It’s 8:00 in the morning. The Heart Women have walked to Dr Luka’s compound. It takes up to two hours for some of them. These are all women that, some just freshly returned, some within the last year or two, have come back to their home turf after years enslaved by their Northern Sudanese fellow countrymen. Ellen has started a breathing/meditation group with them. They have been coming to Dr Luka’s to gather, talk, laugh, heal. They probably haven’t heard the term “post-traumatic stress”, but they’ve surely got it as they have been beaten, raped and have seen loved ones murdered.
They have spirits that have seen the dark side of human kind, but choose to look for goodness. I can see that they are great with their hands. They make meticulous baskets out of the grasses. Ellen has asked me to come to this place to show them how to make a beaded heart that she can market for them. She is calling it “Have a Heart for Sudan”.
The first group is about 15 women. We gather in the shade of a tree and they sit on cloths spread on the ground. They are looking at me with innocent and expectant eyes.
The film crew is around. Barbara Koppel knows her craft. There’s a reason she’s won two Academy Awards. She can work good stuff out of people and onto film. She suggests that I start with a song, Charlie and Inez Fox’s “Mockingbird”! I dive into it, acapella. The women’s faces light up. They smile, clap and cheer. They have this really cool way of applauding after a song, where they all clap in unison. Be prepared, if you’re at one of my shows, I’m going to ask us to try this together.
I go into my “Shebop shebop shebop my baby” and they join in. It becomes our theme song for the next three days of beading sessions.
I have an interpreter, and I ask him to tell them that I have just learned this technique myself, it took me a long time to learn it, and I haven’t had a chance to try teaching it to anyone. I ask them for patience. They nod. They clap! I am loving my Heart Women already.
Ok, here’s what the finished product will look like, I tell them. I hold up some samples of the hearts. 73 beads, one step after the other, and there’s no room for a misstep. Don’t be afraid to cut the work apart and start again.
Step one, step two, step three. Put one bead on the left hand string, two beads on the right, and cross the left string through it. One bead, one bead.
This beading technique, the right angle weave, is not for the faint of heart. These gals have lots of dexterity and smarts, and are nowhere near faint of heart. After each move I check their work. We move along through the steps, and we’re at it for a little over a couple of hours.
It’s going slowly only because it takes a while to check every one’s steps and correct where necessary. It feels like we’ve just about had it for the day, and we take a break. I start up with the next group of 15-20. We start from the top. These women are like the last, cheerful, game and quick. But, it is still taking time, and we stop at the same place we’ve stopped with the first group. I will be seeing them tomorrow.
One bead, one bead. This becomes another mantra, along with Shebop shebop shebop my baby. I ask the interpreter to translate “my baby” into Dinka. I can’t remember what it was, but they think this is really funny.
The next day there are fewer of them, the ones who are there will show the others.
We go on like this, laughing and singing and going in and out of frustrated as we work through the technique.
You’ll know what I mean when I show you if you’re interested. It is worth the work, the hearts are pretty.
By the third day of work sessions, we’ve whittled the group down to 8 or so, and they finish their first hearts.
I could go on and on about it, but suffice it to say that these women are talented, resourceful, funny and bright. They are not afraid to work and want to very much. I wish I had more time with them, but I envision them sitting in the shade right now, singing and stringing. One bead, one bead. Shebop shebop.
While the Heart Women and I are at this stringing thing, my fellow tent dwellers are at another slave group one day, the governor’s house the next. They go back to the polio people’s place and deliver 25-30 goats that Ellen has raised money to buy for them.
Late in the day one afternoon, we all go to the brand new basketball court that Ellen has raised money to build. There’s a coach and a teams worth of young men and a couple of girls, running drills across the courts. Ellen and her brother have brought them bags filled with new sneakers.
The final morning we are there, I gather with a few of the Heart Women and they watch while I string up one heart so they can see it done without the stops and starts we’ve had to go through together. I go through the supplies with an elder and one of the younger ones. I have the interpreter read through my written instructions. I give them the photo album I have made of each step.
Our little pod of people loads into the Rovers and heads to the airport. Our last hour and a half of bumpy roads. Good bye dear new friends, good bye South Sudan.
We head back to Nairobi for a night with some running hot water and indoor plumbing. The next day is filled to the brim with stuff we do. Would you like me to tell you about our day in Nairobi?

The first morning in Sudan started with the trusty crowing of Coq au Vin. No, though some of us might have fantasized about it, he never ended up as our supper.
Several of Dr. Luka’s women relatives had already delivered a bucket of water to the cement room where we can rinse down. They have a well at the compound, and it takes some serious pumping to get the water up. Pilates, Sudan style. Although it was of great convenience to have this well near by, I wondered what supplies might be needed to rig a check valve in order to keep the thing primed. It’s on my list of things to do if I ever am lucky enough to get there again.
There is a nice big thermos of boiling hot water set on our table, with Kenyan tea and sugar. The granola bars and trail mix supplies are cracked open, and we fuel up for our trip today and because you have to take your malaria pill on a full stomach.
