One Pound

Every city and town has those who are less fortunate than others and also those who have been reduced to begging for money. While in Lui for the Consecration of Bishop Stevan, Ezekiel and I, along with a couple other priests went to go explore the town and see the market. While in the market for the first time, a man came up to me and extended his hand. I was under the impression he was attempting to greet me so I shook his hand. Afterwards, I turned away and continued with roaming the market with the others. I noticed he was still following me, and continued to extend his hand every time he caught up with me. It was then that Ezekiel told me this man was begging for money.

The following day after the rehearsal of the consecration, Ezekiel and I, along with the same group of people, went to see the market again. The man who was begging me for money the previous day was now following us again and asked one of the priest, for one pound. In Southern Sudan the money system goes by pounds, one pound is the equivalent of about $0.25 in America money. When we left the man, one of the priest told us about a man the community nicked-named “One Pound” in Yambio.

He told us that in Yambio there is this man who begs more money, but more specifically he begs for one pound. He goes up the priest there and says, “Father, I need one pound.” When they give him one pound he is just ecstatic- comparable to a young child who just their favorite toy. However, when people give him more than one pound he refuses to take it. He says, “Oh no, no no. My friend I only need one pound.” What is an absolute riot about this fellow is if you give him a 5 pound bill he will reach into his pocket and give you 4 pounds back. This man is serious when he says he wants only one pound.  

The Consecration

                 The consecration of Bishop Stevan was a momentous occasion. The consecration was scheduled to take place in Lui on Sunday June 26^th 2011. Bishop Peni and I headed out that Friday along with his driver Ezekiel, who is also his Chaplin, and Gabriel, the Coordinator of the Evangelists. Because the roads in Sudan are very poor the 150 miles we traveled to get there took us roughly 7½ hours.

Along the way we came across a petrol gas truck that had fallen over on its side and barrels of gas were spilling all over the road. The offended truck had completely blocked the road creating a big traffic jam. We were stuck waiting for about 40minutes until a tractor came to flip the truck right side up, meanwhile, others were out by the truck trying to salvage the remaining barrels of gas.

Praying over the New Bishop

When we reached Lui we were greeted by a large number of youth singing welcoming songs, we were then directed to our guest house. It was very interesting to see all the festive decorations being put up and very large amounts of food being prepared. 

When all the Bishops had arrived we gathered in anticipation of the arrival of the ArchBishop Daniel Deng. Bishops are some of the most highly respected people in Sudan, and when addressed, they are referred to as “Your Lordship” and the ArchBishop is addressed as “Your Grace”.

The New Bishop addressing his people

There was a special designated place for all the Bishop's and Government Officials to dine, as well as to converse with one another so they don't have to be among the other visitors. Being Bishop Samuels Guest I was among the Bishops and Government Officials.

On Saturday there was a rehearsal for the consecration the following day. The rehearsal itself took two hours just to briefly go through everything. I quickly realized the service tomorrow will be one unlike any other I have ever attended. The Archbishop wanted to have the service in Lui because he wanted the people of Lui to see how its done. He said “I could have consecrated him in Juba, but I wanted the people to learn and share this experience with him.”

The service was a magnificent one. The non-stop joyful singing, the powerful words being said, the decorations prepared, and the amount of people there to witness this momentous occasion was something to behold. There were over 5,000 people in attendance at the service. Even the Governor of Western Equatorial came to witness this life changing event. The service lasted 5½ hours and things had to be cut short and also removed from the original schedule just to save time.

Afterwards we all gathered for lunch, in our designated places. Because people were in such a rush to get going home we left at 3pm. The trip back to Nzara was longer than the trip up, because we got trapped in a major rain storm that put us back a couple hours later.

Bishop Samuel and Myself along with the other Bishops, in front of us, the ArchBishop

But all in all, the trip was very nice, and it was interesting to meet all those bishops and the ArchBishop, and I was glad to be present at that consecration as

Bishop Stevan is the last Bishop to be consecrated before independence.

Life In Nzara

Ring of Flowers presented to me upon my arrival 

Imagine a place where you are awakened by a rooster at 5:30am, a place where any little breeze that passes by feels like a God send, a place where gathering under a mango tree is where fellowship happens and school is taught. Compile all that and you have a general sense of how life is here in Nzara. Upon my arrival with the Bishop we were greeted by the whole community. They made rings of flowers for us and had a service that was very nice. I stay in a tukol in Father Bob and Karen's compound. 

