Rain

Rain often represents a new beginning leading to new life. Since I’ve begun my time as a YAGM volunteer, rain has come at many times of transition: when the bus of YAGM volunteers left the O’Hare International Airport and arrived at the University of Chicago, where we would live for one week during orientation; on our last day in Chicago when we packed our things for our year of international service; as we traveled from Johannesburg to Pietermaritzburg, where the ten YAGM volunteers in South Africa learned about MUD (Ministry Upstream Downwind – http://elcamud.blogspot.com/) and the ELCA’s companion church in Southern Africa: ELCSA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in Southern Africa); and, most recently, during my second and third days in Cool Air, as I begin to settle into my new home. I hope that the symbolism of rain bringing new life holds.
*I wrote this post in September, but haven't posted it until now. Rain has been a good sign.

Christmas Greetings

Wonderful Family and Friends,
Merry Christmas! I hope you are enjoying a holiday season full
of joy and peace. In eighty degree weather, I am struggling to
convince myself that Christmas is just a few days away. Practicing a
reenactment of the birth of Jesus with my Sunday School kids requires
thinking about sun protection. Yet, I continue to receive God's
blessing both in my communities in Cool Air and Pietermaritzburg, but
also in angels I meet in my South African experience. Thank you for your support in words and prayers. I pray that God will lovingly bless you this season of celebrating Christ's birth.
With Christmas Spirit,

Kate

November Snapshots and Sound Bytes

*The goal of the snapshots section is to give you verbal pictures of my experiences in and perceptions of South Africa, which are limited and not representative of South Africa as a whole, just as my experiences in and perceptions of the US do not represent all of the US.
Personal:
- I finished two books; I recommend anyone to read Desmond Tutu’s God Has a Dream, and if you’re interested in reading about the last 15 years of South African politics, read Alan Russell’s Bring Me My Machine Gun
- Talked with Sandy Govender’s 7th graders at a local school about Native Americans and answered their questions as a US representative
- Started a Lutheran youth group
- The youth group got accepted to a regional youth leadership program through PACSA (Pietermaritzburg Agency for Christian Social Activism)
- Started a Sunday School program, assisted by the youth group
- Colored cards with my two younger host sisters
- Typed up 300 students’ information, including their birthdays, identification number, languages, ethnicity, and their parents’ information
- Stood in a room with a South African, a Zimbabwean, and a citizen from the Democratic Republic of Congo

Sound bytes
- “He killed our country.” –Eva, referring to Mugabe’s role in Zimbabwe, a housekeeper from Zimbabwe
- “We don’t need corruption.” –A Lutheran Parish representative on his views of some government officials
- “They are a part of us.” –The same representative, pointing to the mud homes along the highway, about how for some people, their lives have not gotten better since Apartheid due to the corruption in politics.

The Importance of Children: A Morning Devotional for the Teachers of Dalton Primary

“People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.” Mark 10: 13-16

Jesus wants the little children to come to him. During this devotional, I will share three points: children are important, we are examples of Jesus Christ’s love, and we are all children of God.
First of all, I want to thank you for recognizing the importance of children, as you chose the profession of being teachers. In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus encourages the children to come to him. At the time, this identifying of the importance of children was contrary to the cultural norm, where adults treated children as less than a person deserving respect. Jesus ignored the cultural norms as he pointed out the significance of children. Thank you for shaping the leaders of tomorrow.
Secondly, we are each examples of Jesus’ love. My favorite part of each school day is when we gather at the beginning of the day to sing and pray. As we worship, the children look up to you, literally in front of them, as Christian examples. Not only do they see you as examples of Christianity at work as you worship, but also as you act out your beliefs in the classroom. We serve as important examples in these children’s lives, because the scripture says that it is only as children that we “receive the kingdom of God.” We should show Jesus’ love in all our actions.
How do we show love? By hitting them? By encouraging them? Jesus, our example in every day life, tells us to love our neighbors, not with a few actions, but with every action. Jesus demonstrated love by washing the disciples feet. He said verbally and through his actions that status and power does not change how much we love each neighbor. Our savior embraced children.
Thirdly, we are all children of God. We all matter equally to God. Jesus gives children as an example of who receives the kingdom of God. I really enjoy the South African concept of “ubuntu,” which means that we are humans because of one another. In how we treat our fellow children, no matter their wealth, nationality, race, or age, we bring ourselves as humanity up or down.
Thank you for recognizing the importance of children. We should show Jesus’ love to the children in every action, every day. As children of God, each of us we are precious in God’s eyes. May we be instruments of God’s love, this day and always.

