I'm not sure how to start this blog post. I know it has been a while since I have written to you, and I am sorry. I have had things to say but haven't known how to say them. I was so keen when returning from a short vacation in Mozambique to fill you in. Tell you about the students who have been selected for Forward Education '08. Tell you about the 3000 metical (Mozambiquen currency, about $120 Canadian) bride I had to pay to stay out of jail. Tell you about the deep see fishing trip where I caught a couple bit King Mackerels. However, over the past 4 days, non of that has mattered. Before I continue, I would ask that you all read a previous post that I wrote back in September it was titled. "now is the time for a miracle." Please read it before you continue on with this post.
I just erased a paragraph that I had written because for now, I am still trying to process what has happened.
Inkosinathi passed away at approx. 3:45 am Sunday morning. I was with him during that last 12 and a half hours of his life and was with him as he left us. I am in a very strange place and am still in denial that he is gone. Over the past five months I have been visiting every week or two and have helped transfer him to get his HIV/AIDS treatment at the local clinic. I keep thinking I will go visit him next week.
Through all of this, I am trying to find the justice in this. I came here to provide that. Where is the justice in a 13 year old boy dying an unbelievably painful death caused by a thing called AIDS and a thing called TB? Two things that were given to him; two things he did not find or ask for.
I have come to one conclusion. There is no justice in that. And that frustrates the hell out of me.
The funeral is on Saturday. I ask that you pray for Emily, his family, and for me. It will be a very difficult day.
I am here to fight for the youth of this continent; I am here to fight for Inkosinathi. I lost the fight and failed him. I don't know if it is worth it anymore; any of this.
I do not want encouragement or your sympathy, I just want your prayers. More importantly I want you to think and pray for him and his family. They are who matter now.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
In God's Hands
I sit here at the farm with 11 applications and essays for the 2008 Forward Education class. I have room for eight of them. This process has been a very difficult one for me. Even the idea of picking youth in Masoyi to apply for this program was very difficult. I have so much power when it comes to the future of these youth. If I had let one more young mom apply to the program, would she have made it? Would she have gone on to university? Would she have been able to provide a brighter future for her and her child? These things race through my mind.
Today I sat and read all of the applications and essays of the youth who have applied for next years program. I made it through about half of them before the overwhelming feeling of pressure and sadness hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was in the middle of reading one of the applications where it describes relatives of the applicant. Mother deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Father deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Both of them died with in a one month span of each other. The application fell out of my hand and I wept. I sat their talking to God. “Father I can’t do this. I need your help.”
How do I tell three of these youth that they will not be accepted into the program. How? All but one of the applicants has at least one parent who has passed away. The one who’s parent hasn’t passed has never met their father anyway.
Their essay’s were so powerful and so full of hope for the future. One wants to be a doctor; one a career councelor, a nurse, social workers, and an engineer. They all want what many of us from the west take for granted; an opportunity.
I hold to much power and it scares the shit out of me. I have the power of deciding who has an opportunity to escape a continuous cycle of poverty and distress that surrounds them.
I have to believe that God is making the decision with me to get through this. However, I think about the time I walk down the dusty streets of Masoyi five years from now and see one of the youth who did not make the program; walking out of his small house; the same house I had seen him walk out of five years earlier.
Father I can’t do this. I need your help.
Today I sat and read all of the applications and essays of the youth who have applied for next years program. I made it through about half of them before the overwhelming feeling of pressure and sadness hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was in the middle of reading one of the applications where it describes relatives of the applicant. Mother deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Father deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Both of them died with in a one month span of each other. The application fell out of my hand and I wept. I sat their talking to God. “Father I can’t do this. I need your help.”
How do I tell three of these youth that they will not be accepted into the program. How? All but one of the applicants has at least one parent who has passed away. The one who’s parent hasn’t passed has never met their father anyway.
Their essay’s were so powerful and so full of hope for the future. One wants to be a doctor; one a career councelor, a nurse, social workers, and an engineer. They all want what many of us from the west take for granted; an opportunity.
I hold to much power and it scares the shit out of me. I have the power of deciding who has an opportunity to escape a continuous cycle of poverty and distress that surrounds them.
I have to believe that God is making the decision with me to get through this. However, I think about the time I walk down the dusty streets of Masoyi five years from now and see one of the youth who did not make the program; walking out of his small house; the same house I had seen him walk out of five years earlier.
Father I can’t do this. I need your help.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Not Comin Home
Friends and Family,
I lie here on my bed in my small room in a farm in the middle of rural South Africa. I have lied in this bed many nights thinking about when I would be coming home to see all of you and to get some renewed energy before coming back for a new session of Forward students in January. However, as I lie in my bed this time, thoughts of an African Christmas run through my mind.
After many conversations with my family I have decided to cancel my trip home. Many reasons on why I should come home and why I should stay have run through my mind literally on an hourly basis. Obviously the thoughts of coming home surround seeing me family and my friends; that is truly the only reason to come home. On the other hand is the reality of leaving Africa. This is not an easy task as those of you who have been here know. The realities of this place do not leave your mind when your plane lands back in the west. Personally the adjustment period for me back home is not a short one. I am a bitter man when I return and do not want to bring that bitterness back to all of you; Especially since my time at home is so short and my attitude usually takes longer then three weeks to adjust back home.
In addition, I do not want to say goodbye once again. When I said goodbye in July it was one of the hardest things I have had to do. It took me a good month and a half to adjust over here and I cannot do that again. I was very depressed during that time and cannot imagine going through that one more time. Even as I talked to my parents and the realization of me staying was forming, it was hard to say goodbye once again. It that was difficult, I cannot imagine another face to face goodbye.
At the time I had booked my flight, the thoughts of being home were consuming my mind. The thoughts of playing some hockey with the boys, going for a hike with my dad, seeing a concert with my sister, going for coffee with my mom, and spending Christmas celebrations and visiting all of you. I was thinking about this so much I almost forgot that wouldn’t last and I we be coming back here again.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Africa; it is my home. The difficulty is I have two families, two sets of friends, and two homes. This is my home for now and I need to be here to be healthy enough to come back to Canada when the time is right.
I miss all of you more then you will know. And although my parents keep telling me that they are fine because they are all together, I feel like I owe all of you an apology. I know that some of us have made plans and for that I apologize.
I can’t wait to see you in the spring and remember; you can always come visit me here!!!
I would love to hear from you!
Thanks for all of your continuous support and prayers,
Dan
P.S. I have posted an album of pics on facebook.
I lie here on my bed in my small room in a farm in the middle of rural South Africa. I have lied in this bed many nights thinking about when I would be coming home to see all of you and to get some renewed energy before coming back for a new session of Forward students in January. However, as I lie in my bed this time, thoughts of an African Christmas run through my mind.
After many conversations with my family I have decided to cancel my trip home. Many reasons on why I should come home and why I should stay have run through my mind literally on an hourly basis. Obviously the thoughts of coming home surround seeing me family and my friends; that is truly the only reason to come home. On the other hand is the reality of leaving Africa. This is not an easy task as those of you who have been here know. The realities of this place do not leave your mind when your plane lands back in the west. Personally the adjustment period for me back home is not a short one. I am a bitter man when I return and do not want to bring that bitterness back to all of you; Especially since my time at home is so short and my attitude usually takes longer then three weeks to adjust back home.
In addition, I do not want to say goodbye once again. When I said goodbye in July it was one of the hardest things I have had to do. It took me a good month and a half to adjust over here and I cannot do that again. I was very depressed during that time and cannot imagine going through that one more time. Even as I talked to my parents and the realization of me staying was forming, it was hard to say goodbye once again. It that was difficult, I cannot imagine another face to face goodbye.
At the time I had booked my flight, the thoughts of being home were consuming my mind. The thoughts of playing some hockey with the boys, going for a hike with my dad, seeing a concert with my sister, going for coffee with my mom, and spending Christmas celebrations and visiting all of you. I was thinking about this so much I almost forgot that wouldn’t last and I we be coming back here again.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Africa; it is my home. The difficulty is I have two families, two sets of friends, and two homes. This is my home for now and I need to be here to be healthy enough to come back to Canada when the time is right.
I miss all of you more then you will know. And although my parents keep telling me that they are fine because they are all together, I feel like I owe all of you an apology. I know that some of us have made plans and for that I apologize.
I can’t wait to see you in the spring and remember; you can always come visit me here!!!
I would love to hear from you!
Thanks for all of your continuous support and prayers,
Dan
P.S. I have posted an album of pics on facebook.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
A Letter From D
Dear Dan,
I am writing this letter to you about my experience in prison. I am attending church inside here and I hope that one day God will answer my prayers so that I can be out and fulfill my dream of finishing school.
As I had told you before, I do not know anything about this case and I mean it. My life in prison is hell and I am surviving by always praying to God. Sometimes I ask myself why me, and I don't understand. I sometimes cry because I feel that I have been neglected by people I love.
