School has started at last – with challenges

Cece Primary School was finally allowed to reopen on 3^rd May.  I arrived early in the morning armed with a large bag of facemasks and lots of old cloth to use for cleaning.

There was a lot of clearing up to do as the classrooms had been closed for a year and one term.  We got out the new desks, gave them a thorough scrub and swept out the classrooms, which were very dusty.  Those rooms with new windows and doors were also full of builders’ rubble.  The pupils worked with great enthusiasm, particularly once they had seen the desks.  They also did some grass cutting and planting of shrubs under the guidance of Teacher Abuni, who is a keen agriculture teacher in addition to his academic subjects.

As is always the case in South Sudan, starting a new term is a slow process.  As the week progressed the numbers of pupils grew, but we have still not seen all our pupils from last year.  All schools have been ordered by the local education department not to accept new pupils until they are sure that all pupils from 2020 have come back.  Some, I already know will not be returning as quite a few families have moved away from Nimule.

A blind grandmother hopes to register
her orphaned grandchildren

Throughout the week, desperate families have been visiting the school asking for places.  We have noted down their details but had to explain that we are unable to accept any new pupils right now.  Altogether the families of 47 children came.  There may be more next week.  Most of those visiting were grandmothers caring for their orphaned grandchildren.  All these carers were in a very bad physical state, and several were blind, led to school using a pole held by a child at one end and the grandmother at the other (the traditional means of guiding blind people in South Sudan).  I don’t know which to hope: that all our former pupils return, or that we can admit these needy children.  We are unable to expand because of the limits set by social distancing.

We now have two teachers doing two-year teacher training courses at separate teacher training institutes.  Another teacher has had a recent operation from which she needs to recover.  This has been a handicap in starting lessons.  We are advertising for two new teachers. 

Formal teaching started on Wednesday after the clear-up, but not on all cylinders because of the teacher absences.  Because we are operating under Covid regulations, we have split the school into two shifts for social distancing; lower school in the mornings and upper school in the afternoons, and divided most classes in two.  The afternoon shift is difficult for the pupils, as most do not come from homes with means of time-keeping.

Some of our pupils at their new
desks.

The pupils love their new desks.  It is the first time that we have ever had all our pupils sitting on seats rather than on mats.  Their view of the facemasks is not so positive.  I am constantly telling them to put them on or go home.  The general opinion in Nimule is that Covid is a myth, so they come to school very resistant to all Covid restrictions.  It is a hard position to be in: it is not good to tell children that their carers are wrong.  I respond that whether or not there is Covid we have to comply, otherwise we risk being closed down by the health authorities who are going to inspect all schools.  After a year without school, that is not a risk anybody wants to take.

A lot of pupils, unsurprisingly, have outgrown their uniforms.  We have asked them to return their old uniforms in a clean state, for reuse by smaller pupils.  Once we have a clearer idea of the numbers of pupils, we will need to buy more, particularly for the older ones.

Another hurdle to be overcome has been the school feeding situation.  As mentioned in my last blog post, thieves stole a lot of our cooking equipment.  This is being replaced, but there was no possibility of feeding the pupils during our first week.  We are hoping to start cooking again next week.  It has been especially difficult for teachers who are timetabled for morning and afternoon shifts.

In South Sudan it is usual for nursing mothers to bring their babies to work as there are no childcare facilities.  Not anymore!  A highlight has been the acquisition of a woman named Grace to care for staff babies while their mothers are working.  This is part of a new three-year project through Plan International.  Grace has received training during the Covid period and is being paid directly by Plan International.  Two of our teachers gave birth during the school closure and they are delighted to be able to teach in peace.  Next week Grace will find herself with the cooks’ tiny children too, so she will have her hands full.

Despite the challenges described, we are all so pleased to be back at school.  We have various needs as mentioned.  We also need to repair our printer as well as pay the usual regular staff salaries.  Printing is needed so that we can test our pupils and make sure they are in the correct classes after their long gap with no lessons.  One of our blackboards needs to be replaced. 