Emmanuel and I practicing Zandi

Since I arrived in Nzara I have been laying low, observing, and learning. The language is Pazandi, and a very nice gentleman named Emmanuel William is teaching me the language. Emmanuel is one of the more fortunate youth here. He is 21, he has completed school and at the end of August he will be going to seminary in Nairobi. Emmanuel is also my tutor for learning the Zandi language. I have almost gotten the language down, so next month we will start in on Arabic. Interestingly enough there are only 2,000 words in the Zandi language. 

Showing Grace how to form words

In the mornings I act as an assistant teacher for Karen North's English class. Yesterday Karen was not feeling well and was under the impression that she had malaria. She told me of the time that she had malaria previously and said how she is having the same same symptoms now. After testing for it she found that she didn’t have it and was greatly relieved. Because Karen was not feeling well it was up to me to teach the class by myself although i did have some help from Emmanuel. He translates from English to Pazandi. I really enjoyed teaching these people because of there desire to learn.

Teaching English 

 Towards the end of August Father Bob and his wife Karen are going to return to America for a Church Convention and also to visit all their friends and family. Their plan is to return to Africa in January 2012. In Karen's absence I will be teaching the class for the five months they will be away. The English students range from ordinary villagers wanting to learn English, to priests of the Cathedral and also the Arch-Deacon of Yambio.

The youth are not only just interested in me but also the toys I brought with me. They are completely fascinated by my Ipad, Ipod and MacBook Air Laptop. I also brought with me sports equipment such as, frisbees, footballs, baseballs and soccer balls. It is interesting to teach them these games that we Americans play because it all seems so foreign to them. None of them had ever thrown a frisbee before and a few are actually getting the hang of it. American football is a sport they just cant understand, because here they call soccer “football” so it's just very confusing. Although I am still the only one that can throw the football it's still fun to watch them attempt to. 

The Youth blazing an area for the Volleyball Court

Last week the youth all gathered in hopes of making an area ready to build a volleyball court. Volleyball is a very popular game here, and driving through the town I always see people playing volleyball. After much hard work, the volleyball court was finished last night and we hope to have our first game tonight.

My New Home

The Volleyball Court 

The Black Santa

When talking about santa, the average child pictures a man in a big red suit, but in this case, santa was black. I was Santa. Upon my arrive and stay with Bishop I brought with me, many gifts for the children. Everything from, beauty accessories, to sports activity equipment, little children toys, and school supplies. Money is very hard to come for many people here, and once acquired, the priority of food comes before play.

Whenever my father, the Rev. Canon Milton Cole, goes somewhere, whether it be to someone's house for supper, or just to visit someone, he always brings gifts with him. The gifts that he gives are generally joyful reminders to the person receiving the gift that they are in his thoughts, and/or prayers. Growing up I could never comprehend the joy of giving rather than receiving. But when I walked into the Bishop's front room with arms full of toy truck, soccer balls and more presents, the faces of these children lite up and my heart felt warm. I now understand how my father feels, as he is always giving gifts and this is one of the many great traits I have picked up from him.

                                                    

The Real World

Outside your parents gates and protection the world is different. Here in the big cities in Africa it is important to be very careful when walking around town. The crime rate is very high here in Kampala, where the Bishop and I have been staying this past week. Pick-pocketing is the most common offense. It very easy to get pick-pocketed because when walking around town people are in close proximity with one another

Today the Bishop and I had business to attend too in town. A young gentlemen named Alison accompanied us. Alison is a friend of the Bishop and also a student studying computers. I have been teaching him computer science the past couple days.

While running errands with the Bishop we came across something we could not complete right away. The Bishop wanted some receipts and asked for them to be printed. Unfortunately the printing would not be done and able to be picked up until 7:30pm. So the plan was for Alison to stay behind and pick up the printing, then make his way back to the Bishops house. The three of us were planning on traveling to Arua tomorrow, where we will catch a plane to Sudan.

