Final Few Days in Juba- Part 2

.... Following on from the blogpost below (if you read that one first this one will make more sense:-)).

Thursday farewell with the MAF National Staff:

It is always sad saying goodbye to people, yet so important to do it well: that is one of the reasons we were keen to all go back to Juba last week.

On Thursday afternoon we were given the opportunity to say farewell to the South Sudanese staff at MAF in Juba. Our programme manager opened with a few words before Andrew stood up to thank the staff and express how much he's enjoyed working with them all. Andrew has frequently told me over the past 2 years how very much he enjoys working and interacting with the South Sudanese team:

Then I had my turn to thank them for all they have meant to us as a family and all their hard work for MAF. We presented a small gift and I read out the Bible passage from Numbers chapter 6, verses 24-26 as a prayer for them all:

Next, the staff themselves stood up one by one as they chose to. They said such kind words about Andrew, the contribution he has made to the work team and saying what they appreciate about Andrew, as well as kind words about us as a family and to wish us well:



In fact, I was really moved by their gracious words. Two elements stood out for me.

Firstly, if I am allowed to do so, I felt inordinately proud of Andrew. Over and over I heard from the South Sudanese staff how much Andrew has been appreciated for his patience, his polite manner, for always speaking in a kind way and never raising his voice to people. For the way in which Andrew has taken the time to explain to new staff why they must look after the aircraft a certain way, showing them how the controls work so that they understand the importance of doing their work to a high standard. Many expressed how much they will miss Andrew; that he is valued for the way he treats all people respectfully and with concern for their well-being. It was lovely to hear these words of affirmation for Andrew in his role as MAF pilot. This from the people who have been working closely with him since he started flying in South Sudan in April 2014.

The second factor that moved me was the reference several staff made to their sorrow that we as a family are leaving South Sudan, along with 2 other families. They mentioned that they understand why we are leaving now (for our children's education and safety) BUT that it gives them great pain to know that their country is not stable, not considered safe and not able to offer good schooling which may encourage MAF families to stay longer.
My heart aches with theirs. As I looked around at their faces and thought about their families and the sorrow some of them have lived through, I felt torn. Part of me wished we could stay, to stand with them in solidarity as they face such an uncertain future in this volatile land. Guilt for leaving after only 2 years tugged at my heart, with a sad sense of abandoning this country and its people in their struggles. Some of the staff have been through unimaginable challenges. They hope for a better future in their land: stability, safety, healthcare, education- things we often take for granted in the western world. I will continue to feel sad for not being able to stand with them as they strive for better days ahead.

On the other hand, many of the staff pointed out that they were pleased that Andrew would still be flying in South Sudan, as the Uganda-based MAF pilots often fly in South Sudan. In that way, Andrew's work can still serve the people of this war-torn country- a good fact to remember, as we look ahead to being based in Uganda.

While the adults sat in the heat of a Juba afternoon listening to speeches, the children played nearby, flitting between the adults, helping themselves to sweet tea and juice, getting giddy from too much heat and too much sugar- but having a wonderful time together!

After the speeches, our Dutch Programme Manager presented us with a gift:

After this, the staff gathered in a circle and kindly prayed for us, to send us on our way under God's guidance and protection:

Finally, photos were requested! We had fun taking pictures and having photos taken with South Sudanese colleagues and friends!



Then it was all over! Time to pack a few more boxes at home, before sharing a potluck dinner with our International team members and friends at the compound playground in the early evening- for our second farewell!

Farewell with our International friends
Juba is still very quiet after the fighting in July. Many of our friends we enjoyed spending time with are no longer living here. I knew that certain special friends (MAF and non-MAF) would be absent from our Juba International farewell. Although Juba is quieter than remembered, we enjoyed a lovely event. It was wonderful to be with friends who are still in Juba- plus I had a lovely surprise when an American friend popped in unexpectedly!

It was a happy, memorable evening. Great meal, lovely company, kind words spoken, a wonderful cake- and gifts of South Sudan football shirts for the children (only Joel's had arrived so far- Esther and Ben would receive theirs later in Nairobi!).



Final Friday in Juba
Friday arrived - our final day as a family in Juba. Time to finish off the packing, eat a hasty lunch and say goodbye to our South Sudan home.
Andrew, as usual, left early for his flying. This was the last time we'd wave him off to work from our Juba home:

After Andrew left, instead of getting ready for a day of home-school or JCA school for Joel, as our normal Juba routine would have been, I headed indoors to prepare breakfast, while Esther did a typically Esther-in-Juba activity: she sat and read her Kindle on the doorstep of our home. I just had to snap a picture! This has been such a typical pose for her, so it is a great way to remember a part of Esther's Juba life!

