Simply Living

I’ve been thinking a lot about a frequently used YAGM phrase- Live Simply so others may Simply Live. I’ve been thinking about how that has applied to my life here in Kimberley and how it will come into play upon my return home.

A large part of being a YAGM and going to a different culture is to live simply within your community. During the first month in Kimberley it definitely felt like simple living when comparing it to what I came from. Water, transportation, food, and entertainment- everything was scarcer, less varied, smaller, or nonexistent. It was new, but with each day everything became more habitual. At this point, life feels just as it always has- normal.

Now that I have gained this equilibrium, I’m questioning this simple life that I have been given the opportunity to live and comparing it to others in my community. In doing so, I see that I am still sitting quite pretty. The majority of people that I know, that are my neighbors, friends, and coworkers, do not have a room of their own, do not have a television, do not have dinner prepared for them each night, do not have running water, do not have taxi fare every single day, and let’s get realistic, some of the kids I know by name do not have a roof over their heads.

These are all things that I have. Everyday, no problem.

My house in Kimberley

This hit me pretty hard one Sunday. I was getting ready really early in the morning to take the kids at Thusong to church. It has been so cold here and I really did not want to be out from under my covers. I had a hot cup of coffee, put on my North Face winter jacket, earmuffs, scarf, and gloves and headed off on my 45-minute walk to Thusong. I felt really sorry for myself the entire way there. When I got to Thusong I saw all the kids waiting for me in front of one of the houses where the only bit of morning sun was shining. No one had on a winter jacket. A few had on a pullover or track jacket and a few of the guys were still in shorts with their socks pulled up as high as they could go. Everyone was looking as cold as they felt. I stood there feeling like a complete idiot. I was so ashamed of myself. As I walked home after church the sun was high and the day turned hot. I was annoyed that I was now sweating, but mostly I was annoyed with myself and the attitude I had earlier that morning. 

So this is where my questions come in. This is where I wonder about my simple living in South Africa. Here is where my privilege slaps me in the face and says that even when “living simply”, I am comfortable.

Being a comfortable YAGM is a terribly uncomfortable feeling.

Some of the girls at Thusong receiving donated blankets on Family Day in South Africa

This feeling has caused me to switch up my schedule during this last month in Kimberley. On afternoons when most of the kids are at school I usually sit in Thusong’s office going through and organizing files. Now I spend those hours walking into town and spending some time with the boys who previously had lived at Thusong but now just…don’t. I hate to tell you that there hasn’t once been a time when I have gone into town and not found at least one of these boys. They are usually walking around with others or sometimes they are handing out fliers or washing cars, which I’m sure someone tossed them 5 Rand to do. During each of these visits my heart grows a little tighter. We usually sit on the curb, share a few granola bars, and I try to ask them where they have been staying, usually without much luck. We share a few laughs, tell each other that we miss and care for the other and then hug goodbye.

I know these interactions don’t change the fact that I have and they do not have, but for a portion of my day I get the chance to sit on the street and listen to what a boy has to say and I allow myself into the reality of another. I become uncomfortable that their reality is real.

Being uncomfortable is the exact feeling I want to have.

Knosi, George, Joy 

So, bringing this back to going home. Home, sweet home. There’s no place like home. Nothing more comfortable than that.

I may never see any of these kids and teenagers again; these kids who don’t even have a postal address. I may never be back in Kimberley or hear whether or not the kids graduate Matric or what it is that they go on to do. I may never get another chance to tell them how much they mean to me and how much they have affected my life.

I just hope that in going home I never lose this uncomfortable feeling I have when I see the troubles they go through (uncomfortable being an extremely understated word here).

These same issues happen in the United States as well. Right there in hometown Racine, Wisconsin. It’s a challenge to live differently from what you’re used to but in my experience it’s when I’m uncomfortable that I’ve learned the most and truly experienced real life. Going home doesn’t mean that it’s time to go back to being comfortable. Leaving South Africa doesn’t mean that we no longer seek out those who live differently from us, who’s lives and histories may make us feel uncomfortable, who may need someone it sit and share a few stories with.

