Day 1

I had been staring out the window for 10, 12, 15 hours. It was nighttime, and I was on a plane to Duk County in South Sudan to visit John Bul Dau, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. Unable to sleep, I watched the lights of America grow and fade away, then grow and fade again. Then lights seized to exist as we passed over the Atlantic Ocean, except for little boats like glowing ants on a dark blue canvas. Then I saw lights again, the lights of Africa. this time they were not as bright. Eventually, those too faded away as I drifted off to sleep. 

I woke up to overwhelming senses. I smelled lots of animals and people, and fresh food like bread, meat, and something else that I later learned was called kofta. I head children yelling to their friends, merchants advertising their products, and livestock being herded trough the streets. As I stepped outside, a wave of hot, muggy air hit me. Flies buzzed around my sweaty face. The second I set foot on African ground, Thousands of black hands reached out, begging for money or food and feeling the new white person. I handed out a few leftover bars from the plane ride. After a while, when the people calmed down, I got to know them better. They were extremely kind and curious. The little kids loved to walk with me and ask me questions in their language that I didn't know how to answer. They clapped and laughed and acted very happy. When I came out of the seemingly endless process of getting my passport checked and waiting for the luggage, I walked outside and saw a man holding a cardboard sign that said:

I went up to John and introduced myself. He was so happy to have a visitor that he could take on a tour of the town. We shook hands and started off towards his house. It turned out that his house was a few miles away, so it took about an hour to walk. John walked at a very brisk pace,and it was hard to keep up with him. He was very tall and strong, and I figured that he had walked this route many times.
On the way home, we stopped at the Sudanese equivalent to the Farmer's Market. Tables and booths were set up and down the streets, marketing products from clothes to pigs. African men and women bustled about, buying the food they needed for dinner. John bought some chicken meat, bread, and kofta. We went home and had an early dinner at 4:00, which was cooked by John's wife, Martha. The chicken soup and bread was good, but what I really liked was the kofta, which was like a meatball.

When we were done with dinner, we went to see the Sudanese rapper Lam Tungwar, who was playing live. We went to his concert, and it was amazing to be so immersed in the sudanese culture. People jumped around, singing and dancing, and we stayed up past midnight. I thought that Lam was very talented, and I thought that he was better than a lot of American musicians. After the concert, I got to meet Lam and talk to him. I became more interested with every word he spoke as his inspiring story unraveled. At age 7, Lam was forced to be a child soldier in the Southern Sudan Military. He dropped his  gun and fled into Kenya, he pursued a career in music to help deal with his horrible experiences. He has been on tour and has won awards such as a designation as a messenger of peace. 

Then we went to bed and got a good night's sleep.