Who gets a concussion from getting into a Kombi?

So we all know I am not the world's most coordinated individual. That lack of coordination has reached a new level as of Wednesday. As I stepped onto the Kombi (Van-type taxis that primarily transport students), I somehow managed to stand up right into the doorframe, my head taking the brunt of the collision. I was pretty dizzy and had a headache and nausea right after but I brushed it off as a bad bump. By the time I had vomited twice, I realized the bump may have been harder than I thought. My dad (pharmacist) and Heather’s mom (nurse) both said all my symptoms pointed to a concussion and because I had thrown up, I should go to the doctor. So to the trauma center we went, Bruce (one of our directors) driving and Heather coming along as well. I’m happy to say that the private hospitals are quick, efficient, and clean when you have the means to pay for treatment. (I cannot say the same for the government hospitals, which are a mess. Even the private hospital was not a happy place for those who didn’t have insurance). I still have a headache and am dizzy but nothing too bad. I suppose that’s what I get for being a klutz. Who gets a concussion from getting into a Kombi?

Paint, Paint...and More Paint

Our first project at the Haven has been to paint five bedrooms and all the bathrooms. In two days we have gotten two rooms painted. The floorboards, cabinets, and floorboards on the first room have been completely scoured. As we scrubbed on our hands and knees (yes the Cinderella song about the bubbles was brought to mind) we realized how needed these small contributions are. Every time a staff member passed us they would smile and cluck under their breath, murmuring a thank you here and there. It may not be much to scrub floors and get the stickers off the cabinets, but it is something they don’t have to do; time they can devote to other things. During a seminar on service, we discussed tenents of community development. One of these being “be an agent of change instead of a passive observer.” Being an agent of change connotes work of great magnitude. I’ve come to think of it, especially in the light of community development, that being a change agent can be simply small positive improvements that sustains until a collaborative and larger scale change might be made. So as we walk around spattered with paint (the paint sticks all too well), they have time to do other things, and the environment for these children is just that much improved. Small improvements are great things in the life of a child. I think we can live with the annoying paint spackles. :) 

Catholic Truly Means "Universal"...just with a couple differences

Laura and I went to student mass on campus today (our third Mass in South Africa). It’s put on by a small group called ACTS, held in a classroom, and said by the priest from the church that is basically in our backyard. It sounds simple when described thus. The experience itself is anything but. The songs were a mix of English songs we’ve all sung since elementary school and songs in Xhosa and other tribal and African languages. I’ve never heard a group of young people sing with such emotion and such smiles before. I’ve never felt so welcome in a new group of students before. It was interesting to see the differences in the style of mass as well as changes in wording. I can tell you that replacing the words you’ve prayed for years with a different version is much harder than one would think. No matter how many times I remind myself that I am supposed to respond with “And with your spirit,” I inevitably say “And also with you.” The differences in the Penitential Rite and the Nicene Creed catch me off guard to be certain. You can spot the Americans, even in Mass, because we are the ones saying all the wrong words. I report all this, not to complain, but rather to share the excitement of a new kind of Mass.  Each time I go to Mass, I notice something new and different. I notice how they sing a part we speak and visa versa. But most of all, through all of these new songs and new voices, I realize something new. God knows every language. His love knows no bounds. When I hear the new chorus singing, I hear a different note played by the Lord. God shines through in all the smiles and the diverse voices in a new and exciting way. I can’t wait to keep seeing Him shine.

"The Lion King" Gets Put to Shame

Everyone thinks of going on a Safari when they think of Africa. We actually got to! We went to Addo Elephant National Park and Schotia Game Reserve and saw over 22 different kinds of animals. Not only did we see them, we saw them within 25 feet of the bus (at Addo) and the safari vehicles (at Schotia). Rather than list off all the animals and attempt to tell the story of how we saw each unique one, check out the albums on my Facebook. The pictures tell a story far better than I could. Make sure to note the baby elephants, warthogs, zebras, wildebeests, and lions. The cute factor is somehow not diminished by the fact that they are dangerous animals and not a whole lot separates them from you. Schotia Game Reserve was an experience to behold. Not only did we drive in an open safari vehicle, we ate a traditional South African meal of Kudu/Impala stew in an open-air pavilion.

            What the camera couldn’t capture is the true beauty of South Africa’s nature. The sun shone a perfect gold and the sky’s blue was crisper than ever. The hills seemed endless in their rolling. The moon shone brighter and more beautifully when it shone over the hippos and lions of the night. Driving along underneath the African stars and moon, I realized something. Everyone at home gets to see this same beautiful moon. Even though Zach wasn’t in the safari vehicle next to me, he gets to see the same moon every night. Seeing all the beauty yesterday helped me to realize how beautiful all of God’s creation is, even if we see the same landscape every day. We have the gift of beauty in front of us every day. I want to start appreciating it. (Even if there won’t be baby lions in that beauty every day.)

