Eternal Echoes

Blue lily of the nile

Blue Lily of the Nile
Kenya Chuol

Sudan was pretty much untouched, in the sense that life was pure and uncorrupt. Way of life in rural Maiwut, Sudan during the 1970s, I imagine would have been tranquil. Harmonious relations with nature, your village, and family. This would happen to be where my family tree seeds were sowed, the soil where my roots began to sprout. Maiwut, the start of not only my existence, but so will it be of my descendants, as it was my ancestors.
Did you ever take swimming lessons growing up? If so, count yourself lucky. In Sudan, parents taught their children by not teaching them at all. By that I mean, they would take their children out to the waters and encourage them to learn on their own. This is an ancient technique of survival, often witnessed in nature.  This method of self-sufficiency worked, mostly because the children did not drown , but came out triumphant!  
My parents have been best friends since they were kids. This innocent friendship slowly blossomed into a fruitful romance as time passed by.  My mother had come of age to marry at thirteen. Arranged marriages are very common in the eastern part of the world, earlier in life. The man that wanted my mother's hand in marriage went to my mother's family home to ask for their blessing.  My grandmother gladly accepted it as well as the dowry (in cattle) that came with it. On the other hand, my mother was furious, she did not like any of it or him for that matter. He was double her senior, besides the fact that she did not like to be controlled by others.
Shila, the first event of the celebration, is the night of presents. Where all the female relatives from both sides gathered around my mother and provided gifts. Items like lingerie, cosmetics and dresses were included. Khmara, a perfume making ceremony, proceeded with a feast and festival held in honor of my mother. El-hinna, is my favorite part of the whole occasion. The women's only party, this is a body decorating party. Designing art in beautiful shapes. Single women are only allowed to have one hand and foot tattooed.  All of the girls in the village came over to my mother's house and they did each other's hair, painted beautiful henna on their skin, as well as doused themselves in perfume and oil baths. Food was endlessly being served and alcohol was acceptable to drink, since this was a time of gathering. Dancing and music echoed throughout the whole village for thirty days!
Ma, however, did not feel like participating in a fest she had no say in. Especially since it was on behalf of a marriage neither agreed on. She knew very well that life with this stranger husband would be miserable. No matter how conveniently arranged, it was very uncomfortable for her. How could she not feel this way naturally? I mean the guy was basically the same age as her grandpa.
In American wedding culture the couples would typically choose whom they dated, in courtship since it is a free country.  If love was well and chemistry equated, they would engage in expressions of love and commitment as lifelong mates. The groom is not allowed to see the bride to be two weeks prior to the wedding ceremony. This is to prevent what seems to be, an international superstitious belief of bad luck. The bride's attire is usually a white gown, due to the popular trend Queen Victoria presented in her royal wedding in the 19th century. Women typically wore their best dress before the 19th century.
During a warm night, my mother decided to run away with my father and my oldest brother. Even though my mother had my brother, if she had run away alone she would have had to leave my brother because of tradition and culture the male child stays with his father.  Five villagers that were close friends with my parents had come along.  Into the starry cloaked indigo with streaks of violet sub Saharan night they slipped into. They set their trek on foot, hoping my grandmother would not send any people after them.
You could have guessed the rage of my grandmother when she found out that her daughter had left.  My grandmother had sent some of the villagers to search for them.  My mother was caught, but had escaped again. This journey took a bit more since they were walking by foot. My parents' acquaintance  John Gatluak, who accompanied them, had provided money for food and housing.  Alas! They arrived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Shortly after they arrived in Addis Ababa in 1990, my second oldest brother was born. We relocated to Nairobi, Kenya. I was born shortly in 1992, in the Kenyatta Hospital. This was the start of our journey into America. My mother said waiting for the visa was the longest part, the anxiety of wondering if you were accepted was the worst feeling.  Luckily, we were the chosen ones. We left for Europe to go through the process of refugee asylum.
My parents, thirteen year old uncle, and two oldest brothers, and I were on our way to a life in a new land that would be able to provide countless opportunities.  We arrived in New York City, NY on April 01, 1994. I was a toddler at the time.  We stayed in the big apple to experience our first bite of the cooler climates to come.  The agency soon after transferred us to Las Vegas, NV.  I think they figured that we should be in a more comfortable environment for us to adapt in. A place similar to the Saharan desert, but with more lights and corruption.  My memory of Las Vegas is walking down the strip and seeing so many blinding lights meshed with sounds of a bustling hustling tourist attraction, far and gone. At least I got to see The Wizard of Oz live. I now say to myself, and thank god I did not grow up there. I was terrified of the sounds of passing helicopters. My mother once stated,' Kenya, you were so scared, you would cling to my dress and cry at the sound of those things".
My mother then decided, after living there for eight months, Las Vegas is not an ideal state for a family to be raised in. We moved to the Midwest, where a large population of South Sudanese reside. Heartland of America is where I grew up and all I knew until I was fifteen, and moved my way on up into the last frontier, Anchorage, Alaska. I finished my high school studies, diligently and pursued a couple college classes. I became restless, and craved the desire to travel, so I moved to Phoenix, AZ.  I now reside here with some of my family and hope to do more traveling in the future.
The impact of my parents' decision of elopement did affect each of us in our own unique way. For example, my mothers' relationship with her mother gradually faded. Leaving us to not know her at all. The only thing I can hold onto my grandmother is through the stories my mother tells us. I began actually speaking with family in Africa when I was an adult. I do believe my parents' immigration slowly disconnected us from our family back home. We, the children, the generation my parents created are Americanized. I wish we were more in touch with our culture. I see how this slight disconnect from our native has affected us emotionally, mentally and spiritually.
Living here in America for practically all my Life, I can say that no place is perfect. You have the power to change all that is around you. The issues you do not agree with, I have a right and a voice right now to make a way for the generations to come. This will come with hard work and determination sautéed with passion and full faith makes for the perfect recipe for success!
I am fortunately speaking with my family in East Africa. My auntie in Kakuma refugee camp, Kenya. My brother was recently deported to Nairobi, Kenya and my Uncle in GamBella, Ethiopia. I only know of one uncle of   mine who lives in South Sudan. We don't have a good relationship.
The civil war that continued into the 70s forced my tribe to resettle in GamBella, Ethiopia. It is cool to know we are now blending with more than two cultures and countries now. My little cousins in Ethiopia can speak four or five languages, now that's what you call a linguist!
Yes, I do believe that views on love based marriages have been accepted more. Every place slowly begins to lift its strict aspects and allows western culture or different cultures for that matter, infused in native customs of origin.
In 2011, Sudan became independent, and South Sudan emerged as the youngest nation in the world. The northern hemisphere is mostly Arab and predominately Islam. Personally, I feel that dividing a country, you are also dividing its people.  In turn this disrupts nature and its harmonic flow of well-being for all life.  Now this new found independence has caused turmoil and tribal genocide between our brothers and sisters. Only because they caught a whiff of Au 'de Power. My question now is when will unity resume? Where will my descendants be accepted if not their home?