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“For to this end we toil and struggle, because we have our hope set on the living God” – Timothy 4:10a
If we are Christians, then we should struggle. If we believe in a higher power, then we should struggle. We struggle against things of this world and for the higher good. As my measuring stick for what we should struggle for, I follow Jesus’ mandate to love our neighbors as ourselves. Jesus did not qualify neighbors. Jesus does not say love your neighbors who are white, elder, and male. As we share this earth, we should always act in the Spirit of loving our neighbor, including every living being.
In my experience in KwaZulu-Natal, I often feel that respect for a person is based on age and sometimes on gender. With the dozen people I have shared that my dad has washed countless more dishes than me during my lifetime, every person is surprised. In my host family, my host parents never wash dishes, nor my half-host-brother, who sometimes visits. Also, part of my host sisters’ role is to serve food to my host parents. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my host parents dish up supper for themselves. Older age seems to give one veto power. I struggle with respect being based on age because I grew up in a home where every person’s opinion mattered equally, no matter the person’s age. Of course my parents still had veto power, but they rarely used it and we would almost always agree on the most reasonable and best decision. I believe we should respect all people equally as a fellow child of God.
A few Saturdays ago I attended a seven hour long ELCSA Youth League Executive meeting, almost all in IsiZulu. When a snack came for the group a couple hours into the meeting and was placed on a table in front, I whispered to the person next to me, asking if I could serve everyone. She replied with a laugh that they can serve themselves. Yet, I noticed that only the Dean and ranking male members were enjoying the snack. Finally, I walked to the table and served everyone pastries and juice. I appreciated the break from sitting and I felt helpful. During a break, the male secretary and I were discussing President Zuma’s wives. Then, he offered that I could be his second wife- I was so quick in serving everyone; some women refused to serve men and they were lazy. I replied that I believe that vice-versa is also true-if men refuse to serve women, then they are lazy. His jaw dropped. I continued that our savior got down on his knees and washed his disciples’ feet and told us to do likewise. He said nothing, but looked at me with skeptical amusement. This is the only time that I’ve verbally confronted someone about sexist remarks. I haven’t even discussed the topic with my host mom. Yet, if someone is going to offer me his hand in marriage, he better know what he’s getting himself into. Growing up with three brothers, I never felt that they could do something I couldn’t based on gender. Yet, seeing women as less than men is a problem the world over, including in the US.
Finally, my last major struggle has been about whether I am where God wants me. On a day at Dalton Primary School, when I have made a few copies but mostly sat without a given task, I felt that I was serving little purpose. When I struggled to accomplish tasks based on cultural differences, I questioned if South Africa is truly the place that I am most effective with my gifts.
Yet, the reality of struggle is that struggle will make you stronger if you continue to strive to love. When I return to the US, I will show my parents more respect; I will aim to empower more women; I will live with more patience and empower people who feel purposeless. Even though these struggles have frustrated me, I never would choose that they had not happened. Even at school, the months of frustration have given me a taste of what it feels like to be trapped and powerless within an inefficient system, a lesson I could never learn in a classroom or pay to understand. Furthermore, I know that people at the school truly appreciate my presence. My principal said yesterday that knowing that I’m leaving is like knowing when you are going to die. He wants me to stay forever. Plus, by trying to not come off as the pushy American and setting a schedule when the educators respect me, I feel fulfilled at Dalton Primary School the two days per week I am at the school since January. I visit each class once per week and I am in a classroom three of the five hours per day.
Furthermore, living in South Africa has taught me to keep my perception of my struggles in check. Last week, I was making my mom a birthday card, writing down for each year she has lived an important person, event, accomplishment, destination, characteristic, or hobby in her life. As I was brainstorming a list, a man named John, from the Democratic Republic of Congo, started sharing about how, since he fled the DRC over a year ago, he has no idea where are his nine siblings. He shared, “It’s like I’m coming from nowhere.” I looked down at the paper stating blessings in my mom’s life and felt humbled. He shared many more eye opening information (which you can find on the third page of this newsletter). Keeping perceptions in check of our own struggles is a huge challenge for many Americans. Are we striving to show love in our struggle? Are we in tune with others’ struggles? May we continue to struggle for the glory of God as we grow in loving service.