I have a new standpoint on ‘living simply’. Acts such as taking shorter showers and not overeating are important and things that we can and should all do, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s more than being conservative with resources and not indulging ourselves.

I think that living simply includes simply listening to a different perspective, or simply accepting other lifestyles, or simply giving not just money but a few hours of your time, or simply admitting when you’re wrong, or simply seeing the world and all it’s complexities that affect each and every one of us. Simply taking the chance to be uncomfortable in order to lift up another and in return lift up yourself.

Family Day with my Thusong brothers

South Africa’s “Family Day” was this month and I got the chance to work with Families South Africa (FAMSA) to organize a special event for some of the guys at Thusong.

For the event I took 14 of the boys who do not go to mainstream school to the prison in Kimberley. Along with FAMSA, the inmates organized an program just for the boys. It was a unique experience, which drew up a whole lot of different emotions within me. I sat back and watched, trying to see it all through the eyes of my young friends who are unfortunately part of the percentage of young males in South Africa most vulnerable to a future stay in prison.

The inmates were eager to share their stories and directed their words forwards the boys. We heard from men who had come from a life on the street similar to the current situation of many of our guys. We heard from men who have learned consequences of drugs and violence and we heard from men who haven’t been able to see their families or hold their children for over 10 years. The conversations flowed as if these men were talking to their teenage selves, giving them a glimpse into a future that could possibly be avoided.

In between these stories the inmates entertained us with their band and worship team. We also watched several skits on negative street life scenarios acted out by the inmate drama team. And, of course, they stood before us clapping, stomping and dancing while singing traditional African songs-, which by the way, and I don’t care how lame this sounds, is the most beautiful thing that I have ever heard in my entire life. It seriously brings tears to my eyes, whether sung by someone doing their wash on the other side of the fence, a traditionally dressed choir or a group of men in orange prison jumpsuits.

It wasn’t the most traditional way to celebrate ones family, but at Thusong we just aren’t that traditional. On our way home I looked back at 14 unrelated brothers promising each other that they’d keep each other in check so that they may never be back in that place.  

Here are some of the guys back at Thusong after a day at the prison.

Taxis

I’ve talked a lot about the taxis here, or kombis as they are called. Kombis are white, 15 passenger vans, some much older than others, that transport people from villages and neighborhoods into town or from city to city. They can be found everywhere in South Africa, bigger cities and rural villages, although the more people around the more present the kombis are. Friends of mine who live in smaller villages can wait longer than two hours for a kombi to drive by and take them to town.

In Kimberley, the kombis generally run on the same route, like a bus. On my way into town I can just stand on the side of the road near my house and just wait for one to drive by. There are no stops, so people just shout out when they want to get out, sometimes causing us to make a quick turn and we end up going in a different direction. When people want to get out they will shout out an upcoming street or shop or something like ‘after robots’ (after the stop light). Sometimes if there are only two or three of us left on the kombi the driver will just say this is as far as we’re going to go and then we must get out and walk the rest of the way. On the way home from town I go to the rank or near the grocery store where there are kombis waiting to fill and drive back towards the neighborhoods and township. I rarely have to wait longer than 10 minutes for a kombi to fill and take off. However, when I take a kombi the 2 hours to or from Bloem, which I’ve had to do multiple times, I have waited in a kombi for 3 hours until we were full and could go. It’s all about timing sometimes. 

In Kimberley, we have guys called ‘john boys’ who stand in the aisle and collect the money and distribute change. They also open and close the door for everyone and constantly have their head out the window whistling at people to see if they need a ride while the driver lays on the horn- I hear these noises from my bed in the morning. In the other cities and villages I have been to the kombis don’t have john boys and the money is instead sent up to the front seat passenger to collect and make change. I have made the mistake of sitting up there and found myself with a lap full of cash and 15+ people to give change to. The driver rolled his eyes and ended up doing it for me while weaving through traffic.

Kombi rides have turned out to be one of my most favorite experiences in SA. I find myself squished in a van designed for 15 but holding 25 grown adults, listening to deafening SA house music, watching active and fascinating conversations take place and smiling at familiar faces. It’s a place of community in which I have loved to be a part of. 

