It’s hard to comprehend how 3 weeks have just whisked by.I sit journaling on the last leg of this journey that will see me landing home in Calgary in less than 10 hours.On the one hand, I am returning to a life that has been put on pause that I am looking forward to restarting.There are certain “creature comforts” that I am miss: showers, a fast and consistent Internet connection, driving on the “right” side of the road, snow capped mountain peaks that will tempt me to break out my snowboard.On the other hand, there is a solemn feeling, near sadness, for leaving Africa.It feels like that there is so much left incomplete.Not necessarily the specific project that we were assigned to, per say (many on the team were hoping to have put up trusses or roofs by the time we left – this is more photographable proof of our work than landscaping or ring beams!), but work in general.The hunger, the decrepit housing, the brokenness and the loneliness.I guess I would be foolish in thinking that any one of these “projects” could be completed in just 3 weeks of my being there.In a way, the journey doesn’t end because I am back in Calgary.It continues in another form: I now have another story to tell.Maybe my experiences will edify someone in a way that they become more aware; aware of their interconnectedness with this world, aware of what may seem irrelevant, aware of choices.
I am in an elevator with someone who knows that I’ve just spent 3 weeks in Africa.They ask me how it went.I have an 8 story flight to summarize what I’ve learned:
Volun-tourism
I’ve seen a trend emerging in recent years.More and more people are spending their vacations abroad traveling beyond the typical, worn out paths of discovery.By engaging a community to a level that goes beyond over-photographed sites and overpriced trinkets, your traveling experiences are super-enhanced: you eat what the locals eat, you recreate as the locals recreate, you communicate how the locals communicate.By volunteering with an agency already on the ground, you may be able to gain access to experiences not listed in a backpacking guide or possible with a typical tour.There are many agencies, some of whom may even advocate a cause that you deeply believe in.As well, it is an amazing conversation starter (and inspiring testimony) when you can say that you paid money out of your pockets, used up your entitled leave from work to volunteer in a remote location.
Open your eyes to Africa
Go beyond the beauty of her landscapes, the amazing animals that inhabit her parks and reserves.African people have a sincerity that is just awesome.They are also a people that have been burdened with a history of violence, oppression and illness.It’s easy to start developing a perspective and world view based solely on the culture that you live in.By extending beyond what might be considered the “norm”, a whole new world of conversations and understandings can be discovered.
Be thankful
Chances are good that if you are reading this, you are a North American living in an upper middle class setting or beyond, not spending too much time worrying about your next meal.Be thankful for all that you’ve been blessed with, material or not.It is this spirit of gratitude that serves as the first step in bridging relationships.
Speaking of gratefulness, I am grateful for all your thoughts and prayers, financial and material support, and willingness to journey with me on my latest leg of discovery. The words on this blog give a mere glimpse into what I experienced and I hope that it merely serves as a springboard for more and deeper conversations.
I thought I had experienced a safari at Kruger.You get into a Land Rover, you drive around, you stop and take pictures.12 hours later, you leave, feeling the triumph (or defeat) of having conquered (or not) THE BIG FIVE.It is sad if this is how most safaris are measured.So, I was looking forward the down time at our team debrief (there was a rumour about a swimming pool circulating) more than anything else, and the safaris would be optional.Often, the best surprises come when your heart is already set on something.
This is a tribute to a good man.He is good because he believes in goodness.His bush experience came from having grown up the son of a hunter.Yet, somewhere along his journey, his view of the world turned from conquest to conservation.Now, he is one of only a handful of people in the country qualified to qualify guides.He could very well be called a Super Guide, but his humility would have nothing of it.Instead, he serves us bipeds with as much care and attention as he services all other wildlife.Now give this man a Land Rover and the open bush, and you have the formula for an unforgettable 3 days.Yes, we did see the animals, thanks in part to the amazing eyes of his tracker Daniel.But what was amazing was what we would not have seen if it wasn’t for Neil.I learned more in the first 20 minutes with him than on the entire day long drive in Kruger.
Holding some round pellets in his hand, he points to the widely scattered pattern and asks us “Could you guess what animal left these pellets: an impala (a type of common deer) or a giraffe?”We’re dumbfounded.“Look at the pattern that is formed when these pellets fall from a high distance.”We watch in wonder as the pellets he drops from above his head form the exact patterns we see on the ground.
For the next 3 days, Neil draws upon his expertise in biology, zoology, entomology, geology, astronomy and survivor skills to inspire us to look at the surroundings as more than just annoying foliage that might be masking some over-sought, over photographed animals.Instead we learned about termite mounds and the amazing engineering skills of this community that has taught humans about heat convection in buildings, trees whose branches and leaves can be used as toothbrush, toothpaste, rope, toilet paper and a long lasting torch.He showed us how to make a fish hook with a Knobthorn branch; a peculiar plant affectionately known as the Mother-In-Law’s Tongue (because it is wide, sharp and bitter!).He showed us how to determine north with a long stem of grass and a watch or how to locate the celestial south pole by extrapolating from the Southern Cross constellation.Probably the most memorable moment was when he proceeded to demonstrate a game that he used to play when younger.He grabbed a handful of giraffe pellets and put them in his mouth!He was quite the pellet spitter!
He was also the only guide that did not carry a rifle on the drives.He would rather use his wits and knowledge as the best tools to avoid having such a close confrontation with the wildlife.He’s the MacGyver of the bush.