Also, just fyi, you have to remember to keep hydrating with lots of water that must include one (but just one) equivalent of a bottle of Gatorade every day.
We pile into the cars and head off for a two and a half hour drive through the countryside towards the day’s destination. This is a dusty, bumpy beautiful road. We dodge tree stumps. We wait for the occasional herd of cattle to mosey on out of the way. The farther we go, the more the people we encounter look at us like we are aliens from another planet, landed in their midst in space ships. And yes, that’s just what we are. But they have no fear, and they instill no fear. They are delighted to see us. We drive through a market place. There is an open hut here with a table filled with used engine parts, a hut there with a table covered with slightly used flip flops, and what’s this!!! A generator fired cooler with Cold Coca Cola!!!
The Dinka word for “hello” sounds something like “Shebop”, which inspires me to sing to them “Shebop Shebop Shebop, my baby”. They join in! They clap along! They are delighted and delightful. These are some soulful people with not much more than the hands they can clap with. They know how to use them.
Along the way we pass women walking with water jugs on their heads. We pass many homesteads; with the grass hut, the twig fence, the food storage structure on stilts, the sandy yard with a goat or two, and children who run towards our caravan. I saw a woman in the shade working with a tool that looked something like a butter churn; a mortar and pestle in which she was pounding grain.
We’re heading towards a way station, an outpost. When we arrive there, we’re at a large clearing. There is a tree. Under this tree sit a little over a hundred people. Grown men and women, and children. They have come to this spot after walking for 8 days. These outposts are set up along their way, their way back home. These are all people who have just been bought out of slavery. During the civil war with the North, these and thousands of other South Sudanese people had been kidnapped and brought to North Sudan as slaves. They have seen murder and mayhem the likes of which we dare not imagine. The folks at Christian Solidarity International (CSI), with the help of very brave N Sudanese retrievers who help gather these people, pay for their freedom. I felt like we were at a stop on the Underground Railroad, and that any one of these faces could be a family member of Harriet Tubman. Here is a short video of the scene that I took with my phone:

They are quiet and a lot of them start the day with their faces covered. As time goes on the coverings peel away. They are encouraged to tell their stories, and if they have open wounds or other medical complaints, the Doctor and the nurse are there to help. Their names are recorded. Though this was not the case on this occasion, usually elders from their home territories meet them at one of these stations, and take them home. Sometimes family members are there to meet them too.
In the shadows stands a mysterious man, wrapped in white with his face completely covered. This, I soon realize, is the “conductor.”
Apparently over a hundred thousand people were kidnapped during the civil war, and now tens of thousands have been and are being helped home.
They are each given a “Sack of Hope”. In it are mosquito net, bowl, mat …. A celebration starts up. A truck load of sorghum is dumped on a cloth on the ground. I take a bowl and fill it to overflowing and pour it into the bowl of a waiting free man. I’m about to move on when I get a gentle tap on my hand from this fellow. I have left about a quarter of a cup of sorghum grain in my bowl, and he knows it’s value. I empty my bowl completely into his.
This is an eye opener for me.
One of us has brought balloons. With the help of a balloon pump, the first of many gets blown up. So much air goes in that the balloon breaks away from the pump and flies off with a whistle into the air. The children squeal with delight and go chasing after it. Their laughter is very close to the surface. The joy that they can get out of something so simple is endearing and heart breaking at the same time.
It is driven home over and over that we have so much and we take it so for granted.
On the drive home there is lots to contemplate. The sun has set and there are little fires burning in every family courtyard. Perhaps it’s sorghum, ground today, cooking in the pot.
Thanks to Tony Sayegh for the use of his photos in this post.
Tomorrow is another day in Sudan. I start working with my beautiful Heart Women. Shebop shebop shebop my baby!
Thank you for spending time with me and this story. More later!

Our planes’ wheels touch down onto Sudan’s sand and our little pod of people spills out into 100 degree air. The sunhats come out, the extra dose of sunscreen gets slapped on. Terra firma! How nice to be here!
It’s like we’re at the beach and there’s no ocean.
We climb into two (or was it three?) Land Rovers and start out on what is to be a week of bumpy roads. We’re kicking up clouds of dust. There is a half mile stretch of pavement somewhere there, and we went down it once. There is also a short stretch of electric line poles. Where the electricity comes from or is going, I don’t know.
The scene is straight out of a National Geographic magazine. We’ve stepped back into Year One. I am overcome with a feeling of the honor of being here, given a glimpse of a real life, breathing diorama like I’ve seen behind glass at the Museum of Natural History. Grass thatched roofed circular mud huts, woven grass fences, goats, chickens, children running and mothers moving slowly down well worn paths. How do the women stand that straight? How do they balance those containers of water on their gorgeous heads? How do they wrap those brightly colored cloths around themselves? The women carry most of the color here. They mix these colors up in ways only Mother Nature can do in lush places planets away like in Tahiti. And then there is the occasional dash of sparkle.