It would be very helpful to the school if people are willing to make regular standing orders, so that we can feel reasonably secure in our school income.  Please feel free to pass on this post to anyone who might be interested in assisting our school.  My email address for further information on gift aid and how to donate is rebeccamallinson1@hotmail.co.uk. 

Thieves at the school

I arrived back in Nimule two days ago.  I met with two pieces of bad news.  The first is that due to the rise in Covid cases school opening is again postponed, this time to May.  The second is that thieves have broken into our school, once or possibly twice.

Charles, the director of HUMAES, my partners in the school, and I, went to visit the school yesterday.  We found the door of one classroom open, although nobody had tampered with the lock.  One of the window shutters and a bar from across the window had been removed.  Clearly the thieves had squeezed through the window and then opened the door from the inside. 

An open door awaits us

The guard from the next-door school saw us and came over.  He told us that he had seen the thieves as he was walking back to the school the previous day.  They were carrying a metal window frame, which had been left over when the new windows were put in last year.  He threw stones at the thieves and they ran away leaving the window frame behind.  He took the window frame into his school compound for safekeeping.  Then a woman came, who told us that she knew who the thieves were.  According to her, they are a gang of local young men who have been doing a lot of stealing in the area.  They are homeless drug-users.  They are very dangerous, even to the extent of shooting people who tried to stop them.

Before we left, Charles suggested that we check the kitchen store even though the door seemed to be locked.  The padlock was not damaged.  We opened the door only to find that thieves had got in there too.  A catering size cooking pot had been taken and also several large boxes of soap.  These had all been donated by Plan International at different times.  In their search the thieves had strewn plastic cups and beans all over the floor.  Whether these were the same thieves as those who entered the classroom or not, it is impossible to know.  It seems that they had a master key.  It was a cheap padlock.  We have replaced it now with a much tougher one.

A missing bar is the clue to the thieves
entry method

Do I despair?  No.  Am I sad?  Not particularly.  On the bright side, the damage could have been worse.  If we had had a guard, he could have been killed, as often happens here.  If our school had all mod-cons such as electricity and western-style learning aids, we would attract far more criminals.  In fact this is the first incident since the school started in 2015.  The name of our school, Cece, means ‘slowly, slowly’ in the Madi language.  It has proved to be a wise policy.

Since the closure of schools last March, many young men have formed roving gangs, camping in deserted huts, armed with guns and pangas (the local word for a machete).  Rape incidents are high.  Drug taking is also high.  It is very likely that these youths were school students up until March 2020, now with nothing to do but create mayhem. 

What type of a life can these young men expect?  The answer is ‘nasty, brutish and short’.  I was told that in another incident a young man who specialized in stealing solar panels was spotted by a guard, up a ladder, removing a solar panel.  The guard shot him to death with four bullets.  Rough justice is common here, and most people heartily approve of the guard’s action.  If crimes are reported through official channels, the police expect to be paid to investigate and often take yet more belongings from the crime victims, supposedly as ‘evidence’ but nobody ever gets their belongings back again.

In South Sudan, all the international NGOs prioritise girls’ education.  But what about the boys and young men?  Without education the boys will spoil the lives of the girls through rape, HIV and teenage pregnancy.  Boys very easily become street children, unlike girls, who have more of a role in their families.  These boys will continue the downhill process in which South Sudan collapses through endless violent crime, unless they are helped. 

I strongly believe that boys must be helped at the same time as girls.  All of them need to get back to school urgently.  Without education, there can be no change for the better in South Sudan.  Please God, let school truly restart in May.  Covid is a very lame excuse in South Sudan, as the numbers of cases are tiny compared to most countries in the world.  Official statistics show that just over 100 people have died, and there have only been around 10,000 positive cases so far.  Is it really worth ruining so many lives for that?

In the meantime we need to get a metal worker to weld on a new bar to the window and replace the metal shutter.  We also need to buy a large pot to replace the one stolen.  The soap can wait!