And each time we passed another Land Rover, I couldn’t help but look into the eyes of the other passengers. The look of disappointment or boredom was often the reflection looking back. I smiled, trying not too hard to hide the knowledge that I was having the time of my life!
As part of the afternoon game drives, we pull off to a safe area (read wide open so that if we see any dangerous game, we have time to jump into the Land Rover), crack open some beverages (most popular is the Grapetiser) and watch the sun go down on some beautiful landscape. This is from day 2:
The shadows should be long But the cauliflower clouds Are skimming the mountain tops A Castle lager in my hands.
A big bird is circling Making one final run Skirting the random sun beams That peaks through the leaky roof.
Well, our stay at ASM is over. The team is to travel to Ingwe Game Reserve for a couple days of team debrief. Except for one challenge: our blue van didn't quite make it! Thankfully, we're only 20 minutes from our destination, so we're shuttling back and forth with the working vehicle. Blackberry still works so I thought I'd do a post. YEBO!
Most of our body is made of it, but we tend not to give it a second thought, at least not while living in a developed country.Water has played an interesting part in our time hear in South Africa.We have two separate taps from which water flows.One comes from a bore hole and is potable.The other is from what we affectionately call the “hippo pond”, which is actually a nearby dammed up water source which is sometimes inhabited by a hippo.This water is will make you sick if you consume it and sometimes comes out as a rich brown colour.On more than one occasion, we’ve returned home from the construction site with either one of the water sources not available.At these times (when you can’t quench your thirst or take a shower), you realize how much water is taken for granted when it is not available.Water is also important on the work site.It is the key ingredient in our concrete and stucco mix and, when used in the wrong proportions, can create a mess that requires clean up or rework.On a typical scorching South African day, I down about 6L of this stuff during work hours.
And no less than 24 hours from when we poured the last bucket into the ring beam, we found ourselves facing one of the fascinations for this country which demonstrate the magnificent power of water.Awed briefly by the potholes (yes, we paid money to see the version that nature created when, back home, we could see the versions created by traffic for free!), we soon found ourselves confronting the Blyde Canyon, a site that rivals the Grand Canyon but is more impressive because of the lush vegetation that caps it.We were silent as the Blyde river, which appeared to be a mere trickling brook from our vantage point, flowed into Mozambique.
It was the exact moment when the late afternoon met the twilight as both the birds and the crickets were chirping in harmony.The venue eventually settled on was meaningful, cozy and humble, the farmhouse where she has spent many hours, days growing and loving God and Africa.The baptism was to take place in what is no more than a child’s wading pool that was about four feet too high.There was no fanfare, no showmanship.Just a humble “public” proclamation that was also a covenant for all those who bore witness, as we committed to being her support community as she continued her journey.
Talk by George
“You don’t hear it, but the local workers sit there during lunch, laughing at the way you dress.More importantly, they wonder why you would pay money out of your pockets, use up all of your entitled leave, to come to Africa to move bricks.”
“I sat on the veranda with a girl who was 12 years old.Her mother died 2 years ago and she became the head of the household.She said that the hardest thing was, since her mother died, was that I was the very first person to visit her.”
“She was 19 years old and very beautiful.But, I could tell she had AIDS and she wasn’t going to live to see her next birthday.I was broken.How could I leave without giving her something, anything?But I had nothing.So, we sang to her.I put my hand on her shoulder and I could feel her whole body sucking the energy from me.For the first time in her life, here was someone touching her without any negative connotations.”
“I went back to the commercial sex trade workers, this time without the pastors in their tidy suits and leather shoes.I knelt on my knees before them and asked them to forgive the church for failing them, for judging them and not loving them.”
“One of the commercial sex trade workers answered: I know that life is about choices.The only choice I have is whether or not my child eats tonight.”
“I was having lunch and one young man came up to my table.He says, thank you George.I’m from Masoyi and didn’t stand a chance.Now I work and I’m living.I’M MAKING IT!”
It could be July in Calgary, in the middle of Stampede. Instead, it is November in South Africa, in the middle of their rain season. Lucky for our construction project, it only rains at night (leaving an empty sky and a scorching sun in the day). But, boy, does it rain. It started raining at about 9:00 and each team member slowly retreated to their slumber. There were constant flashes in the distance, a lulling strobe to put us to sleep. A low rumble reassured us that the storm was a safe distance away.
We were premature in thinking that our night was done, just as a night at Stampede is not complete without fireworks. It was hot and humid last night, so there was no need to sleep with the covers. At around 1:00, something odd happened. There was a sound so loud and violent that I was thrown about 3 feet into the air above my bed, both because the building was shaking and because I was startled awake! We must have been right in the middle of the storm because the flash of lightning came AFTER the thunder. Don't ask me why, but I grabbed for the covers and quickly hid underneath them; a grown man reduced to a whimpering child scared of the storm!
Well, we finished our last full day of construction today and the team has become quite efficient at erecting ring beams, a poured concrete form that sits on top of the brick building where the trusses are tied to. Tomorrow's work day ends at lunch and we'll be packing up for the rest of the day. We're also going to hear from George Snyman, founder of Hands At Work, the organization that we're building for.
