The plan worked: exhaust myself to the point where my body has no choice but to sleep. So, despite it being 2 p.m. in Calgary, I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow. For the first time in almost 48 hours, I was able to lie horizontally, and my body rewarded me with instant coma level sleep. When I opened my eyes next, the sun was up and 8 hours had passed. Having arrived a day early also meant that our Sunday was now more open to relaxing in preparation of our work schedule which begins tomorrow. We decided that going to church would be a good option, with no one forced to attend. However, as has been with all the team events up to this point, everyone attended. I’m not sure if the service we went to was completely representative of all South African church services, but I was floored by what we encountered. Even before we walked in, we heard the voices, penetrating the orange bricks of this modern building. We had just parked our vans and thanked Joseph for “watching” them. Yeah, something about being able to park for 3 hours in a 1 hour tow away zone. The sound of crisp harmonies, led by an energized leader was more welcoming that any of the enthusiastic handshakes that we received from the sharply dressed ushers. Songs both in English and SiSwathi were led and it didn’t matter if you understood what was being sung, you sung because of the simple call-and-response way that the songs were presented. Then came the sermon. Actually, it was a 25 minute exhortation on why we should be tithing and offering, followed by the timely actual collection of offering. Then came the REAL sermon. An out of town guest speaker, who probably hasn’t spoken in a few weeks and had to get it out of his system, delivered an hour-plus-long sermon about godliness. How well rested I was, was put to the test and I passed with flying colours, able to pay attention to most of what he said. The service finally ended and we were heartily greeted by the congregation as we were introduced as the “visitors from Canada”. We didn’t really get a chance to explain why we were there, but we were thanked for coming, nonetheless. Then, the harsh reality of South Africa’s poverty hit. One of the people that I was sitting beside had appeared shifty all throughout the service. When I initially shook his hand, he didn’t look me in the eyes. It wasn’t until after the nearly 3 hour service did I realize why he was there. He came up to me and asked me if I had any money, that he was hungry. He sat through an entire service, listened to an excruciatingly long sermon just so that he could have a crack at the foreigners. Even before we were scheduled to do so, our ministry began. A typical South African handshake consists of three sections. The first component is the firm grasp that is what I typically expect. Then, before the hand is released, a grasp similar to what is used when two people are about to arm wrestle is formed, and finally, this whole sequence is finished off with another shake similar to the first! I learned this from Timbah, a student that is part of the Masoyi forward education program that is preparing him to challenge the university entrance exams. We had lunch with him and a few other Masoyi community members, all who have stories of loss and grief, but all of whom have risen above these tragedies. Timbah likes football (though, he is sensitive that I come from North America, so he insists on calling it soccer!), writing (he’s planning on publishing a book detailing his journey) and going to the mall (because he lacks the means for transportation, going to the mall is a treat – he doesn’t go there to shop because he also lacks the funds to buy anything, but he likes hanging out there). After lunch, we split up and him and I went to an arcade. We rode motorcycles together, drove race cars together and had one intense game of air hockey! Final score: 7-7! We were donated a guitar for this trip, with the idea being that the guitar will not be coming home with us. It will be in our possession until the end, because we will be doing some team singing. With about an hour before our scheduled orientation, I decided to take the guitar down past the facility, into an open field (cognizant at all times, of course, of the possibility of running into the much talked about Black Mamba snake). I find a brick structure that looks like it could be a oddly placed chimney, but what makes for a perfect wall of shade, and sit in front of it. Then, I play the guitar. We have a better sense of what we will be doing in the next 3 weeks: mostly building (erecting trusses and then placing the roof on top), and some community events (helping out with the Home-Based care workers, helping out with the day care program, helping out with the after school program, helping out with the gardens). The idea is to give anyone who visits Hands At Work a “experience” while visiting Africa. Most only see the safaris, the staged Zulu dancers and the coastal beaches. In fact, one could live here and be in complete denial of what AIDS has done to this continent. The Hands experience is meant to change lives, through real life encounters and the making of real connections. |
