Machine Gun Men

While in Sudan, two times I found  myself at a restaurant wishing I was eating back at our Sudanese kitchen. Most of the food we ate at our kitchen was basic and unpleasant but it was safe, nonetheless. Rather, at the two restaurants, safety was not something I felt covering me like a warm blanket. Both times we ate out at a restaurant I felt vulnerable, each in different ways.

The first time we ate out was at a "hotel." We had met a woman who was having a grand opening of her restaurant and she invited us to the grand opening. We decided to come and help celebrate. The weird thing was that she called her restaurant a "hotel" even though there were no bedrooms. The "hotel" was just one room made of concrete walls and a tin roof. Apparently, in Sudan, a hotel is supposed to be a fancy type of restaurant.

So there we were, sitting at a table behind the restaurant, next to a small lake. Down below our table was nothing but darkness. It was night and there was no electricity- save that of the "hotel" generator- so we could not see the lake beyond our table. We could only see our table and the people hanging around; yet, anyone from any direction could see us sitting at our table. Exposed is the one word I would use to describe our table's position. We were visible from every direction. Suddenly, I remembered we had been personally directed to this table, to this very exposed table. I began seeing lots of men walking around with machine guns. One man with a machine gun sat down at the table next to us. Another man with a machine gun started talking to the person grilling our food. What if we were being set-up? We hadn't really known the owner for more than a couple days. Why are there so many men with machine guns? Questions looming in my head brought dark clouds of fear.

Another man with a machine gun came and sat at the table behind us. They seemed to be surrounding us, slowly, as to not raise our suspicion. But I was ready and alert to these things. My fellow comrades sat and talked amongst themselves. I couldn't join in on the pleasant conversation. All I could do was notice the many eyes watching us. Our food was brought over to our table. Grilled goat meat. I was famished from a long day in the sun but internally I debated whether I should even partake. Sanitation isn't a big deal in Africa like it is in the U.S., even for a fancy restaurant that can afford to call itself a "hotel." There was a fair chance we could get sick even if people were not conspiring against us.

I grabbed a toothpick and poked a prime piece of the goat meat. The fact that it was grilled added a familiar charred flavor and made it go down easily. As I ate, I was on high alert to the actions of the men with machine guns, keenly aware of their every move. If one crossed his legs, I knew: I saw it out of the corner of my eye.

As we continued to sit and talk at the table, I thought about my comrades and their ability to relax in the very situation that was making me on edge. My heightened sense of awareness and looking at possibilities went to the worst case scenario. In some situations, this might have been helpful but, instead, all it did was fill me with fear. I let my imagination get the best of me.

In reality, the lack of police in that community allows the door to open up for things to get out of hand unless some sense of authority is present. The machine gun men were probably hired security to deter things from going awry. Either way, it takes a little while to get comfortable with strangers roaming around you who are carrying machine guns. It takes a while because you realize you are not in control; you are at their mercy. The only thing you can do is trust in God that they do not want to hurt you.

Situations like this are opportunities for fear to take hold. Fear only has as much power as you let it. If you let it control you, it will. If you know it is fear and confront it head on, it has no power to control you. In my case, I simply had to switch my overactive imagination to OFF.