Here is a photo of the kombi we use at my work. I’ve seen 30 kids climb out of this thing.

Many of the town kombis look like this, but others are newer and bigger and have this pretty waving South African flag running down the side. 

In the last year I have gone from feeling completely confident and independent to quite dependent and clueless. Then after a while I began feeling confident again, and now I’m afraid I’ll be back to being clueless in two short months.

One year ago I had just graduated college, had a plan for the following year, and was feeling in charge and self-assured. During my college career in Madison I took care of myself, knew my way around and rarely second guessed decisions I made. I was lively, confident and rarely without friends around me. Then I moved to South Africa and my lifestyle…changed.

When I first arrived in South Africa I was very concerned with how I represented myself. I smiled a lot, giggled a lot, was overall way too happy, and not at all like myself. My host mother walked me around the first two weeks introducing me as her American daughter who has never been away from home and can’t cook (?). I always wanted to interject and correct that by saying I have actually lived away from home for four years and during that time fed myself. I didn’t, however, and just smiled.

During these first few months I was given warning after warning about safety and where I can and cannot go. I began to fear walking alone, although nothing ever happened to cause that tension. I was without a doubt dependent on so many who instructed me on how to get places alone, which kombis to take to town and which ways to walk to work. I listened and learned a lot but never felt like I was ever in control of my days, but rather was a follower of what I can and should do because I was a new comer. At work I observed these street children, most of whom are over 18, and wondered how I will ever be able to relate to them in a way that they would want to be my friend or allow me to teach and learn with them. To be honest, they intimidated me.

Overall, I was a baby in this new town and felt like my confidence and personality hadn’t developed.

It has been 9 month since I arrived in Kimberley and pretty much all of that has now changed, except I’m still pretty dependent on my community and I still haven’t had the chance to prove I can indeed cook beyond rice and instant oatmeal. My confidence is back and I’d like to think my friends in Kimberley would describe me in a way similar to what my friends in Madison would say. I stopped smiling ALL THE TIME and let myself have bad days. I have conversations that go deeper and through them I have been able to show what is interesting and important to me. I no longer rely on my host mother to do the introductions. People shout hello to me through windows as I walk down streets that were once unfamiliar and my phone rings at least once a day with someone wondering what I’m doing. The other week someone actually asked me for directions and I knew exactly where to tell them to go, which I’m sort of surprised that I was even asked because I couldn’t really look more out of place. Kombi drivers know my stops before I shout them out. Sometimes while walking up to the taxi someone will shout, “white girl to Beech Road”. At work, those who once intimidated me are now my friends, my sweet, caring, hilarious, and naughty but lovely friends. We take care of each other. I help them with their homework and engage in meaningful conversation and they will walk me half way to the taxis making sure I cross the “questionable bridge” with no problems. Not only the kids who consistently stay at the home, by the children who have chosen a life on the streets rather than at the home are my friends. Children that have most people crossing streets to avoid run up to me not to ask for money but for a hug or to say what’s up.

It’s amazing how much happens in 9 months.

Last September 2 months seemed like a long time. Now, not so much. Now that my confidence is back I’m nervous, afraid, timid to go back to a lifestyle so different from what I’ve become accustom to here in South Africa. I fear I may be, yet again, clueless when faced with North American culture, expectations, and the fast paced lifestyle. I’ll be going back to a college campus and will be walking around in a sea of people with headphones in and eyes straight ahead. Walking around my neighborhood in Kimberley, every single person says hello to me. I’m beginning to think, strategize in a way, how I can use what I’ve adapted to and learned in South Africa to engage with the people I’m with back at home and to modify the way I move around and speak.

…Because people probably won’t expect me to sit for two hours, over multiple cups of tea, when just dropping off a borrowed book. There probably will not be anyone willing to walk me to the door, only to end up walking me the entire kilometer home because conversation was good. Probably no one will give me all of their just bought avocados because I saw them in the car and mentioned I like them.

If I’ve learned anything in Kimberley, and South Africa as a whole, I have learned what a good neighbor is. I’ve learned what hospitality really is. I’ve been taught that every person is worth your concern, and in my case, those who rarely receive it have become my most trusted friends.

