A Trip to Sudan
Lesa Beth Titus - Roseburg, OR
As the small “puddle-jumper” plane began to descend toward the dirt runway, I looked out of the window once more at the country-side peppered with thatched-roof huts and just shook my head. A dream born almost 30 years earlier was coming to pass. I was in Africa. I was leading a team into Sudan to provide care to a population virtually void of any form of health care services. Although I had been to Sudan on several previous occasions, this was my first trip with Project Helping Hands.
The plane completed its landing at the small airport in Arua, Uganda where we would spend the day gathering supplies at the local market and then continue the journey, by ground, into Sudan. It was imperative that we complete our shopping quickly in order to ensure we were at the Sudan border before 5:00 p.m., at which time the borders close and no one passes until the next morning (FYI: no local Holiday Inn is available, but there are some spiffy trees we could sleep under).
After a quick foray that involved making our own road, we did arrive at the border with time to spare. I stood on a hill at the checkpoint facing Kaya, Sudan and was amazed. During the two years since my last trip into Sudan the town had more than doubled in size. Sudan, a country whose citizens have known civil war for over 20 years had clearly begun to prosper since fighting in Southern Sudan had stopped.
The checkpoint behind us, the group traveled several more hours on back-jarring roads to the compound that would become home for the duration. Left behind were things such as electricity, running water, phones, computers, flushing toilets and soft beds. However, ahead I knew were memories that would be a life-changing.
Over the course of the next few days, the team became quite proficient at setting up and breaking down clinics. Our hosts had arranged multiple clinic locations, some nearby and others a traveling distance of several hours. I will never cease to be amazed at how word travels (I mean, how can one communicate without cell phones, texting, emails, answering machines, fax machines and internet!!). Every day the team would arrive to hundreds of people waiting to be seen. The severity of illness covered the gambit, and there were a few who just wanted to experience the novelty of being treated by “the Americans.”
A two month old baby, named Gift, came to us with one of the worst cleft palates any of us had seen. It was a miracle the baby had survived to that point—a tribute to the mother. While we were not prepared to perform surgery, we did explore what options might be available with help/organization from Project Helping Hands. The team decided to use contingency funds ($200.00) to send the mother and the baby to The Congo for surgery. Several months after the team had left Sudan, the mother presented at the compound to show our in-country host the results. Our host emailed pictures to us-- I just don’t have words enough to express what it feels like to look at a picture of a healthy, thriving, smiling baby and know that as a team, we changed that baby’s life!
The work is tiring, the days are long, and the rewards are too numerous to count. For me, there is life before Sudan and life after Sudan. The experience has radically changed how I view virtually every aspect of life, and as a result I feel truly blessed beyond measure.