Helplessness

Shots where fired…and friends where hit. Some where someone thinks it’s reasonable to put a bullet into a 22 year old Sudanese girl. Some where someone thinks it acceptable for a man to drive his way to safety with a bullet through his arm. To someone this makes sense, to shoot, maim, and kill your own people…your own blood.

I am told the shots where fired to derail the peace agreements that have been made. Yet I look around and do not see any semblance of peace…I suppose these individuals are doing a “good job.” And I sit on a hospital bed looking at the face of the innocent who are no longer innocent. Innocents was probably lost to the people of Darfur long ago, but the final blow was complete with the crack of a gun shot.

We all react to tragedy in different ways. But the list of reactions seems to become narrower when we are surrounded by tragedy on a daily basis? How does one move forward in the face of such overwhelming evil? Must we lie to ourselves, trying to believe that we are making a difference? Or must we accept the fate that has been dealt to people who have never had a say in the direction of their destiny. Maybe there are other options, ones that I have not explored…but for now they seem so far away they might simply be impossible.

I wish there was someone to point a finger at, someone to yell at, some sort of accountability somewhere. But that won’t happen and I am too much of a realist to hold out for it. For now there is just frustration, sadness, and angst. And maybe one day I will weep, maybe one day we will all weep…

*Photo provide by Aaron

Tea Shop Talks....Humanities Reflections

I spent my Easter in a small tea shop in the mountainous area of Darfur. Tea “shop” might be a bit strong of a word. A better description would be 4 wooden pools in each corner holding a drooping plastic tarp that covers the occupants from the sun. For reasons unknown to me, no tea shop in Darfur has every built one of these with a roof over 5 feet tall. I find this odd because Sudanese are generally tall and I know by experience that it hurts when you hit you’re head on the bamboo poll crossbeams that help hold the plastic up. I suppose after a life time of experience you learn to keep your head down…I guess I just need to keep practicing. So while walking into the tea shop and getting up from it can be quite difficult, sitting down is rather enjoyable. There are rarely chairs and we all take off our shoes and lay on the mats on the ground. It really forms the classic Arabian Night image of men clad in white Jalabias reclining on their side sipping tea and Turkish coffee. Granted it is a bit dirtier then the sheik image I just described due to the never ending dust and the fact that the tea owners cook over an open fire on the ground right next to us. But all in all the tea shop is always an enjoyable experience.

So to be honest I had no idea it was Easter that day, in my mind it was market day, so it meant that all of the big rebel commanders would be in town so I had meetings I needed to conduct. So my entry into the tea house was not simply for pleasure, there was work to be done. I found my self sitting with General X, one of the heads of the rebel group that I have come to know quite well over my near year here in Darfur. And while socially we get along very well, exchanging warm hugs and bottles of local date wine, I am more then certain that he is as shady and manipulative as the next government, militia, or rebel leader. Needless to say I approach all of our interactions with a bit of weariness, but over time I think we have both come to feel quite comfortable with each other. So while we are discussing the latest humanitarian needs, recent government bombing, IDP movements, and the regular list of conversation topics we address over cups of tea, the tea shops owner’s daughter (who has become a bit enamoured with the local white guy) comes over to “hang out”. Now when interacting with me the little one (no more the 6 years old) always has a big and curious smile, but remains some what reserved and questioning. But the minute she saw General X she started talking animatedly, climbing in his lap, threatening to cut off one of his dread locks, and simply enjoying herself as any child should. Watching General X teach her how to use my Thuraya (Satellite Phone) to call the AU (which she did successfully, luckily it didn’t connect) and making silly faces at her to make her laugh showed the human side that is so rarely present. Typically there is a certain air of aloofness and demanded respect of the rebel leaders, and while this is understandable it begins to wear on you after a while. But for one hour while drinking tea I was able to see the other side of a man who surely has blood on his hands. How strange the dichotomy of the human soul. Within all of us is the part that can pick up a gun to kill another person, yet the next day coddle a tiny child warmly and fill a room with laughter.

I am not sure if the dichotomy makes me happy or sad…but undoubtedly it is apart of all of us.

Tea Shop Talks...Humanities Reflection

I spent my Easter in a small tea shop in the mountainous area of Darfur. Tea “shop” might be a bit strong of a word. A better description would be 4 wooden pools in each corner holding a drooping plastic tarp that covers the occupants from the sun. For reasons unknown to me, no tea shop in Darfur has every built one of these with a roof over 5 feet tall. I find this odd because Sudanese are generally tall and I know by experience that it hurts when you hit you’re head on the bamboo poll crossbeams that help hold the plastic up. I suppose after a life time of experience you learn to keep your head down…I guess I just need to keep practicing. So while walking into the tea shop and getting up from it can be quite difficult, sitting down is rather enjoyable. There are rarely chairs and we all take off our shoes and lay on the mats on the ground. It really forms the classic Arabian Night image of men clad in white Jalabias reclining on their side sipping tea and Turkish coffee. Granted it is a bit dirtier then the sheik image I just described due to the never ending dust and the fact that the tea owners cook over an open fire on the ground right next to us. But all in all the tea shop is always an enjoyable experience.

So to be honest I had no idea it was Easter that day, in my mind it was market day, so it meant that all of the big rebel commanders would be in town so I had meetings I needed to conduct. So my entry into the tea house was not simply for pleasure, there was work to be done. I found my self sitting with General X, one of the heads of the rebel group that I have come to know quite well over my near year here in Darfur. And while socially we get along very well, exchanging warm hugs and bottles of local date wine, I am more then certain that he is as shady and manipulative as the next government, militia, or rebel leader. Needless to say I approach all of our interactions with a bit of weariness, but over time I think we have both come to feel quite comfortable with each other. So while we are discussing the latest humanitarian needs, recent government bombing, IDP movements, and the regular list of conversation topics we address over cups of tea, the tea shops owner’s daughter (who has become a bit enamoured with the local white guy) comes over to “hang out”.

Now when interacting with me the little one (no more the 6 years old) always has a big and curious smile, but remains some what reserved and questioning. But the minute she saw General X she started talking animatedly, climbing in his lap, threatening to cut off one of his dread locks, and simply enjoying herself as any child should. Watching General X teach her how to use my Thuraya (Satellite Phone) to call the AU (which she did successfully, luckily it didn’t connect) and making silly faces at her to make her laugh showed the human side that is so rarely present. Typically there is a certain air of aloofness and demanded respect of the rebel leaders, and while this is understandable it begins to wear on you after a while. But for one hour while drinking tea I was able to see the other side of a man who surely has blood on his hands. How strange the dichotomy of the human soul. Within all of us is the part that can pick up a gun to kill another person, yet the next day coddle a tiny child warmly and fill a room with laughter.

I am not sure if the dichotomy makes me happy or sad…but undoubtedly it is apart of all of us.