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Philip was brilliantly excited about the work of NSCC in peace and reconciliation, and especially fascinated by the way in which we use elements of Sudanese traditional peacemaking mechanisms together with Christian concepts of forgiveness, reconciliation, etc. So after a day of conversations, Philip says to me, "Ross, I want to go into Sudan and have a peace sacrifice, capturing on film the ceremony of the white bullóthe Mabior sacrifice! That would truly capture the spirit of it all, I believe" (like what you saw in the Inside Sudan book). Now, remembering that the Wunlit peace meeting was the result of 2-3 years of work by NSCC and that current peace gatherings take months of preparation, I was hesitant to say that we could just walk into Sudan and have a peace ceremony two days later...but Philip was adamant. And it was a good thing he was, because it became one of the most memorable trips of my life. It has been said, "On any journey, one must rely on the kindness of others," and I think ours ended up being an archetype of that maxim. The plan was that we would travel into Sudan, bill my personal volunteer account within NSCC accounts, and the Episcopal Church would then reimburse me. Well...we happened to plan our trip at a time when the NSCC was extremely short of funding due to some delayed payments by a number of our partners, and so even though I had money in my volunteer account on the records, NSCC had no liquid cash to give! Keep in mind that traveling into Sudan is a two-flight affair, first to Loki then into Sudan, and that the second flight is always very expensive due to plane hire, etc. A logistical nightmare. This combined with the fact that Philip's theory of filmmaking, that is first to talk with the missionary, and only from there can the film (and trip itself in our case) develop, made planning ahead impossible. After Philip and I talked and talked on Thursday, he left and I made the phone calls to our office in Loki to make the travel arrangements. "I'm sorry Ross, but due our financial situation in NSCC and the relationship we've had with UN Flights (the most regular Sudan flights), I don't think you could get into Sudan until a week from tomorrow," was the message from Lokichokio. That was the exact day Philip was supposed to leave for Pakistan for the filming of the next documentary...hmmm, not helpful. "I worked in Loki for two months...I know y'all can arrange something!", "sorry, Ross, but this the situation right now." Philip came in the next morning ready to conquer the world, and when he walked into my office, my face likely said it all. "Ross," he responded to my laments, "we're going to do this, and it's going to be epic!" I suggested we simply get to Loki, and from there, somehow, things can be worked out. Presence is always more convincing than a phone call, after all. At least while things are being arranged, we can go to the Kakuma refugee camp and get some footage of the life of the refugee. Philip and I then go the bank to withdraw money from our personal accounts to pay for everything on our trip...we're talking money into the thousands, here (trusting to be reimbursed). This process took two hours, only to find out we could only get about half of what we wanted to due to some international banking Visa security glitch (or something). In the process we miss our flight to Loki, standing outside the gate as we literally watch everyone else flying away. No fear...there is another flight in the late afternoon...and we finally made it. So Philip and I, accompanied by an NSCC Peace Mobilizer named Anna Kima, finally arrive in Loki ("Ross, how the hell did you ever live here for two months?!" was a frequent question Philip asked). We are greeted by NSCC Loki staff, and in the traditional African way, we relax with them, take tea, share stories, and finally ask, "So, Anam, any more news about possible travel arrangements?". "Sure," Anam said, "come and talk with our friend Harold." Harold is a fascinating fellow, a missionary from the German Lutheran Church who has been living in Loki for over ten years and has a long friendship with NSCC. We walk over to his house and, greeted by his wife and two boys (extremely eager for company to show off their new play toys of wooden swords and inflict battle wounds), he begins to brief us about a possibility to charter a five-seater plane into Sudan. "You're lucky, boys, this pilot happens to be in town having just taken the bishop to Nairobi...he might be able to fly you in for a good price." This pilot flies for African Inland Mission Air (like Matt Brumbalow's dad, actually), and was able to fly us in on Monday morning. With arrangements having been made for Monday, on Sunday we went to the Kakuma refugee camp. Here we filmed the life I have described to you before: thousands upon thousands of Sudanese refugees scraping by in arid 100 weather where it rains hardly ten times in a single year, in an overpopulated camp, in a land where the local people wish they weren't there and don't mind using their AK-47s to let them know as much if ever the Sudanese leave the camp simply to look for firewood. As always, the spirit of the people was astounding...we had some amazing interviews, and got some inspired footage of me joining a traditional Nuer dance done to thank and to welcome missionaries. Harold took the day off just to drive us to Kakuma...we had to drive about 130-160 kph the whole way on African roads, because if we drove any slower then we were susceptible to raiding bandits... (and I can't help but mention that that morning before we left we also got some neat shots of me playing sax in the morning twilight of Lokichokioóparticularly my original tune "Walking in Loki"ówith aid flights taking off behind me...images one hardly sees anywhere else in the