Under a bruised sky in the quiet outskirts of Malakal, soft rain taps against broad leaves while far-off thunder grumbles like an old drum. A hollow stream echoes faintly beneath, its water cavity resonating with each drop that finds its surface. Somewhere beyond the trees, dry bamboo stalks knock together in the wind, keeping time with the pulse of the storm. This is the hush that comes before deep reflection—the perfect cradle for slow, steady breathing and the meditation of a mind learning to