Cruising the Highways and Byways - Part Two: Kajo Keji

Not long after our trip to Garia, we set out on a longer hike out to Kajo Keji and Juba - going southeast from Mundri. Our purpose: to visit the Diocese of Kajo Keji and their Church Community Mobilization Project (CCMP); and to stop in Juba (current capital of South Sudan) for multiple errands, securing supplies, visiting Juba University, and checking out South Sudan's first Agricultural Trade Fair sponsored by USAID.

Once again, teammates Michael, Christine, Caleb, visitor Doug, and I packed into the land cruiser, this time accompanied by our Sudanese friends and coworkers Joy and Salah. Armed with Scooby snacks (gnuts, cinnamon buns ala Christine, and Michael's salty snacks - the pringles, tostitos, and cheese crackers), we were off before full light.

The first attraction along the way . . . affectionately referred to as . . . (well, perhaps I'll leave that to conjecture.) Not long after, we started seeing the small stakes of de-miners.  During the war, land mines were put in on either side of the main road. The de-mining process has since ceased in and around Mundri, but it still continues in less populated areas - painstakingly, with the lumbering de-mining tank-type trucks.

Around noon, after driving through flatter, dryer, more expansive plains of bush land, Juba finally appeared on the horizon like an omelet poured asunder and sizzling under the blazing sun. The experience of transferring from the gravel road to the only pavement in South Sudan is something that I shall not soon forget. A hush suddenly fell, and we seemed to glide forward with no effort at all. ha!

After stopping shortly to stretch our legs, eat rice and beans, or chapati and fried egg, we filed back into our popcorn popper of a cruiser and were off again for the second half of the trip to Kajo Keji.

The Kajo Keji road out of Juba was a winding, desolate beauty carved into the horizon. On our way out, Joy told us that this had been one of the bloodiest fronts during the most recent civil war. It was sobering to look out over the scrubby brush, on a sunny, blue-skied day and think that the very soil under us was soaked with the blood of thousands of people who had died only a few short years ago. It made the peace and freedom of the day and road trip take on a weighty richness - solem and leaden, though it was - that the place lived on, and our friends had survived to see the day. And yet, it was empty. As if it were grieving still, afraid to move on or rebuild. As if no one quite had the nerve to walk the terrain or disturb the gravity of what had taken place there.

The last few hours of the trip were the worst. Cavernous gullies of rivers, streams, and rocks, and beds of mud several feet deep. We made it through without having to use the winch, thanks to the lack of recent rain, but by the time we rolled in around 6pm, we were sore to the bone (particularly the two you sit on  . . .) and pretty much exhausted. But we were met with a deliciously cool breeze, the tranquil and lush rolling landscape of Kajo Keji, and the warm welcome of Bishop Anthony at his house/guesthouse.

After a good bathe, meal, and glorious night's sleep, we were up and ready to go the next morning. First on the program was visiting the Kiri Church community. One person had been chosen from Kiri to attend CCMP facilitator training. The training consisted of Bible studies that were aimed at helping people discover what God intends for them, inspiring them to identify the resources God has given to all people, and encouraging them to work together for the growth and blessing of their community, and the ability to bless those around them.

The facilitator then returned to his community and began leading these discovery Bible studies. The people were in turn roused, and eagerly organized themselves. They had been given a chunk of money to build their church, but they knew this would not cover the whole cost of construction. They also suffered from a lack of available drugs to treat common illnesses. So they redirected some of the money from the building of the church into the construction of a small grass-thatched clinic, and the procuring of some basic drugs. One of their members happened to be trained as a doctor and had a microscope, so they got him to run the clinic and train several people to work with him. Before long, their clinic had recovered its start-up costs through the sale of the pharmaceuticals, and they were then able to direct the funds back to the church, and raise the remaining money to finish it properly. And this was only a small portion of what their community had done through the encouragement of CCMP. It was infectious to see their excitement and pride as they told us about this process, and showed us their church, clinic, and surrounding fields of crops. They were empowered. Empowered to get moving because they had God-given resources that they could use to provide and care for themselves.

Before the day was out, we visited another church community in Lire, and several other individuals who had been inspired through the CCMP training, and were now doing personal and community projects - some growing pineapples, some making baked mud bricks, some growing and selling teak poles, some raising and selling citrus, and some doing standard agriculture in order to generate income and develop themselves.

What is it about this training that so resonates with people and encourages them to initiate and see through the process of change and development? This question played heavily on our minds because we see so many similar initiatives here crash and burn. Is it the content of the Bible studies? The method of interaction and training? The well-planned course and stages of the program? Is it because the communities themselves choose whether they want to take it on? Did it have something to do with the fact that Kajo Keji has a highly educated population in contrast to our area of South Sudan? Or because there is better access to markets for goods? We left with a lot of questions, but a lot of helpful food for though. And so we tuck this into our tool belts and pray that as we do our work, we incorporate more and more of what we learn from this and other similar experiences.