The way I respect people, I never steal or robbed anyone, and now I found myself in the wrong place with no future. I remember when police searched us. They never found nothing but they arrested me. I need your help my friend. I miss playing soccer with you.
Dan may you please buy me this things. 2L milk, rolls, biscuits, 1L juice, phonecard, 2 roll-on, and cool drink. I am also asking for your contact numbers for the phone. I am very delighted to have a friend like you. Sometimes I say God is great because you came in my life when I was just dying inside my heart. I love you man and I miss you.
Your friend,
D
I am writing this letter to you about my experience in prison. I am attending church inside here and I hope that one day God will answer my prayers so that I can be out and fulfill my dream of finishing school.
As I had told you before, I do not know anything about this case and I mean it. My life in prison is hell and I am surviving by always praying to God. Sometimes I ask myself why me, and I don't understand. I sometimes cry because I feel that I have been neglected by people I love.
The way I respect people, I never steal or robbed anyone, and now I found myself in the wrong place with no future. I remember when police searched us. They never found nothing but they arrested me. I need your help my friend. I miss playing soccer with you.
Dan may you please buy me this things. 2L milk, rolls, biscuits, 1L juice, phonecard, 2 roll-on, and cool drink. I am also asking for your contact numbers for the phone. I am very delighted to have a friend like you. Sometimes I say God is great because you came in my life when I was just dying inside my heart. I love you man and I miss you.
Your friend,
D
Monday, October 8, 2007
Superman Dan: By Laura Pope
Leaping out of the vehicle, he rushes towards the scene. He has worked hard all day doing budget work for an orphan education program. He could be heading home right now to rest. But it seems that his day’s work isn’t done yet. A man, bloodied and unconscious, lies on the side of the road. Laughter filters through the unconcerned crowd. He asks for the number of the police. He records the license plate of a car as it speeds away. He stands near the fallen man, making sure no one moves the body causing further injury. His voice is filled with concern and compassion. He wants to do the right thing, but isn’t quite sure what that is. Unlike the mob of people around, he is trying to help.
This incident is not just a true story, but also a metaphor for the way Superman Dan lives here in South Africa. He knows the things he sees every day are not just, good or right. He takes in the pain he sees, allows himself to be moved by compassion and makes a plan to improve that person’s life, even if only in the smallest way. While others stand by in confusion at the seemingly undefeatable curses of HIV and poverty, Dan looks at the individual and does everything and anything he can.
Dan hasn’t updated his blog recently, but I can assure you that it is not because he has nothing to write about. Every day he experiences things that break him a little more. But how can he explain how he enters a depressing Tuberculosis hospital every chance he gets so he can visit a young boy sick there? How can he bear to write about the young mother and child who have just been tested as HIV+ and are literally on death’s doorstep? How can he speak of visiting a teenager in prison and going to his court case the next day to make sure that he gets fair representation in a system filled with gaps and corruption? Superman Dan refuses to allow someone who needs love to go without. He makes every effort to show them they are not alone. Although he is busy running a program that is changing the future of youth who were never given a chance to be something, he finds time to put out other little fires on the side. He has entered the scene of the accident and won’t leave until the emergency is over.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
A Thread of Faith
Now is the time for darkness.
The time for despair.
The time that I truly care.
Not for Him, but for them.
For they keep fighting,
Keep trying to survive
But each one hit’s a wall;
A wall not one of them
has been able to conquer.
Free will can only go so far
Before wrong be the victor.
For when the moment occurs
When the positive ideas of free will
Are destroyed and over run by
The negative, He must intervene.
That time has come,
So where is he?
The only thing that keep’s me holding on
to the Little faith that remains is the
thought that He is unable to stop this.
For if that is not reality then I had none.
Because he’s thirteen; that smile was all for not.
Yet I will fight despite Him.
For although He will not humble himself to
take responsibilities for the detrimental
outcomes of his creation, I will.
Because he’s thirteen and
he deserves more then He will give him.
The time for despair.
The time that I truly care.
Not for Him, but for them.
For they keep fighting,
Keep trying to survive
But each one hit’s a wall;
A wall not one of them
has been able to conquer.
Free will can only go so far
Before wrong be the victor.
For when the moment occurs
When the positive ideas of free will
Are destroyed and over run by
The negative, He must intervene.
That time has come,
So where is he?
The only thing that keep’s me holding on
to the Little faith that remains is the
thought that He is unable to stop this.
For if that is not reality then I had none.
Because he’s thirteen; that smile was all for not.
Yet I will fight despite Him.
For although He will not humble himself to
take responsibilities for the detrimental
outcomes of his creation, I will.
Because he’s thirteen and
he deserves more then He will give him.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Now is the Time for a Miracle
About 4 weeks ago, I went to go visit with my good friends Divine and Emily. As many of you know, Divine is a 9 year old boy who I have been friends with since my first trip here two years ago. Emily is his Aunt who is a home based care nurse in the community I am working in.
As I walked in the door, I noticed that Divine had a visitor. He was a young boy who looked about 7 years old. Emily explained to me that he was a patient of hers. His parents have both passed away and he is living in a very small wooded shack of a house with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. He is HIV positive and has severe Tuberculosis. Emily decided to have the boy come to her house for a visit over the weekend to give him a break from his situation. As I introduced my self to him, I noticed how thin he was. I went to put my hand on his back and could feel only bone.
He also had a severe cough. I played with him and Divine for a few minutes and as I left I asked Emily how old he was. Emily told me he was thirteen. I couldn't believe it. Divine is 9 and is larger then him. Emily says that AIDS delay’s children’s development.
A couple weeks ago, Emily and I were driving and she asked me if I remembered the boy that had stayed with her. I said of course and she explained to me that his condition was not good and that tests had revealed that his form of TB (tuberculosis) was drug resistant. She explained that he needed to be admitted to a special TB hospital, however he couldn't stay at the one near the community because he had previously stayed there for 7 months and couldn't be readmitted. He was needing to go to a hospital in Middleburg; two and a half hours from here. However, the grandmother and his family did not want this to happen because they didn't have transport money to visit him. Emily was hoping that at least the doctor could provide some things for him including oxygen to keep him comfortable if he had to stay home. It took a few times for Emily to say "keep him comfortable" before I knew what she meant. That's all that could be done was to keep him comfortable.
Last week, Emily told me that he had been placed in the TB hospital in our community. The Middleburg hospital needs there own results before he can be admitted. We are still hoping that he will be able to go there because they can try different treatments to see if any match his certain strain of TB. The results from the test take six weeks. So, he will be in the community TB hospital for the next six weeks where all they can do is keep him comfortable; he is the only child in the hospital. I asked Emily if he will make it six weeks. She responded by saying, "with his condition, only the Lord knows."
I went to go visit him a couple days ago with Emily and his Aunt. He was so happy to see us. We only stayed a little while but you could tell it made his day. You can also tell that his Aunt loves him very much. Before we left, his Aunt prayed for him. She sang her heart out and prayed with such desperation. She put everything into her prayer. You go the sense she knew she could do nothing else but pray. So, she was going to put her full effort into it.
God and I are not on good terms now and my faith is definitely not strong. However, as she prayed, all I could say in my mind was "Now is the time for a miracle" over and over. Before we left, he leaned over and said something to me in siSwati, his native language. The aunt explained he was asking me if I would come back. Of course I would.
I went back with Emily to see him yesterday. He seemed a bit better and again as soon as he saw us he smiled. We brought him a few small toys, some crayons, pencils, sticks, and coloring books. It was like Christmas day for him. The smile never left his face; he was so thankful. But as you look at his amazing smile, you can also see his throat struggling for air. Emily said that is not a good sign. His little heart is having to work so hard for him to breath. But, at that moment he was happy and that's all that mattered.
Emily wanted to pray for him. Again, that is all we have left. I went to put my hand on his upper arm and there was nothing there. I could put my thumb and my finger around his arm. I couldn't help but weep. I will be going to see him as much as possible.
His name is Nkosinathi which translates to ‘God with us.’
God be with us.
As I walked in the door, I noticed that Divine had a visitor. He was a young boy who looked about 7 years old. Emily explained to me that he was a patient of hers. His parents have both passed away and he is living in a very small wooded shack of a house with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. He is HIV positive and has severe Tuberculosis. Emily decided to have the boy come to her house for a visit over the weekend to give him a break from his situation. As I introduced my self to him, I noticed how thin he was. I went to put my hand on his back and could feel only bone.
He also had a severe cough. I played with him and Divine for a few minutes and as I left I asked Emily how old he was. Emily told me he was thirteen. I couldn't believe it. Divine is 9 and is larger then him. Emily says that AIDS delay’s children’s development.
