Father Vuni

If I have already had a favorite day on this trip, I was bound to have a worst day as well. But it was not just one worst day…it was this whole weekend.

Since the last time I posted, I woke up every few hours throughout the night, needing to go to the restroom. I had dysentery. And then in the morning, I woke up with a burning fever (100.7 degrees). At first I was terrified because I thought I got Typhoid Fever, which I was not vaccinated for before coming here (stupid, Neesha). But I looked up Where There Is No Doctor (the greatest, life-saving book of all time), and it said that I would be vomiting if had it. So that ruled Typhoid out...thank god.

So in the morning, Emma gave me Gatorade and Pepto-Bismol. It was difficult to drink the Gatorade without feeling like I was going throw up, but I had to force it down to stay hydrated. The one thing I have learned on this trip is that dehydration from diarrhea is the worst thing to happen to anyone, especially in infants (the leading cause of death), and ORS is so important. So I stayed in bed the whole day, attempted to get up a few times when my fever finally lessened, and watched a bit of the first XXX with everyone else.

The next day, I was still in bed. My Mephloquine seemed to be very sympathetic to my illness because it surprisingly rewarded me with a dream about me snorkeling and rising up to see my family around me. It was very comforting, but at the same time it made me very homesick. I also started to crave food more than ever while I was sick. Except for Ethiopian and Eritrean food, East African food is pretty bland, to be honest. I really missed spicy curry dishes, saucy East Asian food, burritos, hot cheesy pizza, and even chips (not french fries). I could not stop thinking about food while I was lying in bed, and it was killing my appetite for the food in the compound. I felt so dissatisfied by the end of each of dinner in Torit, and having these cravings made me want to go home more than ever.

At night, Emma, George, and Jerome went to play pool near the discotheque. On top of my illness and my desire to go home, Torit has been especially boring this week. There is literally no one in the compound except us, the generator is rarely ever on, and there is not much activity within the town. Playing pool has been the only thing we found that has thrown a splash of entertainment into our daily lives here. The last time we went there, Jerome put on a show. He beat every man who played him, but I heard from Emma that this time he lost.

As if all this was not enough, we have been receiving a gazillion emails from the U.S. Embassy telling us to get out of Sudan as soon we can. The ICC has just indicted President Omar al-Bashir for war crimes in the state of Darfur. So they are fearing anti-foreigner hostility (even though this is completely the U.N.’s doing) everywhere in Sudan. But I am not that worried because everyone in Southern Sudan has been very supportive of international aid here…and the mission keeps me safe.

But I feel much better today. I tried looking up what I had in Where There is No Doctor, and the only thing I could figure out was a bacterial infection (Shigella probably?). I did not have an amoeba infection, since I had a fever. I did not have malaria, since I was taking anti-malarial pills. I definitely did not have Giardia. Plus, when I started to take Ciproflaxin, an antibiotic, I started feeling loads better. My Mephloquine also started acting like its normal, evil self again and gave me a terrifying dream about the wildlife in Nimule. I dreamt of a crocodile swimming past, its tail end forming into the head of a squid, and its eye staring at me. There were these huge turtles with shells that expanded into wings so that they could fly off and chase after us. And then there were these large human-like neon lizards that jumped and attacked us in synchronization. I hid from them, but when my cell phone started to ring, they all looked up to where I was. And then I woke up. Yep, bizarre dream. But it wasn’t so bizarre that I dreamt of Nimule. We were supposed to go to Nimule as soon as I got better…and as soon as Father Vuni came back.

I tell you, having Father Vuni come back did so much to my health. This whole week was very depressing for all of us. I was sick, homesick, and just bored to death. We all wanted company in this compound, and Father Vuni arriving was the best thing to happen to us this whole week. He is always genuinely concerned about our wellbeing. For example, he surprised me with fresh milk after I asked him why they drink powdered milk here and not goat’s milk. He even tried to get curry and chicken for me because he thought I missed Indian food haha. He completely lifted my spirits the moment I saw him.

We sat with him during lunch, and he told us about different parts of Sudan and the world. Seriously, he spurts like the fountain of knowledge. Isoke is his favorite place in Sudan, and then Nimule. There are parts to Magwi that do not look like Sudan at all but like Columbia, where they grow coffee beans. The coffee beans and bananas they grow are supported under the Fair trade, and then George started talking about the name Banana Republic. Very interesting. There are also coconuts you let fall so that they grow a long tuber underground that people can eat. This is good to know for the dry season when people need to be particularly resourceful with the food they have, but this knowledge seems to be fading with each generation. Of all the places in Eastern Equatoria, Kuron and Nyanyangachor are probably the most primitive—half-naked people who depend on their cattle for survival. Women in these villages are less educated because families marry their girls off early for cattle. The least resourceful villages are often the most educated because the women and men must survive on schools to get the jobs they need to earn money and stay successful. For example, Loa was one of the first villages to build a school in the 1920-30s, and this really gave the people an advantage. The evidence: the first female vice-president and one of the three chairmen of the nation came from Loa.

When he stayed in Khartoum from May-June, there would be sandstorms once every week starting at 5 PM at night. When it ended at 7 PM, the sand would be about a foot high inside their home, and they would spend up until midnight sweeping it all out. He told us it is very easy to get lost in the desert, as opposed to in a forest. The Arabs are the best at finding their way out of the desert by reading the stars, so that is why they say it is smarter to travel by night. He also visited Sri Lanka right after the Tsunami hit and witnessed utter chaos. There would be NGOs that come in with huge amounts of money but not know what to do with it, so they would dump it where they think it was most needed and then leave (gosh, that sounds awfully familiar!). But he was surprised that for not being a top-tier nation, Sri Lanka had about a 92% literacy rate. He also noticed that the people were very nice, who genuinely try not to cheat and lie to others. He had also talked about Ethiopia’s unique expression of Christianity and the carvings in their mountains. Man, I could listen to him for hours. I just like to type all this down for my own knowledge.

When we informed him about our 4th of July party, Father Vuni remembered that yesterday had been his 11th year anniversary since he was ordained as a priest. Yes, celebration time! We encouraged him to invite his friends to the compound, and he managed to bring his childhood seminary school friends for dinner. He also bought us a dish called fumasara (sp?), which is made with fava beans, feta cheese, onions, and tomatoes. He had this everyday when he was a child and was craving it until now. It tasted like burrito beans, and it was really good.

Then everyone at the table introduced themselves. I met Father Mawa and Father Andrew, who we will visit at Nimule. After dinner, one of the Fathers gave a long speech about Father Vuni for all of us to hear. He talked about how they first met and about Father Vuni’s character. Father Vuni had so many avenues to exploit, but he was a man of his principles. In the Father’s words, “God used him as an instrument for freedom and peace”. Despite the suffering, he gave hope to his people and served as “a voice for the voiceless”. Pretty cliché, but pretty deep…and all true. I can see evidence of these words. Father Vuni always goes out of his way to take care of me and make me feel comfortable. He is an inspiration to the people around him. I could definitely sense that all the Fathers at the table admire Father Vuni. Heck, I admire him.

In my snorkeling dream, one of my family friends pulled me up from the water and I grinned madly. My grinning turned into laughter, and he told me with surprise, “Neesha, I haven’t seen you laugh this much in a long time!” But that was a dream. Now with Father Vuni here, I have started to laugh just as much again. This is real, and I feel so much better.

-Neesha