For the second time in three weeks, our team worshipped at Sunrise City Church. Having visited a couple of traditional black churches, the loud music and vibrant dancing no longer frightened us. In fact, most of the team got into grooving with the music, the many occassions where we were to greet those sitting nearby, and the pastor who was shouting more than he was speaking. The pastor was definitely passionate, even when he wasn't the one speaking. Typically, the congregation would acknowledge what they heard with a hearty AMEN! The pastor would acknowledge by saying "Yah, das gute!" (Yes, that's good!). It's actually very catchy so, all day, each team member would randomly holler out their own "yah, das gute!". The best came when our team leader yelled it out during tonight's grace, causing us to all laugh!
It was dark and we had just come back from a long day. The electric gate was not working so one of the passengers has to get out of the car and slide it open. I happened to be sitting in the shotgun position so I got out. I tried the gate but it didn't budge. Thinking that the gate had been fixed, I returned to the car to get the key fob. As I got near, I heard everyone shout at me "the other way!". I turned around, went back to the gate and tried again. The gate still didn't budge. All I heard next was a car full of laughter. The driver rolled down his window: "Tim, the other other way."
The clock had not reached its sixth hour milestone. Yet, the team (with the exception of Des, who spent the night at the hospice and is now sleeping) piles into the blue van. We need to go to the taxi rink (an odd name for an open field where the municipal buses congregate) to pick up Patrick and his brother Tulani. A thick fog covers Masoyi, creating a grey canopy that only gets lighter in shade as each minute passes. We park beside the electrified fence of the children’s Bible college and begin our ascent. Destination: Mount Legogote’s summit. With the two locals are our “guides”, we ignore the worn out donkey paths that traverse the mountain. Instead, we trek our way through thick foliage, sweeping landscapes and lush meadows, all the while avoiding termite hills, Asinthia thorn trees and the odd centipede. We get to a certain point and find Patrick having a heated discussion with his younger brother. One points left while the other points right. The fog, it seems, has created a challenge in landmarking. As in most sibling disputes, the older one wins out and we head left. Shortly, we get to a point where we can now see the summit. The only thing that stands in the team’s way is a dangerous climb through a questionable crevice. Realizing that we forgot the ropes and biners obviously required for such a technical climb, some conceded that the hike would end there. However, we didn’t come this far just to quit. So, one by one, with the one below spotting the footing for the one above, we slowly climbed. When the last team member got through the crevice, we all celebrated for foiling death today! A metal pole embedded in a cement cylinder marks the summit. Pictures were snapped and apples were consumed. And, as if it couldn’t have been orchestrated any better, the clouds (yes, we were in the clouds) started breaking at that moment, revealing a breath taking view of Masoyi, our construction site, where we are staying. One team member commented that this was the first time in his life that he’s ever looked at barn swallows from above. After playing some Hacky Sack with Tulani (at 1,117 metres – YEBO!) we made our way down, stopping to gawk at some hieroglyphics (read, postmodern vandalism).
It has been a while since we woke up to a clear sky. Though this possesses a high aesthetic value, it also means that the rest of the day is probably going to be hot. Sure enough, the sun beat down on us ferociously today. This drained us of our energy quickly, especially since we were doing very manual work. Water had to be taken in quite generously and the scarce shade that could be found was a hot commodity. Any breeze that makes a guest appearance is welcomed enthusiastically. The bipeds on the construction site were not the only ones affected by the heat. Many times, while moving bricks, we had to stop and perform “relocation duties”. Many frogs like to stay in the tiny cracks between the piles of bricks in order to stay cool. To not risk crushing them, I must have moved at least half a dozen to safer grounds.
It is obvious that if you’re not conditioned for it, a week of grueling physical labour can be quite taxing. The team was very quiet tonight, most opting for an event-free evening. A hike up nearby Mount Legogote tomorrow was originally slated to start at 5:00 a.m. Unanimously, it has been decided that we will start at 6:00 a.m. instead.
Our humble internet connection has been taken away. Though we traveled so far from home, it was the one piece of home that many of the team did not want to fast from. So, for the rest of this trip, the updates to this blog will be sporadic at best.
I learned my first SiSwati word today that contained a click! My only prior knowledge of this (as ignorant as it sounds) came from a Canadian stand up comedian as he floated around the Internet. As we were moving bricks today, there were a couple of frogs who leapt out, annoyed that we were disturbing their homes. I asked one of the local workers how to say frog in SiSwati and got the reply back: “SiXOXO”. Whenever you see an “XO” together, it is pronounced “go” but with a click at the beginning of it. So, for the better part of the rest of the day, I was trying to master this rather tricky linguistic technique.
I’m not sure why, but after a long, hard day in the sun, I have a huge craving for Diet Coke. It’s the only pop I will drink at home and I guess this shows that a part of me is homesick. The team usually goes out for dinner on Sunday nights because our meal arrangements exclude this day. I’ve been delighted to have been able to order Diet Coke. I would think that because of the substitution of an artificial sugar for real sugar, this is what makes the drink “diet”. However, it appears that what ALSO makes this beverage suitable for calorie reduction is that it comes in a smaller size! In fact, it is about 50% smaller than the same-priced non-diet version!
