3 weeks later

It is now 3 weeks since I sheltered in a hotel courtyard with my children, my husband and our friends, listening to the frightening sounds of gunfire exploding around Juba. Wondering how close it was to us. Wondering what it would mean for Juba. Feeling vulnerable and afraid.

Since July 10th, we have been privileged to be in Nairobi. It has been good to feel safe. It has been a relief to regroup with some of our MAF Juba team and to be able to welcome more friends from various organisations as they have evacuated out of Juba. It has been helpful to receive help and support. We have had a busy time of appointments, meetings and also lots of opportunities to spend time with good friends :-) and Andrew has been able to do some flying within Kenya for the MAF Kenya programme.

It has been a challenge to try and finish our academic year of home-school, living and working in an unfamiliar house, on a busy compound and without our school books. We did the best we could - and finished this year's home-school on Tuesday morning! Horray!

To celebrate, we went out to our favourite Nairobi Chinese restaurant, "For You" and enjoyed delicious food and time together, to present the children each with a certificate and gift.

Photos will be posted at a later date- the internet does not want to work right now!!

Now our time in Nairobi is finishing and we are literally about to get into a taxi to the airport to fly to England for home assignment.

So now we look forward to seeing many of  you there, very soon! :-)

Post Evacuation: Facts and Feelings

The Facts

When we arrived in northern Kenya last Saturday it was too late in the day to continue down to Nairobi. Instead, we stayed overnight in a Kenyan guest house, where dinner, bed and breakfast were most welcome for us harried evacuees.

Our sleeping quarters were round, stone, thatched huts ("banda") each equipped with a small double bed. Esther and I were accommodated in one. Andrew and the boys shared another.

The girl's banda:

Esther and I organised the bed for sleeping in a "top and tail" arrangement. We were exhausted, yet it was difficult to sleep- particularly as Esther pulled back her sheet to discover a dirty toe-nail from some unknown stranger, nestled into the sheets on her side of the bed!! Disgusted and appalled, my 10 year daughter refused to place herself anywhere near any part of the bed where the offending item had made contact with the sheets!
The fuss created from this tiny item took over any notion of sleep; it was almost 11pm before either of us was able to relax and settle down to sleep!
In a way, the toe-nail was a healthy distraction from other, more frightening thoughts which we did not allow at that point. Even so, it was a fitful night for me, as worries and confusion simmered in the background, disturbing my troubled mind.

Finally, the new morning dawned, heralded by the chatter of monkeys in the trees outside. A pleasant change from generator noise! We threw back the mosquito net and prepared to zip up our case, ready to go to breakfast and then continue our evacuation to Nairobi.

At breakfast, Andrew was already in work mode, mentally preparing for the next leg of our flight. He was tired. It had been difficult to sleep in a bed he had to share with both Ben and Joel! The pillow he shared with Joel had been especially uncomfortable.

Lokichoggio airport was sleepy and quiet on this Sunday morning. As we waited in the semi-outdoor passenger area for our plane to be ready, we heard some shocking news. Fighting had resumed in Juba this morning. but now of an even higher intensity.
I managed to contact and speak to an English friend in Juba. She was looking for a way out for her and her family. She was disturbed and upset, As we spoke, she described the awful noise of guns and artillery that she could hear from her home.
But now there was no way out. Juba airport was not open for flights. In addition, roads across town had become extremely dangerous, with aggressive checkpoints springing up. Even if the airport was open for flights, it was becoming impossible to cross town. We heard even worse news, learning that friends we had left in Juba had been exposed to some extremely violent and frightening scenarios.
I felt sick and my body was covered with goosebumps. It was simply awful to know friends were still in such danger.
It was also overwhelming to me that my children could have been exposed to these dangers, to more terrifying sounds of fighting, if we had not got out when we did. I believe that, by God's grace, we got out just in time.

At this point, it was still vital that I did not to cave in to my emotions, in order to protect the children. Esther, Ben and Joel darted around the almost-empty waiting area. They amused themselves by finding creepy crawlies, emptying their water bottles and filling them with leaves and spiky caterpillar friends! It was good to see them engaged in play and not worried. Ben had a plastic scorpion and snake, who had travelled from Juba with us in Ben's trouser pocket. Ben had a fun half hour scaring the good-natured ground staff at the airport, who obliged him with dramatic shrieks and jumps as Ben placed his scary creatures on luggage trolleys and pathways!

Eventually, we boarded and for the first time ever, did a Sunday flight on a MAF aeroplane! It is most unusual for MAF to fly on Sundays...
We flew out with another family who had been visiting South Sudan and were now on their way home to South Africa. The plane was full as it soared above the hills of Lokichoggio and winged its way to Nairobi.

