Something Beautiful

Although darkness has fallen, the city outside is far from sleep. Even as I write this, campaign trucks wind through the streets; loudspeakers pronounce views on the upcoming Referendum here in Kenya. I am in Nairobi for my mid-term rest/resupply period before returning to Sudan. I’ve enjoyed having time to reflect on God’s goodness through the past weeks at Doro, as well as prepare for the next four months.

Caring for critically ill patients at Doro has shown me the beauty of God’s sovereignty. The arduous recovery periods and outcomes have taught me to trust in His healing. And being a nurse has given me the privilege of sharing Jesus’ love with some extraordinary people. When I consider the journeys of Una, Stephen, and Kaywaye, I see beauty.

Una didn’t start out with a beautiful story. She presented to the clinic with a hand rotting from infection. A family member had bitten her after a drunken dispute, and three days after the incident, Una was very sick. It was determined that the affected finger would need to be amputated, but the doctor only had a few hours before his plane was scheduled to arrive! Despite time constraints, the lifesaving surgery was successfully performed, and Una faced a long recovery period. Una lived at the clinic for a week as she received IV antibiotics and dressing changes. During her convalescence, she listened to the Bible study, the worship songs, the prayers shared every morning in the clinic. She was eventually strong enough to go home and return to the clinic for periodic wound care. On one such day, I was cleaning the place where her finger had been, and we discussed her story. She told me how she went to church as a young girl, but didn’t understand Jesus’ love for her. She eventually married a man who loved alcohol. Through family struggles, substance abuse, and divorce, she had long forgotten God. After she was bitten by the family member and the infection spread, she felt a hopeless darkness closing in on her, as if death was imminent. However, as she awaited surgery, her mind cleared and she realized God’s love for her in providing a doctor to save her life. With eyes radiating light and joy, Una praised God for using a bite on the hand to bring her to Him. She says that the days of hearing the God’s Word encouraged her, and now she wants to live for Jesus.

Stephen lay listless in his mother’s arms; his eyes were swollen closed with infection and he had a terrible fever. Screaming with pain whenever he was moved, Stephen was found to have meningitis, (an infection in his brain), and an advanced eye infection. The baby, malnourished from months of illness, seemed too weak to recover. His eyes appeared cloudy and I didn’t know if he could see. However, God answered prayer, and the child recovered and went to the Nutrition Village to gain strength. A month later, I checked on Stephen on the eve of his planned discharge from the Village. His eyes were still closed, but he otherwise appeared healthy and was gaining weight. Just then, the baby’s father came to the Village and wanted to take his family home immediately. He explained how he had arranged a cleansing ceremony for the mother with a witch doctor. I shared the gospel with Stephen’s father; explained how healing comes through the power of God. The father’s defensiveness disappeared after hearing about Jesus. He thanked us for helping his family, but said that this was something he must do. Another nurse and I prayed for him, and he left with the family. The father allowed his family to return for check-ups, and although I never saw the father again, Stephen continued to improve. The last time I saw him, the baby’s bright eyes were assessing the faces that smiled at him.

Kaywaye’s story is the most challenging; the most beautiful. The four-year-old boy was brought to the clinic by his road-weary parents. Weeks before, a stranger had given the family a large sum of money to bring their sick son to a hospital. The thankful parents had traveled far from their home in Nuer territory seeking healthcare. The child’s abdominal tumor was advanced, and each clinic referred Kaywaye to another facility. I was on-call when Kaywaye’s family arrived. That Saturday, there were two listless children with IVs at the clinic and pneumonia spreading at the Village. However, all distractions melted into the background as I assessed Kaywaye; I felt a deep sadness at how the tumor dominated his abdomen, stealing nutrients and sapping the tiny boy’s strength. The father’s eyes were lined with exhaustion but still watched with hope. There was nothing a team of nurses could do for the boy, so we phoned our doctor and developed a plan. A flight to a surgical hospital was arranged for the family. Over the next few days, the boy’s strength waxed and waned, and we prayed for God’s will to be done as we fought to keep Kaywaye alive. Just days before the scheduled flight, the boy went home to Jesus. The community health workers and a few nurses provided a funeral service, and he was buried in Mabaan soil. After the ceremony, I served chai to Kaywaye’s parents, and a group of us sat together in the shade of the new clinic to escape the burning sun. I would have understood if the parents were angry or disillusioned. After all, they had been traveling for weeks after receiving a miraculous financial gift. And at the Doro clinic, a flight was scheduled so Kaywaye could get surgery. Surely God would heal their son! But their response surprised and deeply encouraged me. The father, eyes misty with tears, thanked us for caring for them. He told us how the other clinics didn’t seem to care, but the family experienced the love of Jesus at Doro. Furthermore, he explained how he trusts God, but being illiterate, he can’t study God’s Word for himself. Hearing the truth of the Bible at the clinic encouraged his walk with the Lord and deepened his faith. I was amazed how the father so quickly and implicitly trusted God’s providence. Like Job, he praised the Lord; “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord, (Job 1:21).”

