While it is true that many valuable lessons about life were learned in kindergarten, and while I have learned much about God and His work over the years, God instilled in me a more profound “knowing” about both life and His kingdom work during my time in Sudan.

Last August my husband, Howard, and I stepped onto a 747 in Los Angeles bound for Southern Sudan. Those steps we took onto the plane were an important act of faith for us. Our minds could not grasp what it would be like to live in Sudan, but we trusted God’s call for those two months in our lives. Our destination was Parot, Southern Sudan, a rural community south of the now-familiar area of Darfur. There we would stay with the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America’s Cush4Christ team. Our daughter, Heather, is a member of that team.

God impressed on us a significant lesson about His character while we were in Sudan: He is absolutely faithful to His promises. Someone once said that giving to God and His work is like throwing out bread and having it come back as ham sandwiches. Such was our experience in Sudan.

Living in a mud hut with no electricity or running water at first seemed like a harsh, foreign existence. As we disembarked the little Mission Aviation Fellowship plane on the airstrip in Malual Kon, we were immediately surrounded by many curious faces: bright eyes and shining white smiles in sharp contrast to dark black skin. Along with our supplies, we were crammed into a truck and we jostled along toward Parot over a deeply rutted and often flooded dirt road. Sweltering in the stifling heat and humidity, we wondered what we had done in coming to this place.

By the end of our two months in Parot, a transformation had taken place. We were no longer Howard and Irene, but Makuan Kual and Alek Kur of Southern Sudan. Beginning our return to the States, traveling along that same dirt road toward the airstrip in Malual Kon, we tried to absorb all of the sights and sounds and faces that had become so familiar and precious to us: the Cush4Chist team (Vince, Julie, Samuel, and Zakari Ward, and Heather Huizing); the mud hut with thatched roof in which we lived; the groundnut field with our watchman Diing standing tall and joyfully singing in newly acquired English, “Praise Him, Praise Him, Praise Him in the morning”; our good friend Manut, who loves the Lord, calling out, “Alek, Makuan Dit! Good morning!”; the road approaching neighboring Wanyjok where we would greet the colorful variety of people on the way to and from market; the big tree in the center of the market under which the women sat to sell onions and tomatoes and okra and groundnuts; the stalls where we bought bread, rice, sugar, soap, and sometimes, for a special treat, cold Coke! While there were challenges, through God’s grace, strength, and blessing, we can say with enthusiasm that it was a privilege and joy to serve Him in Parot.

As we adjusted to the slower pace of life there, God taught us both the pleasures and challenges of living in a different culture. The people in Parot are primarily from the Dinka tribe, the largest tribe in Southern Sudan. Life in Parot, and generally in Dinka culture, centers around the cattle that in many ways define a person’s worth. Cattle are still used to pay a dowry to the bride’s family, and we also noted that there is great pride in and affection for one’s cattle. It was delightful to see Manut’s eyes light up when he talked about cattle.

We have known that this culture is a community- or tribal-based culture while our American culture is individualistic. But it was dramatic to see this phenomenon at work. We were given Munjong (Dinka) names, but they were more than names; they defined our belonging in the community. Whenever we encountered people, they wanted to know our names and our clans. Even when they already knew (we had told them over and over), they wanted to hear them again. Without these identities we were strangers.

Another evidence of this aspect of their culture was that people stopped by and even let themselves into our huts at almost any time of the day. Indeed, we found that footpaths on which people travel led right through family bais (compounds), so one naturally stops to greet as one walks through the “yards.” To prearrange a visit is seen as cold or unfamiliar. After all, we are family!

In the midst of this new culture, we learned from God’s hand the joy of relationships and the pleasure of learning. One of our assignments was to teach English as a foreign language using Bible storying, something we accomplished under the big tree between our hut and Heather’s. Often, different people came each time, so I am not sure how effective the language learning was, but we had a good time. Even for an hour or two after class, people would be laughing and talking and practicing and writing.

At times, a sort of cultural exchange emerged from these language lessons where someone might start asking questions about life in America: “Is it true that everyone drives cars? Is it true you can only have two children? Is it true that men only have one wife? Why? How many cows do you have? None? How do you pay the dowry for your bride? We do not understand!” We talked about how long it takes to fly from Malual Kon to Los Angeles, how deep and wide the ocean is, what cold feels like, and what kind of animals live in America. In turn, they told us stories about life in Sudan, rich stories about their family relationships, their cows, and life during the war years. They patiently tried to teach us to count in Thongmonjong (Dinka) and how to pronounce the names of trees and birds, often writing in the dirt so we would better understand their pronunciation.