I’m confident in Kimberley and I’m confident that what it has taught me will mold my future forever. 

Winter's Coming

While all you people at home enjoy your warm spring approaching, we in Kimberley are seeing the first signs of autumn. It’s still pretty hot most of the time but the nights are getting cooler and rainy days are chilly. I’ve been excited for South Africa’s winter since arriving. People keep telling me that it’s going to be really cold and I brush it off saying, “I’m from Wisconsin, it’s fine”. I think I’m wrong though. I just got done hand washing my clothes in the back and my fingers are numb. I’m sitting in front of the TV, wearing my Wisconsin sweatpants and sweatshirt and holding a cup of tea. It’s not even winter yet…

The trees are changing colors in my yard!

While living and volunteering in Kimberley, I have been witness to beautiful images. Through individuals here I have seen and felt strength, perseverance, hope and triumph. However, like many places in the world, the struggles here are visible. While working at Thusong, a home for street children, many of the images I see are unfortunately those of illiteracy, hunger and lack of security. Poverty and stress weighs heavy on the children’s shoulders every day.

I often ask myself how it is that I have been able to cope these last seven months working at the home. When other people began to ask, I started thinking about it and giving a name to the mechanisms I consciously and unconsciously use each day. I’ve made a quick list here.

I become a bit numb to it.

I talk about it.

I pray about it.

I plan.

I keep working.

I cry.

Let me explain myself…

I become numb to it.

As extremely dangerous as I see this coping mechanism to be, I find that it is also necessary. One must realize that what these children are dealing with is part of a life that millions of individuals have. Neglect, malnutrition, violence, you name it, are issues that spread worldwide in alarming numbers. They have become so normal that the presence of such disturbances does not shock many people into action. Terrifying, but true.

Seeing and hearing the violence, witnessing the inequality and poverty, one must to some extent become numb to this reality in order to be present every moment of the day. Please don’t mistake this idea of being numb as being insensitive or dead. Rather, it helps while taking everything in without falling apart. If I allowed my true emotions to dictate my work I would not be very helpful. I would be a mess.

Over and over I must tell myself that what I am seeing and dealing with is a reality for many people. ‘A common struggle’ I hear at times, but it is not okay.

I talk about it. I pray about it.

Working as a YAGM through the ELCA’s Global Mission there is never a lack of support and people to talk to. Especially with my fellow MUD4s, I have been privileged to be a part of a group that relates to me and listens to my struggles. I have also found that talking about coping with the struggles faced at Thusong with the local people here in Kimberley has been beneficial. I have learned a lot from just listening about how they deal with this happening in their community.

Prayer has also been a consistent help. Sometimes I think that the answers to my questions are beyond my compression and it’s easier dumping those questions on God, knowing that he will deal with them a whole lot better than anyone else.

I plan. I keep working.

While my country coordinator was visiting my site, he asked one of the directors of Thusong what she sees as the strengths and weaknesses of the home. She replied by saying that the strengths are being able to have a place to house street children, that these children have a roof over their heads and food to eat, and that they have the opportunity to gain an education with the help of Thusong. The weaknesses, she expressed, had everything to do with lack of money, donations, and recognition.

Many times when I am feeling lost, I think about these things. I am motivated when thinking about the strengths this woman addressed. Though the weaknesses are strong, it is true that every night these children have the option to sleep in a bed rather than on a sidewalk, they have a gate to lock rather than being vulnerable on the streets and they have a guaranteed three meals a day, which would be nearly impossible to find in town with no money. After thinking about these strengths, I remember the weaknesses and I begin to brainstorm. Lack of money and donations? Each month, myself and the other volunteers at Thusong hand out letters to local businesses, are persistent in follow up calls and have been successful in gaining donations for the home. From these efforts we have made a partnership with a local bakery that donates bread on a weekly basis and we have received multiple donations from clothing stores over the last six months. In addition, we are welcome to schedule movie screenings at the art museum, rent movies for free at the local movie store, attend programs at the library, and had free entry into the local swimming pool through out the summer. Though these contributions probably will not drastically change much, I pray that they help. Acknowledging and understanding weaknesses is an important step in progress. Action is the essential follow up.

