Well, after the pseudo conniption fit I had the day before; I...we....just about everyone....decided it would be a good idea if I got out a little bit on Friday. So, I did. Lance and I drove up towards the town of Goli and pick up a plow we had lent to a very nice man named John, and we refer to as Farmer John; because....well....he's a farmer.
A really good farmer too. The typical farm in Sudan is some sort of small patch of land next to your tukel that is used primarily for family. Farmer John was a refuge in the UK for almost ten years and took great advantage of his time there with seven years in pastor training, and learning as much as he could about farming practices so he could one day return to South Sudan, as he has done. Now he is doing very well, hiring local workers, and currently doing his best to hire more and encourage local merchants to drive out to him to pick up produce and they can sell it in the markets and freeing up his time to remain on the farm. A great story that will hopefully come soon.
So, I haven't spent much, if any, real time on a farm. I soon realized that we are not taking the Land Cruiser nor the Lowry. We are taking the pretty red tractor. hmmm.....fun....but I don't know how to drive a tractor; ok so Lance will do that.....but I only see one seat on the tractor. Now Lance and I have become pretty good friends, but I didn’t see either of us in a Santa suit, so the lap option was out.
Now, if you look closely at this picture. You will see a small, black, triangular shaped object that rests between a lot of shafts, bars, hydraulic....things, and a list of other items that would not appear pleasant to fall on. Granted this picture is taken once we arrived at Farmer John's. So, don't worry too much, that large mean looking plow wasn't there for the first part of the journey. Instead there were chains and wires to prevent some of those shafts, bars, and hydraulic things from hitting the tires.
Here is a shot of me actually standing on my own personal platform to God. Oh…and the dirt you see all over my feet, by the time we got home, just picture that everywhere.
So, I call it my platform to God...well....because I was scared. I tried sitting on one of the wheel wells for about 45 seconds, but during that time smashed my head on the ceiling of the tractor…..twice…That is the axel immediately in front of me, and got a little warm after a while. There isn’t a good place for me to hold on with my hands either. I learned quickly that some of the….tractor sized…bumps in the road will cause both of my feet to come off of this platform. I won’t share what I had envisioned could happen to me if I fell; I will saw those weren’t pleasant thoughts. So, after Thursday’s hissy fit, I was reminded of Psalm 34:4 “I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me, freeing me from all my fears”, and again 34:6 “I cried out to the Lord in my suffering and he heard me. He set me free from all my fears”. Let me tell ya’….it worked; and the drive was extremely pleasant. Every now and then we would drive over, what I am now referring to as prayer reminders….or….tractor sized pot holes.
So…..we load up and head back to Harvesters. It’s about 25 miles away; it took us 90 minutes by tractor without the plow, so we figured 2 hours with the plow.
Now, if you look here you will see one of two bridges we have to cross. Don’t worry too much about all of the guys at the end that is closer to Farmer John’s.
If you noticed those few logs, a piece of steel protruding horizontally out of the bridge, and some other miscellaneous items….that is known as bridge repair in Sudan.
On the way to Farmer John’s, there was something that resembled this type of patch work where you now see a gathering of men with a varying looks on their faces. At some point in time this “repair work”, failed and now we have a big hole in the bridge.
As the man on the bicycle proves, some vehicles are able to pass; this also includes small pickup trucks, and the Land Cruiser should be able to.
Now, these guys are not engineers, let alone structural engineers. Another issue, you m
ight notice some of them holding their shirts over their heads; they are not camera shy. There was a very large nest of bees under the bridge that was slightly disturbed that little section fell. Please don’t worry, honey bees in Africa are still just honey bees. They don’t kill or eat humans, just sting like normal.
As we arrived, what was considered a typical display of non-engineers performing engineering work was going on. One or two were defiantly more vocal and seemed to have an idea of what to do, and how to arrange tree trunks and branches in a way to allow for a half-mile backup, in both directions, of big-rigs with full loads of cargo to safely cross the bridge.
The basic chain of events was……someone dominates and says what is to happen, they there is some arguing, then perhaps (literally) a step or two is made in a certain direction….followed by more arguing…..followed by bees swarming and everyone scattering…..lighting a fire to drive out the bees…..irritating the bees…..causing everyone to scatter….more talk….more arguing (it is really mimicking the ol’ wash, rinse, repeat)…..one to three trying to hammer or pry something that resembles either the impenetrable force or the immovable object (too bad the bridge was not made of these materials) with no change in circumstances…..followed by…..more arguing.
This is also a great place for humility. Recall from a previous post that most places a kawaaja goes, he is the center of attention. So, even here; as Lance and I walked up you can hear the faint mumblings of a lot of words and kawaaja is one of them. Everyone turns to look at us for some sort of direction or advice.
….oh, and Lance isn’t an engineer either, but probably more intuitive on what to do……
In situations like this, where I feel I am the center of attention for no real reason, and I’m uncomfortable; so I make jokes. I pointed to my eyes, and say “kweyes”, which means OK or good, thus I just told them all it looks good to me. Luckily they laughed and then……stopped looking to us for any advice.
We originally arrived about 1:30, it is now 3:30, the sun sets here about 7:00, and by Land Cruiser we are a good 20 – 30 minutes from the orphanage. If you are following any news from the area, the LRA (look them up if you are interested and don’t get nightmares easily) is still only interested in war and has no interest in peace; making nightfall this far out of town something to be concerned with. Lance has been in South Sudan off and on for a few years, and fourteen month on this trip, so he stays; and I cross the bridge and start to walk/run towards the orphanage.
I wouldn’t necessarily refer to the hole in the bridge as tractor sized pot hole, but then again I now call those reminders to pray. So pray I did.
As soon as I crossed the bridge there was a boda-boda (motorcycle taxi) just waiting…….for me. Twenty minutes or so later and 10 Sudanese Pounds ($5.00) lighter, I am back at the orphanage. Since everyone saw me, but didn’t see Lance, a large tractor, or a plow they realized something wasn’t right.
The choices were easy, (1) return with a truck and follow Lance back to Farmer John’s and then drive Lance back to the orphanage and get the plow and tractor later (2) I take a boda-boda back and Lance and I stay at Farmer John’s until the bridge is fixed (3) return to the bridge with some good lumber, a chain saw, some of the workers, and really do our best to help out and make a difference in the area.
Of course we chose option (3). A very large chain saw, a couple of 10 foot 2x6’s, 3 workers, and some other things, we are off. The line of trucks was incredibly long once we returned. Ironically, the last in line was from the organization responsible for road and bridge repair.
I am not sure I really want to know what everyone was yelling at us as we drove past them, some of the workers sprouted a smile while one looked concerned, but he is one of the guards from the orphanage. As we pull up to the bridge, guess who just crossed it? Yep, Lance. Apparently after enough of the wash, rinse, and repeat, logs were spread out over the hole in every possible direction and one truck was chosen as the guinea pig, and lived to tell his tale.
I wanted to see what the repair looked like, but the sensible thing was to simply leave as soon as possible and not to get in the way of trucks wanted to cross…..perhaps next week when we go back for the second plow.
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