I described the experiences as beautiful because of Jesus’ work in each situation. Una recognized the love of her Savior, Jesus opened Stephen’s eyes, and Kaywaye’s family demonstrated faith in His love. Beauty is found in trusting Jesus and developed by the testing of faith. The Apostle Paul explains that “we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope,” (Romans 5: 3-4). Although the experiences are difficult to comprehend from a mortal perspective, I can be confident that He is faithful to complete His good work. His love is infinite, and His plan is perfect! I won’t always get the privilege of seeing how He is weaving something beautiful, but the joy of experiencing prayers fulfilled through His people has been a special blessing.

I will be in Loki tomorrow, and finally back home in Doro on Monday. I’m looking forward to the months ahead, confident that God will complete His good work in Sudan. Please pray that I will keep Christ my purpose and delight so that He can love through me. Please pray for the peace of Sudan, and for the Mabaan people who have been displaced for so long and are now rebuilding their lives. Also pray for the local church and the missionaries; for wisdom and unity. Thank you also for remembering Una as she seeks to grow in Jesus; for Stephen’s father’s salvation; for Kaywaye’s family.

Thank you again for your prayers and support! “Now may the God of peace Himself sanctify you completely; and may your whole spirit, soul, and body be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ,” (1 Thess 5:23).

Illustration in the Sky

The brilliance of an unblemished sky captivated me that first night in Sudan. The stars were individual points of light, so numerous, they merged to form sparkling waves across the heavens. As if reuniting with an old friend, my eyes naturally sought out a pattern of seven stars in the Northern sky. Ursa Major, or more specifically, the Big Dipper had always been my favorite constellation. Why? It was the easiest to pick out, its a reference to other constellations, and I liked the notion of God placing a kitchen utensil in the sky. I was accustomed to viewing the Dipper from the States where it rested in a lateral position, as if some unseen Hand was holding it under a faucet to be filled. But viewed from equatorial Africa, the Dipper is straight up and down; its contents spilling into the infinite black ocean of night.

Appreciating an allegory, I found myself reciting something that Paul had written to Timothy; "I am already being poured out as a drink offering," (2 Tim 4:6). Feeling parched from the heat of the day, I began to think more deeply about the purpose of a dipper; how refreshing a cup of water would be right then. A scene from the film Ben-Hur flashed in my mind: the enslaved hero has been forced to march through the desert and is denied water by his captors. Weak and without hope, he collapses to the sand. But just when he wants to die, Someone dips into the well and offers him a drink of life-sustaining water. After satisfying his thirst, Ben-Hur gazes into the loving eyes of his Savior, and he is captivated. I considered how I had been filled in the States for so many years; filled with Bible stories from childhood, theology studies in college, filled by the godly counsel of many. Standing beneath the tilted Dipper, I eagerly asked God to pour out what He had infused in me on this Sudanese soil: the True Living Water.

My first two months at Doro passed too quickly. At first the pouring came easy; I had mornings to study Mabaan and afternoons to learn the clinic. I was purposeful about developing relationships; played with kids and drank chai with local ladies. But then I moved into my role at the clinic and settled into routine. And after a child with cancer died, I began to feel like my well was going dry. Long hours in the clinic, children passing into eternity from preventable conditions, inability to communicate in the local dialects, and the steep cultural learning curve all sapped my energy. I would come back from a day at the clinic in time to help with dinner, perform a few tasks, then turn in. Time's hourglass buried my plans in ceaseless sands; each day I was getting further behind in my outreach and language-learning goals. And still there were more children suffering from malnutrition, seizures, malaria; more tiny lives silenced in tireless sleep.

