2/16 Joy Comes in the Morning

2/16

 Joy Comes in the Morning…

I got up this morning, pulled up the lectionary on the PCUSA website and was greeted with the words to Psalm 30:5 “Joy comes in the morning…”

Yes, it does.  I love the early mornings in Malakal!  The city is just beginning to wake up, the donkeys are moving a little slow, kind of shuffling along as the sleepy boys driving them are trying to wake up as they start their days.  The shop keepers are opening and pulling their big bags of goods that were stored behind locked doors last night, out and beginning to display their large stacks of shoes, socks, shirts, etc on tarps that have been laid out on the ground.

As I start through the market, the smell of chaii and buna (tea and coffee) permeates the air with the sharp scents of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger mix with the scent of charcoal, hot grease and this amazing light doughey, fried bread is dusted with sugar.  Six to eight pieces, fresh from the fryer, dusted in sugar and wrapped in old newspaper is just the thing to bring “Joy comes  in the Morning.”

As I turn the corner, I am met by the bread sellers, “ish” as it is called here – warm, soft bread, I call it chapatti, and I don’t buy it in the morning!  The vegetable vendors are laying out their vegetables and many smile and greet me as I go by.  Some women are spreading their blankets and the smell of fresh basil, mint and other greens mixes into this wonderful aroma that floats above their heads. Others are headed out with trays of tea balancing over their heads on trays as they make their way through the throngs of people.  Young boys are setting up with their wheelbarrows full of rice, lentils, and other assorted goods.  Men, women, boys…Arabic, Muslim, Ethiopian, Orthodox, South Sudanese and those from the North, Christian, and probably some others, create a tapestry of humanity and a cross section of this new country learning to walk as the eek out a living.  Most are laughing and smiling and greeting each other as they start their new day….”Joy Comes in the Morning”

A little farther down the road, the brightly colored umbrellas, dance in the early morning light, like flowers in a field, where it appears a market area might once have been.  This is the land of phone cards and chargers, and a rainbow of cases to protect your phone and young men competing with each other to sell their cards and laughing a visiting throughout the day.  “Joy comes in the morning”

I keep on walking past them, my usual guy that I buy from when I need more minutes, laughs and waves.  He is probably remembering the last time I bought minutes and tried to add them by myself!  Four people later, the finally figured out what I had done wrong and had me back in  business again.    I was so busy greeting them, that I almost bumped into the Jinka truck.  Now, I don’t know what they are called here, but I just learned that is the name in Afghanistan.  They used to have bells on them, I think some still do, and jingle became jinka. 

I LOVE the jinka trucks!  They are just fun!  First of all they are big and they are tall and they go bouncing down the road, full of goods, full of people, usually piled on top or standing along the edges,  They are usually decorated in bright colors and have some really unique outstanding features, and all that I have seen, have the words “Austin”  in big letters across the front.

The one this morning,  sported a big beautiful ostrich feather duster from it’s grill, and beautifully painted flowers in bright colors across the front and running down the sides.  It was the interior that was the amazing work of ---- art, that is it, art!  Hot pink, cotton fabric stretced across the back, where the seat should have been.  Bright yellow, I think, maybe pink, pompoms hung from the headliner, those gold beads that people use on their Christmas trees were hung diagonally from front to back criss-crossing in the center to form a ball of some kind of sparking “thing” hanging like a chandelier in the middle.  A big cross and other assorted Mardi Gras beads were swinging from the rearview mirror and the dashboard was covered in another brightly colored cloth.  The best part, I have to think how to describe this, so it makes sense to you….

Here in South Sudan, I have discovered that there is an over-abundance of scrap metal, left from war years I am sure.  Some very resourceful people are making very good livings turning it into household goods with a welding torch and high powered heaters.  One of the things they are making, besides bedframes, are chair frames.  Once the chair frame is complete, they have to have a back and a seat.  Remember the old macramé lawn chairs that were popular 15 or 20 years ago?  That is how they are made, only with brightly colored nylon rope woven together.

Ok, back to the Jinka truck, and the best part…sitting in the place of the driver’s seat, and I believe there was another one on the passenger side, was a lime green and yellow, metal framed, “macramé chair!   Now, how can “Joy not come in the morning” when you drive a truck like that !??  It made me laugh just seeing it.  And there wasn’t just one jinka truck this morning, there were three lined up on the road, all decorated in bright colors and everyone different.  Yup, “Joy comes in the morning”…

Today is Friday. I have now been in my room for five days.  There is a peace here I can’t quite describe, perhaps I am finding new ways to feed my soul.  I may still not have the river, but there is a sense of community in this area that I am liking very much. 

I have had several meetings this week at the UN offices and so I go dressed “American”, someone never fails to question where my luwalla is.  Young men, old men, women, teens – I am always surprised by the ones who notice and question.  When I go out later, I make sure I go back to where I saw them last so they can see I still wear it.  If it is that important to them, it is the least I can do.

I had to laugh at some of the men in the market yesterday. They are getting to know me well.  I walked by,  waved, gave my greetings and  one held up the bread and said “Ish? No ish today?”  The one behind him, held up limes, “You want limes?”  “No, not today.”  I made it down to the smaller market behind the mosque and up from a squatting position jumps the smiling face of “onion man”.  I don’t know his name, I know he is Lou Nuer from Akobo and ever since he found out I was supposed to be there has treated me like a queen.  We chat, we visit and I always leave with way more onions than I need. And he points to the young boy next to him and says “He thanks you for his schooling”.  God is good!