November Events

- Attended a Christian, ‘Indian origin’ couple’s wedding and thanksgiving service
- Lutheran Church Circuit Rally, a service that all the Lutheran congregants are encouraged to attend, and the Circuit Meeting
- Shared a weekend in Durban with two ELCA volunteers, during which we visited uShaka Marine Park, shopped, ate delicious seafood, and took many pamphlets from a visitors’ information bureau
- November 25th – 30th: A retreat with group of ELCA volunteers during which we celebrated Thanksgiving and traveled to the Drakensburg mountains and Lesotho

A Word in isiZulu: Sawubona/Sanbonani

Sawubona – used to greet one person
Sanibona/Sanibonani – used to greet more than one person

IsiZulu speakers will be impressed if you say “Sau’bona” or “San’bon” instead, because you will sound more like the natives. 

Greeting other people is a sign of respect in IsiZulu culture.

From a South African Friend: A Local Teacher, Sandy Govender *

South Africa’s ‘colourful’ past renders it an interesting case study for justice and its implementation. Major class differences exist among the citizens of our beautiful country; luxurious suburbs slumber adjacent to monstrous informal ‘squatter’ settlements. Such extreme differences in wealth and lifestyle exacerbate crime.
Although apartheid has disappeared from our legislation for fifteen years, its legacy still taunts us, having left some sectors of the population financially secure and others poverty stricken. For many South African youth poverty is the order of the day and a sense of hopelessness pervades. Many view crime as the only alternative or rather hope.
Initially when I hear of suffering inflicted on my people by ruthless criminals I wish for a justice system that would cause them as much pain and suffering as they so vengefully inflict on their victims. However, such reasoning is quite primitive and unproductive and does not serve to improve our society. Justice which does not sought to rehabilitate criminals is base and when we behave in this fashion we are lowering our standards of behavior to match that of criminals.
Many South Africans are disillusioned as our justice system battles to process the growing number of trials with efficacy. Hence many criminals walk free. Added to our disappointment and yearning for justice are our country’s new leaders who confuse serving ‘selflessly’ and ‘selfishly’, corruption is rife. Politicians line their pockets rather than the bellies to the nations growing population of AIDS orphans.
I am pretty sure that by now you are contentedly chewing on your apple pie marveling at how dark Africa really is. But to me, a 36 year-old female, a South African of ‘Indian origin’, this is my home, warm and familiar. Justice for me takes on many dimensions not just judgments and criminal courts. My personal beliefs are very strongly rooted in the law of Karma. Karl Marx described religion as the opium of the masses, yet I am quite content leaving justice to be meted out by God. “Behind the sometimes seemingly random or chaotic succession of events in our lives as well as in the world lies concealed the unfolding of a higher order and purpose” (Eckhart Tolle- A New Earth). Although this maybe difficult to conceive, especially, with the many senseless murders, we must realize that sometimes what is lost can never be found, we must accept and so find peace. Peace comes from a place of knowing that we are just a small part of a higher order and as expressed in the old zen saying “The snow falls, each flake in its appropriate place.”

