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Thursday, October 1, 2009
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
- 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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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