How could I continue being poured out? After all, sharing Jesus’ love is not a matter of location, it’s a unending lifestyle, a commandment, an honor that He has given. How then was I to be filled? I found renewal by “looking unto Jesus,” Hebrews 12:2.

Two stars on the front of the Big Dipper’s cup point up to Polaris, the North Star. Since the earth’s North Pole points to Polaris and the earth rotates around the poles, Polaris remains a constant point in the sky. The Big Dipper appears to rotate around the North Star, and it can serve as a 24-hour clock. The constancy of the North Pole captivated me. Whatever the position of the Big Dipper; whether being poured out or filled, at all times, it looks to the consistent star.

I am currently in Nairobi for an opportunity to rest and resupply. And although my ladle is in a more recumbent position, I see the Truth in the Creator’s heavenly illustration. It doesn’t matter where or when I am, if I perceive myself as being filled or poured out, my purpose is to point to Christ. He is the Source of Living Water, the Constant One.

After speaking about being poured out, Paul finishes his thought to Timothy in verses 7 and 8: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.”

What is Good...

I had a wonderful birthday today. After getting up at 6 and taking a jog on the airstrip, I had a bucket shower, then headed for devotions. To my surprise, the screened-in cafeteria had been transformed into a breakfast party, complete with streamers and balloons! We celebrated Amy’s and my birthday with pancakes dressed with strawberries and/or Nutella. After cleaning dishes, we dispersed to our respective jobs, some with the water project, some maintenance, some teaching health students, and the nurses to the clinic. I spent my 7-hour day diagnosing, studying, and working with the Mabaan community health workers (CHWs) at the clinic. There were many good things today; one highlight was untangling a difficult diagnosis and giving the suffering man antibiotics to fight an H. pylori infection. The other highlight was playing with little Doman who had been discharged from the Nutrition village. The toddler was grinning and running in the clinic as his parents consulted with a CHW. How wonderful to see him healthy and happy!

The small villages of Tukuls gathered along the path to the compound were busy with activity as usual this afternoon. Mabaan men, women, and children were cooking, patching walls, herding, planting and playing. They called out greetings or stopped to chat. Afternoon sunlight bathed the world in golden light; the red dirt path appeared bright against the dense green foliage. Although spectacular, the people who live here are what give this land its beauty.

A DC-3 landed on our red dirt airstrip today. The huge plane brought Dr Rob (my uncle), and my cousin Tim, a team from Scotland, and several tons of building supplies. Several of the nurses left on the flight for rest-time in Nairobi. It seems like a holiday here when a plane arrives, because it brings people, yummy foods that we can’t get here (chocolate), and letters from home. Additionally, the local people stop their work and line the runway to watch the gigantic metal bird lift off the ground to disappear into the horizon.

Four of us nurse gals traveled to Boonje in the afternoon. The Arabic market town is only 3 km from Doro, and the open-air booths offer fresh produce, clothing, and an unpredictable conglomeration of other supplies from Khartoum. We stopped for Coca-Cola in the shade of a bamboo stall, chatted with Mabaan and Arabic friends, bought nail-polish for the moms in the nutrition village (a fun way to connect with the ladies), and selected vegetables for dinner.

We had a large outdoor pot-luck tonight with the new team-members. Although the day was a steamy 100-degrees, the evening cooled off with thunder clouds in the distance. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the huge baobab tree; wind brought down the humidity with the temperature. We sat outside at a long table and enjoyed a refreshing time of fellowship and delicious food.

After reading the devotion from “Jesus Calling” this morning, the verse Micah 6:8 was filling my thoughts all day; “He has shown you, oh man, what is good and what the Lord requires of you. But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” He has shown me what He has created me to do; His faithfulness never ceases! Indeed, it is more evident with every passing year.

Living Water

This afternoon, I sat with a group of Mabaan ladies under a tree at the nutrition village. Amy, another SIM nurse, was leading a Bible study with the people who live at "Ban Keeyin" as their children gain nourishment. I considered the story of the Samaritan woman as our interpreter read from John 4. The Samaritan, like so many of the Mabaan, had lived a difficult life. But when she met Jesus, the Son of God, on her way to draw water, her life was changed. Instead of getting a simple drink that can only temporarily quench thirst, she received living water. Jesus sacrificed His perfect life so that all people can live forever if they accept Him. As I care for patient’s physical health at the clinic, I need to keep foremost the need for spiritual life, for living water.