Sandy Govender
November 20, 2009

*Added to blog with permission from Sandy Govender

Justice

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” Matthew 5:6-8

From my room, I can see the tops of sugarcane blowing in the wind on the other side of the family’s wall. The sugarcane that surrounds Cool Air, my community, is bittersweet- not literally, but figuratively. The sugarcane is a symbol of injustice.
A few weeks after moving into the Zondi home, I saw my first other white person in the community. The older man drove his truck by our home at 5:30 in the morning. That evening I shared my surprise sighting with my host sister, who explained that the man was probably the farmer checking his sugarcane fields. Although white settlers originally brought the field workers from India, I often see the current field workers, who are all black. The difference between the farm owner and farm workers cannot only be seen based on skin color, but also in their homes. The farm owner’s home may easily be picked out by the palm trees standing above his nice, isolated home. According to my host mom, the farm workers live in compounds built by the farm owner or shacks because they do not make enough, less than R1,000 or US$140 a month, to buy their own nice homes. Is this the post-apartheid promise of justice?
Justice is a complex concept. Defined, justice means being just. According to Webster, “just” means: right or fair; righteousness; well-founded.* In No Future Without Forgiveness, Archbishop Desmond Tutu clarifies between two different types of justice: retributive justice and restorative justice. He encourages South Africa to pursue restorative justice where, “In the spirit of ubuntu, the central concern is the healing of breaches, the redressing of imbalances, the restoration of broken relationships, a seeking to rehabilitate both the victim and the perpetrator…” (54). Tutu’s idea of the goal of restorative justice, to create balance between humans, falls in line with Jesus’ call in the Beatitudes for us to pursue righteousness and be merciful. As Christians, we should pursue restorative justice. We are actively pursuing restorative justice, according to Tutu, when “…efforts are being made to work for healing, for forgiving, and for reconciliation” (55). We should seek justice today to help heal the pain caused by the injustice of yesterday and stifle the injustice of tomorrow.
Although, in South Africa, injustice began well before the Apartheid government, the Apartheid government seized the occurring racism and maximized the injustice against non-white, particularly black, for the white people’s benefit. In Bring Me My Machine Gun, Alan Russell explains the unfair redistribution of land, stating: “In the stroke of the pen, about 75 percent of South Africa’s population was relegated to about 13 percent of its territory” (182). When the Apartheid government started writing laws separating people based on skin color in the late 1940s and early 1950s, the government included a law that redistributed the land so that white people owned the majority of land and forced blacks to live on small pieces of land. Russell asserts that, “Under white rule three-quarters of the land was in the hands of the white minority” (189). Even though 25 percent of the land changed hands to the black government when apartheid ended in 1994, the majority of land continues to be owned by the white minority. Although the government continues to buy back land from willing white farmers, the process is moving slowly. Symbolically, the minority of whites still owning the majority of land argues against the end of opportunity based on race. However, the shadow of the chaos in Zimbabwe reminds South Africans to be patient. Yet, the end of the Apartheid’s injustice continues to affect South Africans without an end in sight.
My host mom states that they still need justice in South Africa. My host sister says that their will never be justice in South Africa. My host mom holds that justice will only occur when all South Africans are colored, for then they will have the same colored skin. I pray that skin color will not stop us for seeing all people as our neighbors to love and to strive for justice for all.
I am a white American from a privileged background. Who am I to speak about justice? Yet, through living in post-apartheid South Africa, I more clearly see the injustice in my own country, the US. Will anyone read this essay who is not white? Why can I only name a handful of friends in the US who are not white? How can I denounce the oppression in South Africa while I reap the benefits of my country killing the native people or moving them onto small reservations? Can I argue that our society is not racially segregated? How do I perpetrate, or at least ignorantly allow, injustice?
In the Sermon on the Mount in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus encourages his followers to care for everyone, particularly the marginalized in society. The Beatitudes stress that in the end, the world’s standards stand as contrary to God’s guidance. Jesus tells us, His followers, to pursue justice. Although life on earth may seem a lot easier if we just keep to our own business, Jesus actively cares for the marginalized in society, and, as his hands and feet in the world, so should we. In the inspiring and fantastic book, God Has a Dream, Desmond Tutu poignantly points out: “Can you imagine what would happen in this world if we accepted that fact about ourselves-that whether we like it or not we are members of one family?” (22). May we walk side by side with all of our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Heavenly Father, so often we loose ourselves in the rhythm of life and forget to live compassionately. Help us to see and act against the injustice in our society hand in hand with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Amen

October Events

- Received Diwali cookies from Indian neighbors
- Visited Rorke’s Drift, a Lutheran sponsored arts and crafts center, particularly famous for art produced during the apartheid. Kristen, a fellow volunteer, and I accidentally toured the nearby battlefield. We transferred among six taxis to arrive at Umpumulo.
- Traveled to the coastal cities of Stanger and Ballito
- Attended a teachers’ union meeting
- Attended Lutheran Diocesan Dean’s Meeting and a Lutheran Choir Festival at Umpumulo, where the regional bishop lives
- Worshiped at the Diocesan Rally with about 4,000 Lutherans

A Word in isiZulu: -zulu

Translation*: -zulu (i- ama-) (n) heaven; sky; weather; climate; rain;
lightning.
-Zulu (u-) (n) Zulu nation.
-zulu (isi-) (n) Zulu language; Zulu habit or custom; zulu manner
or life.
-Zulu (um- ama-) (n) member of the Zulu race.
Grammar: -zulu is the stem of the verb, which gives the meaning,
and the prefix slightly alters the meaning.
Comments: Basically, I live in heaven with people of heaven
surrounded by a heavenly way of life.
* “-zulu” and “-Zulu.” Scholar’s Zulu Dictionary. 3rd ed. Compiled by G. R. Dent and C. L. S.
Nyembezi. Pietermaritzburg: Shuter & Shooter Publishers (Pty) Ltd., 1969.