School at last for the deaf children

I am so happy to be able to say that at last the deaf children are back at school, with the exception of Joel whose school is in a different area, with different rules.  For Joel, school begins again in June.  The reason for the difference is that the District Commissioner for the area of the primary school in Mbale has said that children with special needs have to be prioritized and allowed back to school. 

We left Nimule on 5^th March with five children, and picked up two more (who had been staying in Uganda) on the way.  The whole contingent is now Alau (who is the only one at secondary level), Alice, Lillian, Assumpta, Aluma, Paul and our new boy, Vibrant.  All the children were so happy to be going back to school.  Life in Nimule without speech and hearing is extremely difficult, so they have been very isolated to say the least.

The financial cost was heavier than previously as all those coming from South Sudan (seven of us including me and a helper) had to be tested for Covid at the border at a cost of $50 each, making the total cost of entering Uganda $100 each because of the $50 visa charge.  Fortunately we all tested negative.  The costs of transport have also risen because of the necessity for social distancing.  Four children needed uniform, Vibrant because he is new, and Aluma, Assumpta, Lillian and Paul because they had grown out of their clothes during their year off school.  All the primary school children needed new school shoes for the same reason.  Other costs (school fees, toiletries etc) remained more or less the same.  The costs should be far lower for the next two terms as (unless there is another emergency) the children will remain in school for the rest of the school year, with no more need of border charges or transport.  Previously I have asked for £625 a year from sponsors.  It would be very helpful if this could be raised to £650.

Vibrant, taken shortly before we
travelled.

Vibrant is in need of a sponsor.  Vibrant looks very small compared to the other children and I worried about how he would cope.  He is nine years old and had only just started school in his home town of Torit just before the Covid crisis started, so he has had almost no school experience.  However he turned out to be super-confident and to already have some home-made signs to communicate with the others.  He was even rather bossy towards them.  He is a very cheerful character and clearly very intelligent.  I expect him to do really well at school.

I should mention that schools in Uganda and South Sudan do not have a strict age bracket for each class, unlike the UK.  It is normal for children to begin school at various ages, depending on family circumstances.  This has been especially the case for these deaf children, as there is no availability of special schools in South Sudan, and ordinary schools do not have the necessary training to teach them.  It is also common for older children who do really well to be promoted upwards more quickly than annually, so that they can catch up with their peers.  This is possible at our children’s primary school because of high staffing ratios in the Hearing Impairment Unit and has been the case with most of the children I have brought there. 

Alau

Up until now Alau has not had a sponsor.  Alau’s secondary school requires a full year for coverage of the secondary curriculum.  He is now in Senior 3, the year before the equivalent of GCSEs.  Then, he will have the option to continue for A’levels or move to a full time vocational training course in the same school, which will set him up for the world of skilled work and make his future far brighter than otherwise.  He is a sensible and very hard-working young man of 21, whose future relies on being able to work.  Currently, he spends his holiday times doing heavy shifting of luggage in a transport hub to help support his family, where he is subject to a lot of abuse because of his deafness.  Having skills and qualifications will give him far more respect in the local community.

If you are interested in sponsoring either Vibrant or Alau, please let me know.  My email address is rebeccamallinson1@hotmail.co.uk.

My return journey from Kuron to Juba

In the time I’ve been in South Sudan I have almost always travelled by public transport, but never written about it.  Here is a description of my return journey to Juba from Kuron to give readers a flavour of why I enjoy it.

While I was at Kuron it became very clear that getting back would be more problematic than my trip there, in which I had shared Bishop Paride’s flight.  Flights are far and few between and very costly.  Sometimes Land Cruisers or other tough vehicles make the journey from Kapoeta to Kuron, but there is no public means of travel.  The nearest town with public transport is Kapoeta, around 200 kilometres away. 

While I was ruminating on this, I got the news that my contingent of deaf children were supposed to return to school at the beginning of March as part of Uganda’s gradual reopening of schools.  Before going back to Nimule to collect them all together, I needed to renew my South Sudan resident’s permit, so I realized that I needed to leave earlier than planned.