A couple weeks ago, Emily and I were driving and she asked me if I remembered the boy that had stayed with her. I said of course and she explained to me that his condition was not good and that tests had revealed that his form of TB (tuberculosis) was drug resistant. She explained that he needed to be admitted to a special TB hospital, however he couldn't stay at the one near the community because he had previously stayed there for 7 months and couldn't be readmitted. He was needing to go to a hospital in Middleburg; two and a half hours from here. However, the grandmother and his family did not want this to happen because they didn't have transport money to visit him. Emily was hoping that at least the doctor could provide some things for him including oxygen to keep him comfortable if he had to stay home. It took a few times for Emily to say "keep him comfortable" before I knew what she meant. That's all that could be done was to keep him comfortable.
Last week, Emily told me that he had been placed in the TB hospital in our community. The Middleburg hospital needs there own results before he can be admitted. We are still hoping that he will be able to go there because they can try different treatments to see if any match his certain strain of TB. The results from the test take six weeks. So, he will be in the community TB hospital for the next six weeks where all they can do is keep him comfortable; he is the only child in the hospital. I asked Emily if he will make it six weeks. She responded by saying, "with his condition, only the Lord knows."
I went to go visit him a couple days ago with Emily and his Aunt. He was so happy to see us. We only stayed a little while but you could tell it made his day. You can also tell that his Aunt loves him very much. Before we left, his Aunt prayed for him. She sang her heart out and prayed with such desperation. She put everything into her prayer. You go the sense she knew she could do nothing else but pray. So, she was going to put her full effort into it.
God and I are not on good terms now and my faith is definitely not strong. However, as she prayed, all I could say in my mind was "Now is the time for a miracle" over and over. Before we left, he leaned over and said something to me in siSwati, his native language. The aunt explained he was asking me if I would come back. Of course I would.
I went back with Emily to see him yesterday. He seemed a bit better and again as soon as he saw us he smiled. We brought him a few small toys, some crayons, pencils, sticks, and coloring books. It was like Christmas day for him. The smile never left his face; he was so thankful. But as you look at his amazing smile, you can also see his throat struggling for air. Emily said that is not a good sign. His little heart is having to work so hard for him to breath. But, at that moment he was happy and that's all that mattered.
Emily wanted to pray for him. Again, that is all we have left. I went to put my hand on his upper arm and there was nothing there. I could put my thumb and my finger around his arm. I couldn't help but weep. I will be going to see him as much as possible.
His name is Nkosinathi which translates to ‘God with us.’
God be with us.
The Pressures of Change
Hello everyone,
first, my apologies for the gap between posts. I will try and write more frequently even if it's just a little note. First, I have heard the amazing church news! I'm so glad that Westside has found their new senior pastor. From what I hear, he's a great guy. I'm even more excited that my good friend Jeremy Duncan will be staying on to continue to run Unedited Spirituality and share teaching with Chris!! Glad everything has worked out.
As for Africa, it has been a busy past couple weeks. The students are studying very hard at the moment as they prepare for their upgrading tests at the beginning of October. These tests are extremely important because they need to increase their grades to be considered for university and college. Unfortunately, it seems that the stress of this process may be too much for some. One of our students, Fortunate has been seriously ill for the past week and a half. She has been vomiting and unable to hold any food down. We have taken her the clinic twice this month and once to the nearest town to see a specialist. At this point, the nurses and Doctors can't find anything physically wrong. She is feeling better as of yesterday and the current diagnosis is that the illness is psychological. The nurse who has been working with her believes that stress is behind it. I think we forget the pressure that these students are under. Not only are they studying (or are supposed to be studying) everyday, but they also have the added stress of the coming year. Fortunate has applied, and will hopefully be accepted to a university such as the University of Jo'burg. This means that she will be leaving her community behind. A community she has lived in her entire life. A community where her entire support network is and the only community she has ever known. This is an enormous shift for her. New friends, new culture, new routines, new everything. We are looking at getting her a counselor to start to process some of her feelings around her transition.
first, my apologies for the gap between posts. I will try and write more frequently even if it's just a little note. First, I have heard the amazing church news! I'm so glad that Westside has found their new senior pastor. From what I hear, he's a great guy. I'm even more excited that my good friend Jeremy Duncan will be staying on to continue to run Unedited Spirituality and share teaching with Chris!! Glad everything has worked out.
As for Africa, it has been a busy past couple weeks. The students are studying very hard at the moment as they prepare for their upgrading tests at the beginning of October. These tests are extremely important because they need to increase their grades to be considered for university and college. Unfortunately, it seems that the stress of this process may be too much for some. One of our students, Fortunate has been seriously ill for the past week and a half. She has been vomiting and unable to hold any food down. We have taken her the clinic twice this month and once to the nearest town to see a specialist. At this point, the nurses and Doctors can't find anything physically wrong. She is feeling better as of yesterday and the current diagnosis is that the illness is psychological. The nurse who has been working with her believes that stress is behind it. I think we forget the pressure that these students are under. Not only are they studying (or are supposed to be studying) everyday, but they also have the added stress of the coming year. Fortunate has applied, and will hopefully be accepted to a university such as the University of Jo'burg. This means that she will be leaving her community behind. A community she has lived in her entire life. A community where her entire support network is and the only community she has ever known. This is an enormous shift for her. New friends, new culture, new routines, new everything. We are looking at getting her a counselor to start to process some of her feelings around her transition.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Community Stay
I sit here watching an amazing seventeen year old boy focus as he draws a picture for an advertising project for his english class. This is day two of my community stay. I have enjoyed every minute of it; well, except for the fact that I forgot my toothbrush.
I have been lucky enough to have been placed in the home belonging to my friend B. Not 10 minutes will pass P in front of the house without me marveling at how this 17 year old boy has become an adult so quickly.
This Journey began on Monday afternoon. I am warmly greeted by B. We enter his home and he graciously shows me around and shows me where I will sleep. I have been to the house before so I know what to expect; however I am still a bit taken a back every time I visit. It’s a one room brick house; must be 45 ft X 15 ft. Only a card board divider that B has made separates the kitchen/living area from the bedroom.
B in the bedroom : B entering the house/kitchen
I notice quickly that B has rearranged the two beds he and his two brother’s share. I am sure it was for be benefit and just like the other times I have been to the house, it’s extremely neat and tidy.
In the kitchen, a jug for water that we use for drinking and washing which we collect from a tap down the road. There are also two old chairs and a broken stool with a small table. On a small table in the corner are two pots on a very old stove top with one workable burner that B made from old parts. Next to the small table top stove is a kettle used to boil water for cooking and bathing and a small amount of food; oil, tea,
I notice quickly that B has rearranged the two beds he and his two brother’s share. I am sure it was for be benefit and just like the other times I have been to the house, it’s extremely neat and tidy.In the kitchen, a jug for water that we use for drinking and washing which we collect from a tap down the road. There are also two old chairs and a broken stool with a small table. On a small table in the corner are two pots on a very old stove top with one workable burner that B made from old parts. Next to the small table top stove is a kettle used to boil water for cooking and bathing and a small amount of food; oil, tea,
sugar, and half a bag of Mili Maze (the staple food here). Under the table is an old card board box filled with a few dishes; that’s it. If I hadn’t walked in the door with a big box of food for my visit, I wonder what they would have eaten.
As I take a look around, I can tell that something lese is on B’s mind. He then tell me “I have soccer practice, do you want to come with me”? I say yes and we start to walk to the field. On the way, we pass the house of on of the youth leaders who I helped teach better choices with last year. She now has a six month old beautiful baby boy; she is 16. As we continue walking, I get some odd looks from the all black community. When we arrive at the field I see it’s just a patch of partially removed dirt. B explains that the field was in the middle of being constructed for a school just down the road. I can tell from the length of the grass that it has been a long time since any work had been done on it.
I decide to watch the practice from a branch of a big dead tree on the edge of the field. As I sit there, watching the practice, a young girl notices me. She is on her way back to her wooden shack of a home. I smile; she smiles back and then she just stands there watching me. She talks back and forth with her family members of in the distance at her house but she just stands there watching for about five minutes. She then starts walking back but not before throwing a few more glances in my direction.
A few more boys from the team show up including one of the guys from the Forward Education after school program named Never. He tells me that I should come down and play. I do, and as I start to play I realize that practice is just keep away. There are two teams, but again, the flied is not finished. So, we just play keep away. We play until the sun goes down and then walk home.
When we arrive, me meet up with P, B’s younger brother. As many of you know, the youngest brother M is still at the initiation camp. After quickly changing, B starts cleaning the pots using a small brush while P is outside cleaning a few dishes. We then have a visitor; Patrick who lives next door with one of the guys on the Hands at Work construction team. Patrick gets up every morning at 4:30 am to catch the bus to White River, the nearest town, to do a construction job.
Patrick’s roommate from Hands at work is away because his father has passed away. Patrick will be staying with us because he is afraid to stay by himself at night because of the frequency of break-ins.
As I take a look around, I can tell that something lese is on B’s mind. He then tell me “I have soccer practice, do you want to come with me”? I say yes and we start to walk to the field. On the way, we pass the house of on of the youth leaders who I helped teach better choices with last year. She now has a six month old beautiful baby boy; she is 16. As we continue walking, I get some odd looks from the all black community. When we arrive at the field I see it’s just a patch of partially removed dirt. B explains that the field was in the middle of being constructed for a school just down the road. I can tell from the length of the grass that it has been a long time since any work had been done on it.
