I found my watch!  About 2 weeks ago, I lost my watch to the soil of Sudan.  The watch, which I received for my first Holy Communion when I was eight, is probably my oldest possession that is neither lost nor broken these days.  Losing it here came as a bummer, but after praying both for its appearance and for some perspective in my own heart, I became pretty okay by accepting that it’s just a possession and there are much greater tragedies in the world.  And as one of my Sudanese friends said: “it’s just a watch.  God will bring you another.”  So I was resolved to cry no more over this spilled milk.

This morning we had our usual clinical skills class in the AM hours, during which I could see some of the staff cutting the grass with these long machete-type blades.  Another of the Sudanese clinic staffers, a great guy named Deng, came into the class and asked if this happened to be the watch I lost weeks ago.  And in his hand was indeed my watch!  It had been beat up a little bit by footsteps and rain (it was found on the ground once the grass had been cut), and was also no longer working, but I was darn happy to have this special watch back.  Even if it never ticks again, I’m glad.

Though I don’t want to make it seem like losing my watch was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, I do think it nicely illustrates the interesting relationship between prayer, trust in God, and His answer to our prayers.  I realize that God answers our prayers in curious ways sometimes.  As they say, He works in mysterious ways.  After spending a little while being bummed at losing my watch, I realized that this is all part of God’s plan, and to let it bum me out any longer would be a waste of this precious time I have here in Sudan.  And now, weeks later, having accepted losing it, it found its way back to me.  It was another reminder of how good it is to realize that God is indeed in the driver’s seat.  I worried about it, looked for it, prayed about it; but I finally was able to  put the matter to rest in my heart once I placed it in God’s hands.  And lo and behold, He brought it back to me.

So today is off to a good start.  We are all going to head off into town in a little bit to look around and enjoy the remainder of the afternoon.  So that’s all for now folks.  I hope you all have a good day as well.  John

(Stephanie Williams) For the last two weeks I’ve been doing a health teaching before prentals on sexually transmitted diseases. On the first day, I discussed it beforehand with my translator to see if I had to be culturally sensitive about any of the issues.

When I told him I was going to teach on STDs he cocked his head to one side and said, “But… there are no STDs in Sudan.” Dead silence.

Then it was my turn to be confused. I too cocked my head to one side and said, “Huh? Of course there are STDs. People have sex here don’t they?”

He shrugged as if to say I was wasting my time but agreed to translate for me all the same. So I forged ahead and taught them the signs and symptoms of the most common STDs, as well as the consequences of them.

Funny thing but over the last two weeks I’ve had a half dozen women tell me they have those symptoms… some have had them for years. They’ve been treated and have even brought their husbands in as well!

My translator no longer thinks Sudan is STD free zone.

(Tyler Paulson) I love Dut. He’s the main security guard here on the compound. He carries a rifle pretty much everywhere. I’ve decided he’s a good guy to be friends with.

Dut doesn’t speak a word of English, I speak about two dozen words of Dinka, so we can’t talk too much; but every time we see each other we shout each other’s name and share a high five, handshake, or shoulder pat and repeat every Dinka greeting I know multiple times.

Dut is originally from Malony, the village where we’ve been doing weekly mobile medical clinics. The first time we went out there, I told him I wanted to take his picture in the beautiful grass fields there. He told me to wait one moment and then he ran over to get his daughter so that I could take their picture together. He had that proud father look on his face as I snapped their photo and his daughter was absolutely beaming.

A father giving his daughter that much love and joy is rare in Dinka culture, so I instantly liked Dut. One day in heaven, when language barriers are no more, we’ll be able to talk about our summer here together and laugh about all the great times we had. I think there will be some good ones.