Strong Like You

To South Sudan with Love

Walking by the Nile — photo by Karianne Jensen

Maybe I can’t stop thinking,
talking,
writing
about you
because there’s so much to tell.

So many untold stories, of a nation — of suffering and overcoming; of war and peace; of darkness and light.

Stories of heartbreak, resilience, triumph.

I never wanted to tell your stories, and I’m sorry if I’ve told too much.
It is you who needs to tell your stories.
And I need to tell mine.

So many untold stories, of a woman — of suffering and overcoming; of war and peace; of darkness and light.

Stories of heartbreak, grace, redemption.

You are still part of me.
Always, you will be. And just because I was not born of your soil,
and just because I am not your people, by color—
a piece of me was born there, and a part of me became just like you.

Do you hear me?
Do you understand what I’m saying?
You birthed a new me.
I will never be the same as I was when we met. And I don’t want to be!

I want to be strong, like you.
Brave with laughter.
Pulsing with life.
Radiating beauty and light so brilliant it makes every heart dance with joy to the ends of the earth.

And maybe that’s how stories are told best.
Light transferred.
A miraculous movement of love throughout the universe.

With some of my closest friends and colleagues — photo by Brendan Tuttle

Traditional South Sudanese black henna, typically used by a bride on her wedding day. I used it to say goodbye — photo by James (Swaka) Jada

I spent three years living and working in South Sudan. The experience was so wild and beautiful and challenging, I’m still putting pieces of the story together, and trying to tell my version. 17 September 2018 marks three years since I left Juba. I look forward to a time when I can return.

More on Africa:

What Living in Africa Taught Me About Life