The road from Kuron to Kapoeta, while it was
still daylight.

Various trucks were arriving at Kuron with building materials for school renovations and for work on a new bridge, which was to replace one which had been swept away by floods last year.  I spoke to the driver of a tip-up truck who was about to leave on his return journey to Juba and he agreed to take me in the passenger seat.  The truck was a modern one with air conditioning, which made the drive relatively comfortable although it was still an extremely bumpy and painstakingly slow drive for the most part because of the state of the track.  We left at around 3 pm, which I was pleased about because it gave me a chance to see the surroundings before night fell.

The driver was a very young and friendly Ethiopian.  He spoke a small amount of English and I spoke a small amount of Arabic, so we were able communicate in a very basic way.  He was an excellent driver and very experienced in negotiating sudden drops from the track into dried up river beds.  I really admired his skill.

For the first part of the journey we passed Toposa villages, surrounded by thorny fences.  Their homes were built on stilts, dome shaped and completely made of long grass.  They were really works of art.  As the residents heard the approach of our truck, children came running to the roadside to wave at us as we passed.  Most people, both adults and children, wore bead necklaces and a cloth around their shoulders.  Women wore short pleated skirts in a traditional design as well.  Many women had lip piercings and exposed tattooed bodies. 

Children who had rushed to the
roadside to see the vehicle, close
to a feeding centre.

Outside one village I saw the remains of a bonfire surrounded by log benches with a tall homemade cross at one end.  This was very similar to the place where I attended the baptisms described in my last post.  It is the nearest thing to a church that I saw in the whole journey as far as Kapoeta.

I saw quite a lot of donkeys, which I know were imported by the Peace Village to provide agricultural help and beasts of burden for the locals, who have no tradition of using animals for work.   There were no towns, no shops or any other signs of outside civilization except for a very occasional sign marked ‘Nutrition Centre’. 

Then we passed along a valley path which wound through mountains.  By the time we had got to the end of the mountains night was falling.  As we drove on in the dark, various small animals scooted across the road in the light of the truck’s headlights.  I saw three hyenas, a couple of dik-diks (a very small type of antelope), an animal resembling a mongoose and lots of rabbits.  The driver was clearly an animal lover; he was extremely careful not to run them over. 

We continued driving in pitch darkness until 10.30 pm when we finally arrived at Kapoeta, which is the state capital for the whole area.  We stopped at a large but slightly grotty hotel which clearly catered for truck drivers. 

As we parted for the night I asked the driver what time he wanted to leave for Juba the next day.  He said he wanted to leave at 11 am.  He must have been terribly tired, as he had driven all the way from Kapoeta to Kuron earlier the same day – sixteen hours of concentrated, careful driving.  However, such a late start did not suit me at all, knowing that the driving time to Juba might be a similar length.  I wanted to arrive in daylight and not too exhausted, so we parted with many thanks from me for his willingness to help me.  I slept like a log, not surprisingly.

The next day I went to the transport hub for taxis to Juba.  ‘Taxi’ in an African context is the word used for a minibus.  As I went through the town, it was obvious that Kapoeta is in the Toposa tribal area as quite a lot of people were wearing tribal dress.  The Toposa are either a big tribe, or simply well scattered over a huge area.  I doubt if there are reliable statistics as their villages can be very remote indeed, mostly without outside access.  There are many international NGO offices in Kapoeta, but apart from the signs for nutrition centres, there seemed little evidence that they had a presence in rural areas. 

I paid my taxi fare and then sat and waited with everyone else.  As I was waiting, the local police chief introduced himself to me and we chatted.  He told me that the taxi drivers were discussing me and were very happy to have a white person taking a taxi.  They said that it was a sign that peace was coming.  If only ……  Anyway it was a nice thought.

Altogether there were ten passengers plus a baby and toddler and the driver in our taxi, crowded four to a row on seats intended for three people.  Two people shared the passenger seat.  As we left the town we waited for another taxi to catch up so we could drive in convoy in case of emergency, either of breakdown or banditry.  Our small convoy finally set off at around 9 am.

