Bus

Ah!  After a long plane ride, many granola bars, moving twice, and finally the beginning of my Hebrew classes I am now starting to settle back in.  It feels good to be back. I do miss the simple things- soft bed, car, drinking water, and of course friends and family.

...but it all seems so miniscule in comparison to what I'm about to share.   

It all began with a late bus and two Hebrew students trying to make it back to Jerusalem.

Yesterday,  "Mo," a friend from my Hebrew class, and I were waiting for a bus back into Jerusalem when we realized it wasn't coming for a while... so I asked him about "his story."  Who are you?  What are you doing here?

The man, not much older than myself was born in Sudan.  As many of you know, there have been violent hate crimes and ongoing wars that began a while ago.  Mo was not very old when both parents died and he, as a 10 year old, became the father figure for his siblings.  The extremists from the North raided his village and killed many that he loved barging in several times throughout the course of his time there.  Each time they would kill men, women, babies, pregnant women, dogs... anything living- they killed.  Over the course of the next few years, not only was his sister raped and left alone to raise a child 9 months later, but Mo was pursued several times as well.  If caught, death awaited him. 

At this point in the story, he rolled up his sleeves to reveal dark scars from where the soldiers had attacked him, but he escaped with his life.  

 As his journey continued, he fled to a nearby country where the government did not welcome him.  The local government partnered up with the Sudan government and therefore began shooting Sudanese refugees randomly.    He escaped with his wife.  

Fast-forward 2 years.  I walk into Hebrew class for the first time and a joyful young man with a smile across his face introduces himself.  "I'm Mo."  Over the course of some time, we decide to study together after class, as he has a knack for languages, especially Arabic.  We share small chit- chat as he tells me about his wife and son with whom he is separated from. This being our second time studying outside of school, we decide enough is enough and it is time to head back to Jerusalem.  We ventured to the bus with our minds full of Hebrew pronouns and verbs.  We waited.

The 4:20 pm bus never came so we sat and waited some more.  "So what is your story Mo?" As we waited, his story began to unravel before me.  Two hours later when the bus did actually come, I didn't want to get on, desiring to hear more.  The power in this man's voice and the compassion for his people that have been murdered moved me greatly.  He spoke, as not one reciting a "speech" for the 50th time, but as one who cared about what he has seen and who is determined to conquer the hate over there.

As the bus drew near the station I asked him, "How could you not become angry and full of hate.” He answered, "If I were to become angry and determined to get revenge, I would be no better than those who have killed."  

As the bus stopped and the doors opened I followed him back into the world of bustling people rushing to the market. The cars honking and the familiar foreign languages filled my ears again. Everything seemed so small.  

Mo's story just placed everything back into perspective for me. 

Next time you are sitting on a bench waiting for the bus and it never comes, don't get angry... sometimes something far better than what we expect will greet us instead.