It will come as no shock that when you work at a clinic where people are tested for HIV, that World Aid’s day hold significance. And slowly I am getting more used to not being able to anticipate my days, but some connections took me by surprise.
The morning started with a short candle lighting communion service. I was asked last minute to do some of the readings in it from perspectives of people living with HIV. Then we were invited to light candles in memory of anyone if we wanted. And for all the work we have done in Africa, my thoughts took me back to being ten years old.
You see I had this friend that was in some ways a mentor, an adult, but not the way my parents were adults she was still young. And she would let me into conversation, when I could have just been seen as a bratty friend. She spoke and you knew she said what she believed without apology. She had such a life and a wit about her and I ate up the banter we had.
The last time I saw her was either the week of my 12th or 13th birthday. She was moving back where she was from and leaving the DC area. The next time I heard about her it was only that she was having some health problems and I worried a little. And then a few months after that, I learned my friend had died.
It didn’t make sense to me that she had died so young and she was so full of life. And willing to treat me like a friend even when I was a child. It wasn’t until a year and a half ago I learned she was HIV positive. And I may not have been able to understand then, and I am sure people were not always understanding and her status was her own. It doesn’t change all the ways she touched my life.
But standing with that unlit candle this morning, everything connected and I lit it for her. My last memory of her is from my comfy bedroom at home, a life very far away from this one and my current work. But that life and strength resonate through many people in many places.
So this friend of mine is who centered my day. And then brought it again full circle when I got to phone somewhere very dear to me that was thinking of the same friend and of me strongly today at the same time. The power of it all would be almost overwhelming but we brought each other so much joy.
Someone today was talking about people suffering with HIV and the infected and affected. I think you would be blind in South Africa to not be affected, but I think no matter where you are you should look around. A lot of what we talk about at Bula Monyako (the centre I work out) is living with HIV. And the stories I think about today and the people that have done incredible things with their lives… well you see suffering is not the main term I would use, I would use living, and yes there are moments of suffering- but the living is what makes this all so strong for me.
And so today was also joyous. We were exhausted after a day of giving out ribbons, and information, and condoms, and inviting people to get tested and supporting people getting tested. But we were also dancing on the sidewalk as we were doing it. There was life and joy and an openness to talking about something, which in so many people’s fears has robbed human dignity from others. This is not a disease to be over simplified; those fears and unknowns are real. But just try talking about HIV and AIDS, and not always as a horrible epidemic because percentages and numbers are great. But its not compassion or understanding. Take a moment today and realize as a brother or sister has AIDS you also have AIDS, the greater our silence or belief we understand something we could still learn about- the greater the epidemic.
Today was a day full of life, reflection, dancing and learning. The spirit is moving, have hope. Happy World AIDS Day.
People are doing amazing things and strides are being taken.
With peace,
Hannah
01 December 2010
13 November 2010
Working in a VCT Clinic
So one day I noticed one of these cards at work, thinking it was one of my co workers from someone.
"It's time to take our relationship to the next level."
Then I looked inside and saw this:
"Let's get tested for HIV"
I was then let on to the other designs the Department of Health makes. I do like awareness and people being open with their partners. But once I realized I had been wrong about what the card was, I got a kick out of it.
Cheers,
Hannah
"It's time to take our relationship to the next level."
Then I looked inside and saw this:
"Let's get tested for HIV"
I was then let on to the other designs the Department of Health makes. I do like awareness and people being open with their partners. But once I realized I had been wrong about what the card was, I got a kick out of it.
Cheers,
Hannah
20 October 2010
Siyabonga
SIYABONGA
We thank you.
Hamba khale
Go well.
Sala khale
Stay well.
We thank you. There is something very powerful about language and what happens when you start to be influenced by it. I took a wonderful linguistic anthropology class at in college with Professor Leap. And recently I have come back to that.
In Zulu when you say goodbye, you say go well or stay well. I am sure many other people in South Africa use it as well. It was not until watching part of Cry, the Beloved Country and someone asked if the acting wasn’t the best or if they were reading a script. But for me it was just more patience with the words, slower and with exact meaning each time a phrase was used. When they said go well or stay well to each other either in Zulu or English, I began to realize how much those phrases mean to me know and how I use them. It is second nature, but it is also with meaning. It’s almost like peace be the journey and a protection. When you say it you mean it. Just something I have observed and the personal meaning it holds for me, particularly when I use the words.
I also love the plural of words here. They reflect the culture. On my first trip into Wattville to do home visit with Bula Monyako we met two older women in the street. They have worked with Bula before and greeted and welcomed me to the community. But before I left they said very genuinely, siabonga sisi. We thank you sister, we welcome you sister. I often realize I have to use the singular at work, I come in alone and thank alone. But then when I am with people I work with and we talked to others when one says good morning, ‘we say good morning’ when one thanks, we thank, when one says we are fine, we say we all are well. There is a beauty to how the language reflects and I am still trying to learn how to quickly switch from the singular to the plural.
My last point on language as I brought up this class is the many different languages in South Africa. Though there are many and different languages some words transcend them all or there are very South African phrases that everyone knows. My favorite in some ways is that every cell phone company uses a word to promote their network, which has origins in one of the languages- but becomes used for the present in a new way and represents a very current culture. For the major cell phone companies MTN uses AYOBA (greater than great), Vodacom uses YEBO(YES!), and Telcom (the landline company) has just introduced cell phones plans under HEITA (hey/hello).
(to be continued)
We thank you.
Hamba khale
Go well.
Sala khale
Stay well.
We thank you. There is something very powerful about language and what happens when you start to be influenced by it. I took a wonderful linguistic anthropology class at in college with Professor Leap. And recently I have come back to that.
In Zulu when you say goodbye, you say go well or stay well. I am sure many other people in South Africa use it as well. It was not until watching part of Cry, the Beloved Country and someone asked if the acting wasn’t the best or if they were reading a script. But for me it was just more patience with the words, slower and with exact meaning each time a phrase was used. When they said go well or stay well to each other either in Zulu or English, I began to realize how much those phrases mean to me know and how I use them. It is second nature, but it is also with meaning. It’s almost like peace be the journey and a protection. When you say it you mean it. Just something I have observed and the personal meaning it holds for me, particularly when I use the words.
I also love the plural of words here. They reflect the culture. On my first trip into Wattville to do home visit with Bula Monyako we met two older women in the street. They have worked with Bula before and greeted and welcomed me to the community. But before I left they said very genuinely, siabonga sisi. We thank you sister, we welcome you sister. I often realize I have to use the singular at work, I come in alone and thank alone. But then when I am with people I work with and we talked to others when one says good morning, ‘we say good morning’ when one thanks, we thank, when one says we are fine, we say we all are well. There is a beauty to how the language reflects and I am still trying to learn how to quickly switch from the singular to the plural.
My last point on language as I brought up this class is the many different languages in South Africa. Though there are many and different languages some words transcend them all or there are very South African phrases that everyone knows. My favorite in some ways is that every cell phone company uses a word to promote their network, which has origins in one of the languages- but becomes used for the present in a new way and represents a very current culture. For the major cell phone companies MTN uses AYOBA (greater than great), Vodacom uses YEBO(YES!), and Telcom (the landline company) has just introduced cell phones plans under HEITA (hey/hello).
(to be continued)
14 October 2010
Journeys in Photographs
I see the world in photographs. Its something about the way light catches something or I get excited by an expression or color. And there is something about using that still, that moment in time, that helps me process the world around me. For all the talking I do to process and share stories, photography is sort of my alter ego. Its my introvert and extravert combining- and I almost feel like I treat the world with more respect taking the time to look and focus.
I was recently in Wattville one of the locations we work outside of Wattville (what some would call a Township). We were doing home visits to check on the people that had not come yet in the month to pick up food parcels. It was great for me to get a chance to work outside the office and meet more of the people we work with.
Though many reacted adversely at first because I was not a recognized member of the community and obviously an outsider by the color of my skin, if not all the other indicators. It took me a bit to catch on, but my co-workers got a good laugh because people kept thinking I was from Eskom the power company. They have recently been cracking down in locations, because people tap into other people’s wires illegally to spread more power usage. And they generally make people uneasy, which I understand from some of my encounters from this monopolistic power company. Anyway I was generally welcomed after this misconception was cleared up.
There were a few moments thought that I just saw these beautiful photographs. A bird perched on a wall with a jagged roof behind and an overcast sky. A gogo with her hair tied in a beautiful scarf with soft light from the window hitting half her face and a strong expression. I of course wouldn’t carry my large camera around a location so that I wouldn’t stand out even more making a larger barrier in the work I am trying to do. Especially on my first visit, plus its just not safe.
But I also started thinking about the language to ‘take’ a photo, when I was explaining to Patty my draw to photography and what I wanted to photograph. I was already thinking of how to ask the community what I could photograph and who and who to ask to help protect the project. But even with asking and having permission, the ‘taking a photograph’ still stayed with me.
This is not the first time I have considered the implication of photography. In high school I looked into some communities that really feel like you are stealing the soul to photograph a person. And just like I talked about the respect for a moment I feel when I take a photograph- I am also taking it, capturing that moment.
When I started more intense photography in high school, I often wondered why my photo teacher, Mr. Beland, wasn’t always taking photos. I felt be shared the same passion but why were all of us taking so many more photos. And over time I understand it more. Some days I feel like just being in the moment, or I already have told that kind of story and don’t feel a need to photograph. And some days I feel like to see I have to look through the lens. Or there is a story that just must be told. Or I need to be an observer.
Some days I take, other days I add. I am not totally unpacking it here- but it is taking that moment. Taking it away for a later date – upsetting the natural rhythm.
I have been very lucky to have a family that supported my habit growing up. My first pink square camera as a kid from my uncle that my parents helped pay to get the film developed. Then my dad got me an Olympus and taught me about a good lens. In middle school my mom got my first SLR, a lovely pentex. And then a year later my Dad got me a zoom lens before my first trip to Africa. Everyone in my family supported it, whether I stayed late at school or needed rides somewhere or had a lens in their face. Photography seems contagious around my group of friends and they share some really inspiring creativity and outlook.
