“A dear friend of mine, Sophie’s uncle, Jean-Robert, is in the south of Sudan, in a mission in Mapuordit. It is a small station with only one priest and a few sisters working with the children, mostly orphans. They also care for lepers. Fighting has left so many homeless and the children suffer the most. Currently, there are one hundred little ones receiving aid at the Mapuordit mission. This is but a fraction of the orphans to be found in that region. Many children are now afraid of seeking the aid of our priests and nuns. They have seen the punishments inflicted and will not risk being hurt or killed. Thousands have died due to their fear,” the priest explained.
“Does the Sudanese government help in any way?” Hanley asked.
“No, we must contend with many different issues, from the government as well as the growing movement of radical Muslims and the SPLA. The SPLA is a particularly vicious group, formerly Marxist, now just thugs using violence to stay in power in south Sudan. They recruit children, boys of ten or twelve years, and teach them to be soldiers. They are not soldiers, Mr Martin. They are children raised to believe they can take whatever they want from others through intimidation and murder, if need be.” Father Bertrand stopped to sip his wine.
Hanley thought that perhaps Madame Paulinier might seize the moment and begin again her discourse on the lore of Loire. But the old lady sat and waited for the priest to continue. She must have realized the conversation had moved in a direction she would not interrupt.
“One thing most people do not realize is the long-term damage caused by the loss of families; mothers and fathers raising their children. The caring and teaching that happens every day within a family is immense and its importance goes unnoticed and unappreciated by most people. Perhaps greatest among those losses is the teaching of values. Everything from the value of life to the value of love and sharing is denied to these children. By the time these children are ten or twelve years old, they have learned to survive on their own, often by ruthless means. It’s easy to build monsters using material like this,” Father Bertrand said.
Turning his wine glass by the stem and watching the rotation of the deeply red fluid, Hanley asked, “Is there any American aid coming into these countries, into Sudan?”
“Some, but much of that never reaches the people in need, or if it does, it goes to those nearest the point it enters the country. Supplies not taken through the major ports or airports are moved by truck to the remote areas. Thieves and groups like the SPLA take the rest before it can reach outposts and missions like those in Torit or Mapuordit. They use food as a weapon,” the priest explained.
Michael Campbell said, “It’s a logistics problem. Currently, the most common way of moving goods into Sudan’s southern interior is by truck. Jean-Robert writes to Sophie and her father about the conditions there. He tells us that the truck routes are difficult even without the bandits. The roads are horrible, the trucks old. Breakdowns are a common occurrence. He says dust eventually stops anything mechanical and once the trucks stop, they are stripped of their cargo. There is an airstrip near Mapuordit, but few planes make the jump from the main cities or ports to the interior. A plane could at least bring in medical supplies and fly out those in need of serious medical attention, which many are, from what Jean-Robert says,” Campbell said.
“The mission cannot afford to employ a pilot and plane on a full-time basis. Those that are there can make much more money flying for businesses or wealthy families. The dangers are many and life is hard. Although there is a true mission in Sudan, few people are inclined to be a part of it,” Father Bertrand said.
Hanley had been listening intently as his friend and the priest talked about the need for a plane and a pilot. For a second, he thought of himself in Sudan, but then, recognizing how foolish that was, stopped.
Madame Paulinier set her wine glass down, the edge of the glass on her bread plate, the opposite edge on the table and then let go. The glass began its fall to the tabletop with the small amount of wine left in it. Hanley caught the glass at its mid-fall point and set it upright. While saving the glass, Hanley had not taken his eyes from Father Bertrand. Michael Campbell muttered, “Damned good,” while the priest finished explaining why the Fathers of Notre Dame could not afford the services of a pilot and plane.
Sophie watched her grandmother’s crystal begin its fall. When she realized Hanley Martin saved the crystal glass, she said, “Merci”. Hanley heard her exhale, looked to see what he thought was an expression of relief on her face. He smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”
“Father, do the people served by the Mapuordit mission believe the missionaries are there to help or not?” Michael asked.
“Yes, I believe they still do.. When I was there, the people of the region saw the Catholic missionaries as religious, as representatives of the God the whites believed in. They had respect for the priests and nuns. Some of that has changed. The adults now fear they will be punished if they show support or any type of acceptance of the mission and its people. The children follow the adults and if there are none, they do whatever it