Snapshots

*The goal of the snapshots section is to give you verbal pictures of my experiences in and perceptions of South Africa, which are limited and not representative of South Africa as a whole, just as my experiences in and perceptions of the US do not represent all of the US.
South Africa:
- Even though two Lutheran churches exist, based primarily on race differences, only one Lutheran Seminary exists where citizens of South Africa and other southern African countries attend
- The Lutheran church has different leagues for men, women, Sunday School, youth, young adults, and music, and members often wear their league uniform to church
- The structure of my Lutheran church has five layers
- An offering is taken specifically for communion costs
- On South Africa’s reality TV show, “Big Brother”, participants, from all over Africa, must speak in English
KwaZulu-Natal:
- Zulus use the same numbers as in English, which helps me find the scripture readings
- People often call the US, America
- People often react positively to hearing I’m from the US
My Community:
- Life here is similar to home: people wear Western clothes, have indoor plumbing and electricity, and, in my home, eat cereal, granola, and/or oatmeal for breakfast
- My community, Cool Air, was zoned for Indians prior to the end of the apartheid, so approximately one half of the population is Indian, most of the rest are Zulus, with a few other native tribes of South Africa, and a few coloreds (mixed race); I am the only Caucasian living in Cool Air
- Due to Cool Air’s mixed community, people often use English to communicate, most Indians speak English in their homes, and most people’s English is very good
- My sisters attend a school that primarily teaches in English
- My host family in Cool Air drives nicer cars than my family
- My host family irons their clothes everyday
- People more often throw wrappers on the ground
- People keep their houses very clean
- Children are nice to and friendly with me
- My host family knows no one in Cool Air who has the Internet capacity to send a file as large as this newsletter
Personal:
- I finished Desmond Tutu’s No Future Without Forgiveness
- I laughed and cried while watching “Blood Diamond”
- Most people who guess my age think I’m 16 or 17
- Almost daily, I run with my three younger host sisters and three young neighbors
- I created a schedule for myself at school so that teachers may sign up to have me teach in their class
- I eat curry fairly regularly
- A tapestry of Nelson Mandela hangs in my living room

An Experience of isiZulu (Heaven)

A candle goes out. A cell phone turns on. The complexities of a modern, traditional, Zulu ceremony astound me. Zu and her ceremony party of three girls prepare for their initiation service by putting on clothing that will be symbolically burned. Nombulelo takes my hand and leads me into the new, cylindrical hut. (I was told by U.S.ers to call huts, dwellings, but my host sisters bemusedly asked why not call them what they are.) Over one hundred singing people line the walls of the hut. As the only non-Zulu in the hut, I feel honored, particularly because Nombulelo (Nombz) and I sit next to the ceremony party.
The ceremony begins as a great-uncle talks with the ancestors while male family and the goat to be slaughtered look on. Next, female elders cover Zu’s party of three girls and herself with special mud by candlelight as a sign of purity. After they wrap themselves in blankets, Nombz grabs my hand and leads me out of the hut. During the day, I had expressed interest in seeing a goat slaughtered, for I had never witnessed the slaughtering of an animal before. As we walk to another hut, Nombz explains that a few men are about to kill the goat. After entering the candle lit room, I put my arm around Nombz as five men hold the goat down and, finally, slit the goat’s throat. I hear a gurgling sound as the goat’s blood spills into a basin. Within a minute, I find myself holding the candle by which they would carve the goat. I sit on a table above the goat and lean over, trying to hold the candle in the best spot for all to see. After a half hour and a few drops of blood on my skin later, the men are finished. Although, as an American, I am not used to watching animals slaughtered, I feel fascinated by taking part in how my food is prepared.
Nombz and I reenter the hut to men taking turns performing a traditional dance step, where a person lifts one leg as high as they can and then slams the foot down on the ground. After cheering for the spontaneous performers, two of Zu’s cousin’s start teaching the dances in a circle that will be performed one week later at the main ceremony. I watch a few of the dances, and after some encouragement, I, too, try to dance the Zulu dances. The rhythmic dancing is therapeutic.
At about eleven, the cooked goat and steamed bread were brought into the hut and divided into four large portions for the men, boys, women and girls. After talking to a few girls, one of them turns to me, saying: “These girls be loving you, Ms. Kate.” The celebration had only begun, but I left mesmerized by the rich Zulu culture, the strong Zulu community, and a beautiful celebration.

