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by Fr Anthony Chantry MHM
The entrenched and protracted conflict in Sudan is often summarised as a clash between the Arab Muslim North and the African Christian/Secular South. This is an inaccurate oversimplification of what is a protracted social conflict involving clashes of race, ethnic groups, religion and political interests, fuelled further by the promise of oil wealth located in Southern Sudan.
The long suffering people of Southern Sudan, the innocent civilians who are usually the first to be caught in the political and military crossfire of power struggles and war, have experienced it all. Over a period of many years, they have been maimed, dispossessed, violated, disempowered, oppressed and killed.
We (Mill Hill Missionaries) have been there since 1938. Many missionaries have lived through times of terrible violence and upheaval, always choosing to stay with the people even during the worst times, something that bears witness to the highest traditions of missionary commitment.
Since the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement of 2005 there has been a fragile peace among the warring factions, as the country moves towards elections and a referendum that may lead to the secession of Southern Sudan. Some would claim that it is in the interests of the Northern based government to destabilise the South in order to prove that it could never become an independent country.
On Monday 23rd February, Michael Corcoran and I travelled from Khartoum to Malakal to visit our Mill Hill Missionaries: three working in Malakal town and three down river at Tonga.
Unbeknown to us, travelling on the same plane was a well known militia leader called Gabriel Tang. He was held responsible for the deaths of 150 people in 2006 when his visit caused an outbreak of fighting between his supporters in the Joint Integrated Unit and the Sudanese People’s Liberation Army. He is known to be supported by the government of the North.
On the day of his arrival, the United Nations in Malakal pleaded with him to return to Khartoum: he refused.
Fr Ben Stopel and Br Franz Kristler
On Tuesday morning, while we were being shown around the Mission workshop run by Br Franz Kristler, intense gunfire began all around us. We dived under a small truck and hoped for the best. At one stage it sounded as if gunfire was coming from just the other side of the fence.
After a frenzy of heavy gunfire lasting about thirty minutes, there was an opportunity for us to rush back to the relative safety of the Mission House, where our other missionaries, Fr Peter Major, Fr Ben Stopel and Fr Damien Fuh were sheltering.
The Mission House in Malakiya a.k.a the Brothers' House
The fighting resumed and continued on and off throughout the day, and included what sounded like mortar fire and heavy arms gunfire. On several occasions the house shook from the explosions showering us with dust: it was the day before Ash Wednesday!
Fr Damien Fuh
Following the good advice of our local missionaries we sat with our backs to the strongest walls to protect ourselves from stray bullets.
Joseph, a local UN World Food Programme worker whose job it is to feed the local people in need, arrived at the door of the Mission House, begging for shelter. He had been stopped by the soldiers of the militia, and suspecting him of working with the enemy, they told him to lie down. They were just about to shoot him when a fellow UN worker pleaded for his life, seconds before the trigger was to be pulled. They released him and badly shaken, he ran to seek sanctuary in the Mission House.
When the gunfire quietened down we were able to move across to the Mission Guest House across the road. On entering my room I saw that the window had been smashed and discovered a spent bullet embedded in my mattress. Yes, the floor would be the safest place!
Fr Elvis Shudzeka arrived from Tonga in the afternoon. He managed to make his way through the fighting in order to welcome us to Sudan.
Fr Elvis Shudzeda
We spent the night on the floor in our own bedrooms with only the sound of sporadic gunfire. We were awoken by the light of a peaceful dawn.
Sleeping on the floor to avoid the bullets
On Wednesday, Malakal looked like a ghost town. The streets were deserted by all but the local militiamen who were happy to greet us as they passed our house. Everyone had been told to stay indoors while negotiations were being conducted by a team of senior government officials.
Water and food supplies in the house were now running low. Hats off to Br Franz who did a great job of producing some meals from nowhere: tinned Tuna, pasta, tinned cheese, rice and onions.
John Ashworh
An old friend of ours, John Ashworth, who works for Pax Christi, was staying with us in the Mission Guest House. He has dedicated his life to the people of Southern Sudan in trying to bring peace with justice to this troubled area. He was already busy contacting the UN base in order to arrange for our evacuation from Malakal. They promised to collect us in the afternoon. We waited for the UN convoy until sunset. They did not arrive!