Our first stop, within twenty minutes or so, is the camp where the folks Ellen calls her ‘Polio People’ live and work. They are waiting for us, and it’s our first chance to immerse ourselves into the gracious, smiling joy of these people who have so little stuff and so much love. The kids gather around and, if smiled at, will return the love with 1000 watt smiles that are disarming and delightful. You immediately feel the trusting nature and the purity of these people. Dinka!
Ellen and co have started a program for the folks with polio. These people are turning bicycles that have been brought in for this purpose into wheelchairs. Here’s a picture of the operation. This woman can’t walk. Her wheelchair has changed her life. She and Ellen have a song they sing about woman power.
It’s hard to tear away, but we’re off to what is to be our home base for the next 6 days. If they tell you it will take 45 minutes to get somewhere in Sudan, double that time and you’ll be right. Off we go down that bumpy beautiful road, and one and a half hours later we’re pulling into Dr Luka’s compound. Dr Luka is a western educated man who returned home to be with his extended family and his community and to start a clinic. The folks at Christian Solidarity International are working with him. The nurse who is with us is on this team. In her other life, she owns an NBA basketball team. Here, she tends to the sick with a quiet and steady grace.
I really should only speak for myself, but I don’t think any of us would argue that we are whupped! It’s dark, and we have 14 tents to set up. We heave to. There are a couple of tables in the yard, decked with a lovely cloth. As we’re buzzing around getting our gear stowed and our tents up, out glide a couple of gals with bowls of food. Steamed rice, steamed potatoes, fried noodles, stewed goat and some other bowl of some thing. And bottles of wine and a tray of wine glasses. All of it a welcome sight! Here’s a morning after first night picture of our dining area.
How good it feels to get horizontal in the tent on the desert floor! Out like a light. That first night’s sleep only disturbed by a few dogs’ communications across the community. Maybe one of us is gently snoring. There’s some laughter somewhere. And way off in the distance, a group of drummers from one direction, and then from another.
Next thing I know it’s our trusty alarm clock “Coq au Vin”, king of kings, strutting his stuff from 5:30 am till we all get up. Cock a Doodle Do! OK, Coq, honey, we get it!
I had no idea how moving this next day would be. How could I anticipate this? I’ll be posting about it soon.

Hi friends,
When I was asked by my life long friend, Ellen Ratner, to go with her, and a handful of others, to Southern Sudan, where she wanted me to show some women in a village there how to make a particular beaded item that she could market for them, I was struck with several dilemmas.
Dip my toes into a war zone? I didn’t know. Go to the ends of the earth to teach a technique I did not yet know? I didn’t know. Go to Africa, a land I’d always wanted to visit? Yes. Learn a new skill and teach it to some women who could really use the income it could generate? Yes. Go outside my comfort zone, leaving grand daughter, family and friends behind? Hmmmm…
After years of Ellen’s generous friendship, finally she asks a favor of me. How could I say no?
So I went with great trepidation to the travel clinic at Mass General and got the 6 shots. Except for a tetnus shot some time in there, I hadn’t had an immunization since third grade. Once that was over I was curiously elated.
I went down to the local bead shop, Beadniks, and picked up some beads to try to learn the technique for making this item, the Swarovsky crystal Puffy Heart. Do not try this at home alone. I spent two weeks with my online tutorial, cursing the darkness. Ahhhrrrrrgh! Finally Ellen sent up a very talented beader from Long Island, Brenda Levy, who sat with me and got me over the rough spots. How was I going to show these Sudanese women how to make this heart when it took me so long to learn? Once I had it though, I had it. Does anyone want to learn? I can show you.
I ordered the supplies I’d need to teach between 20 and 40 people and leave them with enough supplies to keep them busy till June when Ellen is going back again.
Ellen has been going there for the last three years. She is a talk radio commentator, and had learned about this area from a group called Christian Solidarity International with whom she had done a show.
Here’s what we did to get there. We boarded a plane at JFK and flew all night to Zurich. Love Zurich by the way. Here’s a picture of the Swiss Alps from the airplane window. We jumped on board another plane in Zurich and flew another 8 hours to Nairobi, Kenya, a teeming city with millions of people in one place and then an expansive savannah right next door that spreads out till sunset. More on that later.
We hopped on two small planes in Nairobi with all our bags. This was lots of bags my friends. We had with us Ellen, her brother Bruce, her niece Rebby, a four person film crew (Academy Award winning documentarian Barbara Kopple and co.), John Eibner (co-head of the CSI), a rabbi and his wife, a journalist, a nurse, a politician/newspaper owner from Jersey and her assistant and little old me. We had a mountain of film gear, trail mix, clothes, tents, sneakers (more on that later), baby wipes and beads. Here’s a picture.
You fly and fly and fly over sandy desert. (See picture) You fly some more until you don’t think it’s possible to go any farther. You touch down on a dusty (read unpaved), hot runway. This is to refuel. You are now half way there. You fly and fly and fly some more, and then, you’re there. Aweil. South Sudan. South Sudan, which has just been through years of civil war with it’s northern half. South Sudan which has just now voted to become what is the world’s newest independent state.
I have so much more to tell you. Will you check back in for further pages? Stay tuned for the story of “Shebop”.
If you have any comments or questions, you may post them here.