Exploring New Brighton and New Ideas

You have an idea of what the townships are like before you go there. Your idea is altered when you drive through and begin working at a service site. Your idea becomes a whole new beast when you spend a day in the environment these people live in, when you explore their economy and their culture, when you are welcomed into their homes and shown a small portion of how they live.

Today Bradley, a tour guide/teacher/political activist who had given our city tour and had shown us a small piece of the townships last week, took us into the heart of the townships. Our first stop was a Spaza shop that produce a simple bread in a traditional style of African baking (a Spaza shop is a small shop in what is essentially a shipping container that the government subsidizes for small businesses). Our second stop was unexpectedly impressive. We were taken to a soup kitchen run by the iThembe Women’s Group. The woman running the show was quite modest so when Bradely exposed her fascinating past, we were taken aback at being so close to history. This woman, “Mama” Regina Mngadi, was a political activist alongside Mandela. She was imprisoned with the same people and “ran in the same circles”. She has worked as a Christian social services worker for over 12 years in addition to this and retired to provide a service for the people of New Brighton. She serves the children lunch every day out of her own garden and the little funds she and the iThembe Women’s group can come by. She says with a warm smile and a low chuckle “I just do what I love, which is to help people.” As Bradely says, these people are rare. I am blessed to have been that close to one of them and to be invited to work with her and the children she helps in the future.

Following such a historical moment, we moved on to the art of the townships. We visited a pottery studio of a woman who keeps her talents in the townships so that it is authentic as well as to avoid the exploitation of tourism. Her pottery provided an insight into the creativity and innovation of the people. The gorgeous art was also purchased as gifts to bring home, gifts that are truly and uniquely from South Africa.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with small stops to point out the houses of political activists and memorials to atrocities of Apartheid. Between these stops we visited a tavern in New Brighton that is frequented by political activists within the townships. A surprising phenomenon occurred here. I almost expected it to be tense, even unwelcome in a sense that 9 white people with one colored man would enter into the place they socialize. Instead we received nods, waves, and smiles, with only a few questioning looks. Bradley pointed out that 5 years ago that would not have been the case. The racial lines are blurring and it is acceptable to enter into each other’s domains when entering with a polite open attitude and a smile for everyone. It was unexpected to learn so much from having a beer in a tavern. It was unexpected that I would have a better understanding of what still stands in the way of the peaceful and comfortable mingling of races in South Africa. So much of it is still the pain of Apartheid and the pain the government still causes the people of South Africa. I will not diminish that fact. It seems in part though that in social situations, the lines can be crossed if only you have an open heart and mind.

Our last stop of the day was to a vegetable market on the side of the street where a bag of potatoes was 7 rand (one dollar) and two peppers for 4 rand (75 cents). Here the smiles and laughs continued, with still a few skeptical eyes as these markets are not frequented by whites (according to Bradely). Some seemed to look at us like it was perfectly normal, others looking at us almost as if they were pleasantly surprised and glad that we did not find it uncomfortable to be there.

To be perfectly frank I am honored to have experienced a day in the life of the people of New Brighton. I feel that with this new perspective on how the township operates and what people do for a living, for entertainment, and for survival, I will be better able to serve people. I will know the heritage of the children at the Haven, at least to a small extent. Today has sparked in me a desire to learn so much more about the history not written down, about the culture one cannot experience unless guided through it in the place it grows.  

Cedriono

February 2011

The first day of service at the AIDS Haven (House of Resurrection) presented with the most smiles, laughs, and shrieks of small children I’ve heard in quite some time. The sounds and sights were quite welcome, indeed they were eye-opening. Towards the beginning of the morning, I noticed one small boy sitting alone by a wall looking very glum. Discovering the Hulk toy he harbored within his grasp was the key to producing a smile in this little person. Spinning in circles in my arms even produced a laugh. One of the housemothers witnessed this and exclaimed that she hadn’t seen Cedriono smile in weeks and proceeded to thank me with a warm smile.

I learned a simple lesson during my first two days at the Haven. Children need love. Simple as that, the desire for care and attention supersedes other needs at times. The children at the Haven have limited special attention simply due to the fact that there aren’t enough staff members to pay attention to each child for extended periods of time (beyond their immediate needs). The South African culture values the expression of love and joy in a way that extends beyond the American celebration of these values. If love and joy are present in their lives, the hardships that are inevitable seem to be lessened by the cushion of a hug or happy conversation. 