On Sunday afternoon, we arrived at the MAF compound and were taken to a friend's house. Our friends are currently away in the UK, but had kindly opened their home for us. We were warmly welcomed by concerned MAF team members. Already, kind colleagues had made up the beds, laid out clean towels and had prepared a "welcome basket" of  essential food items, fruit, chocolate and of course, a box of tea! Their concern touched us deeply. As a MAF Kenya friend welcomed me with a hug and a cup of tea, I allowed a few tears for the first time, but quickly checked them. But I could not check the shaking. Shock was beginning to set in- and the news coming out of Juba was getting worse and worse.

This week has been extremely upsetting. News from Juba got more and more frightening up until Tuesday. From then on, Monday night's ceasefire seems to have held. It was a HUGE relief to us as more and more friends were able to evacuate through the week. Some are still there, but the majority have managed to get away from the insecurity and the danger that comes with that.

Throughout the stress and upset, we have also known many blessings, for which I am very grateful. The house we are staying in is comfortable and quiet, with a beautiful garden:

Best of all, our friend's home comes with a house-lady, who is happy to help us for 4 days a week- the gracious and kind Sarah:

Honestly, I can't even tell you what a huge help that is. We came out of our Juba home with just a small pile of clothes between us, so it is a MASSIVE blessing to have someone who is willing to wash, dry and iron those clothes day after day, so that we always have enough to wear.
I have since managed to add to the children's clothing. On Friday, a friend and I visited Nairobi's huge Second Hand Clothes Market and found some great bargains to kit our children out for a little while longer.

We also have many of our friends from South Sudan now staying in Nairobi after evacuating. Many of our MAF Juba team are even staying on the same compound. In this way, we have friends and support in Nairobi, including our Nairobi friends from our 6 months here in 2014. This week, I have also been able to have lunch and catch up with special friends from Tanzania who I have not seen for over 2 years, so it has been wonderful to be with supportive friends this week.

Now uncertainty settles in... but no questions can be answered yet as to what happens to us next. So we must live each day at a time, keeping an eye on the news and contact with our now-scattered Juba friends...

The Feelings

"Conflicting" is probably the best word to describe my feelings about being evacuated from South Sudan.

On the one hand, there is the over-riding sense of RELIEF that we got the children out just in time, before things became really frightening in Juba. Reports from events on Sunday and Monday were shocking. This was disconcerting to say the least. It seems that God opened a small window of opportunity on Saturday for us to escape the worst of the fighting. After Saturday afternoon, no evacuations would have been possible until Tuesday afternoon.
Over the week, this sense of relief has been heightened each time that another group of friends or colleagues have been able to get out of Juba.

There is enormous GRATITUDE for our current safety and the lovely home we can stay in. For friends here and for messages of support, love and concern from friends and family far away.

There is also the SHOCK of what happened and how close we came to danger with our three young children. In my nightmares from Sunday, my mind has been replaying events but twisting them and revealing my fears: horrible dreams where I can't protect Esther from a threatening group of soldiers, coming ever closer with evil intentions- until I wake and breathe a sigh of relief that we are in Nairobi, not Juba.
Another dream where I can only find 2 of my children and am desperately trying to find the other, clinging to our passports and driving through streets filled with frightened streams of refugees, scanning the faces and trying to find Joel so that I can get him out of Juba along with the rest of us.
I woke up with a jolt and gulped in the Nairobi air, It's OK- we are all here. All 5 of us are safe.
For the first 3 days, I felt like I was shaking constantly. It was hard to eat anything. Sleep was elusive and by evening, my head was pounding.

Then there is the SORROW for those we care about who have to remain in Juba, but would prefer to feel safer elsewhere. Our hearts go out to them and our prayers are with them. Thankfully, it does seem calmer now- the crisis seems to have passed. However, it is still tense and volatile. If you pray, keep praying for their protection and for peace. Also, for them to have access to food, water and charcoal for cooking at a time when the city is still in turmoil. I have manged to phone our house-lady Grace twice. She and her family took shelter in a UN camp but have now returned home, but ar in dire need of food and clean water.