God, please grant us the courage and compassion to seek to understand the struggles of our neighbors. May our struggles glorify you as we seek to be your hands and feet in this world. Amen.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Mr. Mzila
August 2000 to date has brought more excruciating pain to my family than I imagined I could bear. Through natural death I have lost nine members. That being the case, one has to gracefully accept the harsh reality that befalls humanity from time to time.
At first it was the sister who was a twin with the other. Death struck after long illness that could have given one hope for recovery. In a matter of weeks my mother had to succumb to hypertension that had regulated her life since time immortal. One touchy moment about death is that, quite often, when one is less than three days from it all (through ill-health) one hardly ever communicates so there is no way to know what exactly is on the mind of the-soon-to-die. Further worthy of note in our culture, death is received as needing an unnatural cause. God’s retribution, anger of the ancestors or sheer witchcraft are just some of the “imagined” possibilities or causes.
When my sister, who had just qualified as a teacher, passed on, death had gradually gnawed at her that I could not recognize her on the deathbed breathing her last. Shape, skin and everything about her had completely changed. In fact, the doctor told me that she had died some two days before it actually happened! One death picture I have indelibly stuck on my mind is peace. All the anguish associated with illness suddenly disappears just before death. Just maybe that is proof enough that dying is the passage to somewhere else.
When my all-powerful dad fell in August 2006 the words escaped me for a moment. I had got myself used to attending to his every need. I was still communicating with him despite his failing brainpower. As if I could not stand the reality of death striking at that time, it was my youngest brother who was by his bedside when he breathed his last. His failing life should have alerted me of his final demise but alas it would not be! As I look back on my father’s life, he served as a model of strength and character for me. In all the days of my life I had only once seen my father cry; that was when mother’s corpse was ushered in for a night vigil. The visual imprint remains as vivid as ever, only less painful now.
My two nephews moved on at different times, though it was death after another but each with the weight and gloom of its own. The fact that we have gone through all this in such a short space of time makes us neither wiser nor stronger about what the future still holds. On the contrary though, death gives one inner strength, peace and acceptance. As it is said elsewhere, “death is the necessary end to life”. So, in dealing with it, we have to be graceful as we can be. Incidentally my family graveyard is on the other side of our gate in full view as one moves in and out. We, then, can’t be shedding a tear or two day in and day out.
My conclusion would be that what befell us did and no amount of wishful thinking would make the reality an atom less harsher. Death is a cause for reverence, humbleness, pain, and finally acceptance and celebration. The latter is because of good life thrust upon us however undeserved.
At first it was the sister who was a twin with the other. Death struck after long illness that could have given one hope for recovery. In a matter of weeks my mother had to succumb to hypertension that had regulated her life since time immortal. One touchy moment about death is that, quite often, when one is less than three days from it all (through ill-health) one hardly ever communicates so there is no way to know what exactly is on the mind of the-soon-to-die. Further worthy of note in our culture, death is received as needing an unnatural cause. God’s retribution, anger of the ancestors or sheer witchcraft are just some of the “imagined” possibilities or causes.
When my sister, who had just qualified as a teacher, passed on, death had gradually gnawed at her that I could not recognize her on the deathbed breathing her last. Shape, skin and everything about her had completely changed. In fact, the doctor told me that she had died some two days before it actually happened! One death picture I have indelibly stuck on my mind is peace. All the anguish associated with illness suddenly disappears just before death. Just maybe that is proof enough that dying is the passage to somewhere else.
When my all-powerful dad fell in August 2006 the words escaped me for a moment. I had got myself used to attending to his every need. I was still communicating with him despite his failing brainpower. As if I could not stand the reality of death striking at that time, it was my youngest brother who was by his bedside when he breathed his last. His failing life should have alerted me of his final demise but alas it would not be! As I look back on my father’s life, he served as a model of strength and character for me. In all the days of my life I had only once seen my father cry; that was when mother’s corpse was ushered in for a night vigil. The visual imprint remains as vivid as ever, only less painful now.
