My First Day in Sudan... This Time!

I have just begun my most recent missionary endeavor in Sudan. Those of you who frequent the blog will remember me from the month-long summer missions in 2009 and 2010. I have returned now for a six month stint. My first day this time around has been nothing less than adventurous!

I think it must be a mark of honor in Sudan when they roll out the mud carpet for you upon your arrival—mind you that in some places the mud actually has tinges of red in it. Anyhow, I was feeling pretty good having survived the streets of Nairobi where the street cons can easily run circles around even the most cunning of con artists in NYC. Only cost me 350 shillings ($4.32)!

The plane ride was uneventful except for the fact that we arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule. The adventure began with the immigration officials. They had me pegged somewhere between Osama bin Laden and Gandalf the Grey. Making things worse was the fact that I didn’t even have my rosary hanging on my habit showing me to be a Catholic—at 4:00 AM my mind was mush, my eyes were blind and somehow I left it in my room at Regina Pacis, the diocese’s guest house in Nairobi.

I thought I had convinced them that I am neither a terrorist nor a fictional wizard only to find them mulling through my, to that point, cleverly packed luggage, five pieces in all plus some carry-on bits. The second miracle was that I managed to repack everything under the stress.

Then I baked myself in the sun for over an hour waiting for Fr Herald and Denis to arrive. I found out during my second interrogation by the immigration officers who were concerned about my loitering that our vehicle had suffered a flat tire—the first of only two on the day.

Shopping in Juba was another experience. After repeated explanations as to the type of plastic chairs we were looking for and repeated mistakes, I found myself traveling with total strangers to a warehouse in an undisclosed location to get the chairs myself. I guess never talk to stranger went out long ago!

We had some lunch and then hit the road, or shall I say, the mud! It was about half way on our four hour trip (ultimately six hours—the third miracle being the lengthening of the journey!). Already we had changed the second flat tire and re-tied the chairs twice so not to lose them. Our vehicle zigged when, perhaps, it should have zagged, and there I was sitting at a 45° angle in a pool of mud. There is nothing worse than having a pair of knee-high rubber boots packed away just when you need them most. So, with a few prayers to Our Lady, the help of the vehicles winch, and a few wet feet pushing desperately from the middle of the mud pile, we managed to recover the vehicle safe and sound—the fourth miracle.

Unfortunately, there was a bit of equipment damage, but no one was hurt and I now have a new story for a homily someday.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

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