We ate left-overs from the farewell meal for our breakfast, outside our house, on borrowed plates! It was nice to enjoy the more tolerable heat of the early morning before the South Sudan sun began to scorch our skin and soak our clothes with involuntary sweat.

Back inside the house, chaos reigned as I surveyed the muddle of boxes and still-to-be-boxed items:

I did what I could on Friday to try to finish off a bit more. In the 3 full days I had in Juba, I had emptied the schoolroom. In the house, I had stripped all the rooms, every cupboard and each bookcase of their goods. I had sorted, sold and given away everything that needed to go. Today, the beds were stripped bare and the sheets packed in a suitcase to come back to Nairobi with me to be washed. But I did not manage to finish off packaging and boxing all the various kitchen items. These are still waiting to be dealt with, piled high on our dining table, empty boxes waiting to receive them. Andrew will have to return once more to complete the process. He will then move all our boxes out of the house to storage. Once we receive a Ugandan work permit, we can then arrange for a flight to take out goods to Uganda.

During the last hour, friends came round to say goodbye and there were plenty of hugs as we said our farewells.

Just before the children and I left the compound for the final time, we did a few "lasts"!

Last grass-hopper catching fun for Ben (a typical Juba activity for Ben!):

Last bounces on the compound's ever-popular trampoline (my children have literally spent hours on this since August 2014!):

Last little moment for Joel and I in the playground (on the mosquito-ridden grass, where I had many bites to prove the point!)

Last quick visit to JCA school to say goodbye: Esther with The Ladies:

Last hug for Joel with best friend, Moses:

Time was flying, so we whizzed through the offices to shake hands with staff and handed over our house keys to friends. It was time to climb in the MAF car for a rather warm drive in the hot Juba afternoon, bound for Juba airport for the last time...

I turned and snapped a photo of the exterior of the gate which guarded our compound home these past 2+ years. 

Goodbye, MAF Juba:

As we drove out onto the main road, I looked back towards Quality Hotel- the low building with the red, triangular roof, framed by the green treetops on the back right of the photo:

I will never forget the evening that fighting broke out in Juba on July 8th, as we waited with our 3 young children in that hotel, tense but trying to appear calm. I wanted to get a last look at the building which provided shelter on that significant day. It was good to see it in the context of a "normal" Friday afternoon street scene, with people carrying their sacks, riding their motorbikes and going about their business.

The streets are definitely less busy than I remember- a sign of the caution people feel and a sense of how volatile the political situation is in Juba. But at least people are moving around normally. On July 8th, one of the most frightening things was hearing the reaction of locals as they ran for shelter, the sound of their feet smacking the tarmac as they ran- each slapping sound driving home the realisation that something dangerous was happening. Something the local people knew and wanted to shelter from. Leaving us with the awareness that we were extremely vulnerable in that open hotel garden.

The worst and the most frightening thing was the NOT KNOWING. It was the fact that none of us was sure about what was happening: who was shooting, why, how long they might carry on and where the shooting may end up. It was a sense of danger without really understanding how little or great that threat may be to my children and family.

I wanted to see the scene again in a "safe" way. Likewise, as we drove through town, I made a special point of turning in my seat to gaze long and hard at the small roadside shelter that had served as a checkpoint on July 9th. Here, our 2 vehicles had been stopped, near to the airport. In my mind, this has been a scary place where soldiers armed with their very visible AK47s had the potential to cause trouble, to harm or to prevent us from evacuating. We waited in the MAF vehicles for these soldiers to decide our fate. Waiting, watching them negotiate, as the sweat poured from us in the sweltering afternoon heat, our silent prayers being heeded by One more powerful than any AK47.
On this final trip, I laid those fearful memories to rest as I witnessed the same place without a single soldier in sight- not a hint of an AK47 could be seen! I found it helpful to see what had been a threatening place as an empty place. The threat was no longer there- and I drew in a sigh of relief.

We were helped though Juba airport by kind MAF staff and all went amazingly smoothly. Unfortunately, poor Esther was utterly overcome by emotion as we prepared to leave her home of over 2 years. I led a tearful daughter and 2 sweaty little boys through security and into the humid, dim departure room. The security staff were exceptionally concerned and very kind to her as we passed through the barriers.

