While preparing to move to Africa for several years, I asked, “What should I bring?” The answer came, “Whatever makes you feel at home.” Having always lived in the southern United States, I had no idea how to make that decision, short of taking everything I owned. Once I arrived in Africa, I adjusted more quickly than expected to the various places I lived. “Home” became more of a state of mind than a physical location or set of things.
“How is life in Sudan different from the USA?” • Waking in the middle of the night to find the house invaded by army ants • Realizing you are the only white person on a very full bus, and feeling comfortable with that. • Meeting someone at a shop and ending up in their home having breakfast • Spending an afternoon at the Sudanese ambassador’s house • Enjoying sheep intestines while thinking it is macaroni. • Entering the home of a stranger and being welcomed like a long-lost friend.
Life in Africa was not what I expected. It is fuller, richer, changeable, unpredictable, fascinating. The people are gracious, forgiving and hospitable. The tastes, sights, and sounds reflect a vibrant, determined, joyful richness that overcomes poverty and significant difficulties. I’ve been challenged and encouraged while learning great patience and the value of perseverance. I am deeply indebted, especially to the Sudanese, who have taught me so much.
Leoma worked in the Sudan for 20 years and came to know and love many Sudanese. When she returned to the US, she wrote about her experiences as well as the lives of her Sudanese friends and colleagues. While dealing with culture shock to the US, she wrote a devotional book and several books of prayers based on Scripture.
Leoma has a unique view of life, and that is reflected in her passion for connecting faith and the reality of life in the US and abroad.
During my first year in Sudan, I learned to speak Arabic. Once I left Khartoum, I decided to write up some of what I had learned. I found Arabic verbs fascinating, so I explained what my teacher had taught me. One of my colleagues read over my paper, and said, "Yes, that's correct. You've reinvented the wheel, but at least it is round." I took courage, and started on my next, more challenging, language learning: the Shilluk language.
Book Excerpt
Launching Into the Unknown
My final language-learning work project was to describe how Arabic verbs work. Daoud, my Arabic teacher, had worked hard to teach me the different and interesting things that change the meaning of a verb in that language. Take the verb daras, “he studied.” If the middle consonant is doubled to darras, the meaning becomes “he taught.” The extra consonant signals a causative, so if someone causes someone else to study, he teaches them. With the verb kassar, “to break in pieces,” adding a prefix forms a passive inkassar, “to become broken.” I won’t bore you with the whole lesson, but you get the idea. This understanding increased my ability to express what I wanted to say, so I started writing it all down. By the time I got to Juba, it seemed only sensible to finish it. When I got it done, I showed it to three of the Arabic experts in our group. They said I had reinvented the wheel, but it was round. In other words, scholars have defined these rules already, but having analyzed it, I got it right. That was encouraging, even if I wasn’t the first to discover it.
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