I decide to watch the practice from a branch of a big dead tree on the edge of the field. As I sit there, watching the practice, a young girl notices me. She is on her way back to her wooden shack of a home. I smile; she smiles back and then she just stands there watching me. She talks back and forth with her family members of in the distance at her house but she just stands there watching for about five minutes. She then starts walking back but not before throwing a few more glances in my direction.
A few more boys from the team show up including one of the guys from the Forward Education after school program named Never. He tells me that I should come down and play. I do, and as I start to play I realize that practice is just keep away. There are two teams, but again, the flied is not finished. So, we just play keep away. We play until the sun goes down and then walk home.
When we arrive, me meet up with P, B’s younger brother. As many of you know, the youngest brother M is still at the initiation camp. After quickly changing, B starts cleaning the pots using a small brush while P is outside cleaning a few dishes. We then have a visitor; Patrick who lives next door with one of the guys on the Hands at Work construction team. Patrick gets up every morning at 4:30 am to catch the bus to White River, the nearest town, to do a construction job.
Patrick’s roommate from Hands at work is away because his father has passed away. Patrick will be staying with us because he is afraid to stay by himself at night because of the frequency of break-ins.
From Left: me, B, P, and patrick : Eating pap and cabage stew
We then go through the box of food. Obviously we will be eating pap (mili-maze), but we will also cook something to go with it. Pap is very dense like a very thick poorag so people usually eat it with a small amount of stew. You take the pap in your hand, put it in the stew, and then eat it with your hands.
Obviously, B knew how to make the pap, however the combination of the four men in the room where stuck on how to make a good stew. We were able to combine our talents and come up with a recipe containing soya mince with gravy, some vegetables, and a small can of fish. All things considered, it was fairly tasty. I sat on the floor while the others sat on the three chairs.
B and I have become fairly close, so after supper he was very keen to show me all of the pictures and certificates he has collected over the years including his fathers I.D. card. B’s mother ran off on the boys when they were very small. Their father raised them until he died in 2002. As we were looking at the I.D. card, B told me a bit about his story. While his father was very sick, B would wake up at 4:00 am everyday before school to do the house chores. he would then go to school and have to come home part way through the day to check on his father’s condition before walking back to school; B was 11. As mentioned previously, B’s father died when he was 12 and he has been raising his brother ever since in this small one room house where the kitchen/living area is separated from the bed room by a card board divider which B made.
We then go through the box of food. Obviously we will be eating pap (mili-maze), but we will also cook something to go with it. Pap is very dense like a very thick poorag so people usually eat it with a small amount of stew. You take the pap in your hand, put it in the stew, and then eat it with your hands.
Obviously, B knew how to make the pap, however the combination of the four men in the room where stuck on how to make a good stew. We were able to combine our talents and come up with a recipe containing soya mince with gravy, some vegetables, and a small can of fish. All things considered, it was fairly tasty. I sat on the floor while the others sat on the three chairs.
B and I have become fairly close, so after supper he was very keen to show me all of the pictures and certificates he has collected over the years including his fathers I.D. card. B’s mother ran off on the boys when they were very small. Their father raised them until he died in 2002. As we were looking at the I.D. card, B told me a bit about his story. While his father was very sick, B would wake up at 4:00 am everyday before school to do the house chores. he would then go to school and have to come home part way through the day to check on his father’s condition before walking back to school; B was 11. As mentioned previously, B’s father died when he was 12 and he has been raising his brother ever since in this small one room house where the kitchen/living area is separated from the bed room by a card board divider which B made.
After supper, it’s time for exercise. B has made his own bench press. He has taken a metal rod and put each end in a bucket full of cement to harden; it’s fairly heavy. We both do some weight lifting African style before going to bed. As I sleep in the double bed with P, Patrick on the floor, and B in the single bed, we talk about Canada, South Africa and their differences and similarities. B asks question after question about Canada; he is so keen to know what it’s like.
As I lye in bed, I start to understand the realities of this place. As mentioned, Patrick stays with us because he is too afraid to stay alone. B explains that thieves will cut the electricity lines to large
As I lye in bed, I start to understand the realities of this place. As mentioned, Patrick stays with us because he is too afraid to stay alone. B explains that thieves will cut the electricity lines to large
portions of the community so they are not seen. They will then break into peoples stands (homes) while they sleep. These break-ins often end up in violence. B explains that if people in the community find the thieves, they will beat them to death. They don’t bother to call the police and even if they do come, the community will force them away threatening to beat them as well.
B’s home has been broken into a couple times while he was out and just this past week he noticed someone took money from his place. I feel much better knowing we have locked the windows and put B’s bench press up against the thin wooden door.
I don’t get much sleep that night as P seems to think I am his teddy bear. Also, the dozens of stray dogs and chickens bark and chirp all night. However, I have survived my first night in the community.
B’s home has been broken into a couple times while he was out and just this past week he noticed someone took money from his place. I feel much better knowing we have locked the windows and put B’s bench press up against the thin wooden door.
I don’t get much sleep that night as P seems to think I am his teddy bear. Also, the dozens of stray dogs and chickens bark and chirp all night. However, I have survived my first night in the community.
This is not right
We are all such selfish greedy people. I think until we walk in the shoes of those we are called to support and hurt as they hurt, we will not care for them to the fullest extent of our capabilities. Although it was for a very short time, I have suffered as B suffers; I have experienced the problems that B encounters everyday.
On my last day in the community, I could feel his desperation. He is so worried about his brother and wants him to return home safely. While I was out that day, the leader of the camp told B that it was going to cost 800 Rand (about $120) for his brother’s camp stay. B receives R1000 a month in child grants from the government. He said he must pay it. I then ask him how he will pay for food. He responds by saying, “I don’t know.”
We decide to go to the bank machine to see if his uncle has given him the grant money for the month; he has not. As we stand their talking about the situation, we don’t grad his card out of the machine right away and the ATM sucks it back in; gone. B has hit rock bottom.
He says “I try and solve one problem, and another problem happens.”
Later that night after our meal, B is washing up and out of the blue he says to me, “sometimes I wish all me problems would disappear.” I respond by saying, “A lot of people wish their problems would disappear. You just have adult problems that a seventeen year old boy should not be dealing with.” He responds with a simple, “ya.”
As I was in the middle of this situation and looking back at the experience, I keep thinking over and over in my mind “this is not right;” it’s that simple. This should not be happening and this is not right.
M is now back home safely. One of the youth leaders went with B to pay the leader of the camp and convinced him to reduce the price to R350. I was able to ask people up at the farm where I stay to donate money for the camp fee and I was able to raise the full amount. B has also received the money from his uncle (although his uncle keeps some every month) and he has also received a new bank card. I saw B today and he was so happy and relieved. For now, his problems have been solved. However, there will undoubtedly be more problems that will occur and more problems that a 17 year old boy should not have to solve.
On my last day in the community, I could feel his desperation. He is so worried about his brother and wants him to return home safely. While I was out that day, the leader of the camp told B that it was going to cost 800 Rand (about $120) for his brother’s camp stay. B receives R1000 a month in child grants from the government. He said he must pay it. I then ask him how he will pay for food. He responds by saying, “I don’t know.”
We decide to go to the bank machine to see if his uncle has given him the grant money for the month; he has not. As we stand their talking about the situation, we don’t grad his card out of the machine right away and the ATM sucks it back in; gone. B has hit rock bottom.
He says “I try and solve one problem, and another problem happens.”
Later that night after our meal, B is washing up and out of the blue he says to me, “sometimes I wish all me problems would disappear.” I respond by saying, “A lot of people wish their problems would disappear. You just have adult problems that a seventeen year old boy should not be dealing with.” He responds with a simple, “ya.”
As I was in the middle of this situation and looking back at the experience, I keep thinking over and over in my mind “this is not right;” it’s that simple. This should not be happening and this is not right.
M is now back home safely. One of the youth leaders went with B to pay the leader of the camp and convinced him to reduce the price to R350. I was able to ask people up at the farm where I stay to donate money for the camp fee and I was able to raise the full amount. B has also received the money from his uncle (although his uncle keeps some every month) and he has also received a new bank card. I saw B today and he was so happy and relieved. For now, his problems have been solved. However, there will undoubtedly be more problems that will occur and more problems that a 17 year old boy should not have to solve.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Dave, Jimmy, & Racism
The last week has been a bit of a mess. A lot has transpired over the last little while. As many of you now know, Lynn and Jayme Chotowetz (the founders of Forward Education) are back in Calgary. They have decided to come home early to work out some personal things and to start to think about what lies next for them in terms of Africa and the coming years.
