Twenty-two Leathered Feet
My time in the field has been what I have enjoyed most so far while being in South Sudan. I spent a week and a half living in a tent with no air conditioning in the middle of a refugee camp. I no longer felt disconnected from the people we are helping. I met and spoke with so many refugees that fled from war in Sudan and across the border to safety in South Sudan. I went out with project managers from our many different projects to take photos and gather stories. This is one story from my opportunity to watch a soccer game with teams involved in the SP sports ministry program.
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Kalo and I began walking from the base as the sun started its decent. We walked through the red clay to one of the many large, dirt soccer fields in the refugee camp. Kalo is in charge of soccer sports ministry throughout the entire camp. Each neighborhood in the settlement has a team and a coach for that area. I met the teams from two different neighborhoods and their coaches.
Pregame consisted of both teams sitting in the shade provided by the only large tree at the edge of the field. One boy shared a passage in Matthew 5 from a youth bible. He had written the name of Jesus along the edges of the pages. After his sharing about loving not only our neighbors but also our enemies, we prayed, and each coach gave encouragement to the two teams sitting together as one.
One team wore colored jerseys, while the other team wore beautiful, crisp, white jerseys that were donated to the sports ministry program. By half time, these jerseys were completely red from falling on the ground and running through the clouds of red dust that they kicked up as they played and scuffled.
I could not help but be impressed by the feet of these boys and men. A lucky few had shoes to play in, but the majority played barefoot. Watching them skid and slide across dirt and rocks just amazed me. At one point in the first half of the match, a young boy came to the side and removed his shoes because he could control the ball better with his bare feet. Not only their feet, but their pure strength was incredible. The older guys, being only about 16, had such lean, strong muscles. I was tempted to be very impressed by their work ethic and their dedication to soccer, but then I remembered where I was. I was in a refugee camp. These men are strong because they were forced to become that way. They traveled by foot from their homes to escape chaos. They carry 50kg + bags of food during food distributions; they have never seen a chainsaw, only axes. They use shovels and know manual labor; big machinery is nonexistent here. These boys are not really boys, they have been forced to become men.
In that moment I was so thankful for the game of soccer and the release of having fun. What an amazing hour or two of freedom to play a game they love and be coached by men who disciple them along the way, throughout each practice and game.
At half time a similar encouragement time as pregame took place, with each individual team at opposite ends of the field. Kalo talked with both teams. A boy distributed water, one cup at a time, to each boy in the circle as they listened to advice from Kalo and their coach on what they ought to do. When the game continued, the sun began casting long, smoke-like shadows of the boys at they ran up and down the field. The score was 1-0 and at the end of the game both teams came together again as one. Kalo spoke to them about the message the young boy read at the beginning of the game from the book of Matthew and encouraged them on what they had done well. With the final words said from the coaches and a small cheer from me on the outskirts of the increasing circle of surrounding community children, we prayed. The sun seeped down the sky behind us and people dispersed. Even the curious, rowdy crowd of children that had lingered for the last few hours, hoping and dreaming to play like the older ones in the match-and trying to imitate them on the side of the field with their tiny soccer ball of balled up socks -began to disappear. On their routs home, only a small group tagged along with the older players they looked up to. Following the tough, weathered feet in front of me, I was so thankful for the release of a soccer game and the unity of the body of Christ.
* * *
I will post a few other impact stories from my time in the field later this week. These stories I wrote for Samaritan's Purse, but I thought they would be good to share here as well. They will provide a better picture of the work I am doing and the experiences I have. However, the focus of these particular stories is on the good work SP is doing in South Sudan.
On my way back from the field I had the opportunity to fly on one of the Samaritan's Purse planes. It was just me and the pilot in a tiny plane. I got to sit of front with him and he basically gave me a lesson on how to fly the plane. It was such an awesome experience. I must admit that flying a plane is much harder than I expected. Within a matter of seconds, I would allow the plane to rise or drop 200 feet in the air. I also found myself constantly beginning to slip to the right or left off our course. It turned out the smallest corrections would send us off our flight path. After my ten minutes of flying, I had finally got us on the right path and at a pretty even elevation, but I was already tired of looking at all the equipment and focusing so closely on my grip. I have so much more respect for pilots than ever before. Especially, when I tell this next part of my journey ... We flew around a storm toward the end of our flight. Being in such a tiny plane, the updrafts of wind in the storm tossed our plane around like it was nothing. The pilot calmly took us through the most turbulence I had ever experienced in my life. There was a point when we dropped in the air and everything in the cockpit flew up and fell to the ground. I was scrambling to pick up water bottles and clipboards and bottles of germ-x so that nothing rolled under the pilots feet and pedals. For the remainder of the flight I held myself to my chair as we went up and down like an intense roller coaster ride. I wanted to be tough, and I thought for sure I would not get sick, but as the turbulence continued for over 20 minutes, it was by the grace of God that I did not lose it!
The trip was amazing, and we landed safely. I will not soon forget that flight and I do hope I will get the opportunity to fly in one of those planes again on another trip to a different base.
* * *
I will post a few other impact stories from my time in the field later this week. These stories I wrote for Samaritan's Purse, but I thought they would be good to share here as well. They will provide a better picture of the work I am doing and the experiences I have. However, the focus of these particular stories is on the good work SP is doing in South Sudan.
On my way back from the field I had the opportunity to fly on one of the Samaritan's Purse planes. It was just me and the pilot in a tiny plane. I got to sit of front with him and he basically gave me a lesson on how to fly the plane. It was such an awesome experience. I must admit that flying a plane is much harder than I expected. Within a matter of seconds, I would allow the plane to rise or drop 200 feet in the air. I also found myself constantly beginning to slip to the right or left off our course. It turned out the smallest corrections would send us off our flight path. After my ten minutes of flying, I had finally got us on the right path and at a pretty even elevation, but I was already tired of looking at all the equipment and focusing so closely on my grip. I have so much more respect for pilots than ever before. Especially, when I tell this next part of my journey ... We flew around a storm toward the end of our flight. Being in such a tiny plane, the updrafts of wind in the storm tossed our plane around like it was nothing. The pilot calmly took us through the most turbulence I had ever experienced in my life. There was a point when we dropped in the air and everything in the cockpit flew up and fell to the ground. I was scrambling to pick up water bottles and clipboards and bottles of germ-x so that nothing rolled under the pilots feet and pedals. For the remainder of the flight I held myself to my chair as we went up and down like an intense roller coaster ride. I wanted to be tough, and I thought for sure I would not get sick, but as the turbulence continued for over 20 minutes, it was by the grace of God that I did not lose it!
The trip was amazing, and we landed safely. I will not soon forget that flight and I do hope I will get the opportunity to fly in one of those planes again on another trip to a different base.
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