther and I!

5:30pm, 

The crisis was averted and we received the All Clear. Esther and I thanked Sue and bounded across the compound to be reunited with Ben and Joel. Shortly after this, Andrew was able to come home.

Thankfully, no-one on the compound had been hurt, although all of us had been shaken up. We found out that immediately outside our compound fence, near the kid's playground, a shoot-off had occurred, to do with an armed robbery. Two men were killed, right there in broad daylight. Sadly.

But not one of us on the compound had come to any harm.

This morning, I had woken earlier than usual. I got ready for jogging with Sue, but had a bit of time before our 06:40 meeting time. So I picked up my daily book of Bible readings and read the passage for today: Psalm 5. 

It seemed like verses 11 and 12 jumped off the page, even though the day's focus was supposed to be on earlier verses. I actually started as I read them, as they seemed to be almost highlighted. I decided I would use parts of verse 11 and 12 as a prayer for the day, for all of us in Juba:

"Spread your protection over them (all who take refuge in you)... surround them with favour as with a shield."

What a great picture, of being well protected, as if a blanket were spread over us. And what incredible timing! I don't think I could have read a verse more apt, to prompt such a relevant prayer for the events of today. 

We certainly felt that protection, just like a "shield" keeping bullets and robbers with guns outside of the compound boundary. Ensuring that all the children on the compound were safely indoors exactly at the time they needed to be. Keeping us all secure. I think many of us here are spending this evening feeling very thankful!

I also know that I learnt much today about my reactions in a crisis and some new lessons in "dos" and "don'ts". But that would be a new topic altogether. Right now, I need some sleep. It's been an exhausting afternoon!