If your father leaves you when you are 2 weeks old, you are essentially fatherless. It’s not easy growing up in a poor village in South Africa with a mother and 2 other siblings. When the only thing to do is to survive, it’s understandable, almost forgivable, that someone chooses petty crime just to live. What’s remarkable is when you meet someone who is aware of this tragedy, but chooses not to travel that common, easier route. Instead, he has now dedicated himself in doing what he can to help others who are going through the same things that he has gone through (and survived). We call him “Ng-Clung-Clung”, although, I suspect that this is not how you’re supposed to pronounce his name. Despite this butchery, he has treated us all with grace and respect. He is the foreman on the construction site, second in command. Because he is local, he is able to communicate effectively with the local crew (he speaks seven languages/dialects). But, when the rest of the crew books out of there at 4:00 on the dot, he is tirelessly cleaning up the site and locking up the container. Then, he somehow catches a ride to get to a church in his community, where he is giving MORE of his time in doing MORE construction.
“Teem-y. I choose now to build not for myself, but so that I can help others who are in trouble. I want to share my home. That is why I don’t think that I will ever get married because a wife will not want to share the house, but that is what I want to do.”
I’m so blown away by the fact that someone who has so little wants to give so much. I think of my home and possessions half way around the world and can’t help but feel guilty about how I’ve horded it to myself.
Boys will be boys anywhere. We're making CONCRETE, not CEMENT (we were sternly corrected by our team leader, who happens to work for a large concrete company, that you use cement to make concrete; you don't bake a flour, but a loaf of bread!), today, which requires water. Water is poured into a large bucket and kept on hand for whenever it is needed. Some poor frog thought this was a nice wading pool and decided to go for a swim. However, the gunk found in this water is not very healthy, so all of a sudden, you have 5 guys standing around this bucket gawking at this unfortunate, floating frog.
"Should we cook it?" "Let's play a practical joke on one of the other guys!"
It was decided that since the frog was part of this land, it should also be part of the building that is going up. So, into the concrete mixer it went. It is now part of the concrete floor in one of the shower buildings!
Boys will be boys anywhere. When working on a farily mindless task such as laying bricks, it's understandable that the workers will become engaged in some sort of side discussion. Last week, it was about whether it is appropriate for someone who is not married to bury their family members. That particular discussion got pretty heated as there were differing opinions. Today, another such discussion ensued, as I was shovelling dirt nearby. The volume and velocity of words spoken started increasing and I could tell people were getting embroiled. As I was moving my next wheelbarrow load, one of the crew shouted out to me "Teem-y!" (that's what they call me). I put down my wheelbarrow, thinking that my chance had finally arrived. Perhaps they were arguing about sports or theology, and I would inject some of my self-proclaimed wisdom. I'm still floating high because of my recent "sermon"! I raised my head in confidence as the question came:
"Teem-y! How many people sit in a jet fighter plane?"
Huh? I had to pause for a second because this certainly wasn't the issue that I thought they were arguing about. Taken back, I mumbled a half baked answer "Ummm, two? Yeah, usually there is a co-pilot" Actually, I wasn't sure. The only thing I could think of at that moment was the movie Top Gun where Maverick had his wingman Goose. So, my moment of glory disintegrated into something I half remember seeing in a movie!
These past two days have been focused on construction. Because of the various tasks required, each different team member is now an expert in laying down plumbing, cement mixing, floor pouring, brick relocation (which is just a glamourous name for a very tedious and mindless job!), building corner finishing and landscaping. The heat has surged in the past couple days, making an already tiring task even more so. Most of the team now eats and goes to sleep right away.
Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers. Here are some things to keep thinking about or praying for: - with the exception of two mild colds, everyone is keeping in good health. No traveller's diarrhea, no malaria, no injuries on the construction site. Please continue to think about/pray for safety for our team. - we have numerous opportunities to see how AIDS has impacted this community. Think /pray that the team will not forget and will tell their stories to family and friends back in Canada. - the volunteers here are always under constant constraints from limited financial resources. Discouragement can set in very easily. Think about/pray for how our team can be an encouragement to these dedicated servants.
It was the best sleep in about a week. However, I still found myself lying there awake at 4:45 a.m. even though I was negotiating with myself to sleep more. I guess I had something on my mind; this was later confired when one of my roommates told me that I was talking in my sleep last night. I was tasked with speaking at the orphan church in Cork that out team was going to worship at. "Speaking" really is overstating it as I was asked to prepare 10 minutes worth of material.
There is something about hearing the music that comes from within a church before one enters the church. This is the second Sunday that this is happened and now I think that it is part of the church's marketing plan: to let people outside know that the church is rockin' to draw passerbys in. Although, in the case of the orphan church, there weren't really any passerbys because the church was located in one of the hard-to-access villages. The people approaching the church were mainly children and, supported by their tiny frames, they were carrying plastic chairs. The church is not "well endowed" so the congregants (in this case, mainly children) had to carry their own chairs to church. But they were obviously excited to be there. This was fuelled by the overloaded speakers connected to the overloaded amp. A low end Roland keyboard pumped out both polka-isque automatic rhythms and cheesy synthesizer sounds. A quartet of distorted voices rounded off the audio spectrum that left anyone sitting in the first 5 rows leaving partially deaf. But, this is how they worshipped. And worship they did! After each section of the sermon (and the sections were short and sporadic enough to cater to the attention span of the children in attendance) there would be a song. Often, the pastor would start off, only to be cut off when the keyboard came in on a different key. But, these technical glitches did not hamper the momentum of the service. Everyone would get up and dance for that song. I could count off 3 separate occassions where a conga line formed. I'm not sure how these kids learn these songs given the distorted sonic environment, but they were all singing along! After the service, we were invited to stay as they served us a humble meal of pap and chicken.