A Spiritual Word: Service

“So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example; that you also should do as I have done to you.” John 13:14-15
Jesus serves his disciples by washing their feet in John 13. This is my favorite chapter in the Bible because Jesus demonstrates the boundless nature of God’s love and asks us to do the same. We should serve one another. At Zuziwe’s celebration, the female relatives astound me with the extent of their service.
I roll over in my sleeping bag; I open my eyes enough to see a woman taking a bath in a basin. A while later, I rustle in my sleep again while another woman bathes in my room. I am a very heavy sleeper, barely conscious when I first wake up, and my eyesight is poor without glasses or contacts, so I am in no way negatively impacted by these experiences. Finally, after seeing so many people moving, I decide I should get ready for the day. After cleaning myself up, I glance at my cell phone clock; the time is barely after 6. How and why is everyone already up?
I look out the door of my host family’s home on Gogo’s (grandma on my host dad’s side) property to see everyone hard at work on the day of Zuziwe’s ceremony. By everyone, I mean my host family, Gogo, Gogo’s children and grandchildren (most of who live on the same property as Gogo), other distant relatives, and close family friends. In the kitchen, which is its own building, women prepare bath water on the stove, wash dishes, and prepare tea. Outside, young men and a woman, under the direction of male relatives, set up the second tent. Women also prepare food in the kitchen of my host family’s house. Countless tasks keep devoted servants busy all morning, from cooking and cleaning to decorating the tents.
Slie is the personification of a servant. Slie is Zuziwe’s (Zu’s) older cousin. The week before Zu’s celebration, Slie stayed at our home, preparing for Zu’s celebration. She sewed 200 seat covers, sewed beads on shoes and skirts, helped around the house, and braided extensions into family members’ hair. She baked the delectable muffins and scones for the celebration day. On celebration day, Slie kept everything together. When I did not
know what to do, or what was going on, I asked Slie. Slie was in charge of decorating the tent and all the behind the scenes work. She, literally, is the keeper of the keys. The cost of Slie’s service: priceless. Literally, the cost of Slie’s service: nothing. She serves because she is family. Slie is my hero.
Family members work from sunrise to the beginning of the celebration at noon. Yet, they do not stop working then. When I return from the celebration ceremony, the women are hard at work in the kitchen. The women seem not to stop.
My celebration point of reference for the day is a typical American wedding: over 100 guests (about 400 in this case), a ceremony, a meal reception, and dancing. Okay, so maybe the amount of animal hides and outfits differ a bit. Yet, I had anticipated that the front tables in each tent would be occupied by the ceremony party and close family members, not random guests, as it turns out. Rather, family members ensure the meal runs smoothly by running food and washing dishes. At first the role of their family members confuses me. At American weddings that I’ve attended, extended family members participate in all facets of the celebration and people are hired to prepare the celebratory spaces, provide music, and cater the food and drink. Once the ceremony starts, it seems that the family members are mostly hands off as far as running the event. Yet, at this Zulu ceremony, the family members provide the hands. This is not to say that one way of carrying out ceremonies is correct. Personally, if a ceremony is ever held in my honor, I would want my family to participate in the event. Yet, the female relatives at this ceremony work with such diligence and care that I am in awe. They give of themselves for a successful celebration in honor of Zuziwe.
In John 13, Jesus washes the disciples’ feet and tells his disciples to do likewise. At Zuziwe’s celebration, the women symbolically wash the feet of Zuziwe and all who enjoy the festivities. These women demonstrate the selfless nature of service.