A further emotion is GRIEF. Grief for the way our friends have suddenly been dispersed. Some to Kenya, Others to Uganda. Others elsewhere- we are not even sure where. The community of people we know and of our church has been torn apart suddenly- and we are not sure whether it will ever be the same again. Some I have not heard from yet and we are concerned for them. It is frustrating that we have all been forced into different places and countries over just a few days.
There is also grief for the loss of our plans. Over the coming week we had plans:
meals with friends
a kid's party
a picnic trip with Dutch friends on a local ferry across to a small island on the River Nile
a sleepover for Esther with a friend.
Plans for finishing off our academic year at home-school and for a family party and certificates ceremony to celebrate the occasion.
Plans to welcome new team members to MAF Juba- friends who had been with us in Tanzania.
Now all of these are thrown up in the air. At night, our children cry for their home and want to sleep in their own beds and play with their Juba friends.
Thankfully, they have not yet missed their toys or books. That will come later.

Finally, there is the UNCERTAINTY. It is impossible to predict what will be next. We are fortunate because we already have plans to visit the UK this summer, so we have accommodation arranged in England from the end of next week until September.

But after September, if the situation is still volatile in Juba (which is highly likely), we have no home. As we look ahead, we have to face serious questions about our future. This is extremely unsettling. When the children ask us, "When are we going home?" we just don't know how to respond.
Unsettled times indeed- and yet thankfully, it is uncertainty which we experience from a place of safety. And for that, I am very thankful.

Devastated

Devastated: the word I want to use to sum up the events of the last few days.

Devastated is how I feel.
Devastated is the state of Juba as I write this blog.

These websites can be a good reference to explain what has been happening in Juba in the past few days:

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-36758013

https://radiotamazuj.org/en/dossier/juba-crisis

On this blog post, I want to write the events as I experienced them myself over the last few days. This is subjective. My disclaimer is that I am not making any comments on, nor references to, certain incidences. If you feel some facts are missing from my story, you would be correct: this is a sensitive time. Some things should not be posted on a blog.

Friday 8th July

I woke up to the blaring ring of my alarm clock just after 6:15am. Just before 7am, I met my friend in the MAF car-park, ready to hit the streets of Juba for some heart-pumping jogging.

As she approached, she mentioned that she had just walked past a security rep in the compound: his advice was to avoid the streets of Juba today. He related that some fighting had broken out across town last night. Five soldiers had died in the gunfight.
This was not good news. Tensions were already high in Juba. Other indicators also pointed to an unsettled time, like the fact that recent inflation was at an all-time high. When we arrived in Juba 2 years ago, 5 South Sudanese pounds were worth US $1. Last week, inflation meant you could receive up to 49 South Sudanese pounds for US $1.

We asked our gate guards for further advice, as one of them had just travelled across town. He thought that the streets felt safe, so we decided to go jogging. Yet as soon as we stepped out of the compound gates, I began to feel uneasy. Juba was uncharacteristically quiet for 7am on a Friday. We jogged up to the main road. It was strangely empty of vehicles. I could feel a sense of tension in the air.

We started to head towards the city hospital but I was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly, a military vehicle came screeching up the middle of the road at full speed behind us. As it sped past, we were confronted by the sight of the open rear of the vehicle. It was packed to the brim with soldiers in full uniform, clinging to their weapons.
We glanced at each other, our pace slowed. I think we began to realise that we should have taken the advice of that security rep. Something wasn't right in Juba. We did an about-turn and jogged the short distance back to our compound. That was the shortest jog I have ever done!

The rest of the day felt quieter than usual. We carried on with home-school. In the afternoon, the children stayed at home, I put a DVD on for them and returned to the schoolroom. I spent a couple of hours planning school lessons and preparing resources for the children for next week.

Afterwards, we invited our French friends to join us, along with the MAF team, for pizza at a nearby hotel. We left the MAF compound around 5pm. Everyone was aware that the security situation in Juba felt tense, particularly as the next day was Independence Day, to mark 5 years of South Sudan. For that reason, we were all planning an early meal and wanted to be home by dusk, before 6:30pm. The hotel is 10 minutes walk from the compound.

I walked happily to the hotel with Esther, Ben and Joel, my French friend Nathalie and her three children (the same ages as mine) and an overnight visitor who had just arrived from northern South Sudan.

The hotel seating is outdoors, a green hedge separating our chairs and tables from the same main road where I had my short jog earlier that morning. We joined the MAF team- making  a party of 13 children and 14 adults. Comfortably, we settled into our seats and began discussing options for pizza toppings. As we moved on to drinks orders for the children (who was allowed fizzy drinks and who was not!) Andrew came over, looking worried.  He told me, “I just heard some shots. I don’t think we should stay. Things don’t sound good and with this current situation, I think it would be better to return to the compound right now.”