world.) The next day we took off for Rumbek, South Sudan in a small five-seater plane with only our small luggage and equipment. The plane was so small, we couldn't even take the food and water we bought. At one point the pilot said, "look, it's either the food or the sax, but we don't have enough weight for both." In an absolutely unforgettable moment, Philip and I exclaimed, "the sax stays!!" Classic. As it turned out, we wouldn't have needed the food because Rumbek has relatively good accommodation by the standards of southern Sudan...probably the best in the south. We found a camp (of sorts) that provided food, shower, and tents. We even got free drinks in the evenings as I played my sax to entertain guests! Playin' John Coltrane in the bush...who would've thought! Once we arrived in Rumbek our work began immediately. After settling in at our accommodation, we met with the NSCC representative in our Rumbek office, a fellow named Mario Mayak. He was, to say the least, skeptical about our plans for a Mabior sacrifice within the next day, two days maximum. But to appease our determination, he arranged for us to meet the commissioner of Rumbek County, who would be able to make the final decision. We met the commissioner at a community dinner that evening, and Mario had me present our case. Discussing the opportunity such a film would create for international advocacy, the interest of the American church in Sudan, the importance of showing that the people of Sudan are making peace at the grassroots, etc, I ended up convincing the commissioner that this was somehow a good idea. We agreed it would be a peace ëcelebration' more than a ëceremony', since the affair was planned so quickly. I think he was happy that the community would gather to celebrate peace, and happy that free beef was involved. The ceremony would be on Wednesday in the city square, and he would inform the local community, in particular the local traditional leaders who would carry out the sacrifice. The next day, Tuesday, was spent preparing for the Wednesday morning ceremony. We talked to the local church leaders, and drew the support of the Catholic bishop and the Anglican bishop's representative. With their full support, our final task was to buy a bull. We had to buy two bulls as it turned out, because the traditional leaders would sacrifice one, but they could not eat from that bull and so as a gift for them we had to buy another. Again, the kindness of others showed through. There was a particular Sudanese Episcopal priest named Father Elijah who took particular interest in our project, and really helped us out with the buying of the bull and the peace sacrifice which followed. Father Elijah led us to the auction and made all the arrangements. He seconded two young men to auction for us so that we would get a fair deal, and had us keep a relatively low profile (needless to say two naÔve whites in the bush of Africa pay significantly more for a bull than locals...). Well, keeping a low profile ended up being slightly difficult. As if being the only whites for miles around wasn't enough, Philip of course wanted to capture as much as he possibly could on film, drawing drastic attention to both him and me. I truly can't describe the atmosphere of the cattle auction...in a very surreal way it was very reminiscent of scenes from the old American west: the shady, well dressed auctioneer, the young men leading cattle in from the fields for their aloof seniors, the excessive tobacco smoking by all participants...the energy and vibe was just too similar! Odd. Philip and I bought our beautiful and strong white bulls (Mabiors), and we were then on our way. Father Elijah found us some friends to look after the bulls for the night, and we went back to our beds content. All the pieces were in place. The next morning we arrived at the venue in town square at around 8 o'clock. We had planned an ecumenical prayer gathering to precede the ceremony which was to begin at 9, with the ceremony starting at 10. The Catholic Church arrived exactly at 9, to find a very empty public square. "Where is everybody?" "Uh...on African time...I hope." The Catholics were greatóthey set up a loudspeaker system (complete with generator) which would become responsible for probably at least half the crowd who ended up attending. Around 10, the Episcopal Church showed up (the town of Rumbek has only Episcopalians and Catholics), and we began our ecumenical prayer service. The church leaders gave excellent words of peace and reconciliation, I said a couple of words about the NSCC's commitment to peace and advocacy, and Anna gave absolutely inspiring (and often hilarious) words about the role of women in peace "you men chose to pick up your guns and fight, but we women never chose to suffer like we have." People slowly gathered. As the prayer service appeared to be coming to a close, my tongue was in my throat... "Excuse me, but...where are the cows?" the Catholic bishop whispered to me. "Trust me, they'll be here." "And where are the traditional spear masters who will carry out the sacrifice" "Uh, they're with the cows" I said. "I only hope," I thought to myself. I think the spear masters somehow had a flair for the sensational...they arrived at probably close to 11 o'clock while the churches had continued singing. The people at the venue (now nearing four to five hundred) cheered exuberantly, while Philip, Anna, and I could only give a sigh of relief. The commissioner, who we feared had made empty promises just to make us happy and keep me quiet during Monday's dinner event, had come through. Now all we needed were the cows... We continued with a couple more songs and hymns hoping the cows would soon arrive. Indeed, within a couple of minutes Father Elijah told us that the cows had been kept in a church nearby this whole time, and they were only waiting