While reading the newspaper the Bishop saw an article about the con men and woman of Kampala. He pointed it out to me, and told me some rules of thumb. He explained how since there are so many people in town, if you see the same person 3 times, you are in trouble. He further explained the process these con men and woman undergo while attempting to rob you. What they typically do is take a piece of cardboard and fold it in half with a United States $100 dollar bill on the outside. It is usually a fake $100 dollar bill, and the idea is to make it look like a wad of money. Then what they do is throw it at your feet, and scream “God is with us my friend.” Normally when a person unexpectedly sees a wad of money they are stunned. Realizing this, these con men and woman take advantage of that moment of absentmindedness. They tell you to follow them to a place where it is less crowded so they can split the money with you. It makes a matter of seconds to get from the main road to a back alleyway, and once there they will rob you properly. The Bishop also told me about the dangers of riding the motorcycle taxies, also called bodaboda. Bodaboda is made up word in the Swahili language that means motorcycle taxi. Around 10:00pm the van taxies are finished for the night, however the motorcycle taxies continue all night. The problem with the bodaboda is you never know what kind of person the driver is, especially at night.

By the time it was 8:45pm, and we hadn’t heard from Alison, the Bishop and I began to wounder what the situation was. After the trying to call Alison many times without an answer, he called back. Alison told us that there was a situation with the man on the bodaboda. He had taken Alison to the wrong place. Alison should have realized he was being trapped because the man was offering such a low price for transporting him it should have raised suspicion in his mind. We could overhear the argument Alison was having with the man, telling him that he needs to leave, threw the phone. Suddenly the line went dead. The Bishop and I began to worry. He tried calling Alison back several times, but no answer. Without knowing what else we could do, the Bishop had everyone gather in the front room of his house and started praying. Alison had been conned. At that point we didn’t know whether Alison would be robbed of everything on his person, or if he would even survive the night. It was a very intense prayer lasting around 10 minutes. Just after the prayer ended the Bishop's phone rang. It was Alison. The police found him and rescued him from being conned. After being reassured everything was now okay and Alison was safe. The Bishop raised his hands and announced, “The Lord has heard our prayers.”

Alison, Bishop Peni and I

The Son of Iowa

Last year my father, The Rev. Canon Milton Cole, traveled to Sudan, Africa. The occasion was the consecration of Father Peni becoming a Bishop. His stay was 3 weeks long, and in that time he became known as “Iowa." An Arabic expression for approval and a sort of “Ah Ha” moment. Not aware of the meaning, my father was in the car with four other gentlemen on their way to the consecration. While in the car with the other gentlemen they began conversing among each other, but in their native language. One man in the car would say something and the others would approve by saying “Oh, Iowa."

My dad was not paying much attention to the conversation until he heard the word “Iowa” My family currently lives in West Des Moines, Iowa so hearing the word “Iowa” made him pay a little closer attention to the conversation. After about the 5^th time hearing it my father began looking around suspiciously wondering how they all knew he was from Iowa.

Finally fed up with the curiosity he asked them why they kept saying “Iowa." They then explained the meaning to him and he explained to them that he actually lives Iowa and everyone began to laugh.

Villagers all across Nzara all heard about the “Iowa” story because they knew my father. The less educated villagers are very unaware of the world and are under the impression that the only other place in the world is England, because they were taught that that's where the white missionaries came from. Most of them had never heard of a place called Iowa and now associate it with my father, thus he became “Iowa."

Yesterday, Bishop Peter of Yambio came and visited Bishop Peni and I. Upon his arrive he greeted me has the “Son of Iowa” He told me everyone in Nzara knows my father as “Iowa,"and also that everyone knows about me coming and knows me not as George, but as the "Son of Iowa." And I am proud to be the "Son of “Iowa”

"Iowa" saying goodbye to Me at the JFK Airport

Sounds Of The Night

Sounds of the Night
As darkness consumes the night, the jungle calls

The moon illuminates the night sky,

Coyotes lurk catching goats and chickens who lost their way home,

Balancing the Social Theory, the jungle calls

Howling erupts without warning, the jungle calls

A unison pitch set by the alpha and the others join in,

They stop, all at the same time and start again,

Rain begins pouring and the howling ceases, the jungle calls

The pounding and thundering of the rain fills the night, the jungle calls

Frogs croak their majestic song, bathing in the rain,

Leaping from puddle to puddle and splashing around joyfully,

The rain brings a cooling breeze through the air, the jungle calls

A whimpering dog begins to whine, the jungle calls

Targeted as the weakest, it becomes the next meal,

Cries and shrills of pain echo in the stale dark night and suddenly all is silent,

The weaker has been slain and the stronger prevailed, the jungle calls