There was no longer any small shop in Departures, as there used to be, but thankfully we had bottles of water and packets of biscuits that a thoughtful friend had provided- and Calpol to ease Esther's headache brought on by her unhappy tears of farewell :-(

 The airport toilet (which was one of the worst in the world that I have ever had the misfortune to need to use- and I have seen some BAD toilets on my travels!!) was cordoned off and being ripped out of its place. Clearly, some work is being done on this airport, which can only be a good thing, but it wasn't very convenient to be left without any option of a toilet at all when stuck in an airport with 3 children! You can imagine how desperate they all were by the time the plane was ready for boarding- one hour AFTER it was supposed to depart!

We spent rather a long time in Departures! The room was packed, heaving with hot bodies and there were no metal seats left (there is a good reason I do not refer to Juba airport Departures as a "lounge".with its harsh rows of bent metal seats, which tend to sag forwards in a most uncomfortable fashion! I have never seen anything that resembles a lounge here!).

 I felt the familiar Juba sensation of sweat dripping down my neck and from my forehead, powerless to do anything about it as I held onto the children and our bags. Ben opted to sit on the filthy floor and I was too tired to protest, while Esther was cheered at the sight of a hungry cat prowling and begging between the seats of passengers. She called it over and bent to talk to it (but was forbidden by me from touching it!!). Joel wanted me to pick him up, but I could not. My children stood out as the only foreign, white-skinned children in the airport. Sometimes, they have been the only children, but today, 2 other local families had their children with them so it was nice that our 3 were not too much of a novelty. Still, they caught the attention of the other passengers and two kind South Sudanese men called us over and gave up their seats for us to sit down. I so appreciated their thoughtful gesture. It really helped that we had somewhere to sit down for our long wait. I chatted with the men while we waited and they were surprised to learn that we had lived as a family in Juba since 2014. Their own children live abroad for safety.

Finally, we boarded (and used the plane toilet!!) and soon we were airborne. I leaned over to take a final photo of the River Nile as we flew away from Juba:

All too soon, all we could see were clouds. South Sudan was hidden from sight. Like our two years there, it seemed to disappear so quickly. I feel like our time in Juba has gone so fast- almost like a blur. And yet I have never lived so intensely.
For me, South Sudan has been a place of living life on the edge more than I have ever done. The intense busy-ness (sic) was overwhelming at times, with home-schooling, caring for the family and hospitality all happening as I tried to learn about a new country and culture. Home-schooling itself was a steep learning curve- but one which I came to appreciate and enjoy. I think I will actually miss being with my children so intensely when they start school in Uganda!

What else will I miss?
The gift of wonderful, deep friendships made with a few other ladies as we shared experiences of life with our families in Juba.

The sound of  several children charging around my home, as life on a compound inevitably means that children drift in and out of our home as they all play together.

The smiles and warmth of the MAF staff, despite the challenges they may have faced. The passion of a people wanting to see their country healed and recover from decades of  destructive war.

Grace. My cheerful hard-working, indomitable house-lady Grace. I am so indebted to her for keeping my house clean and tidy and Andrew's pilot shirts ironed as I busied myself with home-school. She helped to keep me as sane as I could be!

The kindness of the ordinary people and their concern for children, as shown even as we left the airport on this very day. The way the shopkeepers enjoyed seeing our children and gave them free chocolate bars or sweets when we bought items from their shops.

The River Nile. The greenery of the mango trees lining the banks of this majestic river.

The close community of church friends from our Sunday services, held each Sunday morning down in a room at a hotel by the River Nile. The clever Bible teaching of our South Sudanese pastor, expounding his thoughts as flies buzzed lazily around the congregation. We fanned ourselves with folded service sheets in an attempt to create a breeze in a church service that sometimes felt more like a sauna than a church! I miss our church in Juba! I'm so glad I got to see some of those church friends again this month and caught up with our pastor.
I will miss the sound of laughter from the children as they finished their Sunday school class outside and then hastened down to the riverbank to play by the edge of the Nile. Sometimes I was leading the class and would go down with them, standing in the shade of the mango trees keeping a careful eye on the youngest children. I didn't want any of them getting too close to the edge (or provoking a crocodile to munch them for lunch!?!). What a unique growing up experience for our children.

What else made my Juba life so intense?
The heat, the ever-present insects, the sound of shooting at night. The appalling suffering I witnessed at the hospital.

The sound of three men shot dead in the street one Monday afternoon, leaving me more terrified than I have ever been until I knew my children were not caught up in the crossfire.

The deeply disturbing sound of a woman screaming for her life one night as her husband tried to break her neck and kill her, until neighbours stepped in to rescue her.