And then in college I used all my saved waitressing money to buy my first SLR Nikon D70 digital camera. Over the past few years it has been on many journeys with me. And I often carefully consider where I take it and what are the risks or when to disguise it. So recently in Cape Town, Jen, Amanda and I were heading to Stellenbosch the wine region I had not visit in the three months before living there. The Tour was picking us up from where Jen stays and I decided I had really wanted to see this area and needed to take my camera.
We got a puncture with our tour driver Sele, and decided we needed a photo of the event so I pulled out my camera and then took another beautiful photo of the mountains in the distance with part of the township in it. It was lovely and the last photo I would ever take on the camera.
I’ll have to blog more on the robbery soon, but someone had snuck across the highway from the other side while we were talking on the shoulder and Sele was under the car getting the tire. In the second it took me to figure out what was going on the man reached in the driver’s side door and grabbed my camera and bag. I started after him with my camera just out of reach, but stopped when the danger of on coming cars set in. My last mental photo is my camera and bag going over the wall in the median of the highway after the man.
And now a week and a half later I don’t have a camera. (my small one was also in my bag so we could take videos.) And I still see the world in photos. But its life, photography still means a lot to me, but everyone is okay. And this will be one of those spells I have to keep everything in my head. And for a little while I will re-live the photos I was really excited about that were on those cameras.
But for now I am taking mental photos and angles of the brilliant purple flowers in bloom on the Jacaranda trees around Joburg and Benoni. I’ll have to work on my painting skills so I can share those images with all of you. Each time I see one it’s like a surprise of color popping next to the greens surrounding it.
It’s still the little wonders and I am still thankful for all the adventures my camera and I got to go on. So photograph or don’t, but take the time to respect and hold in those moments with a different focus than the rush of life.
Peace,
Hannah
I was recently in Wattville one of the locations we work outside of Wattville (what some would call a Township). We were doing home visits to check on the people that had not come yet in the month to pick up food parcels. It was great for me to get a chance to work outside the office and meet more of the people we work with.
Though many reacted adversely at first because I was not a recognized member of the community and obviously an outsider by the color of my skin, if not all the other indicators. It took me a bit to catch on, but my co-workers got a good laugh because people kept thinking I was from Eskom the power company. They have recently been cracking down in locations, because people tap into other people’s wires illegally to spread more power usage. And they generally make people uneasy, which I understand from some of my encounters from this monopolistic power company. Anyway I was generally welcomed after this misconception was cleared up.
There were a few moments thought that I just saw these beautiful photographs. A bird perched on a wall with a jagged roof behind and an overcast sky. A gogo with her hair tied in a beautiful scarf with soft light from the window hitting half her face and a strong expression. I of course wouldn’t carry my large camera around a location so that I wouldn’t stand out even more making a larger barrier in the work I am trying to do. Especially on my first visit, plus its just not safe.
But I also started thinking about the language to ‘take’ a photo, when I was explaining to Patty my draw to photography and what I wanted to photograph. I was already thinking of how to ask the community what I could photograph and who and who to ask to help protect the project. But even with asking and having permission, the ‘taking a photograph’ still stayed with me.
This is not the first time I have considered the implication of photography. In high school I looked into some communities that really feel like you are stealing the soul to photograph a person. And just like I talked about the respect for a moment I feel when I take a photograph- I am also taking it, capturing that moment.
When I started more intense photography in high school, I often wondered why my photo teacher, Mr. Beland, wasn’t always taking photos. I felt be shared the same passion but why were all of us taking so many more photos. And over time I understand it more. Some days I feel like just being in the moment, or I already have told that kind of story and don’t feel a need to photograph. And some days I feel like to see I have to look through the lens. Or there is a story that just must be told. Or I need to be an observer.
Some days I take, other days I add. I am not totally unpacking it here- but it is taking that moment. Taking it away for a later date – upsetting the natural rhythm.
I have been very lucky to have a family that supported my habit growing up. My first pink square camera as a kid from my uncle that my parents helped pay to get the film developed. Then my dad got me an Olympus and taught me about a good lens. In middle school my mom got my first SLR, a lovely pentex. And then a year later my Dad got me a zoom lens before my first trip to Africa. Everyone in my family supported it, whether I stayed late at school or needed rides somewhere or had a lens in their face. Photography seems contagious around my group of friends and they share some really inspiring creativity and outlook.
And then in college I used all my saved waitressing money to buy my first SLR Nikon D70 digital camera. Over the past few years it has been on many journeys with me. And I often carefully consider where I take it and what are the risks or when to disguise it. So recently in Cape Town, Jen, Amanda and I were heading to Stellenbosch the wine region I had not visit in the three months before living there. The Tour was picking us up from where Jen stays and I decided I had really wanted to see this area and needed to take my camera.
We got a puncture with our tour driver Sele, and decided we needed a photo of the event so I pulled out my camera and then took another beautiful photo of the mountains in the distance with part of the township in it. It was lovely and the last photo I would ever take on the camera.
I’ll have to blog more on the robbery soon, but someone had snuck across the highway from the other side while we were talking on the shoulder and Sele was under the car getting the tire. In the second it took me to figure out what was going on the man reached in the driver’s side door and grabbed my camera and bag. I started after him with my camera just out of reach, but stopped when the danger of on coming cars set in. My last mental photo is my camera and bag going over the wall in the median of the highway after the man.
And now a week and a half later I don’t have a camera. (my small one was also in my bag so we could take videos.) And I still see the world in photos. But its life, photography still means a lot to me, but everyone is okay. And this will be one of those spells I have to keep everything in my head. And for a little while I will re-live the photos I was really excited about that were on those cameras.
But for now I am taking mental photos and angles of the brilliant purple flowers in bloom on the Jacaranda trees around Joburg and Benoni. I’ll have to work on my painting skills so I can share those images with all of you. Each time I see one it’s like a surprise of color popping next to the greens surrounding it.
It’s still the little wonders and I am still thankful for all the adventures my camera and I got to go on. So photograph or don’t, but take the time to respect and hold in those moments with a different focus than the rush of life.
Peace,
Hannah
Heritage Day
Just a short week into my start at Bula Moyako South Africa celebrated Heritage Day (September 24th). Coming into work was great fun and helped me learn more about the cultures people connected to Bula come from. Of course instead of my traditional American apparel, I decided to wear my Congolese dress, which was an appreciated surprise and made for a fun day. I also was invited to sit in on a counseling session to observe and the headscarf made it a bit hard when it falls into my eyes.
The commentary on Heritage really intrigued me though and was a good learning point in South Africa. It is also known as Braai Day (Braai very South African/ like our BBQ) and people throughout South Africa braai. However, in a place with such recent history of intense separation, in a country like the rest of the world grappling with modernization/ western influence and tradition, in an area with 11 official languages there are also many questions around Heritage Day. Most of thee thoughts come from a radio show that people were calling into on my way home from Bula before the official holiday on Friday. And I was impressed with how genuine the discussion unfolded. How do you celebrate everyone’s culture in South Africa and how do you find common unity of culture to also celebrate. The difficulties of the beautiful diversity of language were brought up. Some serious concerns were brought up and even parallels to the United States.
In the end I was still left with an extreme appreciation for the sincerity the holiday was taken with and the way the issues it brought up were discussed. And I think around the world how we uphold tradition is becoming more of a challenge. But it helps us remember life is more than work and how do we live a life filled with both tradition and the culture we choose.
It’s interesting to be an American writing this, but also important as I honor and respect other cultures to start understanding what mine really is.
The commentary on Heritage really intrigued me though and was a good learning point in South Africa. It is also known as Braai Day (Braai very South African/ like our BBQ) and people throughout South Africa braai. However, in a place with such recent history of intense separation, in a country like the rest of the world grappling with modernization/ western influence and tradition, in an area with 11 official languages there are also many questions around Heritage Day. Most of thee thoughts come from a radio show that people were calling into on my way home from Bula before the official holiday on Friday. And I was impressed with how genuine the discussion unfolded. How do you celebrate everyone’s culture in South Africa and how do you find common unity of culture to also celebrate. The difficulties of the beautiful diversity of language were brought up. Some serious concerns were brought up and even parallels to the United States.
In the end I was still left with an extreme appreciation for the sincerity the holiday was taken with and the way the issues it brought up were discussed. And I think around the world how we uphold tradition is becoming more of a challenge. But it helps us remember life is more than work and how do we live a life filled with both tradition and the culture we choose.
It’s interesting to be an American writing this, but also important as I honor and respect other cultures to start understanding what mine really is.
Transitions: The Update
I have been a bit out of touch on true updates and some good stories. So I will try to do a quick update on how my service has changed in the last few months.
The students graduated from Espoir Training Centre at the very end of June, in the midst of World Cup chaos. I only mention this because the students were incredible soccer fans as well, so I think we were al over exhausted preparing for graduation and giving our all to being soccer fans. Graduation at De Deur Methodist Church was full of life and I was so proud of everyone that filled the church that day. The students were beautiful in outfits they had made after learning to sew.
The follow days students slowly left making the much awaited journey home after being away from home, children, spouses, and communities for many months. And as they went home, our community here got smaller and smaller. I had some things for the Centre to wrap up and I don’t think it was until after July was almost over that the other shoe dropped and the rest of the emotions about saying goodbye to dear friends hit. I ask that you continue to pray especially for all the students as they readjust home and practically decide how they will best serve their communities with their new skills. I am excited to be in touch with everyone when possible and just wish I could visit everyone.
As mentioned in the three previous blogs, after the centre ended and the work around it was finished up- we directly went into spending our time in the hospital for three weeks.
During this time it was decided that the three Mission Interns at SHADE could be of greater service in other projects under the Methodist Church of Southern Africa. We were asked to wrap everything about the centre up and with such a big project just finished other plans for SHADE had to be re-evaluated.