Needless to say, this has rushed my transition into Forward Education. It was a busy week as I learned about the budget and our financial situation which is a bit intimidating. Thankfully, Laura Pope from Calgary, and an American women named Lindsay have been working with me. With out them, especially Laura, I would me in deep trouble. I am truly thankful that she has decided to stay and help me run this program. We are currently in the midst of filling out university and college applications for the students. It’s a very busy time, however an exciting one because we will soon find out how the students hard work has paid off. I do feel bad for Lynn and Jayme right now because they are having to leave at a time when the fruits of their labor will soon me known. This is the time they have worked so hard to be a part of.
On a lighter note, I, along with a friend from Connecticut, Dave, rented a car and drove to Johannesburg to go see Jimmy Eat World play. It was a good day but the concert was not very entertaining. It was a full day concert event and for some reason Jimmy Eat World didn’t headline the show and they only had a 45 minute set. Plus, the South African crowd was lame. They just kinda stood there and watched. One guy got upset with someone who was jumping around and getting into it; it was weird. Plus, at the merch counter, the guy was writing receipts for people. What the hell is up with that?
One interesting part of the day happened while Dave and I were in the beer gardens. I asked someone for a lighter and as I did, a white Afrikaner noticed my North American accent. We started having a conversation and I quickly noticed he was a bit drunk. He then noticed I hadn’t received a free foam hand that they gave at the gate of the concert. He said that I could have his. I responded by saying “thanks, I guess am experiencing South Africa’s generosity. He responded by saying “Ya, well I have to be generous because you won’t experience it very much because of all the black’s that we have here.” I have heard from other people about the blatant racism that they have listened to from some Afrikaners but this is the first time I had really heard it so unconcealed. You are just shocked. You can’t believe that someone you have just met would be that bold. I wanted to punch the guy in the face but quickly changed my mind when I realized that Dave and I were slightly out numbered. The political structure of Apartheid may have been abolished but it’s going to take a few decades before the ideological construct is dismantled because it is still alive and well.
Sorry this blog post isn’t very interesting, however on Monday I will be living in the community of Masoyi for five days. It is now a requirement that Hands at Work staff spend a week in the community living with in a child headed house hold to get the full experience of what life is like of the orphans that we work with. I have been lucky enough to have been placed with M and B from my previous blog posts. I think M will still be at the initiation camp, however I will still be with B and his other younger brother P. I am sure I will have more interesting stories from that experience.
Finally, for those of you have been sending me messages and emails, Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to hear from all of you. Internet access has been a bit of a pain this week, but I will try and write to you all as soon as I am back from my community stay.
I miss you all and hope you are well.
Needless to say, this has rushed my transition into Forward Education. It was a busy week as I learned about the budget and our financial situation which is a bit intimidating. Thankfully, Laura Pope from Calgary, and an American women named Lindsay have been working with me. With out them, especially Laura, I would me in deep trouble. I am truly thankful that she has decided to stay and help me run this program. We are currently in the midst of filling out university and college applications for the students. It’s a very busy time, however an exciting one because we will soon find out how the students hard work has paid off. I do feel bad for Lynn and Jayme right now because they are having to leave at a time when the fruits of their labor will soon me known. This is the time they have worked so hard to be a part of.
On a lighter note, I, along with a friend from Connecticut, Dave, rented a car and drove to Johannesburg to go see Jimmy Eat World play. It was a good day but the concert was not very entertaining. It was a full day concert event and for some reason Jimmy Eat World didn’t headline the show and they only had a 45 minute set. Plus, the South African crowd was lame. They just kinda stood there and watched. One guy got upset with someone who was jumping around and getting into it; it was weird. Plus, at the merch counter, the guy was writing receipts for people. What the hell is up with that?
One interesting part of the day happened while Dave and I were in the beer gardens. I asked someone for a lighter and as I did, a white Afrikaner noticed my North American accent. We started having a conversation and I quickly noticed he was a bit drunk. He then noticed I hadn’t received a free foam hand that they gave at the gate of the concert. He said that I could have his. I responded by saying “thanks, I guess am experiencing South Africa’s generosity. He responded by saying “Ya, well I have to be generous because you won’t experience it very much because of all the black’s that we have here.” I have heard from other people about the blatant racism that they have listened to from some Afrikaners but this is the first time I had really heard it so unconcealed. You are just shocked. You can’t believe that someone you have just met would be that bold. I wanted to punch the guy in the face but quickly changed my mind when I realized that Dave and I were slightly out numbered. The political structure of Apartheid may have been abolished but it’s going to take a few decades before the ideological construct is dismantled because it is still alive and well.
Sorry this blog post isn’t very interesting, however on Monday I will be living in the community of Masoyi for five days. It is now a requirement that Hands at Work staff spend a week in the community living with in a child headed house hold to get the full experience of what life is like of the orphans that we work with. I have been lucky enough to have been placed with M and B from my previous blog posts. I think M will still be at the initiation camp, however I will still be with B and his other younger brother P. I am sure I will have more interesting stories from that experience.
Finally, for those of you have been sending me messages and emails, Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to hear from all of you. Internet access has been a bit of a pain this week, but I will try and write to you all as soon as I am back from my community stay.
I miss you all and hope you are well.
Equality Through Chucks
We took this picture a few weeks back. This is one of the Forward Education students, Stanley. During a break in class one time, I noticed Stanley wearing a pare of white Chuck's. I then noticed I was wearing a pair of black one's. I said to Stanley "Hey we are ending racism through our shoes." He said "ya man, black and white coming together." We are changing the world one pair of Chuck's at a time.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
M Part 2
The next afternoon, I picked up B and we drove to the hospital. On the way, the conversation was minimal. I don’t think either of us knew what to expect. As we got out of the car at the hospital, B asked me, “what do I ask, where do I go?” I was once again reminded that I was with a 16 year old. He was still a boy himself and was still learning simplistic adult experiences.
We eventually figured out where to go and we walked through a couple of children’s wards before finding M. As I walked through the children’s ward, I experienced very dark feelings: a sense of fear and of disparity. There have only been a couple occasions when this certain intensity has happened to me in Africa, and this was one of them. All of the children were so tiny, and some were crying. The hospital is dirty and run down. Old paint, worn beds and a dirty floor. By one of the sinks next to the children’s bed I noticed a large cockroach-shaped bug crawling in the sink.
As we walked along, B signaled that he saw M. And there he was: asleep in his hospital attire, in his small bed, nothing else. I couldn’t help but imagine the boredom and loneliness he must have gone through over the past five days. B gently woke him and when he saw his older brother’s tears, started streaming from M’s eyes. I tried to comfort him by rubbing his back and telling him that we were here to take care of him and that we were going to keep him safe. Later M told B that he was getting very afraid that no one would come for him because other parents and relatives had come to see the other children.
B and I decided that we would go talk to the nurse about the situation. We informed her about the situation and that B was his older brother and was the only one that should take M home. B did not want M to go back to the camp and M did not want to return either. M was very afraid because the man from the camp said he was going to come back to see him. B and I then decided to go get M some food and something to keep him busy.
When we returned, M seemed in better spirits and was even more excited as we showed him the coloring and puzzle books we had got him. As we started taking items out of the bag, other children noticed this and started to surround M. He was making friends very quickly. B and I then decided that we would come back the next morning to hopefully talk with the doctor. M needed surgery and we wanted to find out when this would take place and when he would be discharged.
The next day, I along with B, and two others: Carly, a women from Australia, and Jabulila, a Masoyi resident and child care volunteer, went to visit Maxwell. On the ride up, B informed me that his uncle and a leader of the camp stopped by his house to inform him that M needed to return to the camp when he was out of the hospital. I could tell B was very upset by this.
When we got their, M seemed better. But, after a short discussion, M told us he was very afraid because the man from the camp was supposed to return that day. M became very upset and started to cry. This affected B and I could see he was struggling with the situation of seeing his little brother in such fear and pain. I then put my arm around him and we both started to weep. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I cannot imagine what these two boys have dealt with over the past four years alone and parentless. For B to cry, I knew the situation was bad.
B had to go to school, so it was decided that Jabulila and I would stay incase the man from the camp decided to stop in for a visit.
At this point, I had a chance to observe the other children. Next to M, on the left, was a young boy with two swollen black eyes and a contusion in his head. How does that happen? On the other side was the cutest little girl (must have been two) with a huge burn on her arm.
I would guess half, if not more, of the children in this ward were burn victims. As I thought why this was, it hit me. It was another strange but tragic result of AIDS. These children had to make fire and use paraffin to cook and keep warm. Their parents were gone and couldn’t do this for them, so the children are forced to grow up too quickly and are not taught how to develop these skills safely. Concerning AIDS, we are all infected or affected.
As Jab’s and I waited, two other ladies from Hands at work came: Ma Flo, the director of Masoyi Home Based Care, and Enercy, a youth director at one of the day orphanages.
Miraculously, after only a few minutes, a group of doctors came in and I was able to ask about M. They said that he would be discharged that day! The doctors had to wait until the wound had healed over before they could perform surgery. So, unfortunately he would have to return at a later date.