I sat squeezed between a young woman with her baby and a Dinka man with facial scarrings.  As with all public transport in South Sudan and elsewhere in Africa, people do not maintain a stony silence and avoid each other’s eyes as they do in the UK.  We all talk to our neighbours.  To me this is one of the pleasures of public transport in South Sudan.  I found that my Dinka fellow passenger was a refugee living in Kenya.  His sister was mentally ill, but their family could not afford medical care for her in Kenya.  He was therefore taking her to Juba in the hope that she could be helped.  I did not comment as I doubt very much that there is much help to be had for mental illness in Juba.  He had made a terribly long journey with her and I didn’t want to discourage him so close to the end of the trip.

Me in a rumpled and dusty state, having
just crossed the river.

As we continued our journey we passed through many checkpoints where our unfortunate driver had to keep paying the traffic police and soldiers.  I was asked for my ID twice, but there were no problems and the officials were friendly.  Until recently the road between Kapoeta and Torit was infamous for the roughness of the track (very bad even by South Sudanese standards) but it has been recently smoothed, so the ride was not bad at all, apart from one place where we had to cross a river and no bridge had yet been built.  There was an articulated lorry with an equally long trailer stuck in the mud, leaving little room for other vehicles to pass except through deeper water.  We all had to get out of the taxi and cross using very uneven stepping stones, so that the taxi would not get stuck

After leaving Kapoeta I noticed that the villages were the more usual grass-thatched mud huts, as they are in Nimule.  We passed through the Lotuku tribal area, centred on Torit (the state capital for Eastern Equatoria).  Juba is in yet another tribal area, the Bari.

We stopped for lunch at a small town called Liria, where we had a proper restaurant meal with soda before continuing our journey.

Soon after leaving Liria we had to negotiate our way through several large herds of cattle, which were being taken to market in Juba on foot.  Then we came to a large area where there were serious bush fires, purposefully lit.  There is a tradition of setting fire to the bush every dry season, which causes a lot of environmental damage.  It was very sad to see.

The main problem of that day’s travel was that our taxi was very old and we had to have the windows open all the way because the ventilation was not working.  Huge amounts of dust blew through the windows.  Some of us put our masks on which helped a bit.  We were covered with dust from head to foot, inside as well as outside our clothes.

We arrived in Juba at about 4 pm.  I took a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) to the guesthouse where I always stay when in Juba.  I had booked by phone early in the day but I found that my booking had not been communicated by the lady I spoke to, and they were not expecting me.  They had to hurriedly clear out a room while I waited, covered in dust and desperate to bathe.  Anyhow, it was a good trip and I was surprisingly untired by it.

The last leg of my journey was by taxi from Juba to Nimule, along a familiar tarmacked road.  It passes through Nimule National Park and across part of the Imatong Mountains.  I have described the road in a previous blog written when I had just arrived in South Sudan seven years ago.

I keep thinking of the happy reaction of the taxi drivers to having a white passenger.  I suspect that if only more foreigners would use the local public transport system, rather than private vehicles or light aircraft, it might even help to bring security and lasting peace.  It would certainly raise demand for improved road conditions.

A visit to the Peace Village at Kuron

It has been nearly a year without any travel for me since Covid broke out and during that time I have hardly left Nimule.  This has left me with a great desire for a change and a rest.  Travel to Uganda needs a Covid certificate and a $50 Ugandan visa, so I prefer not to go there until I am able to take the deaf children back to school. 

Around five or six years ago I met a very remarkable retired bishop called Bishop Paride Taban for the first time.  Even though he is over eighty years old, it is not really true that he is retired.  Instead he has been working for peace in South Sudan by any means that he can find.  This includes arbitrating between rival army generals, the government and outside agencies.  His attempts sometimes involve talking to some very violent and murderous characters, so he is a very brave man. 