I think everyone made good decisions and it would have not been the correct timing to complete some of my other dreams for the rest of the time at SHADE. However, dreams are still there and my strong dedication to the work of good people at the satellite projects. My prayers stay with them, even if it is not in the works to visit and support in different ways. I think it was time to face that times of transition need to be made though and especially with organizations and the church.
So during July we finished up with SHADE and had a rather hectic for the storybooks move into the city. We thought it would be a transitions place as we were all assigned different places to work, but actually Rachel and I were both placed in the area so for now it seems to make the most sense not to move another time during out placements. And I love it. The night we moved Lucille was with us and inbetween all the hecticness of the change we were all talking out the day and I ended up falling asleep while we were talking on a mattress on the floor in a sense of peace I hadn’t had for a while. Anyway I actually love living right in Joburg and staring out the window at all the buildings and watching cars go by on the highway, and most importantly being able to walk places!!
My Dad and Jane came at the beginning of August for an awesome visit and holiday and lots of time to just be. More on that later.
Jen then moved to Cape Town to serve in Plumstead, with some great people and communities in need. I had the honor of going to see her two weekends ago and being back in Cape Town was lovely. Despite a robbery- but always good to have good people around you when you have to sort things out.
I started working on a project at the Mission Unit, that Rachel joined in after she returned from traveling. I really enjoyed it actually and it helped me understand the church here better and get to know some really interesting dedicated people.
Which leads me to where I am today. In September I was assigned to a mission project in Benoni about 40 km east of Johannesburg. I am now working at Bula Monyako (meaning Open the Door) the mission outreach of Benoni Central Church. Right now I am being trained in many things and learning all the projects of Bula. I actually feel really blessed to have the opportunity after a year in South Africa to be learning a totally different side of South Africa and many more things, by working with South Africans. Bula Monyako is a VCT clinic and does community outreach, working with children’s programs, gives out food parcels, and also has other counseling available. The first day with co-workers that mainly speak Zulu to each other was a bit rough. But they have accepted me into the fold quickly and we are learning a lot from each other and laughing everyday.
Thank you for your continued support and reading this. I hope that you can help keep all these communities in your thoughts. Many touch issues, but people that are working toward progress far beyond quick fixes or easy answers.
Blessings,
Hannah
The students graduated from Espoir Training Centre at the very end of June, in the midst of World Cup chaos. I only mention this because the students were incredible soccer fans as well, so I think we were al over exhausted preparing for graduation and giving our all to being soccer fans. Graduation at De Deur Methodist Church was full of life and I was so proud of everyone that filled the church that day. The students were beautiful in outfits they had made after learning to sew.
The follow days students slowly left making the much awaited journey home after being away from home, children, spouses, and communities for many months. And as they went home, our community here got smaller and smaller. I had some things for the Centre to wrap up and I don’t think it was until after July was almost over that the other shoe dropped and the rest of the emotions about saying goodbye to dear friends hit. I ask that you continue to pray especially for all the students as they readjust home and practically decide how they will best serve their communities with their new skills. I am excited to be in touch with everyone when possible and just wish I could visit everyone.
As mentioned in the three previous blogs, after the centre ended and the work around it was finished up- we directly went into spending our time in the hospital for three weeks.
During this time it was decided that the three Mission Interns at SHADE could be of greater service in other projects under the Methodist Church of Southern Africa. We were asked to wrap everything about the centre up and with such a big project just finished other plans for SHADE had to be re-evaluated.
I think everyone made good decisions and it would have not been the correct timing to complete some of my other dreams for the rest of the time at SHADE. However, dreams are still there and my strong dedication to the work of good people at the satellite projects. My prayers stay with them, even if it is not in the works to visit and support in different ways. I think it was time to face that times of transition need to be made though and especially with organizations and the church.
So during July we finished up with SHADE and had a rather hectic for the storybooks move into the city. We thought it would be a transitions place as we were all assigned different places to work, but actually Rachel and I were both placed in the area so for now it seems to make the most sense not to move another time during out placements. And I love it. The night we moved Lucille was with us and inbetween all the hecticness of the change we were all talking out the day and I ended up falling asleep while we were talking on a mattress on the floor in a sense of peace I hadn’t had for a while. Anyway I actually love living right in Joburg and staring out the window at all the buildings and watching cars go by on the highway, and most importantly being able to walk places!!
My Dad and Jane came at the beginning of August for an awesome visit and holiday and lots of time to just be. More on that later.
Jen then moved to Cape Town to serve in Plumstead, with some great people and communities in need. I had the honor of going to see her two weekends ago and being back in Cape Town was lovely. Despite a robbery- but always good to have good people around you when you have to sort things out.
I started working on a project at the Mission Unit, that Rachel joined in after she returned from traveling. I really enjoyed it actually and it helped me understand the church here better and get to know some really interesting dedicated people.
Which leads me to where I am today. In September I was assigned to a mission project in Benoni about 40 km east of Johannesburg. I am now working at Bula Monyako (meaning Open the Door) the mission outreach of Benoni Central Church. Right now I am being trained in many things and learning all the projects of Bula. I actually feel really blessed to have the opportunity after a year in South Africa to be learning a totally different side of South Africa and many more things, by working with South Africans. Bula Monyako is a VCT clinic and does community outreach, working with children’s programs, gives out food parcels, and also has other counseling available. The first day with co-workers that mainly speak Zulu to each other was a bit rough. But they have accepted me into the fold quickly and we are learning a lot from each other and laughing everyday.
Thank you for your continued support and reading this. I hope that you can help keep all these communities in your thoughts. Many touch issues, but people that are working toward progress far beyond quick fixes or easy answers.
Blessings,
Hannah
25 August 2010
A Sabbath from my Head
Today I took a Sabbath from my head
I did not over think one thing
As people hear me talk about what I am doing
They remind me the importance of a Sabbath
The importance God places on rest
But when you take a rest you still have thoughts
Or you feel guilty for not dealing with emotions
I make lists of things to sort out
And I think I’m really not so bad
Generally healthy
But today I took a rest from my head
I did not stress about the time or the things I would do
Some things I have left for other days
I took a break from the challenge of decision
Instead I knew what to make for every meal
I didn’t check the cupboards and fridge first
I did not consult one thing
I just had a feeling and my hands did the rest
And my head got to enjoy watching
the swirls bubbles make while doing the dishes
the way the water boils and steam rises
the way I was relearning to do everything peacefully
I took a walk and said hi to everyone I met
I noticed their eyes and their smiles
And I think they noticed mine
And we could all feel the breeze and the sun
We didn’t learn each others struggle
And we didn’t change the world
But we took a break from that
and rested in our own connections
I work on being present with the people around me
Sometimes I can be present without so many ideas running around
Today I was present for me
Today I was present to listen
I was present to feel
I was present to take joy in little things
I was present to know God in the world
And today I didn’t worry about what that meant
Today I left my head on holiday
And this poem and words on a screen changes flow and direction
I was thinking about changing it
But my thoughts told me they were still on a break
And I am doing just fine feeling my way through the day
so why?
Plus I’m on Sabbath anyway…
I did not over think one thing
As people hear me talk about what I am doing
They remind me the importance of a Sabbath
The importance God places on rest
But when you take a rest you still have thoughts
Or you feel guilty for not dealing with emotions
I make lists of things to sort out
And I think I’m really not so bad
Generally healthy
But today I took a rest from my head
I did not stress about the time or the things I would do
Some things I have left for other days
I took a break from the challenge of decision
Instead I knew what to make for every meal
I didn’t check the cupboards and fridge first
I did not consult one thing
I just had a feeling and my hands did the rest
And my head got to enjoy watching
the swirls bubbles make while doing the dishes
the way the water boils and steam rises
the way I was relearning to do everything peacefully
I took a walk and said hi to everyone I met
I noticed their eyes and their smiles
And I think they noticed mine
And we could all feel the breeze and the sun
We didn’t learn each others struggle
And we didn’t change the world
But we took a break from that
and rested in our own connections
I work on being present with the people around me
Sometimes I can be present without so many ideas running around
Today I was present for me
Today I was present to listen
I was present to feel
I was present to take joy in little things
I was present to know God in the world
And today I didn’t worry about what that meant
Today I left my head on holiday
And this poem and words on a screen changes flow and direction
I was thinking about changing it
But my thoughts told me they were still on a break
And I am doing just fine feeling my way through the day
so why?
Plus I’m on Sabbath anyway…
25 July 2010
Church in the ICU
The Sunday morning after Joanne left for home escorted by her niece we got to meet, Emily was going into her biggest surgery.
Her previous surgeries had gone well and were mainly to clean things out, but this Sunday was going to be an all day surgery and decide what happened to her leg. Truthfully, being in the ICU again reminded me a lot of visiting Esther and brought back some of the emotion about her death I blogged about months ago.
For everyone it seemed very important Emily kept her leg. But for me the idea of infection was just too great. I had watched what happened to Esther and knew my uncle at home was struggling with infection along with other problems that kept him in the hospital. So of course I wanted Emily’s surgeries to go well, but I was more than happy as long as I heard no infection after each surgery. And you see I have never seen Emily in other parts of her life, but I could see this beautiful spirit, so as far as I was concerned that was all I really needed to hold onto. This of course is my selfish point of view, but I also wanted to be practical so I could give Emily support no matter what happened.
And then we came to that Sunday morning. We weren’t focusing on her pain or how to distract her from her pain. And we weren’t making jokes about boys or each other. And Emily’s sound advice for my future, which I still miss were on hold. Emily just had some things on her mind and on a Sunday morning started talking about a Bible passage she really wanted to find. It turned out it was from Psalms (121) and Jen had been thinking of a song based off the same verses Emily was thinking. It was really beautiful.