for the spear masters. (Father Elijah had woken up at 5 a.m. to retrieve them, it turned out. Astounding commitment.) There are times in Africa when I've genuinely wondered if the events I'm surrounded by are even real. Am I really a 24-year-old American boy in the bush of Sudan, having purchased two white bulls, participating in a traditional Sudanese peace sacrifice?? And even more, could I have had such a role to play, that this celebration was in the end to be put in a documentary about the NSCC and my work with them? There are times one steps back and truly wonders... This was a magnificent piece of traditional social history, and one has to wonder how much longer such a beautiful traditional symbol of reconciliation will be carried out in this era of globalization. The Mabior was brought to the city square, roped by his two-foot horns. The men looked in awe while the women danced and ululated and the spear masters began the ritual. It started quite simply...the leaders of the ritual danced around the bull, repeatedly moving their spears towards and away from the Mabior while chanting, "Bull, bull, why must you die?" they asked over and again in Dinka. "You are a symbol of our peace, you are a covenant that we will live together." "Your shed blood represents not only how we have harmed one another, but even more how we will live together in peace as Dinka and Nuer!" This and many other songs of peace were sung over and again while the spear masters seemed to taunt the bull with their spears moving back and forth towards the bull, back and forth. "Ah-la-la-la-la-la-la-laaaa!!" the women cried, dancing and dripping in sweat from the 85 heat. "Yes, we will live together!" The songs and spear master ritual were repeated by the Nuer leaders as well. This had gone on for nearly an hour, while I, the community, and the church leaders looked on. "How much longer is this supposed to last? We interrupted an important workshop to come here!" the Catholic bishop, himself Italian, whispered to me in our typical Western obsession with time...asking as if I myself had ever attended such an event in my life. Philip meanwhile was having the time of his life. He had kept the camera rolling since the ecumenical prayer service and was in top form. At one point, camera in hand, he crawled beneath the moving spears of over ten spear masters, and, inches from the both the bull and spear, he captured every detail. Here, there, everywhere Philip moved. The Mabior could sense his fate from the beginning. But as the ritual reached its climax, the bull was shitting and pissing all over the place! It's a very earthy affair, really. "The stubbornness of the fighting bull shows how deep our conflict raged! It also shows how deeply we desire peace!" someone said. Thwunck!! Slash! Thwunk!! Finally a giant spear lashed into the Mabior's throat, and the bull met his final blow. My face shuddered... "so gross" it emoted. Yet what was gross to me in my own American existence was deeply meaningful to the local peoples: Anna pointed out to me a young man with a tear rolling down his cheek. Yes, this was indeed a deep and meaningful sign of peace. "We have made our peace! We have made our peace!" the spear masters cried. The Mabior made his final gyrations, and the crowd cheered and danced. Truly this was an important expression of desired healing, a symbol of peace. Again we see that sacrifice is needed for reconciliation, for redemption. In closing the ceremony we carried out a number of other rituals, some of us jumped over the slain bull while women continued singing and dancing. The spirit of the event was absolutely infectious. Awhile later, after Philip had filmed more of the spear masters in their traditional garb and interviewed as many participants as possible, Father Elijah whispered to me, "Ross, you have something for the spear masters?" "Like what? We just gave them a bull!" "You know...something small," Elijah said. My ignorance was oozing. "Just a couple of shillings...you know they have put forth a lot of effort. They need some drink." "Oh of course," I said. "that's no problem. They must be thirsty." "Yes, they will need some local brew to go with their bull in celebrating!" Needless to say, I gladly obliged. The local community had quite a feast, for a lovely celebration surely followed. While Philip, Anna, and I would have loved to have stuck around, we were exhausted. The Catholics had taken down the PA system immediately after the ceremony and went back to their workshop, the spear masters went to celebrate with their bull and brew, and the event had come to a close. "A job well done," Philip said. "Let's go back to camp and sleep." I couldn't agree more. A most memorable morning indeed.
Links:
New Sudan Council of Churches
Africa Inland Mission Air
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Director: Philip Carr
Nationality: British
Philip was educated at Eton and Durham University. He then attended
the British Army's officer training academy at Sandhurst, and spent three
years serving as a cavalry officer in the UK, Canada, Oman, and Argentina.
Upon leaving the Army in 2000 with the rank of Captain, Philip entered
the media world, training at CBS News, CNN and APTN in London, and at
the Edit Centre in New York. He formed Cloudburst Media in 2002 and since
then has filmed around the world including the following countries: Burundi,
Democratic Republic of Congo, the Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, Egypt,
Kenya, Nigeria, Rwanda, South Africa, Sudan, Uganda, Pakistan, India,
China, Panama, Honduras and the USA. Philip has recently completed his
latest documentary "Buying Time For Peace" about the unique role of the
MDRP in demobilizing and reintegrating ex-combatants in the Great Lakes
Region of Central Africa.
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