Where is the Solidarity?

A few of us were granted a three hour private meeting with a top general of the Southern Sudanese army. To protect him, I will simply refer to him as “The General.”

When The General walked in, we all stood in honor of his position and his accomplishments on the battlefront. He greeted us with a smile and a handshake, adding a gentle and personal touch to his powerful and authoritative presence.

After a few casual comments, his conversation steered us into the complexities of Sudan and the horrific realities of the Kartoum government. As I sipped on the cold Coke brought in by one of his soldiers, I choked on the gruesome details of persecution.

"How can we help?" I asked him. As long as I live, I will never forget two quotes that came from The General's mouth.

"We recognize that America is in the same trench as Sudan, fighting terrorism. However, I am not sure why many Americans do not recognize this. We see Islamic solidarity, but where is the Christian solidarity? We see Christians come here for a short time and then leave. We see them wear their big crosses around their necks and then leave us a small box of expired medicines. We do not need you to fight this war for us, but we do need a place to rest our wounded and enough fuel in our trucks and tanks to fight this war. We are fighting the same war you Americans are fighting. We will never surrender. We are fighting for survival, dignity and freedom."

I was embarrassed at his comments. I was embarrassed for myself and every other Christian who has worn "The Cross" around his neck only to turn his back to those who are pleading for help. Why is there no solidarity? Are we too busy fighting over doctrine and dividing our churches? Are we too busy insulating ourselves from any pain or suffering to where we can no longer relate? Are we racist and view the Sudanese as unworthy of our best? Have we forgotten what Christ calls us to be? Are we only willing to go to church and our Bible studies to learn more but implement less? I feel sorry for the next church on my speaking schedule.

His next quote....
"You Americans are very good at propaganda. However, propaganda with no action only makes our situation worse. Propaganda is easy, but our situation in Sudan is very complicated. We are afraid that once people get confused they will get bored and turn the station."

I thought of all of the ways that we wave the banners of "Save Darfur." We wear shirts and bracelets and join our clubs. This all looks very good and may relieve us of some guilt, but have we really tried to understand or help their situation? Once we know of the atrocities in southern Sudan and Darfur, what are we going to DO? Are we going to start to look for organizations who need money to build hospitals or schools in Sudan? Are we going to put more pressure on the U.S. and China to consider their policies toward Sudan. Have we written our local news stations or newspapers and insisted that they cover Sudan more closely? The tsunami and Katrina were easy to respond to because they were not complicated issues. There were people in need and we responded in huge ways. Do complicated issues really inhibit our willingness to help? Do we really grow bored at the issues that we do not, or choose not, to understand?

Freedom

William Wallace, Martin Luther King, Jesus, and thousands of American soldiers died for it. Yet, how often do we consider what it is? We use the word to justify our destructive behavior, yet how much do we really appreciate what it offers?
A recurring theme throughout my two weeks in southern Sudan and Darfur was freedom. Soldiers told me they would die for it, and mothers told me they run with their children in search of it. I walked into the bush in Darfur and met families gathered under trees with absolutely nothing.
“Why are you here?” I would ask them.
“Because our village was attacked and here we are safe and free.
“You have nothing though?”
“We have our freedom. We have two choices. Either become a Muslim and embrace all that the government stands for, or run and be free. I would die for this freedom.”

There are many heroes in this quest for freedom, but none as courageous as the women. They seem to recognize the generational impact of freedom. The women often appear to be fighting alone, isolated in the camp or gathered under trees with other mothers. Yet their fight is not for themselves, their fight is for their children and the next generation.

I turn to a woman named Mahka.(pictured above) “You are Muslim, right?”
“Yep.”
“Then why was your family attacked? Why do you now have to live under this tree?”
She points to her left arm and pinches her skin, “Because I am black.” She then focuses her eyes on the dirt around her sandals, periodically glancing at the others in the circle as they share their stories.

And so their villages are attacked and the people are slaughtered. The survivors run and run until the gun shots can no longer be heard. Many of them find themselves surrounded by thousands of others on a similar pursuit. I once believed that they were running from fear, but I now understand that they are running for freedom.