And Emily who had us all there to give her support and courage and pray with her, she was the one that had the message. I don’t know if she will every realize it. But I think one of the strongest things about her recovery is she really believed she would keep her leg and the surgeries would go well. She did not have any of that doubt that we take her energies away from healing. And as she spoke and told us how she knew being flown down from Uganda and the whole timeline of events made her sure she would keep her leg. Earlier I had been concerned her clinging to hope would make any other outcome too hard to handle – but then I realized it was her belief that was keeping her strong enough to physically handle everything.
So with everyone else surrounding Emily, she was the one who brought the strongest message I have heard on a Sunday morning. (Well she and her nurse that came back after taking her to surgery and gave us a message of her own. And Jen and I going over Hymns…)) and it was a long and emotional day, and none of us knew how to feel when the surgeon came out to report to us. But the muscle flap was working. One day at a time, one day at a time.
In the days after things weren’t easy and their was a lot of pain and a lot of other things to deal with. But that morning 500 stained glass windows would not have made that ICU room more of a church.
Psalm 121
A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 The LORD will not let your foot slip—
the maker who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, the LORD who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
Her previous surgeries had gone well and were mainly to clean things out, but this Sunday was going to be an all day surgery and decide what happened to her leg. Truthfully, being in the ICU again reminded me a lot of visiting Esther and brought back some of the emotion about her death I blogged about months ago.
For everyone it seemed very important Emily kept her leg. But for me the idea of infection was just too great. I had watched what happened to Esther and knew my uncle at home was struggling with infection along with other problems that kept him in the hospital. So of course I wanted Emily’s surgeries to go well, but I was more than happy as long as I heard no infection after each surgery. And you see I have never seen Emily in other parts of her life, but I could see this beautiful spirit, so as far as I was concerned that was all I really needed to hold onto. This of course is my selfish point of view, but I also wanted to be practical so I could give Emily support no matter what happened.
And then we came to that Sunday morning. We weren’t focusing on her pain or how to distract her from her pain. And we weren’t making jokes about boys or each other. And Emily’s sound advice for my future, which I still miss were on hold. Emily just had some things on her mind and on a Sunday morning started talking about a Bible passage she really wanted to find. It turned out it was from Psalms (121) and Jen had been thinking of a song based off the same verses Emily was thinking. It was really beautiful.
And Emily who had us all there to give her support and courage and pray with her, she was the one that had the message. I don’t know if she will every realize it. But I think one of the strongest things about her recovery is she really believed she would keep her leg and the surgeries would go well. She did not have any of that doubt that we take her energies away from healing. And as she spoke and told us how she knew being flown down from Uganda and the whole timeline of events made her sure she would keep her leg. Earlier I had been concerned her clinging to hope would make any other outcome too hard to handle – but then I realized it was her belief that was keeping her strong enough to physically handle everything.
So with everyone else surrounding Emily, she was the one who brought the strongest message I have heard on a Sunday morning. (Well she and her nurse that came back after taking her to surgery and gave us a message of her own. And Jen and I going over Hymns…)) and it was a long and emotional day, and none of us knew how to feel when the surgeon came out to report to us. But the muscle flap was working. One day at a time, one day at a time.
In the days after things weren’t easy and their was a lot of pain and a lot of other things to deal with. But that morning 500 stained glass windows would not have made that ICU room more of a church.
Psalm 121
A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 The LORD will not let your foot slip—
the maker who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, the LORD who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
21 July 2010
Painted Faces/ Clowning around
Joanne had been to Uganda a few times before, but decided this time at 68 she would try clowning to make children laugh but also teach them at God is where Joy really comes. My experience with clowning comes for a little different place, but I totally bonded with Joanne over this. When she first moved out of ICU we brought down her medicine bag, it wasn’t until the next time I visited her that she made fun of us for bringing her clown make-up. So I borrowed her bright orange nail polish for a rainy day.
(There actually weren’t any rainy days and haven’t been for months as it is the dry season.) But we used some face paint from the World Cup and Rachel and I ended up painting our faces to clown in the clown’s hospital room. The nail polish I put on earlier and we are talking brighter than orange highlighter. In fact I woke up frightened a few times.
Jen distracted Joanne as we finished getting ready at the mirror in her room and we had a wonderful time laughing with Joanne when she saw us. And the hospital staff and other patients in the ICU for days asked me where my face was after that.
Dressing up as a clown did more than cheer up Joanne however, and give me a much needed chance to be goofy. We had originally been getting ready in a bathroom off the ICU, when another American and a woman from the state department needed the room. Jen said of course we could leave and asked for just a minute as Rachel and I needed to collect our clowning make up. The American said ohh my son went to Haiti clowning once to which I poked my head out of the bathroom and asked, “With Patch Adams?”
Turns out her son, Seth is my age and went to college with a bunch of my friends from High School who I know go clowning with Patch Adams and had done the trip to Haiti. My best friend Becca had gone on a trip to Venezuela clowning as well. Margaret had just flown down with Seth from Lilongwe, because the family had gotten into a bad car accident. Seth had just spent a year working in Malawi after college at a hospital in Lilongwe and his family was taking a vacation to visit him at the end of his time. Margaret was very excited to see me clowning and brought me to meet Seth during night visiting hours at the ICU after I spent time with Joanne. She and I met up in the waiting area first where I became friends with other family members of people in the ICU. Seth was pretty out of it, but over the rest of my time there I got to visit them daily and meet his Dad and brother when they finally got a commercial flight down.
I am so pleased Margaret and I could make the connection and I got a chance to know their family. The grace in which she handled everything amazed me and the family’s kindness but knowledge of the world made me feel very at home.
Through Margaret and visiting Seth I also got to more of the ICU and hearing other people’s stories and spending everyday in the ICU is quite an experience. My heart swelled in ways I couldn’t expect. Some days I felt like as much as I wanted to be there for the family’s I was visiting, I had to go run off to catch my breath. Other days I just kept going on autopilot until I was with Joanne, or Emily, or Seth, or Margaret or Jen or Matt- with them I could be fully present. And Joanne would give us a hard time if we weren’t around her much, unless I was visiting Seth, she asked about him everyday and got to meet his family and the day before she left got to go to the ICU to meet him after seeing Emily.
So in silly make-up I got to laugh and cry and meet people that will forever change and be part of my life. The journeys after our three weeks of immediate contact will be long. And as I pray for my new family and friends, know your thoughts and prayers would be appreciated as well.
(There actually weren’t any rainy days and haven’t been for months as it is the dry season.) But we used some face paint from the World Cup and Rachel and I ended up painting our faces to clown in the clown’s hospital room. The nail polish I put on earlier and we are talking brighter than orange highlighter. In fact I woke up frightened a few times.
Jen distracted Joanne as we finished getting ready at the mirror in her room and we had a wonderful time laughing with Joanne when she saw us. And the hospital staff and other patients in the ICU for days asked me where my face was after that.
Dressing up as a clown did more than cheer up Joanne however, and give me a much needed chance to be goofy. We had originally been getting ready in a bathroom off the ICU, when another American and a woman from the state department needed the room. Jen said of course we could leave and asked for just a minute as Rachel and I needed to collect our clowning make up. The American said ohh my son went to Haiti clowning once to which I poked my head out of the bathroom and asked, “With Patch Adams?”
Turns out her son, Seth is my age and went to college with a bunch of my friends from High School who I know go clowning with Patch Adams and had done the trip to Haiti. My best friend Becca had gone on a trip to Venezuela clowning as well. Margaret had just flown down with Seth from Lilongwe, because the family had gotten into a bad car accident. Seth had just spent a year working in Malawi after college at a hospital in Lilongwe and his family was taking a vacation to visit him at the end of his time. Margaret was very excited to see me clowning and brought me to meet Seth during night visiting hours at the ICU after I spent time with Joanne. She and I met up in the waiting area first where I became friends with other family members of people in the ICU. Seth was pretty out of it, but over the rest of my time there I got to visit them daily and meet his Dad and brother when they finally got a commercial flight down.
I am so pleased Margaret and I could make the connection and I got a chance to know their family. The grace in which she handled everything amazed me and the family’s kindness but knowledge of the world made me feel very at home.
Through Margaret and visiting Seth I also got to more of the ICU and hearing other people’s stories and spending everyday in the ICU is quite an experience. My heart swelled in ways I couldn’t expect. Some days I felt like as much as I wanted to be there for the family’s I was visiting, I had to go run off to catch my breath. Other days I just kept going on autopilot until I was with Joanne, or Emily, or Seth, or Margaret or Jen or Matt- with them I could be fully present. And Joanne would give us a hard time if we weren’t around her much, unless I was visiting Seth, she asked about him everyday and got to meet his family and the day before she left got to go to the ICU to meet him after seeing Emily.
So in silly make-up I got to laugh and cry and meet people that will forever change and be part of my life. The journeys after our three weeks of immediate contact will be long. And as I pray for my new family and friends, know your thoughts and prayers would be appreciated as well.
14 July 2010
Three Weeks at Milpark Hospital
I am going to postdate a few blogs that I did not get written in time. This is from mid-July, during the three weeks we spent in a hospital with an American family that became our family.
I guess in my term as a Mission Intern I never know exactly what to expect. When the students graduated from the center our work became a bit up in the air. Final reports were finished and many parties were sorting the next step. The World Cup was finishing and the full range of emotions for transition was starting to sink in.
And then I found myself rushing to the ICU with Jen and Rachel the Tuesday night after the World Cup Final. (We actually make a very good team in these kind of moments and through the use of everyone’s skills got to the ICU right before visitors hours ended.) That is where we met Emily, who woke up to talk to us. Based on how well put together she was in conversation it took me a little while to find out she was 16. She told us a little about being flown down from Uganda and insisting they not amputate her leg there. We already knew about the bombing at the Ethiopian Restaurant during the World Cup Final in Uganda, and at the viewing area as well.
It wasn’t until the next day when her parents arrived and talking about it, that I felt guilty. Jen, Rachel, and I had gone to a Fan Park to watch the World Cup Final in South Africa. People had told us to be careful and were worried about attacks where all these people were. Truthfully at all the public places we watched games I felt very safe and didn’t think about it. But here this mission trip of people from Pennsylvania had felt called to stay in Uganda an extra week and were just at a restaurant watching the game and they experienced the danger others had warned us about. Now the politics and motives of terrorists is a bit different, but in our ordinary lives how do you comprehend that?
