MUD, MUD, MUD!

Today Eli, Isaac, Evan, and I set out to walk to town for Market day. Radiya, who helps watch our boys, has been sick with malaria so we stopped by her house on the way to check up on her and give her today’s doses of medicine.

By the time we got to her house we knew it was going to be too much of a hike to go all the way to town with the kids. It poured rain for a few hours yesterday and the footpaths are all covered in about 6 inches of sticky black mud. So Eli volunteered to head back home with the boys so I could go into town and visit a few of my friends. As I hiked and slipped through the mud, I prayed and sang praise to the Lord in my heart. Inside I was laughing at how comical I must look.

After crossing the river I stopped to greet a group of ladies who live along the road. They all came running out of their huts carrying their babies with big smiles on their faces. I took turns holding each baby. Some cried hysterically since my white skin and hair scared them. One little boy in particular just loved me and was cooing and smiling the whole time. When his mom saw how much he liked me, she said, “Please, take him. Take him home. He’s yours.” What? It was very tempting, but I handed him back to his mother.

As I approached the market, people began noticing me – the white woman – and all turned to stare. Yes, it’s a little disconcerting at times. I try to smile and greet everyone I see. First I stopped in at Hakima’s “café” to sit and have a cup of shai (tea) and talk with her in my struggling Arabic. She wasn’t around, so I sauntered over to the one “restaurant” – a hole in the wall called Welcome Hotel. They have a solar fridge and sell sodas which are our Tuesday treat. I filled my backpack with cold sodas, paid the boy, and after shaking hands and greeting everyone inside, I moved on to the next dukan (small store.)

After my shopping was done, I went over to look at some pretty miniature tea cups. Sometimes I wonder how certain things make it to Sudan – like those tiny fragile china cups. I asked how much they were for the set of 6 with matching saucers. The man said “30 birr.” Some bystanders overheard and jumped in to help me saying he was asking for a high price because I’m white. In just seconds a small crowd gathered to listen and see how I would handle the situation. I decided the cups weren’t worth it and knew my face was growing redder by the second.

I went back to check on Hakima. She still wasn’t there and I was starting to feel uncomfortable being in town alone, so I decided to start on my way home and stop to see one more friend. In one mile I probably shook hands and exchanged Arabic greetings with at least 30 people! That’s not counting all the adorable naked children who came running up to shake my hand and pet the hair on my arms.

I stopped in to see Doras. She’s the most beautiful Sudanese woman I’ve ever seen and her 8 month old baby is gorgeous too. She was very happy to see me and I stayed for a little while, making conversation with my limited Arabic vocabulary. After saying goodbye, I marveled to myself how many women of the Burtah tribe (100% mu$lim) God has brought into my life in this short time. Eli and my heart grows more burdened for these lost people every day and we’re thankful for the opportunity to reach out to them in friendship.

After crossing the river again, I ignored how tired my feet and legs were from trekking through the muck, thinking instead of all our new friends here in Sudan. How can it be that we love them so much already? Is God going to draw each of them to find Him and know Him in a personal way? My heart aches for it to happen.