Our team prepared 3 songs to sing with the church. We only practiced once, so I printed off the lyrics as an aid. However, due to a miscommunication, my pile of lyrics was handed out throughout the church instead of to the team. No problem; the songs were simple enough that I could prompt them with the next verse. However, at the end of the service, I was looking for one of these sheets, so I could write out the chords to give to a new guitarist (see next section). However, not a single one was to be found. I asked my friend Themba if he had one and he reluctantly pulled out his folded up lyric sheet from his Bible. I think he was going to be sad that I was appearing to ask him back for it. I immediately told him that I was looking for an extra one and that he could keep that one. Paper is very scarce in this community and valued greatly. In my past worship experiences, there are always extra song sheets lying around, discarded after its initial, one time use.
The donated guitar has found a new home. After leading the short singing session, I left the guitar near the front of the stage. At the end of the service, the pastor took it out of its case and started strumming it. Because of the noise of the impromptu jam session at the end of the service (picture about 20 kids around the cheesy keyboard, singing their hearts out whether they were in tune or not), I could not hear what the pastor, who was jamming with them, was playing. Only when they stopped did I notice that he was just strumming without forming any real chords on the instruments. I walked over to him and showed him how to play some basic chords. He was fascinated! The passion in his eyes as they lit up told me that one of my prayers had just been answered: God, help me to find a suitable home and steward of this instrument. I went through some of the basics with him and he promised that he would practice hard, every day. He also promised that he would teach some of the other children how to play when he got good. One of the first chords I taught him was a "G". This involved using his left pinky finger on the bottom string. For some reason, his pinky fingernail was longer than the others. I pointed out that playing guitar would mean having short nails. He immediately puts his pinky finger in his mouth and rips offs that long nail, quickly discarding its previous purpose for its new found calling!
Back at my home church, screaming babies are not welcomed. Why do I say this? Well, there is a separate nursery that babies are supposed to be brought, dropped off and the parent is given a number. Should that baby cause a disruption, there is a big LED number screen that flashes a number, indicating to the lucky holder of that number that they are to immediately go to the nursery. For the few brave parents who actually choose to worship with their toddlers, the moment that there is a disruption, a few nasty glares persuades the parent to immediately evacuate the worship area with their child. So, what happens when you're in an orphan church and the people in the service don't have parents, and someone starts crying? Easy, one of the other orphans console the crier, holding them gingerly until everything is okay.
We went to one of the older orphan's home to video tape a couple of interviews (their stories are in the process of being published, as part of the healing and dignification process). Outside of this home is a community soccer field and there was a game today (the road actually formed the sideline of the field; it truly gave a new meaning to "CAR!"). It seemed like a large chunk of the community was out, kids and all. So, it didn't take long for a large crowd of kids to form around the home where 2 vans full of foreigners just entered. First it was gawking. Then they were practicing the limited English that they knew. It wasn't until one of the long term workers here, a daughter of one of my teammates, rounded them up and started playing games with them did the connection happen. These are not games that rely on technology or fancy equipment. Instead, they are simple games that really engages the kids:
1. FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN (kids form a conga line and walk in a circle)
"Fire on the mountain, RUN-RUN-RUN" (repeat for an undetermined number of times)
"#" where the number is random. The kids are then to form groups of #'s
2. POTATO CHIP
"Potato Chip, Potato Chip" (kids repeat)
Crunchy, Crunchy (kids repeat)
I love Jesus (kids repeat)
A Bunchy, Bunchy (kids repeat)
There was once a man (kids repeat)
And he walked like this (kids repeat)
Then he met Jesus (kids repeat)
Now he walks like this (kids repeat)"
3. HANDS TO HANDS
(kids form groups of two, chant each line a random # of times, kids do each action with their partner)
"Hands to Hands
Back to Back
Bum to Bum
Knee to Knee
Head to Head"
One of the orphans. I tried three times, but he couldn't keep still!
"In a village, there once lived two sisters together: Naledi (star) and Puleng (out in rain). Naledi and Puleng loved each other and went everywhere together. One day, they received an important message: their uncle who lived on a banana farm in the next village invited them to stay with him! They were so happy because they have never been to their uncle’s banana farm and they would be able to play with their cousin Mamello (patience). After a long journey, they were so happy to arrive. The next day, Mamello took them out to the banana farm. There were many tall trees, each with big green leaves and many bananas! They decided to play a game: Naledi and Puleng would hide and Mamello would search for them. The sisters were so excited because they were at climbing trees and finding good places to hide. They went down a line of tall trees, turned left, ran for 20 steps, turned left again, ran for 5 steps, turned right. They found the perfect hiding spot: a small bush that the 2 sisters could crawl into. It was cool in this place, shielded from the sun's heat. In fact, it was so comfortable that the 2 sisters became tired and fell asleep. When they woke up, the sun was going down and it was starting to become dark. They suddenly remembered that they were on their uncle’s banana farm and had been playing a game with their cousin. They were sure that the game was over and now they had to return to the house. But they didn’t know how to get back. They started walking towards one tall banana tree, thinking that it would help them remember how to return. But each time they turned, they saw another large tree that looked familiar. They did this many times and soon became very frightened. They were lost! It was dark now and they could hardly see the trees anymore. Puleng held Naledi’s hand tighter. They turned once more but did not see the house. It was getting cold. All of a sudden, a bright light was seen to the left. They turned towards it and walked towards it. Then, the 2 sisters started running as they got closer. Finally, they could see that it was their cousin Mamello holding the bright light, happy to see his 2 cousins. He was so scared when he couldn’t find them in the banana farm and became even more scared when it was becoming dark. Luckily, he had this light and used it to help Naledi and Puleng find their way back to the house. It was the light that helped Naledi and Puleng not be lost and to feel safe and happy again. Now Naledi, Puleng and Mamello sat in the house, eating pap and having a fun time!