I cry.

Sometimes I feel so pissed off and helpless that crying is what helps best.

What’s happening in this world and in my face at my work site has been happening since Jesus’ time. Poverty, inequality, many other social injustices.

On one hand, this is a very sad realization. In the last couple thousand years, after Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, we people have gone nowhere. Backwards, maybe? Had we continued to live like Jesus did, coming not to be served but to serve, maybe this wouldn’t be the case?

On the other hand, I find strength in Jesus during these times when I really don’t know what do, think or feel. Jesus lived and walked with people who were outcasts and who were considered unworthy and unwanted. Jesus knew that this is one the greatest dangers facing mankind- he was born, lived and died because of that knowledge-, he talk about it with his friends, he prayed to God about it, he made plans and worked to change these injustices, and sometimes he even cried.

I pray this day and always that we may never become too numb to realize the urgent help our neighbors need and that we may never become too discouraged to lack action.

The last few summers at my parent’s house I remember there being a lot of woodland creatures. Huge increase in the chipmunk population. There are none this side, no squirrels either. However, once a week or so I do see a meerkat running around. I think that Animal Planet is fond of them and the majority of people most likely think they are cute, but I’m not so sure and sense they are a bit devious. I’ve seen them chase the cat at my work and I’m pretty sure they have everything to do with the loss of pigeon eggs at Dinah’s house. Circle of life. Dinah says that I should love all of God’s creatures. “Sorry, my sweet”, she says as she delicately places the horse-sized ant outside the door.

Here’s a sympathy picture for our pigeons. Dinah likes to feed them our left over rice and for that they stick around, despite the threat of the meerkat.

Sunday is eating day.

Actually, every day is eating day, but Sunday meals are my favorite. Coming home from church around 9:30 the kettle immediately goes on for our second cup of tea or coffee. We also set the rice on the stove before leaving to go pick up a bag of mixed vegetables at the tuck shop down the road. The bag of veggies is brilliant, sold only on the weekends, and includes carrots, pumpkin, cabbage, potatoes, and onions for a decent price. When Dinah and I get home we spend time in the kitchen chopping and peeling while sipping on our tea and chatting about the week behind us and the week to come. Dinah also uses this time to translate for me what was said in church. Each food item goes into its own pot and takes its turn on one of two burners. On top of all that, Dinah always fries chicken and we make a cold lettuce or tomato salad.

Sunday cooking is a wonderful time that Dinah and I share together. Each Sunday she laughs and says, “three hours to cook, 10 minutes to eat”. It is without a doubt the best food I’ve had in Kimberley and is a meal I’ll have to continue once home.

Here is a picture of the table last week…a meal shared between two.

Second Retreat

At the end of February, I was able to get together with the others volunteers again. I first met up with some of my girl friends in Pretoria, helping out at a crèche one day, exploring the city and hanging out on the lawns in front of the Union Buildings. Then we traveled to Soweto to meet up with the other girls in MUD4. We spent a lot of time in Joburg, hanging out with new friends, going on the SAB (South African Brewery) tour and walking around some beautiful markets. All of us girls then traveled together to Pietermaritzburg and went ziplining before the boys arrived to start our second retreat. During the retreat we went rafting, went to the Botanical Gardens in PMB, tried bush golfing (miniature golf literally in the bush) and played some kickball. This was also a time in which we were able to sit together and have amazing conversation about the past few months and helpful discussions about the time ahead and the departure date that is quickly sneaking up. On the Sunday before leaving we had the opportunity to attend church at LTI (Lutheran Theological Institute) for the second time, greet new and old friends and hear Brian preach about being a servant-leader.

These times we have together as a group are rare and it has been amazing to see how the last six months have informed and formed us. The next time we’re all together will be our last week in South Africa. Hard to believe.

Here’s me ziplining.