We would also have to take M back the hospital on Monday to deal with a chronic eye problem he has had since we was young.
M and a couple other children who were also being discharged became so excited and bounced around the room. We then left leaving M behind. He would have to be picked up later in the afternoon because he had no clothing.
When we got back, Ma Flo called B about the situation and also phoned B’s uncle. Ma Flo decided that the next step was up to the family. Unfortunately, as mentioned, the uncle wanted M to return to them camp. However, Ma Flo was right - this was a family issue. Although I was nervous and wanted to lend support, it was not my place. It is just such a travesty. B is his brother’s care giver. His uncle rarely visits the boys and I felt this was B’s decision. Unfortunately, he is only 16 years old.
Ma Flo and Jabulila then left to go pick up B and his uncle. They were then going to talk about the situation and go get M to bring him home.
For now, he is at home and he is safe. It was decided that M will not return to the camp until after the surgery. At this point, it is unknown how long he will have to go to the camp: could be a day, a week, or possibly longer. The hospital has put me and Jab’s in charge of M’s wellbeing during this time so I will keep you up to date.
Please pray for B and his two brothers.
This is not a story; it is life, it is reality. Please remember that. This is one of the millions of realities across sub-Saharan Africa and they all involve real people.
We are either infected or affected. I encourage all of you who read this to remember that YOU are affected by this.
P.S. I just received word about an hour ago that the people from the camp came and took M back to the camp yesterday. He will likely have to be there for a week. Please keep him in your thoughts.
We eventually figured out where to go and we walked through a couple of children’s wards before finding M. As I walked through the children’s ward, I experienced very dark feelings: a sense of fear and of disparity. There have only been a couple occasions when this certain intensity has happened to me in Africa, and this was one of them. All of the children were so tiny, and some were crying. The hospital is dirty and run down. Old paint, worn beds and a dirty floor. By one of the sinks next to the children’s bed I noticed a large cockroach-shaped bug crawling in the sink.
As we walked along, B signaled that he saw M. And there he was: asleep in his hospital attire, in his small bed, nothing else. I couldn’t help but imagine the boredom and loneliness he must have gone through over the past five days. B gently woke him and when he saw his older brother’s tears, started streaming from M’s eyes. I tried to comfort him by rubbing his back and telling him that we were here to take care of him and that we were going to keep him safe. Later M told B that he was getting very afraid that no one would come for him because other parents and relatives had come to see the other children.
B and I decided that we would go talk to the nurse about the situation. We informed her about the situation and that B was his older brother and was the only one that should take M home. B did not want M to go back to the camp and M did not want to return either. M was very afraid because the man from the camp said he was going to come back to see him. B and I then decided to go get M some food and something to keep him busy.
When we returned, M seemed in better spirits and was even more excited as we showed him the coloring and puzzle books we had got him. As we started taking items out of the bag, other children noticed this and started to surround M. He was making friends very quickly. B and I then decided that we would come back the next morning to hopefully talk with the doctor. M needed surgery and we wanted to find out when this would take place and when he would be discharged.
The next day, I along with B, and two others: Carly, a women from Australia, and Jabulila, a Masoyi resident and child care volunteer, went to visit Maxwell. On the ride up, B informed me that his uncle and a leader of the camp stopped by his house to inform him that M needed to return to the camp when he was out of the hospital. I could tell B was very upset by this.
When we got their, M seemed better. But, after a short discussion, M told us he was very afraid because the man from the camp was supposed to return that day. M became very upset and started to cry. This affected B and I could see he was struggling with the situation of seeing his little brother in such fear and pain. I then put my arm around him and we both started to weep. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I cannot imagine what these two boys have dealt with over the past four years alone and parentless. For B to cry, I knew the situation was bad.
B had to go to school, so it was decided that Jabulila and I would stay incase the man from the camp decided to stop in for a visit.
At this point, I had a chance to observe the other children. Next to M, on the left, was a young boy with two swollen black eyes and a contusion in his head. How does that happen? On the other side was the cutest little girl (must have been two) with a huge burn on her arm.
I would guess half, if not more, of the children in this ward were burn victims. As I thought why this was, it hit me. It was another strange but tragic result of AIDS. These children had to make fire and use paraffin to cook and keep warm. Their parents were gone and couldn’t do this for them, so the children are forced to grow up too quickly and are not taught how to develop these skills safely. Concerning AIDS, we are all infected or affected.
As Jab’s and I waited, two other ladies from Hands at work came: Ma Flo, the director of Masoyi Home Based Care, and Enercy, a youth director at one of the day orphanages.
Miraculously, after only a few minutes, a group of doctors came in and I was able to ask about M. They said that he would be discharged that day! The doctors had to wait until the wound had healed over before they could perform surgery. So, unfortunately he would have to return at a later date.
We would also have to take M back the hospital on Monday to deal with a chronic eye problem he has had since we was young.
M and a couple other children who were also being discharged became so excited and bounced around the room. We then left leaving M behind. He would have to be picked up later in the afternoon because he had no clothing.
When we got back, Ma Flo called B about the situation and also phoned B’s uncle. Ma Flo decided that the next step was up to the family. Unfortunately, as mentioned, the uncle wanted M to return to them camp. However, Ma Flo was right - this was a family issue. Although I was nervous and wanted to lend support, it was not my place. It is just such a travesty. B is his brother’s care giver. His uncle rarely visits the boys and I felt this was B’s decision. Unfortunately, he is only 16 years old.
Ma Flo and Jabulila then left to go pick up B and his uncle. They were then going to talk about the situation and go get M to bring him home.
For now, he is at home and he is safe. It was decided that M will not return to the camp until after the surgery. At this point, it is unknown how long he will have to go to the camp: could be a day, a week, or possibly longer. The hospital has put me and Jab’s in charge of M’s wellbeing during this time so I will keep you up to date.
Please pray for B and his two brothers.
This is not a story; it is life, it is reality. Please remember that. This is one of the millions of realities across sub-Saharan Africa and they all involve real people.
We are either infected or affected. I encourage all of you who read this to remember that YOU are affected by this.
P.S. I just received word about an hour ago that the people from the camp came and took M back to the camp yesterday. He will likely have to be there for a week. Please keep him in your thoughts.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
M Part 1
Sorry for the big gap between post's; it has been a long couple weeks
I just spent the last week in the children’s ward at the Temba Hospital. On Tuesday, I went to the Lula care center (a day orphanage for young children). In the afternoon, I, along with the other Forward Education staff run an after school study program for high school youth. One of the youth who has attended is a 16 year old named B. I got to know B last year. He was one of the youth leaders who taught the better choices program (a programmed aimed at helping youth make better choices; specifically surrounding HIV/AIDS transmission). B is a double orphan meaning both his parents are dead (most likely the result of AIDS). Since the age of 12, B has run a child headed house hold for his two brothers. This means that for the past 4 years, B and his two younger brothers have lived in their small brick house by themselves. And, B runs the house and is the primary care giver for his brothers. Remember, he has had this role since he was 12 and is currently only 16 years old.
As B and I were talking at the after school program, I asked him how is week went. He said it had gone well…..then a pause and he said “well, it went kind of good and kind of bad.” I asked him why it was bad. He responded by telling me his 11 year old brother M, the youngest, had been taken to an initiation camp and had been in the hospital since last Friday.
In some Southern African cultures, there has been a tradition were young boys and girls are taking through an initiation camp. These camps are designed to transform the kids into adulthood. Many different rituals and traditions take place. The biggest tradition that takes place in the boy’s camp is circumcision.
Back in the day, I believe these camps were a good thing and had a lot of positives. Back then, the children would go with children that they knew and would go through the camp with adults from their village. There was a sense of tradition and community that would take place. Times have changed and today these camps are extremely dangerous and have drawn countless controversy throughout South Africa. Please note that the information I am sharing comes only from conversations from people in the community and from stories. Therefore, not all of the information may be accurate. However, it is really all we have to go on.
Today, the camps are a business. Children are pressured to attend these camps and are sometimes even taken from their homes. Not much is known about what takes place at these camps because the men who run them warn the children that if they speak about the secrets of what takes place they will become mentally disturbed somehow. I know a couple of youth who have attended the camps and they are very fearful about telling me about what takes place. What we do know, or what is speculated, is that these children are exposed to all sorts of so-called tradition medications. They are also underfeed and the child to adult ration is ridiculously low. The children are taken to the wilderness for a period of time, usually one to three months (it is the same time every year and it just so happens to fall right in the middle of the school year so the children miss a huge amount of classes). It is also rumored and fairly widely thought that the children are involved in various sexual acts. Remember, M is 11 years old. Again, these camps are a business. One of the volunteers here, a woman who has become a friend of mine, told me the story of when here son went to the camp. She remembered seeing the leaders of the local camp waking up too her house. She said she fell to her knees because she knew he had gone to the camp. The leaders of the camp informed her that she must provide a blanket for her son and pay them one chicken and 80 kg of Mealimaze (the staple food in rural South Africa) as an entry fee for her son. When the camp was finished, she must pay them the same amount for them to release her son. The disturbing thing is that the children do not see any of this food. The men stock up so they have enough food to eat and sustain them for the year.