Sometimes we get scared because we feel like we are alone, that it is dark all around us. But Jesus said in the Bible (John 8:12): “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life”. If we ever feel scared like Naledi and Puleng when they were lost in the banana farm, Jesus will help us find our way. Just like Mamello used a light to help Naledi and Puleng get back to the house, Jesus promised to be the light. All you have to do is follow Jesus!"
Pastor Tim delivers his inaugural sermon to about 50 kids at the orphan church in Cork. Immediately thereafter, his temporary ordination is revoked!
Today started earlier than a typical work day, as the alarm on my Ironman started chiming at 3:30 a.m. The team was going to spend our day off at Kruger National Park, a wildlife conservation initiative started a century ago that still persists to provide the wild of Africa a refuge to live and thrive.
We got to the gate at just before 6:00 after getting into our “safari” truck: a sitting cabin custom made to sit on top of a 2 ton pick up truck. The placement of the seats and the lack of windows made each seat a good vantage point when visiting with the animals. It also meant that there was zero protection from the elements. Thankfully, it did not rain today. However, the morning was very cold and, once again, I was glad that I packed my Icebreakers with me to Africa. The visit lasted the entire day, broken by rest stops for breakfast and lunch. Along the way, we saw: water buffalos, elephants, impalas, cliff springers, kudus, water buck, hippos, crocodiles, giraffes and even a pair of tortoises. This experience was unique because you saw these animals in their natural habitat, not some simulation like at the zoo. Though there were long stretches where we didn’t see a thing (though we kept wishing to see a lion or a leopard), we were really impressed by the animals we did see.
It’s interesting how it is engrained within our Western mindset to approach an exercise with a set of to-do’s. Taking on a safari in Kruger was not different. There is something called the “Big Five” (in fact, the outfitter that we hired was called Big Five). This refers to the following animals: water buffalos, elephants, lions, leopards and rhinos. This collection of animals was set apart from the rest because there was a time when it was encouraged to hunt and take, as trophy, a part of each. This might include the tusk of the elephant, the horns of the buffalo and the skin of the leopard. When the first two animals we saw were part of this club, most of the team was excited, thinking that it would be no time before the list was completed. Near the end of the day, when it was clear that we were headed for the park’s exit, there was a sense of disappointment as we failed to see the other three, to complete the list. Where is the love for the other animals that were just as majestic? More importantly, how can we deprogram ourselves from diminishing an experience because it doesn’t fit into the task list system that we run our lives by?
“Big Elephant. Holding a gun. Goes to war.”
Somehow, when translated into Cantonese, it is a children’s rhyme!
Just as the internet connection here has been temperamental and our potable water supply has also been inconsistent, we experienced our first power outage tonight. This is typical when there are rain storms. Though it rained all day today, it was the same constant drizzle that we experienced yesterday, nothing that would indicate enough force to knock off the supply of power. It happened and right at dinner time; however, we weren’t going to let a black out keep us from our yummy pork chops! We had a rather romantic LED headlamp dinner (it’s the wrong adverb because the ladies had already left for their over night stay at the hospice, but a memorable experience nonetheless).
The constant rain put an obstacle in the construction project. We are at a point now where some precise technical things need to be done. As such, there is no point in haphazardly doing it given the challenging conditions that the rain creates. So, we traveled to another site where most of the structures are completed. We spent most of the day clearing the individual rooms of debris and generally tidying up the site.
With two of our teammates spending an all-night shift at the hospice, we decided that it would be a good idea to familiarize ourselves with its location, so that we can pick them up on the way to our outing tomorrow at Kruger National Park. South African traffic is exactly as Great Britain’s: you drive on the left side. The main road that we travel on is a three lane highway that has been painted for two opposing ones. If you happen to find yourself stuck behind a slow moving vehicle, you can pass on the right hand side. Usually, the slower moving party will yield by moving onto the shoulder to make a bit more space. It is not uncommon for some ambitious cars to pass in the middle between two vehicles moving in opposite directions. We arrived at the road that we were to turn left to get to the hospice. We waited patiently as opposing traffic (on the right side of the road) cleared. Vehicles behind us were passing us on the shoulder to the left of us. Our driver saw an opening and prepared to execute the turn. Lucky for us, as it turns out, this old van has a sticky transmission and it’s quite the task to get it into first. Lucky, because the moment we started our turn, the rest of the team in the van started shouting at the driver. “WATCH OUT!” Some small red car was obviously not paying attention (to us or to the rules of the road) and attempted to pass us on the RIGHT side. We were literally inches from turning into this car. The red car fluttered by as we held our collective breathes. We shoulder checked every turn we made for the rest of the day.