The Rainbow Nation

During the last six months in South Africa I have had the privilege to travel in seven different provinces, surrounded by locals in buses and kombis. Many times, in my experience, the travel from place to place is one of the most exciting parts of visiting others. What I have seen from taxi and bus windows are life-giving images that I will forever remember. In fact, these moments on the road are ones in which I have felt closest to God while seeing the wonders of South Africa. I keep coming back to the thought that South Africa’s landscape is as diverse as it’s people. As the dry, flat landscape of Kimberley becomes lush hills or an urban city, the language changes, the culture differs, music, food and dance transform. Everyday I am amazed by the diverse colors, sounds, shapes and tastes that create this singular country, South Africa. People are so unique in this country that I have trouble picturing what a South African would look like, what he would sound like, or what his struggles and joys may be. Labeled as the Rainbow Nation, South Africans remain who they are and come together to make something really, truly great.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, whom we were able to hear speak at the COP 17 rallies in Durban last November, speaks about African people by saying, “In African language we say ‘a person is a person though other persons.’ I would not know how to be a human being at all except I learned this from other human beings. We are made for a delicate network of relationships, of interdependence. We are meant to complement each other. All kinds of things go terribly wrong when we break that fundamental law of our being. Not even the most powerful nation can be completely self-sufficient.”

At home in the States and here in my community in SA, I see things go terribly wrong when we as humans fail to work together. Many social injustices that I see and feel happen because we refuse to take responsibly for what we do and more importantly, we refuse to take responsibly for others. For example, I question everyday about who’s responsible for the street kids I hang out and work with. Who’s responsible for these human beings?

‘I am because we are’ vs. ‘each man for his own’

In four months I will be leaving this country and a lot of worry and grief comes with thinking about that departure. One worry is that in leaving I may lose the deep connection I have with my community and I am concerned about how I may find a way to continue to communicate with the youth I hang out with each day who do not even have a mailing address. In these uncertainties, Tutu’s statement about the importance of our interdependence gives me hope that these ‘networks of relationships’ can certainly span across oceans. Leaving this amazing, colorful, diverse country, which has taught me about the world and myself and challenged my views and beliefs, should not bring me grief, but rather delight in the opportunity to go home an ambassador for my South African family and the children I serve. My community in South Africa has indeed taken responsibility for me, loved me and taken me in. They have upheld the meaning of Ubuntu and what Tutu explained as a ‘fundamental law of our being’. I am because we are. “A person is a person though other persons”.

Starting Something New

Many YAGM alumni that I spoke to before coming to South Africa shared the journey that lead them to find the right fit in their volunteering. Some said that they only found their volunteering placement half way through the year. One of the alum even said that they finally felt like they found a match one month before coming home. I have actually felt very lucky in finding Thusong Children’s Center within my first weeks in Kimberley. Each month I feel more connected and attached to that place. However, just recently in this New Year I have been lucky enough to walk through the doors of a home for disabled children, which after two weeks I can say will be a permanent place of volunteering, along with Thusong, for the next five months.

Feeling as if I needed to do more with my time, I asked my host mother to walk with me to a home that I pass each day while taking kombis into town. From the taxi I would see 30 kids in wheelchairs sitting under a tree in the late morning and always wondered about them and the home. Dinah and I walked in and after a quick tour and a cup of tea the Matron told me that they would be happy to have me help out. We decided on twice a week helping with breakfast through lunch. Later that day after coming home and feeling pretty good about this new place, I received a text from our country coordinator, Kristen, telling us that now is a great time to reach out if we felt like seeing and learning more. I smiled at the text, thinking that she was absolutely right.

I was pretty nervous on my first day at Helen Bishop. Within three minutes of being there I was spoon-feeding a 20 year old who is paralyzed and has been in a wheelchair his whole life due to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I spent the rest of the day in the Physiotherapy room helping to place children in and out of standing braces and playing catch with a little boy who kept saying “scopey ball”. Later I found out that meant ‘kick ball’- oops.

Spending the morning talking with the staff and therapists they eventually learned that I hope to pursue Social Work upon my return home. Five minutes later they had a plan for me to meet the Social Worker working along Helen Bishop. A week later I was driving with her to the next town to pick up a mother and child so that the little girl could be fitted for a wheelchair. During our drive I was able to ask her my questions and learn a lot about her experiences as a Social Worker, the types of families and individuals she has had to deal with and how South Africa’s social welfare relates to Americas. I hope to soon make plans to accompany her as she makes home visits and court dates in Kimberley.