I protested mildly. I had not heard the shots. I was hungry, the children were hungry and they were excited to all be out for pizza together. And this is Juba, after all. It was probably just some random criminal shooting a few kilometres across town- it might calm down quickly.

Sometimes, we can become too relaxed….

A few minutes later, the shooting became more audible. Still, I did not really react. It seemed unreal. The men in our group began to congregate together and look concerned. Andrew and others decided we should leave, but soon realised that the armed hotel security guard had locked the gates. The hotel staff were anxious -they did not want to allow any threatening persons into the hotel.  Of course, this also meant none of us could get out.

 More shots. Next came the sounds of heavy vehicles zooming threateningly down the main road on the other side of the hedge. Then the sounds of people running. Ben said he could hear people’s flip-flops smacking the tarmac as they ran. This added to the alarming noise of speeding military trucks. Soon, a longer burst of gunfire punctuated the air. This time, it sounded like heavy fighting.

 It definitely sounded serious. These were not isolated shots, but a full 15 minutes of banging. This felt like danger.

Now our group began to react. We decided to get the children to a safer place, but the first room the hotel staff offered us had brick walls with decorative holes in! I remember thinking that this would not protect our children from bullets! So we moved towards the toilet area, but there was great confusion and we could not all fit in:

My legs started to tremble, but thankfully I had long trousers on to hide the trembling from my children. At all costs, I was determined to remain calm on the outside, to try and minimise the children's fear.

Thankfully, another staff member took us all round a corner to a door leading to an enclosed courtyard. Here, we could sit down and be sheltered by brick walls from the shooting on the streets. Although we later found out that most of the shooting was happening about 1 km across town, occasional shots erupted much closer, making me jump out of my skin. Each time, I glanced at my children to gauge their reactions and continually reassured them that, no, this was not really serious, we would all be fine.

 It was amazing what I could say on the outside, while inside I felt shaky and extremely vulnerable. The worst factor was not really knowing what was going on outside the confines of the hotel. It was unnerving to feel so unsure about when- or where- the shooting was coming from. Still, I wanted to appear calm, so stood by Nathalie, discussing routine matters and laughing at her stories. Anything to make the children feel like this was not so dangerous for us.

It felt like a long wait, although it was no more than an hour. During this frightening time, the children grew more and more hungry, asking where their dinner was and how long until their pizza would come. Naturally, the hotel chef was a bit too distracted to concentrate on our pizza order! We just stood or sat and waited- and tried to ignore our rumbling stomachs. When the children asked, “How long will we be here?” we had no answer for them. We had no idea how long the gunfire would continue.

 Around 6:30pm, it seemed calm enough for us to exit by a back door behind the hotel. Our deputy programme manager took charge and directed us to walk back in crocodile formation, each adult holding hands with at least one child.
We were instructed that if we heard more shooting nearby we should lie down flat on the ground for safety. What horrible advice for my children to have to hear. Sensible, but difficult to absorb. Joel in particular looked upset and worried, clinging tightly to Andrew throughout the ordeal.

We exited, a solemn procession. Proceeding down muddy side streets, we made our way to the MAF compound. I remember hoping that the shooting would not recommence, as I really didn’t want to lie down on this dirty, muddy road- nor have my children’s muddy clothes to wash! It is strange how the mundane comes to mind in a crisis.

.
As we reached the bend facing the main road I was shocked to see all the uniformed, armed soldiers lining both sides of the street. We really were in a dire situation.

 I have never been so relieved to get back to the MAF compound as I was on Friday night! It was good to hear the heavy gate locks clanging into place behind us.

Our French friends came home with us. Nathalie and I prepared a quick meal for the hungry hoardes. It was good to have a distraction and good to have that evening with them. The six children reacted to the evening's events by becoming hyperactive! The relief of getting safely indoors again released an exaggerated sense of joy, so it was a jolly evening despite the underlying stress for the adults. 

The adults were left wondering what this evening's gunfire might could mean for the coming days.
We had little idea that it was about to become so very serious.

Saturday 9^th July:  South Sudan’s 5^th Independence Day

Independence Day dawned. It was quiet. Too quiet.

I had had a fitful night. My body was so tense, I had felt like pins were spiking me all over throughout the night and I could not relax. My ears were on hyper-alert in case of any further shooting. This current lack of gunfire could be reassuring- or this strange calm could be tension building up before another storm. One of the hardest things about incidents we have lived through in Juba is the Not Knowing.

I rose early and began packing our Go Bag: just in case fighting resumed and we needed to get out. This was the second time I have packed a Go-Bag in Juba. Thankfully, in August, all had remained calm- but today felt less certain.
 In between packing, I ensured the children were dressed and breakfasted. They then skipped merrily outdoors to find their friends. It seemed so calm that they were reassured that their life in Juba would resume as normal.