His pet project has been the establishment of a peace village in a very remote area of South Sudan called Holy Trinity Peace Village at Kuron, not far from the border with Ethiopia.  It is an area virtually untouched by outside influences.  He established a primary school and a clinic (which has saved many lives).  A secondary school is under construction.  There is a newly established vocational training college run by the St Martin de Porres brothers, two of whom live in the peace village.  The Bishop lobbied outside agencies for road construction, a bridge over a local river and an air strip so that Kuron is becoming more accessible than previously, although at the moment only privately chartered flights land there. 

Agriculture is being taught to the local tribe, the Toposa, for the first time.  Up until learning agricultural skills they totally lived off their cattle herds.  The Toposa are traditionally semi-nomadic, following their cattle from place to place, but with an upsurge in cattle raiding by other tribes, they are now sticking close to home.  Due to Bishop Paride’s motivation for peace-building, a lot of work is being done to help the Toposa to become a more peaceful tribe.  There is a whole department at the Peace Village devoted to this task.

Arrival at Kuron by light aircraft

The flight to Kuron takes a bit over one hour from Juba.  There is no real alternative as the roads in that direction are rough tracks through very remote areas and would have taken days.  Planes fly very low so that it is possible to see the ground all the time.  For most of the journey I stayed glued to the window.

It is very different from Nimule, where people have become pan-African in their dress, the women mostly wearing beautiful African print long dresses and head scarves or elaborately braided hair.  Men in Nimule wear shirts or t-shirts and trousers.  I have been given a Toposa name, Natabu, which means a shady place where people can gather.  It is a tradition here to rename people coming from outside in the Toposa language.

Toposa women

For my first week I simply relaxed.  It is very peaceful.  The compound nestles under a steep, rocky but wooded hill.  The area is far greener than Nimule, even though it is the dry season, but just as hot.  Birds sing day and night, which adds to the peaceful atmosphere.  I am woken by cocks crowing.  I sleep in a slightly more modern version of a traditional round hut, with a metal roof rather than thatch. 

The Toposa of the local area are pretty much untouched by all the wars and political problems that have beset most of the country.  They did not become refugees, but have stayed behind, continuing their normal lives throughout.  This makes it a far more stable area than many in the country.  People do not have the same dependency on outside aid, which makes a refreshing change.

The local catechist speaks to the villagers.

A few days ago, I went with the Kuron director, Father Henry, and the two St Martin de Porres brothers to an even more remote area to carry out baptisms.  It was wonderful.  We went after dark because it is almost impossible to get people together in the daytime, when they are out herding their cattle.  It was a long bumpy ride across dried out riverbeds; when it is the rainy season the road must be impassable.  We arrived to find a large bonfire lighting up the night.  We were greeted by a large crowd of excited villagers, with many children.  All still wear traditional tribal dress or, in the case of some children, nothing at all.  Many have multiple piercings and beaded necklaces. 

The catechist for the village we visited is completely illiterate but knows his teachings very well indeed, to the extent that when tested by the brothers prior to our visit, the candidates for baptism were far better informed than many Catholics in western countries.  He has also taught the people a large repertoire of hymns in the Toposa language.  We were greeted with beautiful singing as a result.  Around 160 people were baptized, ranging from five year olds upwards.  The team will come back to carry out infant baptisms but are concentrating on the older residents who need instruction first.

Children waiting for baptism by the light of a bonfire.

Many of the children had grossly distended bellies due to worms.  The place is far too far from the clinic, but Doctors without Borders recently visited the clinic at Kuron and have agreed to fund a mobile clinic, so hopefully this situation will soon change.

The general atmosphere of joy and excitement over the baptism visit was palpable.  It was a very happy occasion indeed.

Last week was final exam time for primary school leavers across South Sudan and the school in Kuron was no exception.  There were twenty exam candidates, only three of whom are girls, because of traditional gender values.  Hopefully, as the Toposa become more influenced from outside, they will allow their girls to attend school.  Girls here are usually married at puberty to much older men.  I feel very fortunate that we have a far more gender-balanced school in Nimule.  The school here is a boarding school as it caters for a very wide area.  Some pupils come from as much as 100 kilometres away.