The Brick Wall

Shortly before coming here we received an email containing images from the townships, images which touched me. However, when actually driving through to Bush Camp, we saw the townships in person. The images became even more harrowing when we visited Missionvale yesterday. Missionvale is a township with approximately 130,000 residents in a space in which only 15,000-20,000 would live in a residential area in the US. The shacks, for they can be called nothing else, are built with building materials with roofs held down with rocks. Running water and plumbing are unheard of here. Outhouses in the backs of yards are a dangerous place in the evenings (especially for young girls) for violence is rife in this place, brought on by gangs, drugs, and alcohol. Missionvale Care Center, the place where some of us may be volunteering (hopefully I will be one of them), is an oasis of help for this area. The care center holds 9 departments, including, but not limited to, a nutrition center, a school, a food shelf, a garden, a nursing unit that provides home care for the area (traveling to the homes to deliver care), and several skills learning centers. Sister Ethel, an Irish Catholic nun, who saw an extreme need for aid in the area, founded the center. She set up under a tree and her operation slowly grew to the much larger settlement with several buildings, with the help of over 200 Irish workers. The conditions in which they live hit me like a brick wall, but what hit me much harder was what came next.

            The most amazing part about this center was the overall attitude held by workers and those receiving aid alike. Smiles are in no short supply here, nor are waves or a look so friendly your heart melts. The children peer into your eyes with such happiness and hope that your heart cannot help but break. I cannot fathom going through the horrors these individuals go through on a daily basis and even being civil, much less so friendly and compassionate. The attitude held through in the House of Resurrection, an AIDS Haven for children. The attitude spread through to the township we toured today. Such smiles in the face of such destitution give one hope for life. They give one a sense that God will provide and will help people to at least be happy. Such smiles make you realize that we must give them more than smiles. We must help to give them cause to smile in some way. I hope from the bottom of my heart that our work this semester at the very least helps us to give them more smiles.

Bush Camp

Bush camp was an experience to be sure. Full of muddy surprises, hand sanitizer was our friend throughout. Lesson number one learned during bush camp: do not take drowsy medication for your cold when you will be entertained with camp activities designed for tweens. Lesson number two: Once the rain starts, you should basically give up on being clean in any sense (other than your hands with our friend the sanitizer). Lesson number three: swimming and canoeing on an African river in the bright sunshine with mountains in view is a breathtaking, once in a lifetime experience. Lesson four: yoga in the rain is quite liberating. Five: army crawling through mud pits is fun but results in every inch of your body harboring some sort of mud. Now I will desist with the numbering. The sun was mean with heat but the fun kept going. I climbed the rock wall all the way to an overhang that became my braking point. The heat was relieved by a nice light rain, which transitioned into a torrential downpour (3 inches in one hour at one point). That annoying but much needed rain proceeded to flood us out of our tents the second night. However, the sleepover on tables pushed together in the dining hall was pretty entertaining (although not overly restful). After the muddy smelly weekend was completed, Langerry seemed an oasis to us all. I’m finally clean and feel mostly dry, though my tennis shoes are reluctant to let go of the mud and moisture of bush camp.

           

The Long Trek...

Technically the long trek to South Africa began last year but a few days before I left, it started to hit me that I was actually leaving. Packing began to consume my thoughts and may have stressed me out a little (thanks for the patience and Zach J). The night before I left consisted of Zach, Mom, and Dad calming down a slightly freaking out Katie. Packing wasn’t complete till 4:03 am when I left the door. Thankfully Zach got to wait by the gate with me and send me off with a movie worthy airport goodbye and I could see him at the last possible second (cheesy yes I know). Of course the first flight was delayed by an hour so I had my first run through an airport to make my connection in Chicago. The six-hour layover in DC was made even lovelier by spending it with my roommates Laura and Heather. My nerves tingled at a high pitch as I boarded the plane. Thankfully rearrangements were made so that I could sit next to Heather on the wonderful 17-hour plane ride to Johannesburg.

            The first taste of South African culture came with the funny safety video, which came in the form of a cartoon. The plane food began with Tika Masala and kept going with fun new dishes. By the time we arrived in Port Elizabeth we were all sufficiently exhausted and certainly in a daze. We had also gotten used to the chipper South African accents, which lilt and glide along words in a soothing sing song. Norma and Bruce, our directors, were a welcome and cheery sight. I’m not sure I actually saw Langerry Holiday Flats until the next morning when I had woken up slightly more refreshed and phone calls to Zach and parents had been made. The next day was filled with unpacking, beach time, and a grocery store trip.  Settling in was a welcome phenomenon but little did we know that we would be uprooted in a slightly shocking manner during the days to come…

Rise and Shine, Up and Go! South Africa is here!!!

South African Adventures have been underway for approximately 8 days now so this blog is a little belated. I’ve finally conquered the jetlag and am no longer in a complete daze. The past week has been filled with a slight dose of culture shock mixed with amusement at things that are different (yes including driving on the wrong side of the road). From airport time in excess to rain and mud in “the Bush”, time has moved fast and shows no signs of slowing down. Rather than flood this with a novel containing the events of the last week, I’m going to put a few posts up so as to make it at least a little more readable (not that I ever ramble). Feel free to skim through my hopefully endless ramblings on this blog, root through and find the actually interesting things.