Mary, the child I held on my lap, was paralyzed with tuberculosis of the spine. Her mother, Sadiah, had been near death last week, but revived with IV fluids and medications. The tall Sudanese woman had been only 32kg, but she has gained 12kg since and is caring for her children again. They need meds to treat TB, but mostly, they need the Lord Jesus. During the Bible study, Mary rubbed my hand. She was looking to see if the white came off.

I watched the ladies’ faces as they listened to the truth of Jesus’ love for them. I thought about Una’s story, and how she recognized God’s saving love for her. Una came to the clinic last week with a severe bite to her hand. Dr Rob evaluated the hand and saw that the infection would kill Una if he didn’t amputate the finger. He only had one hour to perform the operation before his plane arrived to take him to Kenya. Una was given IV antibiotics, placed under sedation, and the surgery ensued. I monitored Una’s oxygen level and administered meds during the procedure. Nurse Amy assisted Dr Rob in removing the necrotic finger. Since the procedure, Una has been living at the clinic so her progress can be monitored. Her hand healed enough to be sutured, and she has been receiving daily dressing changes. We gave pain medications before yesterday’s dressing change, and we chatted while waiting for the analgesic to take effect. Una said, “Before the surgery, I knew that I might die, and I know that God cares for me because the doctor was there. I told God that I would trust Him with my life.”

Yesterday was very busy at the clinic; another nurse and I saw about 60 patients. We were at the clinic for about 12 hours and admitted two very sick children. One was a malnourished 6-mo old infant who only weighs 4 kg; his mother brought him to the clinic because he has always been sickly. It was a difficult day diagnosing the many conditions that the child suffers from. He was badly de-conditioned and had difficulty breathing, so we placed him on oxygen. After evaluating symptoms, we discovered that the infant has meningitis that may have resulted from badly infected eyes. The infection is so severe that his eyes are opaque with ulcers. He also has bowel disease due to receiving contaminated water. I was unable to find IV access, so I placed the feeding tube so he could get fluids. Today, his eye infection is clearing up and he is receiving strong antibiotics. His mother is so sweet; unlike the other long-term patients, she has no one to support her or help her care for the child. The other child is severely malnourished as well, but with fewer complications. I started IV fluids and he is strong enough now to drink a rehydrating formula.

In the midst of a busy day dispersing meds and performing tasks, it was a welcome rest to study God’s Word with the Mabaan ladies. The Samaritan woman, like Una, realized her need for Living Water. I needed the reminder to provide the opportunity for people to receive the Living Water, Spiritual Life in Jesus, rather than mere physical healing. Please pray for the families at the clinic who need the Lord Jesus so desperately. Thank you also for praying for me and the Doro team!

First Day in a New World

Writhing and screaming, the toddler recoiled in fear from the needle that the “khawaja” (white foreigner) held. He couldn’t know that the medication would relieve the pain radiating from the infection in his hand. He was too young to understand what would happen while the anesthetic was in effect. The child’s mother sat beside the procedure bed, her hands knotted in her lap. An interpreter conveyed to her that Dr Rob would make a cut to drain the pus, and I hoped my smile offered some reassurance. As the Ketamine took effect and the boy’s cries subsided, my mind drifted twenty-four hours earlier. Could it be that I had only been here for a day?

One-hundred degree heat enveloped me as I stepped off the plane onto the red dirt of Doro’s airstrip. A group of local people had gathered to witness the arrival of the aircraft; their broad smiles, hand-shakes, and evening greetings helped me feel like I was among old friends. SIM missionaries showed me around the compound that I would call home for the next six months. After an evening meal shared with everyone on the base, I settled into my tukul (hut with mud walls and grass roof) that I shared with another nurse. My first night in Doro was spent mostly awake; the lizards rustling the grass roof, the humidity, and the mosquito net all were new distractions. It was excitement, however, that made every sense electric; the excitement to finally be in Sudan.

