These two guys became buddies with Collins while we were on our walk. This trip was the first experience for Collins to meet both Turkana and Sudanese.
These are some homes at the refugee camp. The roofs are constructed out of flattened tin cans. The cans once contained some sort of rations (cooking oil, etc) that were distributed to the refugees. Nothing is wasted!
Some Turkana boys we met on our walk. The bag contains yellow peas. We're standing in a dry, seasonal river bed. We didn’t really know how to find Mark and he didn’t know for sure that we were coming. But we were determined. We hired three boda bodas (bike taxies) and headed to the first of three secondary schools in the camp – Kakuma Secondary School. Our taxi guys didn’t know where it was, but we had been told it was near the Don Bosco Catholic Mission and they knew the location of that.
We maneuvered in single file through the heavy foot and bike traffic, in and out of the various rough main dirt roads. Often an overhanging branch would slap us in the face as we whizzed by. Kim hollered to me (from the back of his bike taxi) that we should look for Mark’s face among the dozens and dozens of people we rode past. I frequently prayed, “Lord, lead us to Deng Deng. You know exactly where he is.”
We finally found the correct gate allowing us into the school compound. At first it seemed unoccupied, as there was no noise at all. We did find one student sitting outside, studying in the shade. We approached him and inquired whether or not he might know Deng Deng Meyer. “Deng Deng Meyer? No, I don’t know that guy. He’s a pupil? What form is he?” As we told him he was in Form Three, two or three other curious but polite students came out from the mud classrooms. Although none of them knew Mark, they encouraged us by suggesting we try Nevada Secondary School, saying, “It’s just nearby”.
Reuniting with our waiting taxi guys, we walked with them to Nevada. Almost the exact same scenario repeated itself. The answer, after asking three or four young men, was the same… “No, I don’t know that guy.”
Our last chance was Botown Secondary School. It was a fair distance away, so we hopped back on the bikes. Again, we scanned every face we encountered. We were hot and our taxi guys subtly let us know they were getting tired. Upon reaching the compound, it took us a while to find the proper gate. Once we entered, we saw that this school also seemed unoccupied.
We approached a lone young man under a tree. Not having seen us, he was just about to walk away. Kim got his attention and we inquired whether he might know a Deng Deng Meyer. He listened closely, but his answer was so discouraging, “No, I don’t know that guy.” Kim and I felt like this school was our last chance to find Mark. It was beginning to look like our efforts would be fruitless.
Five or six more curious students gathered around. Suddenly one especially tall fellow, named Angelo, asked, “Is he called Deng Deng Meyer or is he Deng Meyer Deng? I also know a Deng Deng Deng Meyer. Which one are you looking for?” Kim and I answered in unison, “He’s Deng Deng Meyer.”
“Deng Deng Meyer – I know him. He was once in Nairobi at Kawangware.”
Ah! That was music to our ears! We chorused, “That’s him! How can we find him?” He rattled off directions: “Go to Zone 3 of the camp. Near the water spot of Group 31, ask for Deng Tiok Mel. He’s the group leader and is the one Deng Deng stays with.” Angelo told us it wasn’t possible for him to take us to Mark that day; instead, he wrote down the details and assured us we would find the place.
A young man that had just arrived began to make a suggestion, “No, this is how you should find him…” Another interrupted, saying, “Let’s not all give directions. Only one should speak.” But the other one persisted. “No, this is what you do. It’s simple. Angelo, you take them!”
Next thing we knew, Angelo agreed. “Okay, I can go with you today. Just let me change my shirt. I’ll show you where to find Deng Deng.” We easily found another boda boda and headed to the fourth destination in our search.
Angelo, just in front of me, pointed to the water spot. “This is the entrance to Group 31.” We paid and released our taxi guys and continued by foot. Several curious onlookers stared at us. Now and then, I scanned the faces of various young men sitting in the shade of trees. I was so eager to see Mark, but to be honest, a part of me worried that Angelo might have the wrong person in mind.
(continued below)
No comments:
Post a Comment