For the past two days I have been teaching the teachers the same literacy method that I have taught the teachers at Cece Primary School, to enable them to improve their literacy teaching.  As literacy is not part of the South Sudan Curriculum, this will, I hope, be a good way to say thank you for my stay here to everybody working here.

Time for school in Uganda, but we have hold-ups

 Dear all,

It is time to take the deaf children back to school in Uganda, but unfortunately there are problems.

The Ugandan Government announced that schools should reopen on 18^th January.  However, the information they gave to schools was confusing so that some schools were expecting all students to resume, while others believed it was only candidate classes (the final exam year groups).  To make matters worse, elections were due to be held in Uganda on 14^th January.  Right across the country there has been a lot of violence during the campaigning period.  Colleagues who went to visit relatives in Uganda for Christmas and the New Year said that the situation is extremely tense.

As far as the schools attended by our children are concerned, the school in Budaderi, which has the largest number of children, is still very unsure about which children should return, whether it should be only those in the primary leaving year, or all children.  Both the secondary school in Mbale and the school in Gulu were expecting all children to return on 18^th January.  This makes it difficult for me.  If I take all the children on that mammoth bus journey, only to find that I have to bring some of them home again would be very costly and also very disappointing for the children.

The unstable political situation and also the uncertainty over exactly which children should return prompted me to call a meeting of all the children’s parents.  The unanimous decision was not to take risks.  We are going to wait until the situation has become calm and for the schools to give us definite information before travelling.  It is very unfortunate that the children are still delayed in getting back to school after such a long time away.

At the meeting, parents updated me on their children’s time away from school.  It has been a major struggle due to lack of communication and the inability of families to help with home studies.  Several children have been working to assist their families, but others have had completely nothing to do.  To give just one example of the difficulties faced, one girl who tried to play with some other local children, was beaten by them because of her lack of communication.

I believe that transport costs have gone up as have learning materials and other items, although the schools have all said that they are not increasing their school fees.  Once we have made the journey I will be able to let sponsors know how much costs have gone up, or not, as the case may be.

The biggest Covid lesson for me regarding these deaf children is the need to help their families to learn sign language.  Our children have spent nearly a year in great loneliness due to inability to communicate with their families.  I suggested to the parents that I look for a sign language instructor to run a course for families.  The families all agree wholeheartedly.  I am now looking for a Ugandan sign language instructor who might be willing to come to Nimule.  I also intend to learn!

Our new child, Okumu Vibrant

Once we are ready to go back to school, I will be taking a new child called Okumu Vibrant to the school in Budaderi.  Okumu is nine years old and has been completely deaf since he was nine months old, as a result of being overdosed on quinine which was given for malaria.  He lives in the state capital, Torit, but has relatives in Nimule.  He attended nursery school in Torit where he seems to have done well, but (like all the others) has been out of school for nearly a year.  If you would like to sponsor him, please email me for details.  

Why is it so important to help these children?  South Sudan only has one deaf school, which is a day nursery in Juba.  They use South Sudan sign language, which is very new and only has a 200 word dictionary – far too few words for any real conversation or studies.  SEN training is very rare in South Sudan, so schools (including Cece) do not have anyone with specialism in sign language.  All other deaf provision is in other countries, the nearest to Nimule being Uganda.  Under Ugandan anti-discrimination law deaf students can even go to university with a sign language interpreter provided free-of-charge. 

All the parents told me how very grateful they were for the chance their children have to go to school.  I am passing these thanks on to you, as it would not be possible to help them without your sponsorships.  You are so important to the futures of these children.

Let us pray that Covid will not again create havoc with our children’s education during 2021.

 

Rebecca the Walking Wallet

 At no point in my life have I ever been rich, nor have I ever wanted to be rich.

