This past week we took in a lecture on a current political topic of great unrest in Sudan.  My professor - Bwana Jon - and his wife lived as anthropologists with the Murle people of southern Sudan for 8 years and now Bwana is being looked to as the only person who can speak in defense of the Murle as they suffer in  Sudan.
Here's the situation unfolding:
The Murle tribe is being attacked by other south Sudanese tribes - the Nuer and the Dinka.  The Murle are seen as traitors because they aligned themselves temporarily with the North before Sudan split into north and south.  (The Murle did this, however, because they were being unjustly ruled by the Dinkas.)  In South Sudan, the Sudan People's Liberation Army, comprised of Nuer and Dinka, run the land and want to annihilate the Murle.  In just the last 3 weeks, in a Nuer attack, 300-3000 people died and 96000 Murle temporarily fled their land.  But no where is safe for them - in the last hospital the Murle were in, Murle patients were killed in their beds by machine gun fire. 
These attacks are being led by Nuer youth who have created the White Army.  These youth have never known peace - they grew up during civil war - and have organized into an army with no proclaimed leader, have distributed radical memos, and are designed to annihilate the Murle.  The youth are refusing to listen to anyone, including the church, and have even threatened the Sudan government that if they don't back them, they will take down the Sudanese president and kill him.
The international community is only hearing the Nuer side, which has portrayed the Nuer as warriors and on the defense, and the Murle as traitors.
No one is speaking up for the Murle.  Only one man knows Murle history and culture enought to speak for them.  Jon Arensen - Bwana as we call him - has been contacted by the UN to present the Murle side to a council in Nairobi in March.
While he can speak for them, we can pray for them.
Pray for the Nuer youth, that they would learn war no more.
Pray for the Nuer Christians who have remained silent (both Nuer and Murle believers are Presbyterian)
Pray for the Sudan Council of Churches
Pray for Bwana Jon as he prepares and presents
Pray for Bwana's son as we works directly with Nuer youth in his homeland of Sudan

When I step out of my hut, I often look in the direction of other countries and pray against their sufferings
to the North West, Rwanda healing from genocide
turning to the far North East in Somalia with their political unrest
and a bit to the North West is Sudan...and it is in this direction that I direct my prayers.  This suffering is closer to me than it has ever been, but this situation has shown how powerfully anthropology can be used in reconciliation.
And, we serve the Prince of Peace, who one day will bring about ultimate reconciliation.
'there was a great multitude, from every nation, from all tribes and people and languages, standing before the throne...'

Things I've managed to avoid while here but others haven't:
painful sunburn
scorpions falling on your head
broken sandals
kanga skirts falling off in public
constapation/diahhrea

Things I haven't managed to avoid here but other's have:
getting an entire congregation to laugh at your miscommunications

My family knows how often I butcher the pronunciation of words, but until now, that's only held for English words:
On Sunday, we piled into and on top of our land-rovers and drove to a pentacostal village church nearby.  I so wish I could upload pictures to show you the landscape of this trip, but my mere words will have to suffice.  The red dirt roads brought us past mud houses that spilled forth children waving and shouting 'Mazungu!', and check out these colors: short vibrant green stalks of maize cut through by rich red dirt paths, contained by pure blue skies (mom...these are the types of skies you've always wanted), surrounded by navy blue mountains in the distance and green, boulder spotted hills in the foreground.  Breathtaking. 
It's amidst this beauty that I prefer to make my blunders.
Walking into the church, I was the last female student and I quickly observed that the left side of benches was quickly filling up, so I bravely and intrepidly thought  I'd start my own row on the right side.  Sitting down by myself, excited for the service and the prospect of sitting by Tanzanians, I eventually clued into the fact that my friends were all motioning to me that I had plopped down in the middle of the men's section...quickly sinking over to the female side, I thought any major blunder had been avoided.
I was in the back, loving listening to my brothers and sisters praise the Lord in Swahili (Dad, you say Methodists used to be known for their singing...you've got to come hear the Africans), loved watching the dancing and the curious children who surrounded us.  Then the pastor announced that we, the Americans...and one Canadian...would stand up and introduce ourselves and say where we were from, in Swahili.  The scenario was perfect - I was the last female and had plenty of time to practice, so as 20 some girls stood up before me, I ran the phrases over and over in my head, feeling super confident...not a trace of nerves.
'Jina langu ni Liz, na nimetoka Ohio'  (My name is Liz and I've just come from Ohio.)
Simple.
Standing up, with all eyes on me, I confidently proclaimed, loudly, to the congregation that 'I come from Liz, and my name is Ohio'
Thinking I had aced it, I started to sit back down.  Halfway down, I caught on to the laughter that errupted from the whole church and, realizing something must have gone wrong, I too began laughing. Once safely sitting down, I realized my mistake and lost it, laughing so had that tears were streaming down my face. 
OH-IO I guess :)
At the end of the service, everyone filed out and shook one anothers' hand as the congregation formed a circle outside.  Making my way through the lines, I shook my friends' hands as they greeted me with 'Hey Ohio' or 'Nice going Ohio', which only threw me into more fits of tearful laughter.
...the joy of the Lord seems to have followed me here in the form of tearful laughter.
As if that wasn't enough of an adventure, a group of us headed out at 2 am this morning, taking a walk through the coffee fields along the river, to a nearby campsite to watch the Super Bowl.  I went for the commercials only to realize they don't air the American commercial here.  So, I fell asleep in the fourth quarter after that bizarre half time show.  But I do know, dad, it was a football game, Giants won, and you all got more sleep than I did, but the walk back to campus in the early morning was worth every touchdown...even the ones they weren't supposed to make.