On Wednesday evening, the four of us - Michael, Elvis, John and I - settled down for the night. The silence was too good to be true and we were worried. All was quiet until 1.30am when we were awoken by armed soldiers breaking into the house.
Having smashed their way through one of the windows, the four of them proceeded, room by room, down the corridor to see who was there and what there was to loot.
John came out of his room and we heard him pleading with them in Arabic, informing them that this was a Church house and that we were Fathers in the Church.
Two of the soldiers were very aggressive, the other two more composed. They demanded money and other valuables from us: cash, torches, mobile phones and Michael’s trousers!
At one point they seemd to want to take Elvis away with them. They may have thought we were sheltering him, perhaps one of the ‘enemy’. We all made it clear he was one of us, a Father, and that we would not let him go. They saw he was not from Sudan and left him alone.
The looting soldiers left with plenty of money and valuables, and perhaps because of this they did not harm us physically. They left us all in one small room, making it clear that we should stay there, and then melted back into the darkness.
At that moment, it crossed my mind that this could easily have ended in a shower of bullets or a grenade. After all, who wants to leave witnesses: life is cheap to such people.
After gathering ourselves together, sharing our fears and praying for strength and protection, we spent the rest of the night on the floor of that same room, hoping that no more soldiers would come to loot and intimidate.
Drunken soldiers, who are already ill-disciplined, are not reasonable men. The next time, we would have nothing much to offer them. The dawn was still four hours away and no one could help us now.
These were the longest four hours of my life! In darkness and silence, I had plenty of opportunities to think about the power of death and the meaning of life. On more than one occasion, prompted by the sounds of the night, I could hear those spirits of the darkness laughing at us. I was afraid, yet, as strong as my original gut feeling of foreboding, I knew deep down that we would make it.
Eventually, the light of dawn brought new hope, dispelling the dreaded darkness. Early on Thursday morning, a UN car rushed in to bundle us to the security of the UN camp where we waited seven hours for a UN evacuation flight to take us to the safety of Juba. After spending the night at the Comboni Missionaries’ Guest House, we travelled to Nairobi and then on to London.
There is no doubt that I was badly shaken by the whole experience. This was my first time to experience first hand the terror of the gun, and this exacerbated by finding myself in an environment totally new to me.
Fr Michael Corcoran at the UNMIS base
I was happy that Michael was there so that we could offer each other support and encouragement. It would have been much worse for me without him.
I have learnt so much from this terrible experience, including the best way to survive stray bullets! The more important lessons are less dramatic.
In the darkness of the long nights I was able to reflect on what is most important to me in life, on how fragile life is, on the symbolism of light and darkness in the struggle between good and evil, on what my faith could expect from God in such circumstances.
I know how it feels to be at the mercy of the tyranny of the gun, to taste fear in my mouth, to be completely powerless in the face of evil, and to know the supportive presence of God in times of trial.
Once again, the futility of violence as a way of dealing with conflict is confirmed for me and calls me, as it did in South Africa, to explore active ways of being involved in conflict transformation.
My admiration for those who chose to stay, to serve, to make a difference in dangerous areas of the world is unbounded. To stay with people in their suffering is the most powerful witness to God’s own presence. I felt troubled in leaving our fellow missionaries behind, yet I knew this is where they would want to be, and this is where they are called to be.
My sympathy goes out to the families of the fifty or so people who died on this one day of shooting. What a waste of life!
I deeply appreciate those who helped us during the ordeal, among them: John Ashworth who led us to safety, the UN officials who in the midst of their own utter confusion did what they could to help us, the Comboni Missionaries who welcomed us so warmly in Juba, the Bishop of Malakal who came to empathise and see us off at the UN base, and to our own Mill Hill Missionaries who encouraged us by their own courage.
I am always struck by the fact that where there is evil, goodness also abounds, usually in equal measure. If we are able to rally the powers of goodness together and confront the evil of our world, then I know we would overcome. This is, after all, exactly what Jesus promises.
Queuing for water at the UNMIS base