My two nephews moved on at different times, though it was death after another but each with the weight and gloom of its own. The fact that we have gone through all this in such a short space of time makes us neither wiser nor stronger about what the future still holds. On the contrary though, death gives one inner strength, peace and acceptance. As it is said elsewhere, “death is the necessary end to life”. So, in dealing with it, we have to be graceful as we can be. Incidentally my family graveyard is on the other side of our gate in full view as one moves in and out. We, then, can’t be shedding a tear or two day in and day out.
My conclusion would be that what befell us did and no amount of wishful thinking would make the reality an atom less harsher. Death is a cause for reverence, humbleness, pain, and finally acceptance and celebration. The latter is because of good life thrust upon us however undeserved.
Struggle: Weight
Over the last sixty years in South Africa, the word struggle often referred to the struggle against the Apartheid government. According to my Pietermaritzburg Agency for Christian Social Awareness (PACSA) advisor, only recently people have used the word struggle in other contexts. In the US, it seems that people use the word struggle most often in the context of weight. People also talk about weight in South Africa, but in my communities, they talk about weight in a different way.
On Christmas Eve, the deputy principal of the school at which I volunteer visited my home. He and my host mom go way back. At one point in our conversation, the Deputy Principal commented that he was amazed that I didn’t seem to have lost or gained weight since I arrived. My host mom shot back that I had gained weight. The Deputy Principal didn’t agree and my host mom stated that I had gained a little weight. I said nothing.
In my communities, people associate gaining weight with being well taken care of. Last weekend, one of my guardians in South Africa stated, “I want you three sizes bigger by the time you leave here or people will think we didn’t take care of you.” Friends and family, even if I am not three sizes bigger by the time I go home, I promise that the people in South Africa are taking good care of me.
People in my communities also associate weight with age. When my friend, who is six years older than me, asked a local person who was older, she said to my friend, “You are.” I asked why. She bluntly said, “Because she is fatter.”
People will even give me contrasting opinions about my weight over a couple of days. About a month ago, I was playing outside with the neighbor kids and a neighbor said, “The last time I saw you, you were skinny, and now you’re getting fat.” Two days earlier, a girl guessed I was sixteen years old. I replied that although I am twenty-three years old, people often guess that I am sixteen or seventeen. She replied, “People think you are young because you are so beautiful.”
Even after six months here I am still poor at guessing people’s age. Last week at PACSA, I thought two younger girls were in their mid-twenties, and instead they are nineteen and twenty-two. They thought I was younger than them.
In general, people are not as uptight about their weight here, for better and for worse. For better, people seem more comfortable with their bodies. For worse, when I am on a public taxi (seating sixteen people), I may realize that someone’s arm was on my knee, but know it because the person was squishing me. Perhaps I’ve lost touch with the size of the American people, but I would say many people, especially women, are larger here. May we take care of, but not obsess over, our bodies as we struggle to follow the Spirit.
On Christmas Eve, the deputy principal of the school at which I volunteer visited my home. He and my host mom go way back. At one point in our conversation, the Deputy Principal commented that he was amazed that I didn’t seem to have lost or gained weight since I arrived. My host mom shot back that I had gained weight. The Deputy Principal didn’t agree and my host mom stated that I had gained a little weight. I said nothing.
In my communities, people associate gaining weight with being well taken care of. Last weekend, one of my guardians in South Africa stated, “I want you three sizes bigger by the time you leave here or people will think we didn’t take care of you.” Friends and family, even if I am not three sizes bigger by the time I go home, I promise that the people in South Africa are taking good care of me.
People in my communities also associate weight with age. When my friend, who is six years older than me, asked a local person who was older, she said to my friend, “You are.” I asked why. She bluntly said, “Because she is fatter.”
People will even give me contrasting opinions about my weight over a couple of days. About a month ago, I was playing outside with the neighbor kids and a neighbor said, “The last time I saw you, you were skinny, and now you’re getting fat.” Two days earlier, a girl guessed I was sixteen years old. I replied that although I am twenty-three years old, people often guess that I am sixteen or seventeen. She replied, “People think you are young because you are so beautiful.”