It's been exactly one week since I wrapped up the final details at work and waited, with much anticipation, as one of my teammates picked me up in his black Odyssey outside of the Calgary Petroleum Club. That started a journey that saw the team travel to London, on to Johannesburg, and finally to Masoyi where I now compose this journal. Weeks of team training were meant to prepare me for the different experiences I would encounter and, all in all, I think I was prepared. For the most part. Today it rained. It wasn't a spectacular tropical rainstorm, the type that might wipe out roads or put a stop to our construction work. Instead, it was a steady mist that kept drizzling all day. It was also very cold, cold enough that I thought prudent to don my long underwear. This combination of wet and cold set the stage for what I was about to see. We waited for our transport to the Jerusalem clinic where our Home Based Care involvement would begin. We then waited again for our transport to the different parts of the community. "T.I.A. - This Is Africa!" From what I heard from my other teammates, it seemed like the most number of families visited in one day would not exceed 4. In total we visited with 7 families. Most that we saw were bedridden and needed the help of a family member to welcome us. Chairs, no matter how humble they were, were brought into the often cramped bedrooms (often, the only room in the places that we visited) and, out of respect, we would sit on them. We travelled with David, one of the very few nurses that works for HBC. He patiently worked through his assessments, pausing appropriately to translate for us. In most situations, his visits were meant to review the progress of a prescribed regiment and to remind the community member to get to the clinic for follow up. On one occasion, he provided an older lady with mild pain relief and "rub rub", a leg cream for a common occurring condition that is defined by pain in the legs. At the end of each visit, he would ask that we pray for the community member. At each visit, David would take out his tattered notebook (not spiral bound; think of the type usually used in primary grades) and start writing details for clinic referrals he would draft up later. We noticed that he was writing with a very unique pen. Its shaft was thin, the body was transparent, so one could tell exactly the amount of ink remaining. However, upon closer inspection, we realized that David wasn't using a pen at all. Instead, he was using a pen refill, the ones used in cheap ball point pens! Des just happened to be carrying a pen (a free one given to him from Husky Energy) and gave it to David. He was thrilled because pens are so hard to get here; they're like gold! Besides the strong smell of exhaust, sitting in the van that transported us from location to location was a treat because it meant that we were able to warm up. The reason for this was because, though we were visiting these community members inside their homes, most homes were so poorly put together that it was just as cold inside as it was outside. Most places lacked electricity and the only light in the room was from the poorly constructed roof where there were gaps that allowed light in. On a day like today, it also meant that it allowed in the rain. On more than one occasion, I had to watch my step in the dimly lit home to avoid stepping on the scrawny dogs and chickens that were free to roam. What was very noticeable was how quiet the many children that we encountered were. They were obviously curious about the strange looking visitors, but most were quiet, almost frozen in a state of lethargic reticence. We left each home after saying a prayer. It didn't take long for frustration to set in for me. Yes, I could pray the most eloquent prayer, but did it help that they did not understand what I was saying? There had to be more that I could've done. I lack the medical training to heal them physically, but hoped beyond hope that I could somehow be an encouragement. In the face of hopelessness, where one can't even heal properly because the bedroom gets so damn cold because the walls are cinder blocks with left over mortar holding it together, what is there to be encouraged by? How is one supposed to feel dignified like this? I discovered that I needed to bridge the communication gap with more than just a silly grin and lots of nodding when the illness was being translated. It's amazing how something as simple as providing a greeting in the right language pays dividends. I started paying attention to how David greeted these community members and tried to imitate. Right away, I saw the change in posture of the people we visited. I can imagine that they must see foreigners come by all the time, each one observing them as if visiting a zoo. But, to take the time to engage in a meaningful way means that someone is caring. "Sawubona!" =Hello! "Yebo!" =Hi! "Q'unjari" =How are you? "Sikhona" =I'm fine "Salagersha"=Goodbye!
For all the good that I think that all the "tools" have helped to enhance the spiritual experience of music, with all the PowerPoint slides, the over-rehearsed and over-sized worship bands, the slickness of the perfectly written music epic, how could there be anything more? This morning, my community involvement started in the office of Masoyi Home Based Care, as we were invited to their "prayer meeting". We did more than just pray. In fact, the majority of the meeting was singing. And there was no one with a guitar, no one with a piano, no projector and screen. Just one sincerely passionate lady who led. And the simple structure of call and response style music that is embedded in African culture has done away with the need for bells and whistles for meaningful worship. Songs were sung in both SiSwati and English, and it didn't matter if you didn't speak either language. There was no need for drums because the syncopated clapping was easy to follow and all that was required. How great is it that before heading out to engage with the community at a heart level, that my own heart was inspired and elevated by this gathering?! Lula is an orphan care centre in Masoyi. Here, about 40 children spend most of their days, split into two "classes". When I first entered, there were 15 kids sitting at kid-sized tables, happily playing with green coloured Play-doh. The entrance of a foreigner (particularly one of the rarer Asian kind) did not really distract them. I crouched down to the first table (remember, these are kid-sized tables!) and began engaging them. Obviously, anything I said to them was gibberish, so they started making a song out of what they thought I was saying. Soon, they started calling me "Papa", which is a good thing. I think they concluded that I was harmless after I started making cubes for them out of their dough. Once one kid got a block, EVERY kid wanted a block! This was typical of every situation I found myself in with these kids, whether it was swinging them around, playing soccer with them, giving them a push on the swings; they all wanted a turn with "Papa"! Though I was off construction for this morning, I certainly got my physical workout with these kid-shaped bricks! I am sensitive of not trying to impose things that I am used to in North American society onto the African culture. But, I didn't realize that the kids would be so open about going through my pockets. I happened to be carrying a bottle of hand sanitizer, and Nathan, my new best friend, happened to get his hands on it. Curious, he was making a motion to open this bottle and try it out with his oral senses. Quickly, I showed him that it wasn't for eating, but applied some of it to my hands and showed him how it works. I then put some on his hands. Well, one can easily guess what happened next. Before I knew it, another kid sticks his hands under the bottle. Again, I tried to show how the gel works, but he ran away before the tutorial was complete, to show his friends. They were smelling it, proding it. I'm pretty sure they tasted it, but I booked it out of there before I could be pointed out as the culprit for doing this! One of the songs I caught from this morning: Sometimes in the sunlight, sometimes in the shadows, Walking all the day, all along the way. Sometimes in the sunlight, sometimes in the shadows, Walking with Jesus alone.