Back to that first night, one of the first things Emily said was three of our friends did die. The main pastor (Peter) in Uganda the church in the US had been linked to for years had died. Joanne, the grandmother (we went to visit next) was a very dear friend with him and the two other young people from that congregation who had been traveling with the team. Later, Emily and her Dad, Matt both pointed out the importance that as they mourned the loss of three friends, three came to be there with them. It was a powerful statement for me to hear and the reference to angels, but one I never fully comprehended. The truth is Emily and her family also came to us at a time we needed them.
Joanne, our grandmother is a delight. She had already been on the trip to Uganda and when her granddaughter wanted to go they both became part of the 2010 team to travel to Uganda. Six decided to stay a week later. I haven’t meant all the members of the team but they have all been in my prayers and from Joanne and Emily’s stories I feel like I know them.
On day two as I said we meet Jen and Matt. Matt is Joanne’s son, and Emily is Matt and Jen’s daughter. Matt’s sense of humor made us click immediately and Jen was soon to follow. And soon we were immediate family members (the American accents made this clear to the hospital staff). For Emily I could relate easily, and then remembered the summer I was 16 living in Mexico and at the age would have loved to go to Uganda. Would still jump on the chance to go… But being a little older now I also found it really easy to relate to Matt and Jen, and try to be supportive while they had to make tough decisions and the even tougher position of waiting. And then my love for grandparents and older people developed a great relationship with Gran. The first week when Gran got out of the ICU we spent a lot of time with her so Matt and Jen could focus on Emily.
And at the end of the three weeks for everything to come full circle, my parents got to meet Emily the day they arrived before we left on our long planned vacation and her first day taking a short trip outside of the ICU. And before she got to go home with her parents to receive care at John Hopkins. Where she is doing very well and I just got a call that she is moving into rehab and a photo of her outside in the wheelchair.
I guess in my term as a Mission Intern I never know exactly what to expect. When the students graduated from the center our work became a bit up in the air. Final reports were finished and many parties were sorting the next step. The World Cup was finishing and the full range of emotions for transition was starting to sink in.
And then I found myself rushing to the ICU with Jen and Rachel the Tuesday night after the World Cup Final. (We actually make a very good team in these kind of moments and through the use of everyone’s skills got to the ICU right before visitors hours ended.) That is where we met Emily, who woke up to talk to us. Based on how well put together she was in conversation it took me a little while to find out she was 16. She told us a little about being flown down from Uganda and insisting they not amputate her leg there. We already knew about the bombing at the Ethiopian Restaurant during the World Cup Final in Uganda, and at the viewing area as well.
It wasn’t until the next day when her parents arrived and talking about it, that I felt guilty. Jen, Rachel, and I had gone to a Fan Park to watch the World Cup Final in South Africa. People had told us to be careful and were worried about attacks where all these people were. Truthfully at all the public places we watched games I felt very safe and didn’t think about it. But here this mission trip of people from Pennsylvania had felt called to stay in Uganda an extra week and were just at a restaurant watching the game and they experienced the danger others had warned us about. Now the politics and motives of terrorists is a bit different, but in our ordinary lives how do you comprehend that?
Back to that first night, one of the first things Emily said was three of our friends did die. The main pastor (Peter) in Uganda the church in the US had been linked to for years had died. Joanne, the grandmother (we went to visit next) was a very dear friend with him and the two other young people from that congregation who had been traveling with the team. Later, Emily and her Dad, Matt both pointed out the importance that as they mourned the loss of three friends, three came to be there with them. It was a powerful statement for me to hear and the reference to angels, but one I never fully comprehended. The truth is Emily and her family also came to us at a time we needed them.
Joanne, our grandmother is a delight. She had already been on the trip to Uganda and when her granddaughter wanted to go they both became part of the 2010 team to travel to Uganda. Six decided to stay a week later. I haven’t meant all the members of the team but they have all been in my prayers and from Joanne and Emily’s stories I feel like I know them.
On day two as I said we meet Jen and Matt. Matt is Joanne’s son, and Emily is Matt and Jen’s daughter. Matt’s sense of humor made us click immediately and Jen was soon to follow. And soon we were immediate family members (the American accents made this clear to the hospital staff). For Emily I could relate easily, and then remembered the summer I was 16 living in Mexico and at the age would have loved to go to Uganda. Would still jump on the chance to go… But being a little older now I also found it really easy to relate to Matt and Jen, and try to be supportive while they had to make tough decisions and the even tougher position of waiting. And then my love for grandparents and older people developed a great relationship with Gran. The first week when Gran got out of the ICU we spent a lot of time with her so Matt and Jen could focus on Emily.
And at the end of the three weeks for everything to come full circle, my parents got to meet Emily the day they arrived before we left on our long planned vacation and her first day taking a short trip outside of the ICU. And before she got to go home with her parents to receive care at John Hopkins. Where she is doing very well and I just got a call that she is moving into rehab and a photo of her outside in the wheelchair.
11 July 2010
World Cup!
With everything going on I can't believe I haven't blogged about the World Cup. I mean watching the World Cup its self was enough to take away a lot of my time.
But I had the grand opportunity of going to two games while being here. Tonight we are going to a Fan Park to watch the final. And we have watched countless games with friends, all memorable events, its been an exciting competition.
Prince, Mama Judy's 7 year old son, and arguably one of my best friends here has been learning all the flags with his sister Priscilla and a little bit about all the countries. And for everyone else it is a huge part of life as well. Lots of healthy rivalries.
But watching the game is like something else. My ability to follow sports is generally just saved for the finals. If I go to a game or make up my mind to watch it (we are talking any major sport here) I can get into it. But generally other things come first so I am not going to concentrate on a whole game. Well I am a fan of football/soccer anyway because I love how many people play and come together. I love the energy at DC United games, and I'll say it here- but more than Nationals Games.
But the World Cup has captivated me. Some players names I just scream because I love the sound. If you listen to the announcers you pick up when they are so concentrated and make very funny comments. I learned how all these teams plays and knew when something was off. I am telling you I have been captivated by the players, and the good and bad calls, and the attempts and successes that are amazing.
Now actually being at the game is a whole different story. On TV I just want something to happen, I want the excitement to start right up. But being at the game every moment is exciting. Maybe its almost too much stimulus to just focus on the game.
Especially at the Cote d'Ivoire vs Brazil game I felt before anyone scored that anything is possible. It was harder as Brazil continued to score and its truly exciting, but I think I really anjoyed that sense of possiblilty.
Okay roommates are waiting for me to finish so we can go.
Tonight's for Netherlands, which is so crazy to see so much support here with all the Dutch history. So much is possible for change and people and its nice to see how the crazy World Cup can take hold of the nation. (More on my comments and issues with FIFA soon.)
FOR TONIGHT LETS SEE A GREAT GAME! GO NETHERLANDS! ORANGE it is!
Halala,
Hannah
--
Hannah Hanson
Mission Intern - SHADE
South Africa
hannahatshade.blogspot.com
But I had the grand opportunity of going to two games while being here. Tonight we are going to a Fan Park to watch the final. And we have watched countless games with friends, all memorable events, its been an exciting competition.
Prince, Mama Judy's 7 year old son, and arguably one of my best friends here has been learning all the flags with his sister Priscilla and a little bit about all the countries. And for everyone else it is a huge part of life as well. Lots of healthy rivalries.
But watching the game is like something else. My ability to follow sports is generally just saved for the finals. If I go to a game or make up my mind to watch it (we are talking any major sport here) I can get into it. But generally other things come first so I am not going to concentrate on a whole game. Well I am a fan of football/soccer anyway because I love how many people play and come together. I love the energy at DC United games, and I'll say it here- but more than Nationals Games.
But the World Cup has captivated me. Some players names I just scream because I love the sound. If you listen to the announcers you pick up when they are so concentrated and make very funny comments. I learned how all these teams plays and knew when something was off. I am telling you I have been captivated by the players, and the good and bad calls, and the attempts and successes that are amazing.
Now actually being at the game is a whole different story. On TV I just want something to happen, I want the excitement to start right up. But being at the game every moment is exciting. Maybe its almost too much stimulus to just focus on the game.
Especially at the Cote d'Ivoire vs Brazil game I felt before anyone scored that anything is possible. It was harder as Brazil continued to score and its truly exciting, but I think I really anjoyed that sense of possiblilty.
Okay roommates are waiting for me to finish so we can go.
Tonight's for Netherlands, which is so crazy to see so much support here with all the Dutch history. So much is possible for change and people and its nice to see how the crazy World Cup can take hold of the nation. (More on my comments and issues with FIFA soon.)
FOR TONIGHT LETS SEE A GREAT GAME! GO NETHERLANDS! ORANGE it is!
Halala,
Hannah
--
Hannah Hanson
Mission Intern - SHADE
South Africa
hannahatshade.blogspot.com
01 July 2010
Winter
A few weeks ago I was at the centre. It had been almost a week since I had last been there, and in a weeks time winter had come. Being a ‘farmer’ now, winter holds a much different meaning that hit for the first time looking out over the field. The week before we had beautiful heads of lettuce coming up everywhere ready for sale and the bean leaves were still bright green.
So to my slight shock (I knew the frost was coming, just wasn’t ready for all its affects) most of the plants were burnt with frost or damaged by animals eating them. It wasn’t exactly depression, but the reality of seeing all this; the reality of accepting winter had struck.
I had hoped to sell a little more lettuce especially as our finances for the department were still struggling trying to provide for the chickens. Then I found out the students were preparing to kill and clean all of the chickens they had raised.
I know it is part of life, but I am used to killing a few at a time for people at the centre to eat. This in comparison seemed like slaughter. The intent was to stop paying for feed for old enough broilers and clean and prepare them while we had time. Then all the chickens were frozen and used to feed the students and staff for the rest of the training course.