Even after six months here I am still poor at guessing people’s age. Last week at PACSA, I thought two younger girls were in their mid-twenties, and instead they are nineteen and twenty-two. They thought I was younger than them.
In general, people are not as uptight about their weight here, for better and for worse. For better, people seem more comfortable with their bodies. For worse, when I am on a public taxi (seating sixteen people), I may realize that someone’s arm was on my knee, but know it because the person was squishing me. Perhaps I’ve lost touch with the size of the American people, but I would say many people, especially women, are larger here. May we take care of, but not obsess over, our bodies as we struggle to follow the Spirit.
A Few Words in isiZulu: Ngiyabonga and Siyabonga
Ngiyabonga – I thank you
Grammar: When you say thank you for more people than just yourself, you would say “Siyabonga,” meaning, “We thank you.”
Grammar: When you say thank you for more people than just yourself, you would say “Siyabonga,” meaning, “We thank you.”
Feb Snapshots and Sound Bytes
Sound Bytes
“God uses the available person to do his will.”
“It’s not about an individual, it’s about God’s purpose.”
“You will never be successful if you do not have a successor.”
“We should all take turns being servants.”
“You must find a husband here.”
“You cannot leave.” “We love you.”
From John…
“Ï don’t think the situation will be better” in the DRC because the leaders motivation is “to be rich, not to serve people.”
“For them [political leaders], to kill is okay.”
“If you speak your right, the [political leaders’] solution is to cut off your head.”
“Whenever you say your opinion, you are selling yourself, which means that you are risking… and at the end of the day you die.”
“Education is power.”
“Congo is the garden for American people, because they do what they want.”
He thought the solution is to educate people so they know their right, which will give them emancipation from their lack of consciousness. This would change the situation because people would challenge the government for their rights.
Snapshots
1st meeting with Mervyn, my new PACSA advisor
Dropped off my youth group at PACSA
Attended for Umngeni Circuit Youth League Executive Meeting
Started volunteering at PACSA two days per week
Started consistently teaching grades 1-6 weekly
Got World Cup tickets
Watched the Superbowl with five American volunteers
Reached the half-way point of YAGM
Started running in the morning regularly
Started Lenten fast (no junk food or sweets)
Attended the Mpumalanga ELCSA Youth League Revival
Spent four days in Port Elizabeth PE
Memorized the Bible chapters
Sang Siyahamba
President Jacob Zuma gave the State of the Union address
Filled out YAGM and MUD mid-year evaluations
“God uses the available person to do his will.”
“It’s not about an individual, it’s about God’s purpose.”
“You will never be successful if you do not have a successor.”
“We should all take turns being servants.”
“You must find a husband here.”
“You cannot leave.” “We love you.”
From John…
“Ï don’t think the situation will be better” in the DRC because the leaders motivation is “to be rich, not to serve people.”
“For them [political leaders], to kill is okay.”
“If you speak your right, the [political leaders’] solution is to cut off your head.”
“Whenever you say your opinion, you are selling yourself, which means that you are risking… and at the end of the day you die.”
“Education is power.”
“Congo is the garden for American people, because they do what they want.”
He thought the solution is to educate people so they know their right, which will give them emancipation from their lack of consciousness. This would change the situation because people would challenge the government for their rights.
Snapshots
1st meeting with Mervyn, my new PACSA advisor
Dropped off my youth group at PACSA
Attended for Umngeni Circuit Youth League Executive Meeting
Started volunteering at PACSA two days per week
Started consistently teaching grades 1-6 weekly
Got World Cup tickets
Watched the Superbowl with five American volunteers
Reached the half-way point of YAGM
Started running in the morning regularly
Started Lenten fast (no junk food or sweets)
Attended the Mpumalanga ELCSA Youth League Revival
Spent four days in Port Elizabeth PE
Memorized the Bible chapters
Sang Siyahamba
President Jacob Zuma gave the State of the Union address
Filled out YAGM and MUD mid-year evaluations
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