Lord, May we serve as you serve us. Help us to remember how you selflessly gave your life for each of our lives. May we give of our selves as you teach us in order to give glory to you. Amen

Newsletter Delay

Hi Everyone! This is a note to all that are on my alias for a newsletter (if you would like to join, please just e-mail me). Unfortunately, I am only able, so far, to send my newsletter from someone else's computer. However, the other computer changes the format of my newsletter. Therefore, please expect to receive the September newsletter next week. Much of the content for the newsletter is in blog entries below. Sorry for the delay! Thank you for your patience!

September Snapshots

Surprises:
- Fences and/or low walls are around most houses
- Houses usually do not have basements
- Their bananas taste better
- The toilet is often in a different room from the sink and bath
- At first glance, Johannesburg (Joburg) looks like a US city
- Zulu food is mostly pepper free! (I am allergic to peppers)
- Most Zulu names are three syllables long
- South Africans drive on the left side of the road
- Having a housekeeper/nanny living with a family is more common than in the US
- Most Zulu women have hair extension appointments rather than haircuts

Personal:
- I have worn a fleece almost every day
- My sister’s friend asked me if I know the Jonas brothers
- From my room, I can see a field of sugarcane, which lies on the other side of my host family’s wall
- I finished Nelson Mandela’s A Long Walk to Freedom and Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country
- My host sisters and I play Sequence often
- My host father brought his eldest daughter and me to work and introduced me as “his other daughter”
- Surprisingly, I have become the tech guru at my school
- My sisters’ English is fluent and with a British accent

Umbuntu

Rough Translation: the essence of being human; humanity
Cultural Meaning: a person is a person through other people; treat others the way you would like to be treated; it takes one hand to wash another
Context: “A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.” Tutu, Desmond. No Future Without Forgiveness. New York: Random House, Inc., 1999. 31.

Initial Observations About My Inherent Privilege

I was born a white American. Although I had no control over my birth country or race, I received inherent privilege based on these characteristics. When I learned about my placement for the next year, I was told that my presence in Dalton, my new home, was already a success, that I did not have to do anything. Did that reassure and comfort me? Actually, I felt uncomfortable. In a town of 1,000 people, with few, if any, white people, I would be successful, not based on how I treated others, but solely if I lived with the people for one year.
In Cool Air, I sometimes feel like a celebrity when I walk down the streets. Let’s say there are different degrees to which someone sticks out (thank you philosophy major for this theory… just kidding!). The different degrees to which people discern a person sticks out are: degree one, by peripheral vision; degree two, by staring at you for one second; degree three, by analyzing your appearance; and, degree four, by interacting with you. In Cool Air, I am definitely am a degree one stick out; people can tell I am from somewhere else by their peripheral vision. When I walk around Cool Air some people look at me, some greet my host sisters and me, and one boy yelled across a parking lot that he loved me without speaking to me face-to-face, which my sisters thought was ridiculous. The students at my primary school greet me: “Hello Ms. Kate!” Nombulelo told me that a white person from Pietermaritzburg, the regional capital, or a black American would not receive the same attention as me, a white American.
At first, I did not know exactly how to respond to the attention I was receiving based on characteristics I could not control. I did not want to take advantage of my unfair privilege. I would return greetings, just not attempt to initiate greetings, which is unnatural for me. However, after feeling uncomfortable while walking around a few times, I realized that being kind to one another is how people should treat one another, no matter their motivations. I cannot change my race or country of birth, but I can determine how I react to related attention. Hopefully, my interactions over the next year will be determined primarily as interactions between human beings, who I understand to be beautiful children of God.

Not a Cultural Misunderstanding, But My Own Misunderstanding...

I had mentally prepared myself for bathroom facilities in South Africa that were less comfortable than my usual facilities. Friends had shared with me how they washed with cold water from a basin while in Africa and, even though I knew not all bathrooms in Africa were the same, I had tried to prepare myself for facilities least like my own.

Upon arriving at my new home for a year, greeting the family members and sitting in their fancy living room for a bit, I asked the location of the bathroom. In South Africa, the toilet is in a separate room from the sink and shower. One of my new sisters pointed to the toilet and I paused for a moment as I noticed that their was no lid or seat on the overall modern looking toilet. After closing the door behind me, I could find no toilet paper. I took a deep breath and gave myself a pep talk: “You’ve been a camp counselor, and we, female counselors, pride ourselves when we may urinate without toilet paper while on off-sites. You can do it.” As I shook myself off, to the best of my undeveloped ability, I realized this set-up for using the toilet would take some getting used to.