How often, when talking to friends, do I hear how they are disappointed about a vacation they had just taken because it failed to meet their expectations. They paid too much, didn’t see enough, ran out of time. So far, everything that has happened has exceeded my expectations. Having been on other build trips before, I know that a lot of physical effort is involved. However, part of the time would be spent waiting for things to do. Not here. For the second day in a row, I was thrown right into the thick of things and found myself drenched in sweat shortly. The day began with moving bricks again. According to our foreman, Sal, we were still short another 1,800 bricks. However, because he had to run around with his truck today, we were only able to move one palette. Instead, we were told to start laying down these bricks into the existing structures. The bricks are used to form the walls (no wood here, so no framing necessary) and we have to finish off the corners. We did this for the majority of the day, even when Sal had returned with the truck (much to our collective delight!)
Hendriques is standing on top of the scaffolding. He is holding a hammer and a chisel. “In South Africa, when it is 4 O’clock, this is what happens..” He proceeds to throw the tools down to the ground! The point was well taken. Even if we wanted to continue laying bricks for another 2 hours, we couldn’t. Everyone was booking out and ALL the equipment was being returned to the container to be locked up. The planks on top of the scaffolding were, literally, taken from under our feet. We were curious about how punctual workers kept time of this, coming from a society that encourages (often unpaid, in my case) overtime or extra work time. As we were walking back to our compound, we realized why this was the case. Most people that work in this area don’t live nearby. Thus, they need to catch the bus to take them home. Otherwise, they’re walking more than 10 km.
Perhaps it was the numerous weeks of pre-trip “training” that we did. Perhaps most of us are related or knew each other before this trip. But, it is definitely the glue that keeps us together. We laugh. And because we laugh, we have built some amazing bonds. Yes, I realize that it is early on into this trip but it seems like the chemistry that this team has helps us overcome things that are thrown at us. And laughter is always there.
And now, some pictures (now that I’ve discovered a more stable, high speed connection):
Here is where I lay my head down every night.
Outside of our "residences".
Where the team meets and eats.
Eww. What's that?
Lovely, a BIG African spider!
Playin' some outdoor guitar!
A nice reflection of Prayer Rock off of the guitar.
It’s a wonder that I can type right now. After lifting close to 800 bricks, there is a numbness that has invaded both of my hands. Come to think of it, soreness covers my entire body. Luckily, our stay here includes being on the “executive” meal plan (which, oddly, is only $1 more expensive than the “budget” food plan). I made sure that there were no left overs tonight!
I suppose that you could go to Home Depot and order enough bricks for your project. But, what do you do when there is no Home Depot or you do not have enough money to buy bricks? Well, you build them! The dirt that gets excavated from where the future building will be is mixed with cement and a big hydraulic machine presses them into bricks! Our goal today: bring palettes and palettes of bricks from the site at the bottom of the hill to the site at the top of the hill. Luckily, we were given the use of a pickup truck and trailer. I had my first authentic South Africa experience today: riding in the back of a trailer on the way to work! The sun was naked today, as not a single cloud could be found. So, the SPF 45 sunscreen I brought was used generously today. We only got through half of the palettes, so it looks like we’ll be “bricking” again tomorrow.
“The Black Mambas like cool areas on a day like today. They have been known to hide under the palettes”. So, guess what I was thinking each time I lifted a brick from the bottom layer of the palette? Thankfully, all the Black Mambas today sought shade elsewhere. However, we did have a couple of scorpion encounters. They were hiding underneath the bricks and would cling to them as we loaded them. They were tiny, no larger than the nail on a pinky finger. They were a translucent orange that reminded me of a Lifesaver candy, their tails touting black rings. The tip was a bold black, warning of the dangerous toxin that it carried. Because of their non-intimidating size, we dismissed these tiny creatures. However, the local workers that were with us were excited. They put down their tools and came over. One of them took off his work gloves and picked it up by its tail. He then took off with it and we were left wondering if he was going to play a practical joke or concoct some exotic soup tonight.
Oh yeah. Found some running buddies. Apparently, I will be doing hill repeats tomorrow, at Mount Legogote.
By the way, please leave a message if you are following along. Not for me, but to encourage all of the others who are reading. We’re all laying this on thick together!
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.
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