In some ways it was full circle for the students that had raised the chickens and some took it as part of life. Akim was coming out of the chicken shed with two at a time to speed the process, and can kill one, while holding the other. I have been saying for a while if I am willing to eat meat I need to be willing to kill it, so in the emotional rush and knowing this was my last chance- I took the knife. Akim knows just the right angle to do it quickly- but I got mad as the knife was dull and was not going to torture one of the chickens as a learning tool. So I did it together with Akim to ensure it was quick.
I was glad the students were accepting of the process, but it was very hard for me to see our remaining chickens go in one afternoon. No more pecking at feet and flying where they shouldn’t. I had made very sure the student understood it was their responsibility to raise the broilers, which would make me think I would be another step removed. In fact I think it was harder to watch over the students and the chickens.
And so in the midst of all of this, the ducks and village chickens were out looking for what fresh greens were out they could still eat. If I haven’t mentioned, I enjoy the ducks immensely. They are just very funny.
One of the big ducks was giving one of the village chickens a hard time and then I noticed she had three chicks with her. My heart skipped a beat. The chickens we raise for meat or eggs don’t get to grow up with their mother- but here as winter was setting in was a little family with three three-day-old chicks. I waved for my friends to come see, not wanting to disturb the young family with the little black and gray chicks. And as I followed them at a distance they headed for the garden.
The garden still had sunflower in bloom and the late afternoon sun was hitting the petals. So in a setting of the last sunflowers at Espoir, I watched the chicks and their protective mother. (I worry about them being so young in the winter, but it is not up to me to protect them, it is their mother’s job and I must stand back and accept nature.) And it was beautiful and I knew I couldn’t curse the winter for my own unprepardiness. The winter has to come each year.
And as I write a few weeks late the last of the students are packing up to leave after graduation and it adds to the winter. But they are going to spread what they learned to their own communities. It has to be winter here so they can spread what they know for spring in their communities.
It’s a winter like none I have ever had before, and it is painful- but it holds a beauty of its own.
Thoughtfully,
Hannah
So to my slight shock (I knew the frost was coming, just wasn’t ready for all its affects) most of the plants were burnt with frost or damaged by animals eating them. It wasn’t exactly depression, but the reality of seeing all this; the reality of accepting winter had struck.
I had hoped to sell a little more lettuce especially as our finances for the department were still struggling trying to provide for the chickens. Then I found out the students were preparing to kill and clean all of the chickens they had raised.
I know it is part of life, but I am used to killing a few at a time for people at the centre to eat. This in comparison seemed like slaughter. The intent was to stop paying for feed for old enough broilers and clean and prepare them while we had time. Then all the chickens were frozen and used to feed the students and staff for the rest of the training course.
In some ways it was full circle for the students that had raised the chickens and some took it as part of life. Akim was coming out of the chicken shed with two at a time to speed the process, and can kill one, while holding the other. I have been saying for a while if I am willing to eat meat I need to be willing to kill it, so in the emotional rush and knowing this was my last chance- I took the knife. Akim knows just the right angle to do it quickly- but I got mad as the knife was dull and was not going to torture one of the chickens as a learning tool. So I did it together with Akim to ensure it was quick.
I was glad the students were accepting of the process, but it was very hard for me to see our remaining chickens go in one afternoon. No more pecking at feet and flying where they shouldn’t. I had made very sure the student understood it was their responsibility to raise the broilers, which would make me think I would be another step removed. In fact I think it was harder to watch over the students and the chickens.
And so in the midst of all of this, the ducks and village chickens were out looking for what fresh greens were out they could still eat. If I haven’t mentioned, I enjoy the ducks immensely. They are just very funny.
One of the big ducks was giving one of the village chickens a hard time and then I noticed she had three chicks with her. My heart skipped a beat. The chickens we raise for meat or eggs don’t get to grow up with their mother- but here as winter was setting in was a little family with three three-day-old chicks. I waved for my friends to come see, not wanting to disturb the young family with the little black and gray chicks. And as I followed them at a distance they headed for the garden.
The garden still had sunflower in bloom and the late afternoon sun was hitting the petals. So in a setting of the last sunflowers at Espoir, I watched the chicks and their protective mother. (I worry about them being so young in the winter, but it is not up to me to protect them, it is their mother’s job and I must stand back and accept nature.) And it was beautiful and I knew I couldn’t curse the winter for my own unprepardiness. The winter has to come each year.
And as I write a few weeks late the last of the students are packing up to leave after graduation and it adds to the winter. But they are going to spread what they learned to their own communities. It has to be winter here so they can spread what they know for spring in their communities.
It’s a winter like none I have ever had before, and it is painful- but it holds a beauty of its own.
Thoughtfully,
Hannah
09 June 2010
I painted this a little while ago in response to some of my blogs about our friends being treated unfairly. Around the same time I had started taking walks around the neighborhood when I could. I had a lot on my mind and winter has hurt any other attempts at exercising. As I walked I couldn’t help but think about what story was behind each fence. And how did the people at the big house interact with the people at the little house. This dynamic is a way of life here, but how do I fit. How many others suffer like my friends? So the painting is not perfect and may not deal with all of those issues. But those are some of the thoughts behind it.
On my walked the sun shines through the fading tall grasses and there is an interesting beauty and despair. It is much colder by the time I get home just before dusk, but it is one of my healthiest habits when I can get home in time.
05 June 2010
World Council of Churches, DR Congo: after death of human rights activist, government must act responsibly
From World Council of Churches e-mail.
Contact: + 41 22 791 6153 +41 79 507 6363
Congolese government must act after death of human rights activist
For immediate release: 04 June 2010
Deep concern over the recent death of Floribert Chebeya Bahizire and the "increased oppression against Congolese human rights defenders" during the past year was expressed by the general secretary of the World Council of Churches (WCC) in a letter to the president of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) on 4 June.
Chebeya was the executive director of La Voix des Sans-Voix (Voice of the Voiceless), one of the DRC's most important human rights organizations.
Chebeya's body was found in his car Wednesday morning. He had been called to a meeting with the national police chief, which did not take place, the previous night. His driver is missing since then.
WCC general secretary Rev. Dr Olav Fykse Tveit urged the DRC government "to act as agents of the rule of law" and added: "The government has a responsibility to respect, protect and fulfil the human rights of its citizens and should demonstrate this respect by conducting a full, open and transparent investigation into the death of Mr Floribert Chebeya Bahizire and the fate of his driver, Mr Fidele Bazana Edadi."
Speaking at the United Nations Human Rights Council in Geneva, UN investigator Philip Alston said the circumstances of the death "strongly suggested official responsibility". The DRC government has ordered an inquiry into the death.
La Voix des Sans-Voix is part of the WCC human rights defenders network in Africa. Chebeya was a member of the planning committee of a human rights workshop that the WCC and other Christian organizations held in Kinshasa last April. At the ecumenical workshop, Congolese church leaders committed themselves to promote respect for human dignity and fundamental human rights.
The World Council of Churches promotes Christian unity in faith, witness and service for a just and peaceful world. An ecumenical fellowship of churches founded in 1948, today the WCC brings together 349 Protestant, Orthodox, Anglican and other churches representing more than 560 million Christians in over 110 countries, and works cooperatively with the Roman Catholic Church. The WCC general secretary is Rev. Dr Olav Fykse Tveit, from the [Lutheran] Church of Norway. Headquarters: Geneva, Switzerland.
Life is Tough
And I am told to be tough
Tough! As a woman
Tough! As a wife
Tough! As a mother
Tough! As an oppressed one
Why must I be tough?
In a world made rough?
Why must I be tough?
Where power is never enough
I must be tough…
For you my sons,
To have food and not guns,
I must be tough,
For you my sisters,
To gain power and not systems.
I must be tough,
For you my daughters
To ensure a spring of living waters.
I must be tough,
For you my brothers,
To give new vision to a word that bothers.
Life is so rough.
And I want to be tough.
-Angelene (Switzerland)
from first SHADE Sister 2 Sister newsletter I can across going through old files. Resonates with a lot of women I know here.
02 June 2010
Tell your stories
Somewhere in life storytelling became very important to me. I can’t pinpoint it, but oral storytelling and stories though art hold a deep meaning to me. I love all the different ways of telling stories, of weaving them together, of sharing them.
During the three month road trip I took after college, I went to visit the mom of a friend I studied with in Cuba. Both women are delightful and help me remember the ways I want to look into the world. I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t doing anything for the world but using up gas by being on this long road trip. But the night at Ann’s house made me appreciate how honored I was to have stayed in so many people’s homes and had time to listen. I was able to hear people’s stories and ideas and focus on them in a way I hadn’t while being in school. So maybe I wasn’t contributing per se, but I was able to reflect on life with people and was open to hearing in a whole new way.
Then I started this journey with SHADE and on the first night heard our boss’s story. Mama Tembo has a very powerful story and I have deep respect for her and SHADE because the relationship starts with the story. But then she asked us our stories.
Now those of you that know me well, know I love to tell little stories about the day or what’s on my mind or what I remember. But my story? A story about what my life is all about in one sitting… That’s a lot harder to tell. Especially when people around me have such powerful and strong stories, how do I possibly compare? How do I show what’s important to me and why?
And I still need to practice telling my story. I am better at letting it out in pieces. I am obviously trying for something as I blog. But I think I have to stop valuing stories in different ways. I have learned from the women I work with how powerful it is to tell stories. In fact I am blogging about this as I am working on developing storytelling workshops that would be useful to our communities. As much as I love my other work, it is probably what I am most passionate about. For some people I work with after events in their lives they didn’t feel like they were worthy to be human and stopped telling who they were. Others have never had a chance to be heard or knew that their story mattered. Many have a new sense of life from the ability to start sharing.
And again these stories I find so incredibly beautiful and am so honored to be present for. And again I have difficulty seeing how to share my own. But to form a relationship I have to share too, for myself and others. And because our stories are all linked. This is especially real now as my friends are going through this hard time, yet I am so glad they felt comfortable enough to finally tell us more of their struggles.
