The Cessna plane was carrying just three other passengers, female missionaries from rural Oregon taking Christ to the people of southern Sudan. We took off from an airstrip in Lokichokio, in the Kenyan desert, and headed north. Minutes later, we had crossed into Sudan. “This is a war zone,” the pilot turned to tell me, “but theoretically we’re not in any danger.” He explained that ferrying aid and missionaries made us non-combatants, and our United Nations call sign gave us legitimacy in the eyes of the government in Khartoum. “So we shouldn’t be targeted.” What he did not mention were the instances of aid planes being bombed and shot at in Sudan. In the event, our flight proved safe; it was a different story for the Danish pilot fired on and killed shortly after I left.
The current civil war in Sudan is nearly 20 years old, and UN efforts to stave off famine in the country are unceasing. For security reasons, the UN is based outside Sudan in Lokichokio, a seedy oasis that has mushroomed in northern Kenya to service the airborne relief effort. The town has the surreal atmosphere of M*A*S*H or Catch-22, an air of being contingent on the war, yet not of it.
Content from our partners
