Kotobi Teachers' College

Recently, the Lord has blessed me with the chance to work at a nearby teachers’ college.  Called the Kotobi Institute for Teaching Education (KITE), it was founded only a few years ago with the help of the Mundri Relief and Development Association (MRDA) and some generous outside donors.  The campus consists of teachers’ and students’ living quarters, a dining hall, and about 8 large school rooms.  World Harvest has been involved with the college through part time teaching of the students here.  Ever since I arrived in Mundri, I’ve been yearning to get involved.  God has been good to open doors for me to teach there on Fridays. (One open door being the ability to drive stick shift!!) 

This past Friday was my first day in the classroom.  The students and other professors were all extremely gracious towards me, as I wrote with my scribbly handwriting and spoke with my incomprehensibly fast English.  This particular day, I simply reviewed the parts of speech and gave examples of common grammatical mistakes.  The students eagerly listened to my examples and had many insightful questions themselves.  It reminded me of how inconsistent the English language can be and how dependent we English speakers are on the context and on our own cultural experiences.  It is always a joy to teach grammar, but I’m happy to say that I will be focusing on literary elements next month.  Plot, theme, symbolism, and metaphor, here I come!

What makes me even more excited about teaching literature is teaching it to teachers, modeling for them ways to make reading fun and interactive in their own future classrooms.  I understand that many of the popular American teaching methods are not practical in an African setting, but I’m eager to pull out a few fun “tools” from my proverbial teacher’s toolbox.  Next week, the 95 students at Kotobi will begin their student teaching placements at various primary schools in Mundri.  I’m so excited to be working with them through this process, as my own student teaching experience (with all of its stress and excitement) is still fresh in my memory.  I may even get a chance to observe them in the classroom, making note of their strengths and weaknesses as teachers.  It is extremely humbling to think that I may soon be observing other teachers, when I feel that I have so much to improve on as a teacher.  I just have to hold to the truth that God uses all everyone, regardless of his/her abilities, to work for good according to His purpose.

After morning classes, the professors and Melissa and I met together to eat a delicious meal of savory stew, greens, and rice, while discussing our frustrations with education.  We both vented over teacher pay, high teacher turnover rate, and disrespect with students.  However, the main concern was over the future of S. Sudanese education, when the government spends the majority of its money on its military endeavors (also a relatable issue in America).  Whatever small amount is left over ends up getting eaten by corrupt, high-ranking officials.  The government is three months behind in paying its teachers, while community development organizations like MRDA have no money left.  Wisdom and Justin, two of the head masters at KITE, expressed their worry over the future of the teachers’ college.  They are beginning to send their KITE students out into the community to fundraise, literally going from compound to compound asking for money.  They hope that these newly acquired funds can go towards a revenue-generating project that can sustain the campus for years to come.

It would be easy to become overwhelmed by the obstacles facing educators in S. Sudan.  Poverty and corruption really are a way of life here.  However, God has been giving me small glimpses of hope in my time here in Mundri.  South Sudan’s independence has given its people a renewed sense of ownership in their education.  Many young leaders are stepping up and looking for effective ways to bless their communities—and they are doing it with the joy and zeal that comes from the Holy Spirit.

Side Note: Melissa and I have been brainstorming ways to bless KITE this Christmas.  We will either set up a way to donate to the college or we will collect books for the school’s library.  Stay posted for updates on that.   

“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.” -John 10:14,15

How to Pray

        Recently, the Lord has been convicting me of the little amount of time I spend in earnest prayer.  Living with hordes of other believers, I have ample opportunity to pray aloud before meals, during meetings, or at scheduled prayer time; however, I have failed to dedicate portions of my week or even each day to reflection and prayer.

        I’ve been listening to some sermons on prayer and looking into the prayers of Jesus in the Bible as examples of how to pray.  This time in study has been highly fruitful, showing me the lack of humility in my prayers and my overwhelming lack of faith.  It has also led me to take a step back and pause before asking the Lord every request that pops into my mind.  On the other hand, my heart has also recently been hit with the urgency of prayer in such a needy region of the world. I’ve found myself wondering, “should I pray differently here in Mundri than I do in the states?”        

        This past Sunday I got to visit Melissa’s church, Okari.  This community church is less than a mile west of our compound, away from town and closer to the bush.  It is the smallest but also the most welcoming of the churches I’ve visited since coming to Mundri.  Children and families crammed onto the long wooden benches and smiled at we kawaja (white people) as we snuck onto a corner seat.  Of course, sneaking in never works, and we were made to stand affront of the congregation and give our greetings.  The pastors of the congregation welcomed any attempt I made at speaking Moru or Arabic, but also considered it a joy to practice English with me and make translations during the service.  In my interactions with this congregation there was no hint of doubt, no questioning of the motives of the kawaja for being at their church.  The people of Okari were simply glad to have new visitors.

