The Deng Rain!

For those who speak a bit of Dinka, they will understand (and hopefully forgive) the pun.

Deng means rain in Dinka. And right now.... we have a LOT of it!

As a result of it, I have learned two new Dinka words today.
-- Tiop: which means dirt
-- Tiok: which means mud

Deng + Tiop = Tiok!    

And lots and lots of it as my gum boots can testify!

The rainy season has come very late this year and it’s caused a number of problems. People planted their crops at the regular time but since it stayed dry, the seeds failed to sprout.
And now it’s harvest time and the rain is upon us with a vengeance. Whatever crops did grow are being flooded out of the ground.

This rain will help the sorghum crops I’m told, but it came too late for the peanuts and pumpkins.

Please pray for the remaining crops to produce... or else we are going to see some hungry people come December. Thanks.

April Showers bring... Malaria.

One of my patients with her new mosquito net.

The rains are late this year... or so I’m told.

Normally, the glowering grey nimbostratus clouds start in April, but this year they just now arrived. Smotheringly low, these mantles of would-be water threaten showers but rarely satisfy. Occasionally they breathe small gusts of chilly delight, causing this blistered land to shiver in momentary hope; and then it’s gone.

More heat. Sweat. Heavy air.

The only ones truly happy about it are.... the mosquitoes.     

Yes, we’ve traded the dry, merciless days of summer for mosquitoes. We’ve escaped the 120 degree weather only to run into the arms of bloodsucking beasts.

Malaria season has begun!

Honestly, the annoying high-pitched hum of my would-be assailant sets me on edge.

But slapping my leg at the slightest movement, covering my limbs in greasy DEET, and meticulously tucking my mosquito net in at night, seem useless. By the end of the day, I still end up bit to pieces. Am I just wasting my time?

Last year, I got malaria twice.

Fair enough, I wasn’t as anal as I could have been about protecting myself. I didn’t take the antimalarials prophylactically, and I only slathered myself in DEET when it tickled my fancy. But still...

Don’t get me wrong, malaria sucks! But... it’s such a hassle. (Insert pathetic whining voice here.)

I hate having to remember to take antimalarials. I don’t want to wear DEET (it’s so nasty). Plus... sleeping under a mosquito net can be stifling.

Sigh.

Okay, rant over.

Please pray that this year, the malaria won’t be so bad. Pray for all the women and children in this community that have to face malaria without prophylactic medications, mosquito nets or even that nasty DEET!

Fortunately, we have free mosquito nets to give all our preggos again. Thank you GOSS (Government of Southern Sudan). Pray that the women will actually use them... even though they can be stifling.

Also pray that the rain clouds would actually start depositing their oceans of blessings on this land. I’m ready for things to grow again.

The rain...

Some days it thunders down with a clack and a bang and starts streaming in sideways. You feel it coming those days, hours ahead of time. It hangs low, grumbling... threatening its goodness! Some days you can't even tell when it starts. It sneaks in like a cool sweet kiss and en wraps you with its mild wet hug. It soaks through to your bones and leaves nothing untouched!

The rain here is unpredictably sweet. It darkens the horizon and shortens the days. Sometimes is stays for a simple cup of coffee, and others you think its here to stay. Today it is the later. I woke up to the sound of sweet drops on the neighbors roof. I looked out and it was slick with what the hours had brought. Now as i look out my window... as I listen to the plick, plock and tapped-y-tap... I can't help but breath it in and sigh! I love it!

But I'm also reminded of how the long, drizzling rain storms cause the most damage. They flood the streets and overflow the canals, sometimes stopping all traffic, interrupting the Jeepney system and causing severe delays. Some of the more unfortunate in the squatter villages often come home to find their homes floating in the brown, sewage filled mire. To them, it is not a sweet delight. It is a nightmare. One that happens over and over again...