Twenty years ago this month, I took steps that, unbeknownst to me, would completely change the trajectory of my life.

I went to South Sudan.

As the anchor of the evening news at my local television station, I had convinced my news director that we needed to visit this landlocked region which was taking its first steps towards independence following a lengthy civil war.

My journey with the non-profit Canadian Aid for Southern Sudan (CASS), would prove to be a pivotal moment.

Canadian Aid for Southern Sudan

CASS makes an annual pilgrimage to the Aweil region. In 2006 their volunteer crew included:

• London firefighters who taught former child solders construction techniques while starting work on the foundation of the Canada School.
• Businessmen who supported grassroots micro-enterprise endeavours.
• Other volunteers who ran activities with the local children.

My job, together with cameraman Wayne Jennings, was to share stories from this African land that few people in the London area likely knew much about. A place where basic life necessities that we take for granted, were largely non-existent.

A Trip of a Lifetime and a New Reality

Our small, chartered plane landed on the dusty runway of Gordhim Parish and it fell to us to unload the cargo. Backpacks, fuel, generators, toilet paper and flats of eggs were all carefully loaded into waiting vehicles, all under the watchful eyes of the locals.

Over the next ten days we boiled and treated our drinking water. We hung on tight as we drove across dusty and bumpy expanses on non-existent in the back of a pick-up truck. Showering was under a thin stream of water, in a small, wooden structure about the size of an outhouse.

We met with women’s groups and local leaders under expansive mahogany trees. We watched a cow being slaughtered with knives that had long ago lost their sharpness.

There was no wi-fi. Cell service was sporadic and located in one specific spot. There was no running water or toilets. Electricity was rationed to just a couple of hours in the evenings, powered by generators. Locals lived in mud huts with thatched roofs and dirt floors. The women walked kilometres to fill jerry cans with water from the closest well.

Kids were curious. They’d touch my hair, and the many dots on my arms, giggling as they tried to learn the word freckles. They all wanted to have their pictures taken and clamoured to see their reflections staring back at them from the camera’s flip screen. One toddler started sobbing when he saw me, terrified of this very white woman in his midst.

Life was about Survival

Life was about survival, a very different survival from what I knew. The basics – access to education, healthcare, nutritious and plentiful food, and clean water – simply did not exist on a consistent basis.

It was the first time I was experiencing such challenges in real life, far removed from the ads of crying babies covered in flies that appear on my two-dimensional tv screen. And it struck a chord.

A Career Change

We wrapped up our visit and returned home to share the stories we had gathered but the images and experiences from South Sudan stayed with me. I started thinking about life beyond television.

When CASS returned to South Sudan in 2007 and 2008, I went with them, volunteering to tell more stories of these incredibly resilient people and to see if the emotional high from my first trip was still there. It was. With each trip, the door to a new career was opening wider.

In August of 2008, I swung it wide open, hanging up my suits and microphone to embark on a contract as a humanitarian aid worker in Indonesia. That original nine-month opportunity turned into 18 months, and led to further work in Pakistan, Japan, and Africa, the place where it all started.

This career change wasn’t on my radar but I’m so grateful that I saw the door opening and made the decision to walk through it. It wasn’t an easy decision and there was a lot of stress involved in leaving a secure, well-paying job with great perks. Twenty years later, I’d say it’s worked out pretty well. I am a better person for it.

Share Your Story

This is my career-changing moment. I would love to hear yours. How hard was it for you to take the leap of faith that it would all work out?