The biggest traditional aspect of the camp is circumcision. Males in this part of Africa are not seen as men until they have been circumcised. I know a couple of males who had yet to be circumcised and they were chastised by their community. The problem with the circumcisions that are done at the camp is that in many cases the men running the camp do not know how to perform the procedure appropriately and safely. Many times the same tools and instruments are used on all of the children and it is frequent mode of HIV/AIDS transmission.
So, that kinda sums up the initiation camp. Now back to the story.
B informed me that M had been taken to the camp last Friday. The leaders of the camp performed the circumcision procedure that day. Unfortunately, the bastards did not do it properly and M was horrifically damaged by the procedure. The leaders of the camp took him to the local clinic. The clinic then transported M to the hospital by ambulance. Again, this happened on Friday and I was talking to B on Tuesday. That means this 11 year old boy had been at the hospital by himself with no visitors for 5 days. B told me he wanted a ride to the hospital to see M. I told him I would definitely drive him. We made a plan to leave the next day to go see his brother.
I will write part two of the story, the most important part, in a couple days. Sorry to keep you hanging.
I just spent the last week in the children’s ward at the Temba Hospital. On Tuesday, I went to the Lula care center (a day orphanage for young children). In the afternoon, I, along with the other Forward Education staff run an after school study program for high school youth. One of the youth who has attended is a 16 year old named B. I got to know B last year. He was one of the youth leaders who taught the better choices program (a programmed aimed at helping youth make better choices; specifically surrounding HIV/AIDS transmission). B is a double orphan meaning both his parents are dead (most likely the result of AIDS). Since the age of 12, B has run a child headed house hold for his two brothers. This means that for the past 4 years, B and his two younger brothers have lived in their small brick house by themselves. And, B runs the house and is the primary care giver for his brothers. Remember, he has had this role since he was 12 and is currently only 16 years old.
As B and I were talking at the after school program, I asked him how is week went. He said it had gone well…..then a pause and he said “well, it went kind of good and kind of bad.” I asked him why it was bad. He responded by telling me his 11 year old brother M, the youngest, had been taken to an initiation camp and had been in the hospital since last Friday.
In some Southern African cultures, there has been a tradition were young boys and girls are taking through an initiation camp. These camps are designed to transform the kids into adulthood. Many different rituals and traditions take place. The biggest tradition that takes place in the boy’s camp is circumcision.
Back in the day, I believe these camps were a good thing and had a lot of positives. Back then, the children would go with children that they knew and would go through the camp with adults from their village. There was a sense of tradition and community that would take place. Times have changed and today these camps are extremely dangerous and have drawn countless controversy throughout South Africa. Please note that the information I am sharing comes only from conversations from people in the community and from stories. Therefore, not all of the information may be accurate. However, it is really all we have to go on.
Today, the camps are a business. Children are pressured to attend these camps and are sometimes even taken from their homes. Not much is known about what takes place at these camps because the men who run them warn the children that if they speak about the secrets of what takes place they will become mentally disturbed somehow. I know a couple of youth who have attended the camps and they are very fearful about telling me about what takes place. What we do know, or what is speculated, is that these children are exposed to all sorts of so-called tradition medications. They are also underfeed and the child to adult ration is ridiculously low. The children are taken to the wilderness for a period of time, usually one to three months (it is the same time every year and it just so happens to fall right in the middle of the school year so the children miss a huge amount of classes). It is also rumored and fairly widely thought that the children are involved in various sexual acts. Remember, M is 11 years old. Again, these camps are a business. One of the volunteers here, a woman who has become a friend of mine, told me the story of when here son went to the camp. She remembered seeing the leaders of the local camp waking up too her house. She said she fell to her knees because she knew he had gone to the camp. The leaders of the camp informed her that she must provide a blanket for her son and pay them one chicken and 80 kg of Mealimaze (the staple food in rural South Africa) as an entry fee for her son. When the camp was finished, she must pay them the same amount for them to release her son. The disturbing thing is that the children do not see any of this food. The men stock up so they have enough food to eat and sustain them for the year.
The biggest traditional aspect of the camp is circumcision. Males in this part of Africa are not seen as men until they have been circumcised. I know a couple of males who had yet to be circumcised and they were chastised by their community. The problem with the circumcisions that are done at the camp is that in many cases the men running the camp do not know how to perform the procedure appropriately and safely. Many times the same tools and instruments are used on all of the children and it is frequent mode of HIV/AIDS transmission.
So, that kinda sums up the initiation camp. Now back to the story.
B informed me that M had been taken to the camp last Friday. The leaders of the camp performed the circumcision procedure that day. Unfortunately, the bastards did not do it properly and M was horrifically damaged by the procedure. The leaders of the camp took him to the local clinic. The clinic then transported M to the hospital by ambulance. Again, this happened on Friday and I was talking to B on Tuesday. That means this 11 year old boy had been at the hospital by himself with no visitors for 5 days. B told me he wanted a ride to the hospital to see M. I told him I would definitely drive him. We made a plan to leave the next day to go see his brother.
I will write part two of the story, the most important part, in a couple days. Sorry to keep you hanging.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
The Grave With the Green Bowl
Hello once again.
it has been a good few days. I am now in a coffee shop using wireless Internet in a large mall similar to that of Marketmall. I have said this many times before, and I'm sure I will say it again; this country is one of contradictions. I feel like I am at home in Calgary. However, when I leave I will drive for 25 minutes and be in a community of 250,000 black South Africans who are living in Poverty; in a lot of cases, extreme poverty.
Lynn and Jayme Chotowetz, the founders of Forward Education have just left for a holiday with some family and won't be back until mid August. Therefore, I, along with another Calgarian, Laura Pope, are running the show. Now the work begins. I am really excited to start this and get deep into the work. Laura is also leaving for Swaziland on Monday for a week so I will be running a lot of stuff on my own. This week will be interesting.
On Friday, I drove one of our students, Stanley, around the community to visit some other youth. We were going to inform them of a church service in Nelspruit (the nearest city) that we wanted them to attend that would also include a brie (bbq). As Stanley and I were walking away from the last visit, Stanley loosely informed my that the girl we had visited may not be able to attend because someone in her family had passed away and the funeral was on Saturday. I was a bit taken a back because there was sense from our visit that anything was wrong. Stanley said he would probably attend to show some support to the girl's family.
The next morning, Stanley and I got up early to go to the funeral. As it turned out, three more of our students wanted to attend as well. We were all running a little late, and as we were driving down the dirt road, the funeral procession past us. I quickly turned around and followed the cars to the cemetery. A bus full of people was also in front of us. When we arrived at the cemetery, everyone started singing. Everyone gathered around the grave site as the casket was lowered into the plot. The pastor said some prayers and everyone continued singing. I then thought it was time to go, however, everyone stayed as men started to fill in the grave. This took about 20 minutes and everyone stayed and continued to sing until this was complete. A couple men then put cinder blocks around the dirt to enclose the grave as an older women used some branches to sweep up the left over dirt. The pastor and women from the church then sung a song as they all dances around the grave site. Then, someone put a tree branch in the grave site. Stanley said that it was most likely a branch from the deceased favorite tree. People were then given the opportunity to speak about the person who had passed. To end, someone put a large green wash based and a cup into the top of the plot. Stanley had explained that those were belongings of the deceased. A final prayer was said, and then everyone left. People then went back to the families home for a meal, however we did not stay.
Later that evening I was chatting with Carolyn Snyman who said that her first African funeral lasted 11 hours; luckily I can hopefully ease my self into that experience.
As the youth and I drove away I asked on of the youth, Gugu, who had passed. She said it was the girls uncle and he was probably fairly old (what ever old means). I then thought about the lack of emotion displayed at the funeral and wondered why I had not noticed very many displays of grieving. As we were driving up the dusty road, I looked ahead and noticed another funeral taking place. It then hit me; death so prevalent here that I think it has almost become a Saturday event. Death is always around these people and perhaps, emotion has lost some meaning.
However, I will never forget the grave with the green bowl.
it has been a good few days. I am now in a coffee shop using wireless Internet in a large mall similar to that of Marketmall. I have said this many times before, and I'm sure I will say it again; this country is one of contradictions. I feel like I am at home in Calgary. However, when I leave I will drive for 25 minutes and be in a community of 250,000 black South Africans who are living in Poverty; in a lot of cases, extreme poverty.
Lynn and Jayme Chotowetz, the founders of Forward Education have just left for a holiday with some family and won't be back until mid August. Therefore, I, along with another Calgarian, Laura Pope, are running the show. Now the work begins. I am really excited to start this and get deep into the work. Laura is also leaving for Swaziland on Monday for a week so I will be running a lot of stuff on my own. This week will be interesting.
