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.