Andrew had a stressful, pressured morning as he joined staff meetings to decide whether or not the current situation warranted evacuation for children and families. It was extremely difficult for the staff team to work out what would be best. Great wisdom was required - and prayer for the right decision.

Meanwhile, the wives and families waited on their decision, as we continued preparations for possible departure.

 For myself there followed a frantic morning of working out what to take and how to close up our home. Although we have a list of what to pack in the Go-Bag, I was reluctant to leave certain items and I still had to decide which clothes were essential to take with us. Being under pressure- both stress and limited time- made decision making harder.

In addition, I had a crazed search for our important documents, our computers, cameras, phone chargers. I then counted out cash to leave for our lovely house-lady Grace, so that she could come by on a safer day to pick up her July wages: I was not sure if we would be there to pay her at the end of the month.
Next I went to speak to neighbours who would be staying, to ask them to pass on Grace's wages and give them our perishable food and also our keys, assuring them that they were welcome to eat any other food in our larder, fridge or freezer. This insecure situation meant nobody could leave the compound to shop for food- and shops would not be open anyway.

I went down to the schoolroom. I ignored the lump in my throat as I hesitated over what I could fit in our luggage. No space for books. Just enough time to grab a few maths and English papers. My eyes fell on next week's lessons plans. All that time I spent drafting those plans and preparing resources. A work wasted. We only had a week and a half until the end of term and we had made some fun plans.Now it all seemed so pointless- if we left, we had to leave all our hard work, all the successful work completed over the past 2 years, all of the children's current History and Science projects, beautiful art work, toys, books and games.

I returned home to shove  a few sheets of schoolwork and a small pencil case into the Go-Bag. It occurred to me that I had better unplug all our electrics, so I spent a while combing the house to do so. I started to feel bereft. This was our home- these were 2 years of family memories- and I was possibly about to walk away without knowing when or if we could return.

Finally, I washed up Friday night's dishes. As I stood by the kitchen sink, by the open window, I was again struck by how quiet everything was. No usual Juba noises of generators, building work, children's voices, motorbike engines, cooking on charcoal stoves, vocal chickens and barking dogs from the next-door compound, All was eerily quiet.

Our Go-Bag was finally packed:

It turned out that we were allowed 3 bags between the 5 of us, as long as we did not exceed a weight limit of 15 kg per person. I hurriedly threw more clothes and the children's trainers into the extra bags, without really reflecting on what we could need. At this point, we still did not know whether we would -or could- evacuate....

Finally, around 2pm, we heard that families were definitely being evacuated. 

This was it. 

No more time to think about what to take and what we would have to leave. We rushed to do the final locking up- and walked out of our house without time to even give a backward glance. 

It suddenly seemed urgent. We must go. I felt a very real sense of impending danger.

It was a horrible, stressful time. With the children and adults squashed between bags and cases and sweating in the Juba heat, we set off in vehicles for the airport. With sweaty palms and a thumping chest, my adrenaline increased as we crossed a check-point, but thankfully everything went smoothly. On the tarmac all was unnaturally still. Andrew and a brave friend worked hard to prepare the plane that Andrew would be piloting for our evacuation. There were some heart-stopping minutes of wondering about a minor technical issue...but finally it was sorted out and all was ready. 

It really was time to leave. It was a surreal sensation, to be rushing away without really having time to ponder what was happening in the place we have called home for 2 years- and without really understanding the implications of our rushed exit. Andrew took firm control and our plane sped up, then zipped into the air, ferrying us from danger to safety:

By early evening, we landed in northern Kenya. I felt a strange mixture of relief, of safety and of confusion about what just happened in our lives. Still, everything felt unreal. At the same time, there was the lightness of knowing that a heavy blanket of worry had just been lifted.
It was calm. We felt safe.
What a relief.


Andrew and Ben near our MAF plane in Kenya:

Juba in Bloom

We have returned to Juba to witness that the rains have truly arrived! As I approached our schoolroom this morning (with my morning cuppa!) all 3 children had already arrived at "school". I was greeted outside the door by 3 pairs of wellies neatly left outside. Rainy season is here!

It is nice to get back and see the beauty of nature in our little corner of Juba. It never ceases to amaze me in Africa the way intricate flowers and abundant greenery burst out of nowhere as soon as the rains start. You never know what is lying dormant until the ground gets soaked!
I have been enjoying these lovely blooms all around our schoolroom...