So, all that happened two weeks (only four days volunteering) after walking through the doors hoping to maybe get a volunteer position at Helen Bishop. Over and over YAGM alum and coordinators have told us that great things happen the more you explore and get to know community members. It is absolutely true in my case. I was unsure about starting something new, but it turned out to be a decision that will become a large part of my experience in the second half of MUD. Attachments to the residents of Helen Bishop are already there, as well as a fondness and respect for the workers who do so much for these individuals. Knowing that there is always something more to be a part of is really exciting and I can’t explain how happy I am to have decided to make that step towards something new.

A Prayer to the God of All Children

Before leaving for our respected countries, all of the YAGMs received a booklet full of readings, reflections and poems. The cover of the booklet says that these are to accompany us during our journey. Over the last few months in South Africa I have gone back to this booklet to re-read it’s contents. Each time I do this I find that the words written mean something new to me, particularly this one writing titled “A Prayer to the God of All Children” by Marian Wright Edelman. I hope to use this poem to share some of the experiences I have had in South Africa, express many of my struggles and heartaches, and tell why this prayer has helped to accompany me through out my journey.

O God of children of Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India

Of Israel, Iraq, and Iran, Jerusalem, and Jericho

Of South and North Korea, Burundi, and Rwanda

Of South Africa, South Carolina, San Francisco, and San Antonio

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

Being a YAGM is so much more than what is going on around and in me in South Africa. Because of this program I have close friends all through out the world. Here in South Africa, in Mexico, Uruguay, Argentina, the United Kingdom, Jerusalem/West Bank and in Malaysia. These people are my friends and for the passed four months have continued to share with the others and myself their journey and what their part of the world has to say. It is an amazing thing to feel so connected to places, some that I have not even been to. I have been given awareness and an appreciation for these parts of the world. We are all children of God, in all the YAGM placement sites, all the areas mentioned in Edelman’s prayer and in every nation of this world.

O God of black and brown and white and albino children

And all those mixed together

Of children who speak English and Russian and Hmong and Spanish and

Chinese and Hebrew and Arabic and languages our ears cannot discern

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

Coming to live in South Africa I knew that I would gain an opportunity to learn more about Apartheid. What I didn’t realize was that the history of Apartheid and it’s continuing effects would be a part of my daily life. The area that my house is located in Kimberley was a neighborhood for colored people before 1994. Before that time, whites, coloreds and blacks all had their ‘designated’ areas. Though people are now legally able to reside in any neighborhood the racial segregation still exists due to affordability. I see and hear racism everyday. I see how the effects of Apartheid not only separate people into different neighborhoods, but also create a sense of being different, being better than one another, being separate. Racism exists everywhere but for me I am continuing to learn how viewpoints and beliefs are dictated by South Africa’s very recent history of Apartheid. I am seeing how the different generations (the grandparents, parents, teenagers, children) are changing, or not changing, in this struggle. I am learning why things are the way they are and how the younger generations plan to move forward in the future.

Foreign language has never been my forte. Never. I told the other MUD4’s here in South Africa that one of my hopes would be to learn the language spoken in Kimberley, which is Afrikaans. I haven’t got very far and probably won’t leave here with a strong sense for the language. Lucky for me a high percentage of people I come across speak English and quickly switch from Afrikaans the moment I say, “I’m sorry, I only speak English”. The response 90% of the time is, “You ONLY speak English?” For Americans that’s sort of a silly question. Of course I only speak English. Here in South Africa, however, there are 11 official national languages and in my experience everyone I meet speaks AT LEAST 2. Usually they speak between 5 and 6. It is something I admire and envy.

This section of Edelman’s prayer reminds me that God receives His children in every color, in every shape and form. God hears His children regardless of the language spoken. God hears me even though I ONLY speak English and He hears each of the 11 languages of South Africa the same.