So I encourage each of you to share your stories. We each have them. And while I may not think my story is as powerful as many I hear, they have told me mine is still worthy to be told.
All stories are worthy. I am thankful at SHADE we start with our stories. All of our stories.
During the three month road trip I took after college, I went to visit the mom of a friend I studied with in Cuba. Both women are delightful and help me remember the ways I want to look into the world. I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t doing anything for the world but using up gas by being on this long road trip. But the night at Ann’s house made me appreciate how honored I was to have stayed in so many people’s homes and had time to listen. I was able to hear people’s stories and ideas and focus on them in a way I hadn’t while being in school. So maybe I wasn’t contributing per se, but I was able to reflect on life with people and was open to hearing in a whole new way.
Then I started this journey with SHADE and on the first night heard our boss’s story. Mama Tembo has a very powerful story and I have deep respect for her and SHADE because the relationship starts with the story. But then she asked us our stories.
Now those of you that know me well, know I love to tell little stories about the day or what’s on my mind or what I remember. But my story? A story about what my life is all about in one sitting… That’s a lot harder to tell. Especially when people around me have such powerful and strong stories, how do I possibly compare? How do I show what’s important to me and why?
And I still need to practice telling my story. I am better at letting it out in pieces. I am obviously trying for something as I blog. But I think I have to stop valuing stories in different ways. I have learned from the women I work with how powerful it is to tell stories. In fact I am blogging about this as I am working on developing storytelling workshops that would be useful to our communities. As much as I love my other work, it is probably what I am most passionate about. For some people I work with after events in their lives they didn’t feel like they were worthy to be human and stopped telling who they were. Others have never had a chance to be heard or knew that their story mattered. Many have a new sense of life from the ability to start sharing.
And again these stories I find so incredibly beautiful and am so honored to be present for. And again I have difficulty seeing how to share my own. But to form a relationship I have to share too, for myself and others. And because our stories are all linked. This is especially real now as my friends are going through this hard time, yet I am so glad they felt comfortable enough to finally tell us more of their struggles.
So I encourage each of you to share your stories. We each have them. And while I may not think my story is as powerful as many I hear, they have told me mine is still worthy to be told.
All stories are worthy. I am thankful at SHADE we start with our stories. All of our stories.
28 May 2010
In the face of a smiling child : love more
I walked up to my roommates talking to one of our friends who works as a caretaker of a property. The conversation was very serious as I walked up and I realized something was going on with him (not just a normal friendly hello).
He was talking about getting kicked out of his small home where he works. This was after asking for two months in salary he hasn’t been paid. He was disheartened and knew he was being lied to.
I don’t know how his employer could manage without him, truthfully. But we are friends with his wife as well and so this blow was a blow to all of us as well. And it’s not my battle to fight, but it is so hard to watch him and try to help him see his options. With no money and cold nights upon us where was he supposed to go.
And as we were talking about all this his two year old daughter was running and laughing between out legs. To be fair every time we see them we play with her, so she didn’t notice the serious tones in our voices. So she would grab our legs and just look up and laugh.
She has no idea what’s going on, in credit to her parents at some rate. Her mom works cleaning other people houses and that is how they are affording to eat right now. In truth we are friends with her parents because of this little two year old we met. And with almost tears in her father’s eyes, she is playing games around our legs and looking up and laughing.
Then we learned his wife is cleaning the house at the property they stay on for free to pay for their electricity and water, but they have never seen a bill so who knows if it is a fair trade. I hadn’t realized so much of their story before, but I did know the struggles they could face and as refugees with a roof over their heads they are strong people willing to work to keep the sense of security they may have. Even in small ways.
It takes a while to trust and hear peoples stories so this was the first time I had heard this much. And I was angry with our South African neighbors that could do this to a family. How could they be so unreasonable and accuse this man of some many things, while he works no where else and is loyal? And they know he has fewer options and are taking advantage of it.
I walked away from the conversation wanting to yell at everyone. Luckily our friend found more hope after talking it out with us and knowing someone listened. He actually told us he had more hope. We were just trying to give him any ideas we had so he knew is rights and how to record and get help for what was going on. And his daughter just keeps playing. And he walked away with his daughter going to see his life and to make a plan for their future.
And I know I cant be the one to go talk for him in business that doesn’t concern me. But I want to kick up a storm to whoever is doing this to their family. To my two year old friend. And maybe the best thing I can do is listen and talk while we pass each other by and throw the baby up in the air to make her squeal. Maybe I can help tell them their rights and offer to listen and have an open door to the family of my two year old friend, who only came to me because they we too desperate not to talk about it when they saw us. Maybe that hope and new ideas is as worth a big fight.
But thinking of that smile, I am also feeling sorry to whoever does this to others. And with so many arrangements similar to this where I live I have even more questions. But I think more and more about what it means to love my enemies in this anger. And I don’t think shouting will change this person. But how can I use love to make this change. How can I use who I am to make sure people are treated right? Not out of my anger but out of my love?
How do I love more?
He was talking about getting kicked out of his small home where he works. This was after asking for two months in salary he hasn’t been paid. He was disheartened and knew he was being lied to.
I don’t know how his employer could manage without him, truthfully. But we are friends with his wife as well and so this blow was a blow to all of us as well. And it’s not my battle to fight, but it is so hard to watch him and try to help him see his options. With no money and cold nights upon us where was he supposed to go.
And as we were talking about all this his two year old daughter was running and laughing between out legs. To be fair every time we see them we play with her, so she didn’t notice the serious tones in our voices. So she would grab our legs and just look up and laugh.
She has no idea what’s going on, in credit to her parents at some rate. Her mom works cleaning other people houses and that is how they are affording to eat right now. In truth we are friends with her parents because of this little two year old we met. And with almost tears in her father’s eyes, she is playing games around our legs and looking up and laughing.
Then we learned his wife is cleaning the house at the property they stay on for free to pay for their electricity and water, but they have never seen a bill so who knows if it is a fair trade. I hadn’t realized so much of their story before, but I did know the struggles they could face and as refugees with a roof over their heads they are strong people willing to work to keep the sense of security they may have. Even in small ways.
It takes a while to trust and hear peoples stories so this was the first time I had heard this much. And I was angry with our South African neighbors that could do this to a family. How could they be so unreasonable and accuse this man of some many things, while he works no where else and is loyal? And they know he has fewer options and are taking advantage of it.
I walked away from the conversation wanting to yell at everyone. Luckily our friend found more hope after talking it out with us and knowing someone listened. He actually told us he had more hope. We were just trying to give him any ideas we had so he knew is rights and how to record and get help for what was going on. And his daughter just keeps playing. And he walked away with his daughter going to see his life and to make a plan for their future.
And I know I cant be the one to go talk for him in business that doesn’t concern me. But I want to kick up a storm to whoever is doing this to their family. To my two year old friend. And maybe the best thing I can do is listen and talk while we pass each other by and throw the baby up in the air to make her squeal. Maybe I can help tell them their rights and offer to listen and have an open door to the family of my two year old friend, who only came to me because they we too desperate not to talk about it when they saw us. Maybe that hope and new ideas is as worth a big fight.
But thinking of that smile, I am also feeling sorry to whoever does this to others. And with so many arrangements similar to this where I live I have even more questions. But I think more and more about what it means to love my enemies in this anger. And I don’t think shouting will change this person. But how can I use love to make this change. How can I use who I am to make sure people are treated right? Not out of my anger but out of my love?
How do I love more?
In true blog fashion rantings and ramblings on life and injustice
Sojourner looked at as a Refugee
I have to be aware of my identity everyday. And I have to be aware of my privileged both from events in my life and from my perceived identity.
The rest of this blog could unfold in 50 different directions based on daily experiences. I think if we care about social justice we cannot ignore our identities and how we impact each other. I could speak of where I fight to not fall into the historical or social pain aspects of my perceived identity bring to others. For my own students at Espoir, white missionaries are a great symbol of pain. Being white in general links to colonial injustices that are still part of African identities. The pain and injustice is not why I am in my role. I try not to focus on proving this fact, but on caring out how I see walking with the people I am living with and serving each other for greater dignity and respect.
Now the previous paragraph is one of the directions I can take. However, let us go down a different path instead.
The S in SHADE stands for sojourners. And in a essence all of us working and training in Johannesburg have a common understanding of being away from home. We were in the fields and the students were talking about missing home. I was listening and caring on weeding, as the students started discussing me, and how much longer I was away from my family. Sometimes I think my age and distance helps all of us understand each other.
In another sense I take for granted all the little ways that are part of others daily lives. I have no fear of standing up and saying this is my right. But others who are trying to change their lives give up rights in return for trying to live in South Africa, for trying to work, for trying to eat people all over the world give up these rights.
I get to be a stranger in a strange land, but know with certainty that I will have food on my table and that if the police stop me I have a valid visa and passport. I also know if I have problems I can make my own noise and have people to call. Both of my bosses also know this, but they are still careful in little ways everyday. The ability for people to abuse rights or make things hard for others they see below themselves is all to present everywhere in the world. But how often do you and I think about it? How often is there a simple solution we can give someone about rights?
To have rights you have to know your rights. But to live everyday sometimes its easier to know the system and where you need to be careful. And its exhausting for me to watch everyone around me and the ways they have to be careful and what they have to put up with.
But my friends that are sojourners that I see everyday… They thank God. They Thanks God everyday.
I just wonder what the people that spread this fear in others, or feel entitled to overwork others at their mercy. This is where I am learning even more to love my neighbor and my enemy.
I appoligise for the ramblings I will try to tackle this topic a little more concisely soon. Thanks for reading. I am angry for the way people treat others, I am angry about entitlement, and I am blessed that my friends still thank God while I stay angry.
I have to be aware of my identity everyday. And I have to be aware of my privileged both from events in my life and from my perceived identity.