We learned the joy of celebration in the midst of a harsh life. Cush4Christ invited the community to a big celebration to express our gratitude for living among the people there. Though an emergency prevented Howard’s and my attendance, we heard stories about this event. The men ceremoniously slaughtered a bull that the team had purchased, after which the women entered into the lengthy process of preparing the food amidst much singing and dancing. The men seemed to take great joy in the speeches under the big mahogany tree, and afterward everyone sang and danced around our huts. Much of their dancing involves jumping high with arms lifted up to resemble the horns of their prized cattle.

Though we kawajas (white or European people) retire early to avoid those pesky malaria-carrying mosquitoes, the local people stay up late to enjoy the cooler night air. On most nights we could hear the “drums” in the distance: dances with loud drumming, singing, dancing, and women ululating late into the night. One night we heard a different kind of drumming all night long as the cattle drivers brought the cattle, probably a hundred or more head, to the local cattle camp. Drums were used to “speak” to the cattle to keep them in line and moving along.

A few weeks later, it was time for the cattle to move on again, and around 6:30 a.m. Manut came by, calling out for us to come quickly. We dashed out into the early morning sunrise as the cattle were driven along the dirt road to a new camp. The cattle and cattle drivers were accompanied by the boys who tend the cattle and the women who milk the cows to fill the many gourds they have brought with them. There was much laughing and celebrating along the way. Truly the cattle are central to the life of the Dinka people, and truly the people know how to celebrate.

One of the greatest blessings extended to us by God was to see His work in raising up a people called by His name in Sudan. We met new believers from a people group that has not had ready access to the gospel message. We learned firsthand of the power of God to turn the hearts of men toward Him, even apart from the usual means. Two of our English students were among the new believers. It was a privilege to work with Samuel and Peter, especially to be present at their baptism. It was a momentous occasion, for while we do not know what God has in store for them, we sense that He is raising up such men for a special role in His church in Africa.

Storying is an effective method of teaching in oral cultures such as those in rural Africa, and Manut and John, a local pastor, are going through the Bible with Vince as they memorize strategic and true stories from the Word of God. There are no established churches in either Parot or Wanyjok, and we pray that these men might be leaders in planting churches there.

In working with the Cush4Christ team, we learned that missionaries do not sit on pedestals. We count the Wards now as friends, and it was a rare privilege to work side-by-side with them and with our daughter Heather. Missionaries aren’t special people who walk around with an ecclesiastical glow about them, bestowing blessings on those who pass by. They are regular people like you and me. True, the Cush4Christ team members are godly, gifted people, with hearts that long to serve God well and to see Christ worshiped in Sudan. I have been impressed as they have lived their lives before us and the rest of the community. But they have the same struggles we all do. Much of their “mission work,” perhaps the most important part, is simply living among the people, becoming a part of them, and learning how to more effectively pray for them. One of Heather’s visions is to establish CHE (Community Health Evangelism) groups that gather together to solve community issues in the context of scriptural ways of working and living. Julie has a real heart for the women who have little power and authority but much work and responsibility. She often sits with them over a cup of chai talking about the issues of life and offering godly wisdom.

There is much more to tell about toads and scorpions and snakes, about the ants and termites that seemingly threaten to eat all of Africa, about the wonderful bread from the Wanyjok wood fire bakery, about kuin (sorghum mush) with slimy okra dip, about the team women’s Saturday “spa days” under the big tree, about meals and prayer together, about reading books with Samuel and giggles with Zakari.

There are times of discouragement and frustration working in Parot. Yet, in the absence of the frenzied calendar of events and plans of our own making that we Westerners often ask God to bless, the simplicity of life in Sudan makes it somehow easier to see the hand of God at work and to seek to know the ways God would use us in His plan. There is more joy and less striving in this kind of hard work. As we return, we ponder ways to bring that simplicity and single mindedness into our life here, to remember the lessons God taught us in Sudan.

Howard and Irene Huizing are members of the Los Angeles, Calif., RPC. Howard is an architectural illustrator, and Irene is retired from the administration at Chapman University.