O God of the child prodigy and the child prostitute,

Of the child of rapture and the child of rape

Of run or thrown away children who struggle every day

Without parent or place or friend or future

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

Since working at a children’s home in Kimberley I have met kids ages 8-18 with various backgrounds. The reason they become residents of Thusong vary for different reasons. Some of the kids are there because they are either orphaned or abandoned or have run away from home. Some have been found on the streets and taken to live at Thusong. Some of these children come from homes that simply cannot support them, or have been taken out because the home is stricken with drugs and alcohol. Most of the children have family in Kimberley but chose rather to live at Thusong themselves or are forced to stay there because their parents have decided they would rather have their kids stay at the children’s center than at home with them.

The time I have spent working with these kids has been some of the best and hardest times I’ve had in Kimberley. It can be difficult not to let the reality of these children’s lives weigh heavy on my shoulders. I see them every day and am constantly reminded of the hardships they struggle with each and everyday. At the same time, once you become friends with these individuals you begin to see them for who they are; amazing, talented, funny and kind, rather that seeing them as the ‘street children’ that they are labeled as.

These lines in Edelman’s prayer remind me that no matter where a child comes from, regardless if they have been thrown away or forgotten by people in the past, it will not prevent me from being able to love and respect for who they are.

O God of children who can walk and talk and hear

And see and sing and dance and jump and play and

Of children who wish they could but can’t

Of children who are loved and unloved, wanted and unwanted

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

Some of my time in Kimberley has been spent in a school for children with disabilities. The children I have spent most of my time with are deaf. Since they are unable to hear, our communication sometimes becomes a challenge considering the only sign language I know is what I have quickly picked up from watching them and their teachers. When trying to communicate something with one of the kids or when they are trying to tell me something we eventually hit this wall where we realize we’re just not getting each other. When this happens I sometimes think, “Man, if only they could hear my voice”. I imagine they are thinking something similar, “Man, why can’t this girl read my signs?” I wish I could read their signs and I imagine they wish they could hear my voice.

The most beautiful thing I have seen and realized in these classrooms is that the students, deaf, blind and physically challenged, do the exact same things I did when I was in the 1^st grade. They read and they add and subtract. They sing, dance and play. Sometimes it just looks a little bit different. Singing is singing whether it is a melody that comes from your voice or if it is a movement that comes from flowing arm movements that sign “Old McDonald”.

O God of beggar, beaten, abused, neglected, homeless,

AIDS-, drug-, violence-, and hunger-ravaged children,

Of children who are emotionally and physically and mentally fragile, and

Of children who rebel and ridicule, torment and taunt

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

HIV/AIDS is a serious reality all through out the world. However, since moving to South Africa it is an issue that has more commonly been on my mind. 30.2%. That is the percentage of individuals infected with HIV/AIDS in South Africa as of 2010. The percentage in the Northern Cape where I live is 18.4%. That’s about 1 out of every 5 people I meet.

Something that I have been much more aware of is the percentage of people not only infected, but affected. I work with many children at Thusong Children’s Center who are there because they have been orphaned due to HIV/AIDS. I see how they have been affected.

It is a terrible reality but what’s also terrible are the reactions I see concerning HIV/AIDS due to myths and stereotypes. I have been apart of conversations where I hear people admit that they never use public restrooms because of a fear of HIV/AIDS transmission and others who say they are also careful who they share silverware and cups with. These are a few examples of ways HIV/AIDS is NOT transmitted. I believe that along with condom use and sex education the world needs to be educated on what is and isn’t true about individuals infected with HIV/AIDS.

O God of children of destiny and of despair, of war and of peace,

Of disfigured, diseased, and dying children,

Of children without hope and of children with hope to spare and to share

Help us to love and respect and act now to protect them all.

This line by Edelman, “spare and to share”, says a lot to me. Regardless of who we are, we all have something to spare and share. That may just be a smile. This reminds me of a phrase that has become important to my experience in MUD and YAGM, ‘Live simply so others may simply live’.

God has his hands on all of us whether we are old, young, black, white, colored, homeless, without parents, infected or affected with illness, deaf, blind, able. I know this because I see and feel it everyday. May God continue to help us to love, respect and act.