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!
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:
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:
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.
wow Liz this is an amazing blog... real insight. I stand within the circle praying for you all in the months ahead. x
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