A 'sides-to-middled' sheet

I lived for years as a single parent on benefits with insecure housing.  While my children were young and growing fast, I took pleasure in the challenge of budgeting for the expensive school shoes required by their school.  At that time, benefits were collected weekly from a local post office.  I would purposefully make a week’s money last for eight days and then collect the next installment.  By that means, every seven weeks I could cash a whole extra week’s benefits which could then be used for school shoes.  There was a great sense of triumph in this.

On the other hand, I did not want my children to see myself or themselves as hard-done-by.  I made it clear to my children’s school that they must keep the fact that my children were on free school meals confidential, even from my children.  There came a time when that information was given to a church group who wanted to distribute food hampers for Christmas to the poorest in the parish.  I had spent a full six months carefully putting things aside for Christmas.  I was so angry when they came to the door, making nothing of all my efforts by producing a whole lot of things which I had already bought (which of course they were ignorant of).  I refused the hamper.  I am sorry for my attitude with hindsight, because I know they were good people trying to help those in need.  They just got the wrong person and in my opinion were using a very poor method of help.

For the last eleven years of my time in my home country I lived on a boat on the Thames, initially because I could not afford the rent of a home on land, even though I had regular work.  Over that time, I came to really appreciate the daily efforts of living in semi-third world conditions, especially in the winter; for example the necessity to carry buckets of coal onto the boat to keep warm and to put a tarpaulin over the boat to keep some of the heat inside.  There is something far more pleasurable in producing heat and comfort when it has been difficult to achieve.

I now live in South Sudan, one of the poorest countries in the world.  To do this, I sold my boat and other more valuable possessions and gave away almost everything else through a wonderful website called Freecycle.  The resulting fund sustains me in South Sudan so that I can do the work I have been called to do.  It is a call to live with the local people, sharing in their lives and helping them in any way I can.  My experiences of poverty are in action the whole time.

Although there is a huge problem of poverty, there is also a huge ignorance of how to make the most of what is there and to prioritise in order of importance.  People live hand-to-mouth but do not have the concept of resisting the goodies in favour of necessities.

For example, people struggle to pay their children’s school fees and put food on the table, but they can be found spending a whole day having their hair done and buying clothes.  There is a huge drug and drink problem, which is also a big drain on money which could be better used.

Dependency on NGOs is very high and has become a tradition lasting around 50 years due to incessant war.  People take for granted that seeds come from NGOs each year.  Staple foods come from the UN or WFP.  Mosquito nets also come from NGOs even though it is possible to buy them locally.  This stops people from thinking or planning for themselves and they lose the ability to be resourceful.

I try to set an example by mending my clothes rather than buying more, until a stage is reached when new clothes become necessary.  Then I buy secondhand if possible.  I wear the cheapest flip-flops (locally called slippers) until they break.  Then I have them mended by a local disabled shoe-mender until they are past repair.  I bought a set of sheets 5 years ago, which wore out in the middle.  I did what my mother did, and cut them in half along the broken middle area, then sewed the ends together.  My mother used to call this technique ‘sides to middling’.

I have called this post ‘Rebecca the Walking Wallet’ because this is how I am often perceived.  As I walk around the town, I am the only white person to be seen and am regarded by those who don’t know me as DOLLARS, not a fellow human being.  The common perspective is that a white person is necessarily rich and a member of a huge multi-national NGO.  This is especially a male conception, but some women also do the same.  They are in reality after me for cigarettes, drink and drugs, but claim to be hungry.  It becomes obvious (even without the give-away smell of tobacco or drink) that this is the case when I offer to buy them something to eat and it is contemptuously refused.  If I say that I have no money I am not believed.  Occasionally, a thin and wretched-looking old woman will ask for help, and she I do not refuse.

In my view South Sudan is definitely in need of support, but that support should enable people to get out of this culture of dependency and learn how to stand on their own feet.  Education is especially important for this to happen as children will (hopefully) grow to think for themselves, outside the box and find ways to help themselves. I wish very sincerely for those I come into daily contact to learn to have self-respect instead of living forever as beggars.