May 28 dawned overcast with rumbles of thunder. The plane that had carried me from Nairobi left early that morning, and as I watched it angle South, I felt very small in an alien land. I wanted to get acquainted with the people and customs in this new world as soon as possible. A wise nurse instructed that “to truly know a people, one must speak their language”. Back at the compound, I pulled up a chair to Tabitha, a Mabaan lady who was making lunch, and asked her how to say things in the local language. Our laughter at my pronunciations brought some attention, and a missionary gave me a book on learning Mabaan. I was relieved to have a foundation for learning the language, and a new friend.

I joined my tukul-mate, Amy, for a visit to the nutrition village later in the morning. She had nine malnourished children living there with their mothers, and they remained in the village as long as they required care. Amy’s responsibility was to ensure the health of the children. She oversaw the diets, medications, and daily weights of the children. We communicated with the mothers and children with the aid of Community Health Workers, (Mabaan men who went through health education training). As we were evaluating a mother with twins, one of the kwashiorkor toddlers walked up to us and held up a pitcher for his milk. Doman’s swollen face and large brown eyes gave him the appearance of a Cabbage Patch Doll, and he was adorable.

After lunch on the compound, I was eager to see the clinic where I would be working. I followed the path there with the SIM nurses that ran the clinic: Amy, Sandy, and Christiane. We passed the church, the nutrition village, and groups of tukuls along the way. Pigs, goats, dogs, and chickens wandered as they pleased and grazed in the open spaces between palm plants and wide Baobab trees.

The clinic consisted of a one-room building with a door on each end; the room was divided into five examining areas with one procedure bed, or “Emergency Area”. The room was alive with activity. Community Health Workers (CHWs) were seeing patients in all the stations; the nurses oversaw the CHWs, diagnosed, evaluated treatments and administered medications. Dr Rob examined more critical cases and taught the staff about how to diagnose certain conditions. Meanwhile, a crowd of people rested in the shade of trees as they waited patiently to be called to the clinic. There were over a hundred Mabaan and Falatta people to be seen that day.

I listened, asked questions, and absorbed as much as possible. Observing the assessment and diagnosis process was facilitated by the Mabaan language-learning book and a manual on tropical disease. One family in particular touched my heart. Sahdia was a skeleton curled up in one of the examining stations; she was too weak to lift her head or speak. Her malnourished daughter, Mary, sat listlessly beside her. Sahdia’s sister had journeyed to their village and brought them ten miles to the clinic. Sahdia was ill likely with tuberculosis, so she had seen the village witch doctor, Yaya. Yaya told her patients not to eat, so the emaciated people eventually came to the clinic with complications. Sahdia and her daughter were admitted to the nutrition village as inpatients for care. I reminded myself to check on the pair’s progress in the morning as a commotion from the emergency area drew my attention.

Dr Rob was evaluating the toddler’s hand that had swollen with infection after being poked by a wire. I held the toddler still as he received an antibiotic injection, Tetanus Toxoid, and the Ketamine. The boy drifted to sleep swiftly and Dr Rob, my uncle, made a small incision in the palm. As the doctor explored the wound and drained the infection, he explained how to avoid cutting nerves. I was fascinated by the process, and so thankful that the clinic had a fresh supply of Tetanus prophylaxis, which was not usually available. The procedure was over in a few minutes and the boy awoke soon thereafter. With the child in his mother’s arms, the family was prayed with, and my prayer was that they would know the love of Jesus. The body only lasts for so long, but the spirit is forever.

What a joy nursing is, and how wonderful to care for people with no other opportunity for medicine. But what a tragedy it would be if that’s where the care stopped! The greatest joy of all is a relationship with Jesus, and I left my first day at the clinic determined to keep His saving love as my priority. A physical cure is temporary, but only Jesus saves the soul and gives eternal life.

Pictured is a brother of a child being treated at the nutrition village. After seeing the picture of himself, the little boy laughed and laughed.

Last Night in Nairobi

Ten full days have passed since I arrived in Nairobi. After gearing up and orienting last week, I had the joy of spending the weekend in Kijabi with my Aunt and Uncle's family. Kijabi is located along the Rift Valley, about an hour's drive north of Nairobi. Getting out of the busy city was an incredible blessing. Devotional time in such a peaceful and beautiful environment helped me prepare for the months ahead in Sudan. I also enjoyed learning about a few tropical diseases from Dr Rob, hiking with my cousins, playing Rook, and Aunt Nancy's yummy cooking!