The fear I felt when we would hear of yet another shooting, like the death of our neighbour outside of MAF- the young man shot in his prime at a robbery in his shop one Thursday night in May. This was at the very shop where I used to go for phone credit and take my children to buy chewing gum and sweets.

The intense poverty and need. Handing our Christmas parcels at the cemetery where people live in dire conditions. The street-kids. Not knowing how to help those in need and wishing I could do more.

More recently, the incessant, intense mechanical whine of the neighbour's generator, making me feel trapped and as if I had no control or peace in my own home.

The sound of heavy gunfire when fighting broke out in July and knowing that each "bang" could mean the death of another human being somewhere in Juba.
The unhappy stress of leaving our home and abandoning our friends, our plans and not knowing where or how everyone was from our wider community. The uncertainty it left us with as we heard dreadful tales of unspeakable acts of horror in Juba and felt lost, without our home and not knowing when or if we would go home again.

 It was so good to now be able to go back. To find closure within all these mixed blessings and challenges of Juba. It was a gift to be able to return to say goodbye well and remember the wonderful people and the good aspects of our life there, rather than have our most recent memories of Juba a tangled mess of emotion from July's evacuation experience. I am so grateful for the gift of these final five days. What a blessing.
Now I leave with a sense of gratitude and joy for all we learnt in Juba. For all the ways that God kept us safe. For the special friends and people He brought into our life during these last couple of years. For the happy family times we enjoyed and for our home. I am grateful for being able to leave some of the harder things- the more intense side of life. But glad that we can still be involved in this country through Andrew's continued flying into South Sudan from Uganda. South Sudan will always hold a piece of my heart. It could be tough at times- but I learnt alot and for this and for the people I met, I will always be thankful.
It was so good to go back to say goodbye properly.
It was good to be able leave well.

Goodbye, South Sudan.

Final Five Days in JUBA: Part 1

Last Monday morning I was sitting in the Departures area of Nairobi International Airport, with our three children. Just as we finished eating our early lunch at the cafe, an airport official approached our table.
"Excuse me, madam," he began, "the plane for Zanzibar is boarding now. That is your plane, isn't it?"
I smiled and explained that, no, we were actually travelling to Juba. He looked a little taken aback and departed to round up other Zanzibar passengers.
This was a reminder to me about the unusual nature of our trip. South Sudan ranks as one of the most dangerous countries, particularly after the July fighting, so it must have seemed strange to the official to to see a foreign mother with 3 young children bound for Juba.

A short while later, we boarded our plane. I was pleased to find our seats in one of the front rows. Esther and Ben sat across the aisle from Joel and I. Just as we finished buckling our seat-belts, a member of the cabin crew bent down towards me looking concerned.
"I'm sorry," she addressed me, "I just thought I'd let you know that the plane going to the coast (Malindi) is actually departing from the other side of the runway. Are you sure you boarded the correct flight?"
"Oh yes," I replied, "we are on our way to Juba!"
"Ah, OK, well, I just thought I'd check" she answered, casting a swift glance over the children. Then she smiled politely before heading down the aisle to check that seat-belts were buckled correctly.

The comments from these two separate staff members was a little disconcerting! However, it was comforting to me to know that we would be well looked after by MAF staff once we landed in Juba- and that this was only a short trip back into a place that is still politically volatile and tense.

Our flight was happily uneventful.
As we approached Juba, our children strained to get their first glimpses of the River Nile and of the city that had been home to them since August 2014.

On arrival. we were first out of the plane. I pulled the children with me to approach the immigration queue as quickly as possible. I was keen to avoid getting caught up in the long, hot, sweaty lines that form in front of the Immigration desks once flights unload their passengers at Juba airport. Crossing the tarmac, the familiar heat of South Sudan enveloped us. I had forgotten how hot Juba can feel.

My heart was pounding as we shuffled forward in the already-forming queue. I presented the passports and visas for myself and the children, praying that the official dealing with our paperwork would not cause any trouble or delays. I never feel completely confident that everything will run as clockwork. But this time it did- and I was very thankful! We came through that queue so fast! What a relief! From experience over the past two years, the Immigration queue at Juba airport can be a real test of endurance- so it was brilliant that it ran so smoothly!

We were met by two smiling MAF staff members. I was so pleased to see them! Partly because it was a real relief to see staff for myself and see that that they are well after the fearful fighting in July- and partly because it was wonderful to feel looked after arriving in Juba on my own with the children. (Andrew was on flying duty in South Sudan all of last week, so he was flying in separately as pilot on the fully-booked MAF plane).

