This morning was spent in talking one more time with those who have helped me with the research for my book. During my short stay, my eyes have been opened to what is happening in Southern Sudan by the people here at Across, the government officials, the common people who are struggling to survive, and the many others who have crossed my path. There is an incredible amount I don’t know, but my small portion of knowledge will go with me back to Kenya and back to the States. I pray that I can return to this country and help the people on a grass roots level. I hope I can bring others with me.
 
At the Juba airport, the flight is delayed two hours–no air-conditioning. While I wait, I see a dignitary from the UN fly in. Maybe he will be able to promote some good changes. Oh my, do I want a shower! Rosemary and I talk: reflect on the past few days and how I plan to detail my book with what I’ve learned. Inside my backpack are all the cards my husband planted in my luggage. There have been one for every day, and most days I shed a little tear while reading them.
 
Moses Hakiem approached me at the airport. He’d visited the Across compound one evening as I mentioned before. He’s frustrated with the lack of progress in his country. Then he told me a story, one I will never forget and one I will tell many times.
 
A young man in Darfur was running from the Janjaweed. There were about 17 of them on horseback. The young man ran until he arrived at a compound. No one was there except an old man pounding milled. Beside the old man, he’d piled a huge mound of the grain. The young man saw that there was no place for him to hide in the compound. Fear seized him.
“Where can I hide?” he asked the old man. “The Janjaweed are not far behind me.”
The old man pointed to the huge pile of grain. “In there.”
The young man had no choice but to crawl under the grain. A few minutes later, the Janjaweed rode up to the compound. They greeted the old man and asked if he had seen a young man running by the compound.
“I did,” the old man said.
“Which way did he go?”
“He’s right here under the grain.”
The Janjaweed laughed. “Old man, you are crazy. The man we are chasing is not under there.”
“Oh, but he is,” the old man said.
The Janjaweed laughed again and bid him good day.
Once they were gone, the young man crawled from under the grain. “Old man, why did you tell the Janjaweed where I was hiding?”
“Grandson,” the old man began. “Don’t you know that it is the truth that will set you free?”
 
Remarkably, this is the last conversation I had with a Sudanese before boarding the plane back to Nairobi.