Slave finds help for wound, reunited with mother
By Dr. John Eibner

At first glance, there was nothing unusual about 11-year-old Jonkor: He was sitting under a tree, one of nearly 100 other slaves. He was ragged, dirty, and somewhat listless after being released from his Arab master. But when Jonkor stood up, my eyes fixed on him in horror.

A two-year-old wound from his Arab masters’s blows was festering on Jonkor’s leg. CSI medical teams treated it and saved his leg from amputation!

On his shin, Jonkor had an open, festering wound the size of a fist. The injury was not fresh. Jonkor said two years before, his master had beaten him on the leg. The wound never healed but got steadily worse. By this time, he had given up trying to flick away the flies that competed day and night for a place on the puss that covered raw flesh.

Jonkor’s spirit had also been damaged by seven years in bondage. He was forced to respond to the name “Abdullah,” and his master threatened him, saying: “If you will not pray like a Muslim, I will kill you.” Jonkor obeyed.

We took Jonkor back to our camp and cleaned the wound. I thought the leg might have to be amputated. The infection had reached the bone. The next day, we transported Jonkor about 50 miles to CSI’s field clinic where he could receive food, shelter, and treatment. We left, hoping and praying that his leg might be saved.

Jonkor is reunited with this mother. She has been waiting for him for seven years – ever since slave traders raided their village. Another son was murdered in the attack, while her husband was wounded and later died.

Three months later, I returned to the clinic and found Jonkor’s leg healed. We flew him back to his home area where Arab slavers had raided his village and had taken him from his family.

As Jonkor climbed down the steps of the plane, a woman darted towards him. She threw her arms round him with loving hugs and kisses. It was Jonkor’s mother, Amam.

She said, “I am so happy, I am lost for words to describe my feelings. Today is a day of celebration for me. For years, I’ve been coming whenever an aid flight arrives. Since we were separated, not one day has passed when I haven’t thought of Jonkor. When I learned that CSI would visit today, I decided to keep watch at the airstrip. Thank God my hopes have been fulfilled.

At the blessed reunion for mother and son are, from the left: Jonkor, his mother, and brother.

Amam opened both hands, stretched her fingers wide and let out the traditional, high-pitched Dinka whoop: a shout for joy.