Alex drove us back to the compound through streets that we had last driven though under great pressure during the July evacuation. His cheerful banter and the milling around of ordinary people, going about their ordinary business on the streets of Juba helped to put to rest some of those stressful memories of that strangely quiet, tense day when we had evacuated.

In the back of the pick-up van, Esther, Ben and Joel were so excited about returning home. They chatted together about seeing our house as we had left it, about re-discovering toys they have not seen for four months and mostly about playing with their four younger friends who still live on the Juba compound:

Arriving back at the compound in the late afternoon, it was wonderful to greet staff and friends we have not seen for months. We all took some time to circulate and shake hands and visit staff in their offices. I received so much comfort from shaking hands and talking with people I have been concerned about since the fighting. It was so good to see for myself that they are doing OK.

We then pushed open the gate from the office car-park to return to our Juba home. A kind friend had decorated the exterior of our house with flags to welcome us back!

It was a lovely gesture. It helped to provide a distraction and talking point for me with the children, because I found that I was suddenly overcome at seeing our home again after an absence of four months.
Emotions threatened to overwhelm me. This building was our family home for two years: we built many happy memories with the children here. It was good to feel a familiarity that has been missing in the last few months, since we have been living out of suitcases in so many other buildings for the last 4 months... and yet it was also sad, as we would now be packing up and leaving this home where we had worked hard to create our family life in South Sudan. Mixed into those thoughts were the uneasy feelings from our rushed July exit and remembered stress of incessant generator noise invading the home.

I pulled myself together, grabbed the house keys and entered into our home. It was dusty, stuffy from disuse and a leaking toilet smelt bad! But otherwise, it was just as we left it on July 9th. The children rushed past me, already with 3 of their little friends in tow! There were squeals of delight as they re-discovered their toys and home!
They would able to enjoy their home for the next full day, before packing up started in earnest. On that first evening, Andrew came back from his flight around 6pm, then we had a meal with friends and later I joined the ladies of the compound for a "ladies night" at one of the homes. The following day was allocated for packing up the schoolroom, thus leaving the children free to roam the house and compound while I worked (and Andrew, of course, was out flying each day- he had a busy week and was gone during each daytime).

Day 2

I had been dreading this moment. This was the day when I would dismantle two years of hard toil. Maybe not blood, but certainly much sweat and many tears had gone into home-schooling in Juba!

Now it was time to tear down everything I had worked so hard to build up. My little mini-kingdom: my place of work: the room where I had seen our children make exciting progress and shared their frustrations and triumphs!
All of it had to be torn down, packed away, given away or thrown out- and I had only a few hours to make those decisions about what to pack for Uganda, throw out or give away.

 I found myself with just 6 hours to get from a schoolroom set up like this:

...to this:

Amazingly, I did it, by God's grace! Not without tears though :-(

My heart ached as I tore down lovingly created artwork, stories written with great effort, maths work that had involved careful thought and planning. Even when I worked as a classroom teacher in London I used to feel nostalgic at the end of the school year, dismantling children's work when they moved to another class and I prepared a blank canvas for new pupils coming up. However, the nostalgia is infinitely deeper when it is your own children's work you are pulling down and you know first hand how much effort each piece of work cost them.

Before I started, I asked Esther, Ben and Joel to come and see the schoolroom as I wanted them to remember it. A place of learning together, of growing as individuals and as a family. Let's be realistic before I get too nostalgic...Yes, we had some stressful and argumentative times as my kids rebelled against certain lessons (!!) and I got frustrated at lessons gone wrong or sleepy pupils not trying very hard (!!) BUT we also had a lot of laughter and a lot of moments where I felt so very proud of Esther and Ben -and Joel too on occasions when he joined us!.

Ben and Esther's final look at the schoolroom as it was:

This space was more than a container. It was a room full of family memories. Here, we completed art projects together, Science experiments, History tasks. We were all learning together (especially me, as I learnt how to do home-school!!).
In this schoolroom my children worked hard as I pushed them to improve reading, writing and maths skills. Their achievements felt like my own, partly because they are my own children: any mother feels proud when she sees her children take a step forward in their learning, but also because I had been so closely involved in the whole process.
I knew I had poured so much effort into this place, sometimes preparing lessons late into the evening and often on Saturday mornings. There was something rather sad about having to dismantle it so quickly. Joel clearly felt my mood, as he burst into tears, sat down and refused too move. "I'm too sad" he said - and refused to be in a photo. :-(

Of course, I am excited about our move to Uganda and am looking forward to more freedom and time to myself once we stop homeschooling. Yet I still felt a wrench tearing down what we had worked so hard to achieve. It was so quick, so final! Now there was no way I could ever share this part of our lives with grandparents or extended family. They would never visit the schoolroom we had set up, as we had hoped they may do one day.

