Please, Go, My People are Dying...

"Please go, my people are dying".  That was the plea from my language teacher Naylanga, a few weeks ago.  That was her response to me asking why should I go to her country.  She had tears in her eyes as she thought about friends and family members who are suffering, or are no more.  "Please go, and teach my people so they don't die. You can teach them to let the girls learn.  You can teach them to make their water not sick"

I think about her pleas as I look around the chaos that has become my house.  I don't sleep at night the dehydrator is going full blast, helping me prepare food for my trip,  If I don't take it, I don't eat.  If I don't eat I can't teach Naylanga's people.  It is as simple as that.  I have boxes and piles of food in various stages of getting ready.  Bagging and packing, counting nutrition and calories.  Making sure I have enough in a land where people are dying from hunger and starvation.  It is a hard contrast to come to grips with.

I think about her (and many other's) stories of escaping South Sudan - running from the "crickets" in the sky that are shooting and killing men, women, children.  Soldiers running through the streets torching homes and businesses, screaming, crying wailing, the smell of smoke in the air, the scorched, burned flesh of humans and animals alike.  That is the hell that Nylanga and the people of South Sudan have suffered, some survived, others didn't.  Many ran in fright, leaving all behind, many thousands have been displaced and have no homes to return to.  It is a time of  rebuilding and learning new methods of doing old things.

When I look around my house and see the chaos there - boxes and books, blue tape on the floor marking the dimensions of my tent and the furniture set up that I have been using as my living space to make sure I can live in it - the goes and don't go piles - I just can't think it really matters in light of the chaos they have lived through...