Later that night, with my two eldest host sisters, who I call Zoo and Blue, I inquired if they used toilet paper. They looked at me strangely and said, “Yes.” I giggled, and shared my first experience with the toilet. Just like in the US, sometimes someone forgets or neglects to replace an empty toilet paper roll, especially with young children in the home. Slightly reassured by the last inquiry, I asked about the toilet seat. Zoo and Blue laughed and explained that their two younger sisters, Amalhe (7) and Pepiswa (9), broke the toilet seat and their dad had yet to replace it. I shared in their laughter, mostly laughing not at the cultural misunderstanding, but my own. Since then, I thankfully have taken advantage of toilet paper.

Joy

“And Mary said, ‘My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”’ Luke 1:46-48a

The most memorable part of my first church service in South Africa is the time of offering. Twelve, white Americans file into a black, Lutheran congregation in Alexandra. Alexandra is a crowded, northern suburb of Johannesburg, or, during apartheid, the area was called a township, an area designated for blacks, who were often oppressed and financially poor. 1.6 million people live per square mile in Alexandra. The day before, friendly and energetic women welcomed us to Alexandra. They taught us some of our first Zulu words and offered that we should visit their shacks someday during a return visit to their area. During our joyful interaction, we were also invited to their Lutheran Church in Alexandra. Needless to say, the next day, as we take our seats in the church, I feel that our Young Adults in Global Mission group sticks out a bit.

Yet, as soon as the service begins, the focus shifts from personal differences to glorifying God. The church sings in beautiful harmony with different people initiating hymns. After a while, when we see women opening their purses, we know offering has begun. We watch as other congregants smoothly dance their offering up the center aisle to the offering plate. Somewhat awkwardly, we attempt to follow suit. As I return to my seat, I whisper to my friend next to me, “What an awesome way to give offering!” The sight of people joyfully celebrating offering struck me, as they seem to joyfully give not only their money, but also of themselves. This is not to say that means with which to provide resources for congregational life are not important; they are. However, I more often feel guilt at offering than joy. The first offering at the Lutheran Church in Alexandra reminds me that I should celebrate the opportunity and the ability I have to give.

The joy at offering is reinforced throughout the multiple hour service. During the sharing of the peace, an older woman rocks me back and forth as she hugs me with delight. Although our ethnicity, age, background or socioeconomic status may separate us, our love as sisters in Christ brings us into one another’s arms. Joy in God’s gift of life bridges all chasms.

The structure of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Southern Africa (ELCSA) includes different leagues: the Youth League, the Young Adults League, the Men’s League, and the Women’s League. One by one, each league, yes, even the Men’s League, energetically sings and dances a choreographed number up the aisles, which ends with giving an offering for their league. These times of offering reinforce in me that we offer up more than a percentage of our possessions, but also our time and ourselves in a glorious thank you for a grace-filled gift beyond our understanding and our deserving.
In the “Magnificat”, Mary gives thanks to God for bestowing her with the gift of His Son. In our church service, we too share our thanks that God gives us His Son and also encourage others and ourselves how we will continue to live out our thanks to God. Certainly, God’s gift of grace is a reason to daily live joyfully.

Giver of Life,
Thank you for your gift of grace. Help us to remember to give glory to you in all our thoughts and deeds. May our souls sing joyously with our brothers and sisters in Christ of all generations and cultures. Amen.

The Beginning of Adventures in South Africa

  The surroundings did not initially give away that we, 10 Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGMs), had arrived in South Africa. From our plane windows, we could not see animals from a safari or cultural dances, or hear different accents or languages. The airport was beautiful, and filled with posters and advertisements anticipating the World Cup, to be held during June 2010 in South Africa. Our fellow travelers moving through foreign customs were mostly white. On the highway, although we were driving on the left side of the road, many international companies featured advertisements or owned large buildings. Yet, on our first day, we experienced one of many layers of South Africa. 

  Later, our visit to the Apartheid Museum opened our eyes to another layer. We also learned that this is a layer that may be found in the US, to a different degree and a lesser of technical labeling, as we thought harder about the districts of Chicago, our city of YAGM orientation, and many cities in the US where people of the same heritage live in the same area. 

  We continue to learn about more layers of South Africa and the US. I look forward to sharing more with you during the rest of our South Africa orientation. 

Welcome

Welcome to my blog about my journey in South Africa!