Since returning to Nairobi, I've finished preparing for Doro. Joanna, another member of the Sudan team arrived on Monday, and its been fun rooming with her. We had dinner with Dr Rob tonight and enjoyed our last bowls of ice cream for a few months (as there is no freezer in Doro).

In the morning, we'll be taking the six-hour flight to Loki, then on to Doro, Sudan. I will be living in a tukul, or grass hut, with another nurse. My routine will mostly involve helping at the clinic and learning how to diagnose and treat the various conditions. The clinic has been busy, with two nurses seeing 125 patients on Monday! Dr Rob will be with us for about a week, so it will be helpful to learn as much as possible from him.

PRAYER NEEDS:
1. That I will continually surrender to Jesus so His love can work through me
2. Wisdom in learning Mabaan language and in tropical diseases3. Strength and health for the long hours in the clinic
4. Team unity and protection
5. Cultural sensitivity
6. Those who don't know Jesus would surrender and find the joy of a relationship with Him
7. Keeping Christ my priority and maintaining devotional time

Thank you for your prayers! You have been a blessing to me! If you would like to receive email updates while I'm in the village, please email me at julielidbeck@gmail.com. I will add you to my mailing list. Thanks again!

Karibu Nyumbani!

"Welcome home!" The guard at the gate to the SIM guesthouse greeted me in Kiswahili, his face lit with a broad smile.

I have been walking the short distance from Nakumatt, the "Walmart" of Kenya, to my current place of residence in Nairobi, Kenya. The evening is warm; the air is heavy with the promise of a thunder storm. Although crickets chirp loudly, heavy traffic drowns out the subtler noises of the night. Pot-holed streets are choked with cars, buses, bikes, and foot-traffic and my fellow pedestrians seem fearless of the vehicles weaving three-deep on a two-lane road. Traffic attempts to obey one rule: "Don't hit anything", although this is subjective, it seems. Despite the apparent disorder, drivers are considerate to the tide of pedestrians; I pick my way across the river of vehicles to the side street where I live.

I enjoy observing the flow of humanity around me as I traverse dirt paths that boarder the street. During the past three days on Kenyan soil, I've found the population of Nairobi to be a genteel people. As I walk, I think back to Andrew, a taxi driver that I met yesterday. His story, I believe, is common to those residing in this growing, striving city. Andrew was raised in a village among a cattle-herding people, one of several sons responsible for overseeing the livestock. He smilingly recalls sneaking a dip in the river while his cows grazed on forbidden land; "I was so afraid of getting caught by my father." Working through his boyhood years, Andrew rarely enjoyed the refreshment of a cool swim on sweltering Kenyan afternoons. After completing college courses, Andrew was forced to search for work in distant Nairobi. He now drives for a tour company and has three children. When I asked him how he enjoys his work, he thanked God for employment and demonstrated graciousness. He could be bitter that his college education is not being utilized, or that he is estranged from his home village. Instead, he states, "There are so many beautiful things about driving for safari. When I am out on the Reserve, it is just me, the animals, and quiet."

I have now arrived at the blue gate that separates my living quarters from the bustling life of the city. After a gentle knock, Peter, the guard, greets me at the gate with a warm welcome. I do indeed feel at home! He produces a work-sheet of Kiswahili phrases for me to practice. In the morning when I leave, I will say, "Habari ya asumbuhi. Naenda SIM headquarters, tuonane mbandae!" Which means, "Good morning. I'm going to the SIM headquarters, see you later!" My new friend is a patient teacher; I'm thankful for the practice!

I greet a fellow missionary as we cross paths by the SIM guesthouse entryway. Up three flights of stairs, and now I'm "home" in apartment B3. I review my purchases for the village and anticipate leaving for Sudan next Wednesday. For now, this apartment and the surrounding city blocks are my home. I navigate the streets between the marketplace, the Yaya center, and the SIM headquarters. Nairobi is located just south of the equator and the sun is on a rotating schedule with the 6:30's. The evening is brief, but beautiful. I watch the sunset, framed by swaying palms, acacia, and exotic cactus plants that I am yet unfamiliar with. The roar of the rush-hour traffic gradually succumbs to subtler sounds of the night: an occasional bark, crickets, a baby crying, water pumps creaking.

"Yes." I smile to myself, "God has brought me here. And wherever He wants me, I am home."