Meeting Kelly’s Friends, And Then Some!

It was Sunday, October 27. The Global Anglican Future Conference (GAFCON2) had ended Saturday with a rousing worship service at All Saints Cathedral, but I was still in Nairobi. The next day I would fly to Juba, South Sudan. But before I left the Nairobi Hilton to spend my last night with friends in Karen, I had one last appointment to keep.

All week, when I was not at GAFCON2, I had been meeting friends recommended by my Midland, Texas friend, Kelly. At first I was reluctant to try to add more encounters to my already busy GAFCON2 schedule. But after meeting and being totally endeared to Kelly’s first three friends,* I was looking forward to meeting the last one, Ramadan, from the Nuba Mountains. Ramadan was a translator for Samaritan’s Purse, studying in Nairobi.

We planned to meet in the hotel lobby at approximately 12:30, after Ramadan attended church. I couldn’t call him that day because my cell phone had run out of minutes and I was having trouble adding new ones.  It seemed that I need not have worried, however, because when I came into the lobby, I saw a young man scanning the room.

“Ramadan?” I asked.

He smiled and nodded.

“I’m Kelly’s friend, Faith,” I said while shaking hands. “So glad to meet you.”

After we chatted for a few minutes, I noticed that the rector of my church, Father Joe, who had also been a delegate to GAFCON2, was sitting in the lobby.

“Come over and meet my pastor,” I urged Ramadan. I introduced him, and explained to Joe that Ramadan was from the Nuba Mountains, and about his work with Samaritan’s Purse.” Joe, who was on his way to preach at a church in the Nairobi slum of Kariobangi, prayed for Ramadan.

After that I told Ramadan that I needed to find an ATM and withdraw some Kenyan shillings to cover the rest of my time before switching to South Sudanese pounds. Ramadan pointed out a hotel employee and said, “He can help you.” The young hotel employee offered to accompany me to the ATM.  I apologized to Ramadan for abandoning him, and told him I would be right back.

Peter, the Hilton staffer, went with me to the ATM, and then to the nearest “SafariCom” office to see if they could successfully add the minutes I had purchased to my phone. When we returned to the Hilton, Ramadan was gone.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “My friend is gone.” I told Peter that he must have had to leave.

“He’ll be back,” Peter said. “He just went over to the other side of the hotel.”

“What is he talking about?” I thought. “How could he know where Ramadan went, anyway, when he was with me?”

Just then, my newly full-of-minutes cell phone rang and when I answered it, I heard:

“Hi! This is Ramadan. Is this a good time for us to meet now?”

I took the cell phone from my ear and stared at it. To add to my utter confusion, I noticed Ramadan coming towards me, and he was not speaking into a cell phone.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered into the cell phone, “who did you say this is?”

“This is Ramadan, Kelly’s friend,” the disembodied voice repeated, as Ramadan walked towards me.

“Well, if this is Ramadan. . . then who are you?” I asked the young man formerly-known-as-Ramadan, while pointing to my cell phone.

“I’m James,” he said smiling, “from the Hilton.”

I started to demand to know why he had been pretending to be Ramadan, but then I stopped, realizing that he had not been trying to deceive me. He was merely being a gracious hotel employee attempting to assist a guest, in the very accommodating African way. So instead I thanked James “for all his help” that morning, and said goodbye.

Meanwhile, the real Ramadan had arrived — but he was not Ramadan either! He was Alexander. Like many of my Nuba friends and other Sudanese from the marginalized areas, he had chosen to change his name from the culture that had been forcibly imposed on the Nuba. I explained to him what had happened and we both laughed. I told him that James had “received the blessing” from my pastor that was meant for him — kind of like Jacob received the blessing that was meant for Esau! We agreed that it was good that James had been prayed for, though.

I got to know the real Alexander/Ramadan in the remaining hours I had left before leaving for Karen. We had lunch together and talked about the ongoing genocide being waged by the Sudan government against his home, as well as against the people of Blue Nile State and Darfur. Alexander is from Kauda, an area of the Nuba Mountains that has been particularly hit. Kauda was also terribly affected by the first jihad waged against the Nuba in the 1990’s. Just one evil act in Kauda during that first genocide was the February 2000 bombing of Holy Cross Primary School which resulted in the death of 19 children and one teacher.

Earlier in the week, I had met with some civil society and military Nuba leaders. They had warned of reports that Khartoum was enlisting Islamic militias from such countries as Chad, Libya, and Mali to stage fresh attacks in the Nuba Mountains.

Even though it was still extremely dangerous, some Nuba had returned to their homes to farm. It was almost inevitable that Khartoum would send aerial attacks as well as ground troops to burn up the crops and once again orchestrate starvation for the Nuba. But because the Sudan People’s Liberation Army/North (SPLA/N) under the great military commander General Abdelaziz Adam al Hilu has been so successful in liberating most of the Nuba Mountain area from the Sudan government, President Omar al Bashir has found it necessary to reinforce his troops with foreign fighters.

Alexander was very happy to hear that the commander who is defending the Nuba against this jihad is my friend. He was also grateful for IRD’s twenty years of Sudan advocacy, and for the activism of groups in the United States such as Act for Sudan. Like so many other Sudanese, though, he could not understand how the United States government could intervene in Egypt, Libya, and Syria on behalf of Muslim Brotherhood and Al Qaeda affiliates, but would not support the pro-secular democracy and religious freedom “rebels” in Sudan. Good question.

I asked Alexander if he would give me a message for the churches in America, asking them to add their voices to those of the activists who are speaking out against genocide and challenging President Obama to take measures to protect the people of the Nuba Mountains, Blue Nile State, and Darfur. Watch for that message from Alexander coming soon.

(If I had the presence of mind and enough recovery of my sense of humor at the time, I would have asked James to join Alexander and me in the photo that you see above. Alas, I was still somewhat stunned and it never occurred to me.)

*I will also be writing about meeting William, Tusa, and Abraham.