So it was that Day Two was a strange day of time-pressured packing-up, of nostalgia for what we had achieved and yet also a time of excitement as I look forward to a chapter, which will hopefully be less intensely demanding of my time.

Almost packed....


All done:


On Tuesday evening, we gathered with our international MAF team to go out for an early dinner at the very hotel where we had sheltered from gunshots and listened to heavy fighting on July 8th.
Because of a safety curfew and of wanting to be back before it got too dark after 7pm (night-time crime is still a real threat in the city) we left the compound at 5pm.

The atmosphere on the streets in Juba is still strained. The city is quieter than it used to be. It is rather unsettling. But the hotels are open again and it was really good to go back to Quality Hotel and have a "normal" evening out. It helped put to the back of our minds the stress from listening to the gunshots that fateful Friday evening in July.
I had asked some friends from church and our pastor from our Juba church to come along too- it was brilliant to see them there and also Joel's teacher from his preschool last year. :-)

With our much respected pastor, Bernard Suwa:

I was delighted when I was presented with a beautiful gift of silver tea-spoons from Holland by our Dutch friends:

Inflation has become even more of a problem in recent times, with $1 being equivalent to about 75 South Sudanese pounds. This meant our food bill for about 25 people came to over 8,000 South Sudanese pounds!! Trying to count out that amount of cash in notes with denominations such as 5 or 10 or 20 SS pounds took a VERY long time!!

Wads of cash,,, but sadly not worth very much!

We finally trooped home after a lovely evening out. We were back home by 7:30, but it felt much later- I was exhausted from all that packing...and still had more to come. Tomorrow I would start on the house. Andrew and I attempted some more packing up of kitchen goods and sorting of books, toys and clothes we would give away or sell- and then hit the pillows. I was so tired that I even manged a night without ear-plugs (yes, the generator is still there and still loud: something I definitely will NOT miss!!).

Days 3 and 4
Wednesday and Thursday passed in a hazy blur of packing... what can I say? I discovered a new sport: Extreme Packing. I have never had to pack up an entire house so fast!! Lifting, bending, running up and down stairs, twisting, kneeling, reaching up... a great workout that lasted all of last week! I was stiff in all my limbs and back for days afterwards!!

There were several happy things made the packing up the house go really smoothly:

• Kind neighbours who either brought lunch and a big pot of tea round to us:

....OR invited us to their homes- or took us to the local beans-and-rice street cafe. All week, I did not have to worry about lunches or stop to prepare food. Evening meals were likewise provided by kind friends and neighbours, What an absolute blessing and huge help!

• new MAF friend Marlies generously gave two hours of her Wednesday afternoon to kindly bubble-wrap and pack kitchenware into boxes for us. Meanwhile, I busied myself down at the schoolroom selling everything that needed to be sold (books, toys, furniture, lights, electrical equipment, kid's bikes, curtains, bedding) to local staff. I enjoyed the banter while we negotiated prices in true African style!
•    
• Esther, Ben and Joel found plenty to keep them busy as they ran around the compound and house! They also joined in play-times and some lessons Joel's JCA school. Joel's teacher amazingly came back to Juba in October, from her summer break abroad, to continue teaching at JCA. It was not an easy decision, since Juba is still unsettled, sothere are fewer friends and support for a young teacher in her position. Many people have decided not to return to live in Juba. Since so few families have actually opted to bring their kids back, the school now only has 3 pupils, but Racheli is an inspiration in her commitment to teach these children faithfully, with the part-time help of "Auntie Susan" (you may remember Susan from my blogposts in 2014 when she was shot in a robbery and we visited her in hospital. She made a fantastic recovery :-)).       Joel and Racheli:

Esther, Ben and Joel with "Auntie Susan":

• I was able to issue each child on Thursday morning with bubble-wrap, scissors and sellotape to wrap items for packing. It is nice to have children who are of an age to actually help! 

Thursday afternoon also saw us saying goodbye formally, first to the National South Sudanese Staff and then later to the International MAF team.
BUT that is a whole new set of photos... and I need a break! So the final stages or our goodbyes to Juba and our final day as a family in Juba will have to be covered in the next blogpost...

To be continued....