On Friday, I drove one of our students, Stanley, around the community to visit some other youth. We were going to inform them of a church service in Nelspruit (the nearest city) that we wanted them to attend that would also include a brie (bbq). As Stanley and I were walking away from the last visit, Stanley loosely informed my that the girl we had visited may not be able to attend because someone in her family had passed away and the funeral was on Saturday. I was a bit taken a back because there was sense from our visit that anything was wrong. Stanley said he would probably attend to show some support to the girl's family.
The next morning, Stanley and I got up early to go to the funeral. As it turned out, three more of our students wanted to attend as well. We were all running a little late, and as we were driving down the dirt road, the funeral procession past us. I quickly turned around and followed the cars to the cemetery. A bus full of people was also in front of us. When we arrived at the cemetery, everyone started singing. Everyone gathered around the grave site as the casket was lowered into the plot. The pastor said some prayers and everyone continued singing. I then thought it was time to go, however, everyone stayed as men started to fill in the grave. This took about 20 minutes and everyone stayed and continued to sing until this was complete. A couple men then put cinder blocks around the dirt to enclose the grave as an older women used some branches to sweep up the left over dirt. The pastor and women from the church then sung a song as they all dances around the grave site. Then, someone put a tree branch in the grave site. Stanley said that it was most likely a branch from the deceased favorite tree. People were then given the opportunity to speak about the person who had passed. To end, someone put a large green wash based and a cup into the top of the plot. Stanley had explained that those were belongings of the deceased. A final prayer was said, and then everyone left. People then went back to the families home for a meal, however we did not stay.
Later that evening I was chatting with Carolyn Snyman who said that her first African funeral lasted 11 hours; luckily I can hopefully ease my self into that experience.
As the youth and I drove away I asked on of the youth, Gugu, who had passed. She said it was the girls uncle and he was probably fairly old (what ever old means). I then thought about the lack of emotion displayed at the funeral and wondered why I had not noticed very many displays of grieving. As we were driving up the dusty road, I looked ahead and noticed another funeral taking place. It then hit me; death so prevalent here that I think it has almost become a Saturday event. Death is always around these people and perhaps, emotion has lost some meaning.
However, I will never forget the grave with the green bowl.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
A Divine Transition
Well,
by now you must have assumed that I have arrived here safely. It has been a tough few days and I am still fairly home sick. It was a strange trip over here. I felt little excitement, anticipation, or wonder. I think this place has become normal to me which has made this trip that much harder; the days are very long.
My only saving grace has been reconnecting with the people. One person in particular; a young nine year old boy from Zimbabwe named Divine. I first met Divine two years ago when I first came to Africa. The first day I arrived in South Africa I met Divine and was surprised to find out it was his first day in South Africa as well. Divine had just been brought to South Africa by his Aunt Emily from Zimbabwe. Through our time together, we both became close and discovered this new country.
Last year when I returned to South Africa our friendship was even closer. However, Divine was very shy when we initially connected. Emily says he is always very shy when people return to greet him. When I arrived on Friday, Emily informed me that Divine had been counting down the days until I arrived and he had wanted to wait by the gate of our compound all day until I came. When I first saw Emily I gave her a big hug and before I knew it, I felt to small hands tapping me on the back I turned around and there was my friend Divine who quickly gave me a big hug. I was so amazed because I know what a shy little guy he is. We have been hanging out a lot over the past few days and through this time of darkness he has been my small amount of light.
He won't let go of my hand; and I will not let go of his.
At this point, if for no other reason, I am here for him
by now you must have assumed that I have arrived here safely. It has been a tough few days and I am still fairly home sick. It was a strange trip over here. I felt little excitement, anticipation, or wonder. I think this place has become normal to me which has made this trip that much harder; the days are very long.
My only saving grace has been reconnecting with the people. One person in particular; a young nine year old boy from Zimbabwe named Divine. I first met Divine two years ago when I first came to Africa. The first day I arrived in South Africa I met Divine and was surprised to find out it was his first day in South Africa as well. Divine had just been brought to South Africa by his Aunt Emily from Zimbabwe. Through our time together, we both became close and discovered this new country.
Last year when I returned to South Africa our friendship was even closer. However, Divine was very shy when we initially connected. Emily says he is always very shy when people return to greet him. When I arrived on Friday, Emily informed me that Divine had been counting down the days until I arrived and he had wanted to wait by the gate of our compound all day until I came. When I first saw Emily I gave her a big hug and before I knew it, I felt to small hands tapping me on the back I turned around and there was my friend Divine who quickly gave me a big hug. I was so amazed because I know what a shy little guy he is. We have been hanging out a lot over the past few days and through this time of darkness he has been my small amount of light.
He won't let go of my hand; and I will not let go of his.
At this point, if for no other reason, I am here for him
Thursday, July 5, 2007
The Beginning of the End
This may officially be the worst day of my life. 8:22 pm July 4th, 2007. Sitting in one of the comfy chairs in terminal D at the Calgary Airport where I can see people outside of the security area through the glass. I can’t help but look back to see where my family has gone. Every two minutes I catch myself looking back to see if they have waited for me; Waiting for me to bail out of this so called “adventure.” “This may have been the worst decision of my life;” A common statement that I can’t erase from my mind. At least the conversations have ended. I am so tired; tired of talking, of conversing about this trip; this…….thing. It has become its own entity. And through this transition, the purpose of “this thing” has become lost. I get so distracted that I don’t see my own faults for what they are. My faults surrounding this mission are selfish. This trip has become about me; and I hate that. “Forward education” has become words. Why does the purpose, the grace, the love, and the passion for what’s those words mean become completely ignored.
Selfishness has become a tool that has enabled me to ignore God through this time. God has becoming nothing through this process. I am so frustrated, scared, upset, and angry that I have selfishly decided that God is the root of these issues. Therefore, I feel he won’t be there to help me through these anxieties. It’s time to end the selfishness; it’s time to come to God. Now is the time for action; now is the time for God to work through me. I keep telling people that I am so upset because I am uprooting my life. What I need to understand is that I’m not uprooting it; I’m just putting it on hold. No. Wait……… that doesn’t make sense either. This trip is my life; I’m just transitioning to another part of it. And yet, I’m still so scared. That emotion will be here for a while. The tears are still coming.
To conclude, I want to let you know that you will all become familiar with the lyrics of a man by the name of Dallas Green; A musician who I can’t stop listening too. As a few of my friends are aware, one of his lines has captured my feelings about this trip perfectly and I continue to bring it up time and time again in a variety of situations.
“Behind this emotion is a sensible heart”
As my writing’s of this journey continue, there will undoubtedly be many stories full of anger, hate, and frustration. Please remember Mr. Green’s words throughout those moments.
They have just announced the first few rows to board the plane. Here we go……………………
Selfishness has become a tool that has enabled me to ignore God through this time. God has becoming nothing through this process. I am so frustrated, scared, upset, and angry that I have selfishly decided that God is the root of these issues. Therefore, I feel he won’t be there to help me through these anxieties. It’s time to end the selfishness; it’s time to come to God. Now is the time for action; now is the time for God to work through me. I keep telling people that I am so upset because I am uprooting my life. What I need to understand is that I’m not uprooting it; I’m just putting it on hold. No. Wait……… that doesn’t make sense either. This trip is my life; I’m just transitioning to another part of it. And yet, I’m still so scared. That emotion will be here for a while. The tears are still coming.
To conclude, I want to let you know that you will all become familiar with the lyrics of a man by the name of Dallas Green; A musician who I can’t stop listening too. As a few of my friends are aware, one of his lines has captured my feelings about this trip perfectly and I continue to bring it up time and time again in a variety of situations.
“Behind this emotion is a sensible heart”
As my writing’s of this journey continue, there will undoubtedly be many stories full of anger, hate, and frustration. Please remember Mr. Green’s words throughout those moments.
They have just announced the first few rows to board the plane. Here we go……………………
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Welcome to Craving Grace!
Hello everyone,
welcome to Craving Grace! I created this site to post the adventure of my journey. Specifically, this coming year I will be travelling to Masoyi South Africa to volunteer with an NGO named Hands @ Work in Africa. I will be working with high school Orphan's in a program called Forward Education. the goal of the program is to try and enroll these youth in to low level university and college courses. As might be assumed, the level of education in rural South Africa is, for lack of a better word, terrible. I will be working to try and help these youth increase their academic and social skills to prepare them for college and university life.
Thanks for checking this out and obviously more info and stories will be coming.
Dan
welcome to Craving Grace! I created this site to post the adventure of my journey. Specifically, this coming year I will be travelling to Masoyi South Africa to volunteer with an NGO named Hands @ Work in Africa. I will be working with high school Orphan's in a program called Forward Education. the goal of the program is to try and enroll these youth in to low level university and college courses. As might be assumed, the level of education in rural South Africa is, for lack of a better word, terrible. I will be working to try and help these youth increase their academic and social skills to prepare them for college and university life.
Thanks for checking this out and obviously more info and stories will be coming.
Dan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)