Sudan Reflections: Singata Surprise

After a week of adventure we awoke early on this last day to begin our journey home having gone to sleep the previous night praying God would allow us to cross the Singata in the morning to get to our first of five planes home.  

We awoke to dark clouds so we kicked it into high gear at Shannon’s command.   We loaded into two trucks since during our previous adventures the fan belts in the Land Cruiser were being held together with zip ties in a move that would have made McGuiver proud.  With Carrie Lewis and Mark Pearson following behind us in the second truck we rushed out to beat the river once again. The road to the river was filled with hazards at every turn but it wasn’t until we rounded the final curve that we saw Singata flowing fast and furious and rising  by the minute. 

Using the tree across the river as his target Shannon shifted into low gear and we lurched into the waters praying once again.  It was  quiet in the truck and the air was filled with tension until we burst into cheers as we landed safely on the other side.  Immediately our attention shifts to Carrie and Mark behind us as we prayerfully watch them  launch into the river only to see them immediately come to an abrupt halt.  

Without a moment of hesitation Shannon orders us out out of the truck telling us he is running into town to get help.  As he speeds away all Scott, Hamm and I could do was circle and pray as the waters quickly rose over the hood of their truck. We prayed and waited only to see things rapidly growing more serious and dangerous. As the water begins to flood into the truck Carrie and Mark crawl out the window and onto the truck bed.  Just then, without a moment to spare Shannon rounds the corner riding in the Bog-Rat, the biggest and most beautiful old beat up truck I’d ever seen. They launch back into the now deeper waters and on to the other side where they deliver our friends from the waters and begin to attempt to hook straps to the sinking truck. Fighting the swift moving currents made it slow, hard work so that by the time they secured the strap the truck was going under and was  sure to be lost but to the cheers of the onlooking crowd they pulled the truck out just before it was washed away!  They rode back across in the Bog-Rat and we all hugged with the understanding that the Lord had just provided for us once again. 

Wow!  What a week! All week we had a saying that we repeated when things got challenging.  Whether it was a broken wench that meant we would sleep in the truck all night, being runout of a village by drunken fools, wading  across the river just in time, the long painful walk into the middle of nowhere, or escaping the river just in the nick of time – one phrase was repeated throughout reminding us of why we were there  - “And that is why they are unreached.”

TG
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