        The pastors invited John, Melissa, and me to eat with them after the service.  There, under the low-thatched roof of the pastors’ tukul, conversation continued to dwell on prayer.  A guest pastor had preached on the story of Jesus healing the blind man and he kept emphasizing the use of prayer to get desired results.  John boldly questioned that idea, asking when we should pray for something and when we should accept God’s will.  It led to further conversation about motives and heart and even cultural relevance.  After lunch, I left church even more perplexed than I had been weeks ago.  My mind started racing with questions.  How much of my culture impacts how I pray to God?  Is it really okay for me to continue to pray for the things I want?  What if I fail to see some dark, hidden motives in my prayers?  Why am I so hesitant to pray for practical things each day? Is it because I fear that God will not answer my prayers the way I’d like—that I’ll either resent His power or stop believing in it altogether?   So many questions!

        The only thing left to do when my mind is so amuck is to pray.  I prayed for God to give me some wisdom in these matters and He answered that prayer quickly.  I found verses in scripture that talk about the human inability to understand things—how I’m always trying to explain things through a worldly lens. God also showed me many verses on His Fatherly love.  A resounding spiritual gong went off in my head, reminding me that it is foolishness to not go to Him with all of my worries and needs.  Of course, I will make mistakes in how I pray—I will NEVER perfect the act of prayer, as I’m a selfish, sinful human.  However, I can pray for the spirit to guide me in the process of prayer, keeping me more aware of my heart and my motives.   

        That night, my prayer was one of gratitude and adoration, instead of the usual guilt and pleading.  God has given peace to His neurotic daughter who over-thinks things— the amnesic orphaned thinker who places too much emphasis on her knowledge of life in all its wonderful perplexities.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

and He shall direct your paths. - Proverbs 3:5,6

Road Trip!

Last week, teammate John and I decided to pick up the rest of the team as they finished up their African holiday and landed in Juba.  It was a welcomed chance to get out of town and run errands that were overdue.  John needed to get various building supplies for youth ministry and water projects—I needed to assist in the purchasing of food items that could only be found in Juba.  A road trip!  I was overjoyed, and yet cautious to make the trek.

Juba has always been like the Emerald City to me—a mysterious place of opportunity, but a destination that I cannot decide will be worth the journey.  I’ve worried about the potential for disappointment upon seeing South Sudan’s capital city (it’s no Kampala or Nairobi).  I’ve also worried about the stress of being in a foreign city.  Will it overwhelm me, as I have already been feeling culture shock in Mundri; or will it be a welcomed break from “country living,” as I get to experience fast-moving vehicles and the indulgences that come from a more urban and Western lifestyle?  I found that my experience in Juba was an interesting mix of both.

We woke before the sun came up to make the six-hour drive to the capital city.  Although Juba is only about 130 miles away, the dirt roads are composed of nothing but extreme dips, potholes, and impassable mud pits.  At one point, we reached a muddy zone that had halted almost a dozen cargo trucks.  All the workers were camped out for the day and they watched us as we fearfully wiggled our Toyota up onto the elevated outskirts of the road.  It was a close call, but God was good to get us through it!  Another obstacle arrived at the Yei River.  The bridge was in disrepair, so no vehicles could cross; however, there was always the option of driving through the river.  John and I watched as others went before us, and then he steadily drove us through the rapids.  (Another moment of intense prayer that God got us through)

I was elated to arrive in Juba city, watching the horizon grow from a few dotted lines to clusters of markets, restaurants, and businesses.  The adrenaline started to pump as the options around me increased.  I could look for decorations for the schoolhouse here!  I could buy furniture! More important—I could eat what I wanted! Pizza! Salad! Naan bread! Sweet and sour chicken!  I don’t even like Chinese food, but I was excited to eat some (and experience the rarity of Chinese-African culture). It was encouraging to see so many successful businesses, so many people of various professions.  I’ve always loved the diversity found in the city, and Juba city was no exception.  Many different languages could be heard there and people dressed anywhere from tribal to professional to club-friendly.  Of course, just like any other city, traveling around in the car was a great source of anxiety for my neurotic self.  Michael, Heidi, and John (the few brave enough to drive through the chaotic roundabouts and around the reckless boda-boda taxis) were excellent navigators and were gracious to ignore my incessant gasping and words of caution.

The greatest source of relief for me was being in the company of my teammates, who I had missed the previous two weeks. Their personalities, their laughter, their stories, were a joy to have in my life again, and I looked forward to the upcoming season, working with my rejuvenated team.  We drove all over the city, getting supplies and continuing discussions on World Harvest work.  Of course, our time in the “big city” wasn’t without some relaxation.  We went to Ebony, a restaurant of beautifully thatched verandas and stone patios that was placed on the edge of the Nile.  We ate crocodile kebabs and fresh pizza by the riverside, and we played improv. and trivia games until well after dark. 

The following day, we went to an Indian restaurant before heading home.  It was a blessing to nourish my body with fresh vegetables and garlic naan.  After cramming all of our luggage and bodies into the vehicle, we hit the bumpy road ahead of us.  And more games and songs ensued for the next six hours. 

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.  Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the day approaching. –Heb. 10:24,25