The rest of this blog could unfold in 50 different directions based on daily experiences. I think if we care about social justice we cannot ignore our identities and how we impact each other. I could speak of where I fight to not fall into the historical or social pain aspects of my perceived identity bring to others. For my own students at Espoir, white missionaries are a great symbol of pain. Being white in general links to colonial injustices that are still part of African identities. The pain and injustice is not why I am in my role. I try not to focus on proving this fact, but on caring out how I see walking with the people I am living with and serving each other for greater dignity and respect.
Now the previous paragraph is one of the directions I can take. However, let us go down a different path instead.
The S in SHADE stands for sojourners. And in a essence all of us working and training in Johannesburg have a common understanding of being away from home. We were in the fields and the students were talking about missing home. I was listening and caring on weeding, as the students started discussing me, and how much longer I was away from my family. Sometimes I think my age and distance helps all of us understand each other.
In another sense I take for granted all the little ways that are part of others daily lives. I have no fear of standing up and saying this is my right. But others who are trying to change their lives give up rights in return for trying to live in South Africa, for trying to work, for trying to eat people all over the world give up these rights.
I get to be a stranger in a strange land, but know with certainty that I will have food on my table and that if the police stop me I have a valid visa and passport. I also know if I have problems I can make my own noise and have people to call. Both of my bosses also know this, but they are still careful in little ways everyday. The ability for people to abuse rights or make things hard for others they see below themselves is all to present everywhere in the world. But how often do you and I think about it? How often is there a simple solution we can give someone about rights?
To have rights you have to know your rights. But to live everyday sometimes its easier to know the system and where you need to be careful. And its exhausting for me to watch everyone around me and the ways they have to be careful and what they have to put up with.
But my friends that are sojourners that I see everyday… They thank God. They Thanks God everyday.
I just wonder what the people that spread this fear in others, or feel entitled to overwork others at their mercy. This is where I am learning even more to love my neighbor and my enemy.
I appoligise for the ramblings I will try to tackle this topic a little more concisely soon. Thanks for reading. I am angry for the way people treat others, I am angry about entitlement, and I am blessed that my friends still thank God while I stay angry.
23 May 2010
Vuvuzela
I love it when sound making objects have a great name full of sound.
Vu-vu-ZELA. I think I like the name better than the sound of the horn for celebration. And as the days to the World Cup count down, the amount of vuvuzelas and sports jerseys increase..
In fact every Friday the nation has begun wearing sports team jerseys. Mainly Bafana Bafana, appropriate to support your own countries soccer team. Mama Judy’s children, who can barely get together a few cents, pay 1 rand every Friday as a fine for not wearing their school uniforms to partake in the ritual, particularly important as a student, and also as it seems bank attendants.
Everyone on the news is also very faithful at wearing their jerseys and supporting Bafana Bafana. As the excitement grows and we start preparing where we will watch games and getting our tickets to go to games- so does the concern.
The vuvzela sounds for excitement and loyalty and celebration of the world coming together. The vuvzela sounds as we show respect for sportsmanship and excellence (and entertainment).
But the vuvuzela also sounds with danger in the background. With tourists, excitement and too much alcohol crime and accident are a concern. My larger concern is for children. Children who have become business people and see this event as a place to make money, but children who are also in a very dangerous place in terms of trafficking and sexual abuse. Knowingly or unknowingly. (Don’t get me wrong, soccer has also done great things for South Africa kids- but those that make there living on the street and those from other countries making their living selling things. Not to mention the sadness in how childhoods are lived out. And the chance to play soccer, that’s a good chance to be a child or an adult.)
With our excitement and entertainment as humans somehow we also abuse the livelihood of others to enjoy ourselves more. Children in South Africa are having long winter holidays over the World Cup. It is true many would bunk (skip) for the games, but I am concerned over the risks some children will face without places to go. And the
So we must enjoy the sounds of vuvuzelas, but remember all the places that sound travels during twenty ten.
18 Days!
Hannah Bafana
22 May 2010
The Soul still seeks a place to Be: Mama Judy's
Mother’s Day was the most appropriate time to write about Mama Judy, but the take home message was a feeling of home.
Mama Judy and I have some how decided we are family. We often refer to each other as sisters, but I also always call her mama or mother out of respect and some of the ways she cares. She works as our office cleaner and joyful talkative spirit. Early in our daily morning greeting she picked me up while we hugged, which we now take turns continuing.
Rachel and I began eating lunch with Mama Judy and Mama Vero (who also works at the office and the Kalenga/ Illunga household.) after I got back from my Easter trip to Malawi. My trip to Malawi also bonded us because Mama Judy and Vero are both originally from Malawi. Lunch with the both of them is wonderful and all aspects of life come up, but always in a matter of fact humorous Mama Judy type way. I think I have learned more form her about gander roles in different areas, than all of our work at SHADE around the issue.
A few weeks ago we joked about her teaching me how to crochet and she said yes on Sunday you come over. On Friday we spoke again and I was backing out a bit to try to sell vegetables with the students. To which I got an earful that it was the Sabbath and in fact also Mother’s Day so Rachel and I had to go over to Mama Judy’s house after Church. (Jen was in Cape Town with lovely visitors). I mean can I really turn down a good argument and we had been promising to spend more time with her children.
So after stopping by Mama Tembo’s to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and thank her for her role in our lives, we went two plots down to the plot that Mama Judy and Papa Gerard live. The whole family came out to greet us with a similar joyfulness as Mama Judy. Prince 7 and Priscilla 11 are well-behaved, hardworking, astute children that became our siblings on Mother’s Day. In fact I told them Rachel and I were going to begin to sleep on their bottom bunk and they would share the top bunk (We in fact have at many times been invited to stay there is we need to as it is so close to work.)
(using blankets to stay warm walking around outside, yes Mama Judy put it on me before I was allowed to walk out of the house)
When I lived in Cuba my friend Kelly and I had been invited to stay with a family for Mother’s Day and spent one of my favorite afternoons there in my four-month stay. I looked forward to Mothers Day in part because of this time and I knew it would be an all day affair. In fact we stayed for lunch and dinner as if their two-room home was our own.
So often our differences are apparent and compared here. And for the first time in a few months at Mama Judy’s on Mother’s Day, talking, eating, sitting on the bed all together, listening to music, and taking a walk around the plot- we were family without differences. Everyone was proud of who they were and did not get caught up on formalities. No one apologized for what was too little or too great, instead we all served each other.
We all served each other and enjoyed each other. And were comfortable in each other company. A pretty good example of Christianity and humanity. Rachel and I played with the children and spoke of real and difficult issues. I even fell asleep on the side of the bed and then was woken up to make the Mother’s Day pap after Rachel and Mama Judy had cleaned the dishes.
And we just were there. We just were. The souls had a place to be together and happily. I found true home in Mama Judy and here family. The next week we stopped by to see our brother and sister again and as I was getting ready to leave, Mama Judy said “where are you going my children its time for dinner?” And a meal planned for four was shared by all seven of us- and everyone was full.
08 May 2010
from an e-mail to a friend
(Excerpts and ramblings from an e-mail to Claire, but honest)
My heart sinks every time a chicken dies and I know we don’t have the
proper facility, but have to keep going for the other ones and to
actually teach the students. And somehow these feelings make me even
more emotional about the oil spilling out into the gulf and ruining
wild life and livelihoods. And that links to my ache for the world as
I work with people in Congo who don’t see a way toward peace until all
of the minerals are ripped out of their lands, but what do you do with
a formerly war ridden country with no natural resources for support
anymore. For some reason I feel the pain of these things being ripped
from the earth in a different way now, not because I am more of a
hippie- but because taking care of the chickens and being responsible
makes it all the more real.
My parents recently sent some movies over, as that is the only social
thing we can do without ending up talking about work or working for
the entirety of our lives with SHADE. We watched Australia with my
roommates and one of their sisters is visiting. IT struck a lot of
cords with me I think. The having little
idea what you are doing, but somehow being responsible for the people
that know what is going on or what needs to be done for the animals
and the systems. Balancing the humanity and human element of things-
which I don’t have to face as much. The stolen generation I can’t
even comprehend. But it was good to watch.
But at the end of the day we have always laugh, and I can go
barefoot at the office or in the garden, and now that it is cold my
friend Lucy convinced me to buy house slippers that I keep at home and
bring to the office and feel like Mr. Rogers changing shoes every time
I go outside or come back in.
Lucy was convinced it was because it was too cold on the tile floors-
(Cold because it is autumn, but instead of being like fall it was
just cold with too much rain and no heat or insulation anywhere.
Today is still cool- but its bright and some trees have different
colors- not like ours- but looking for the positive in the season and
starting to make soup and get good tea)
My desk is a whirlwind of graded papers and little notes or things to
remember, and vegetable inventories and receipts that need to be
accounted for and books to start planning lessons and a book of
poetry. And then the lists are even longer than that, but the papers
are there and growing just enough to get by, as the computer files
grow to start new little tasks we need done.
But I have gotten used to it and don’t really feel the pressure, just
do what I can and then try to listen when others are overwhelmed.
My heart sinks every time a chicken dies and I know we don’t have the
proper facility, but have to keep going for the other ones and to
actually teach the students. And somehow these feelings make me even
more emotional about the oil spilling out into the gulf and ruining
wild life and livelihoods. And that links to my ache for the world as
I work with people in Congo who don’t see a way toward peace until all
of the minerals are ripped out of their lands, but what do you do with
a formerly war ridden country with no natural resources for support
anymore. For some reason I feel the pain of these things being ripped
from the earth in a different way now, not because I am more of a
hippie- but because taking care of the chickens and being responsible
makes it all the more real.
My parents recently sent some movies over, as that is the only social
thing we can do without ending up talking about work or working for
the entirety of our lives with SHADE. We watched Australia with my
roommates and one of their sisters is visiting. IT struck a lot of
cords with me I think. The having little
idea what you are doing, but somehow being responsible for the people
that know what is going on or what needs to be done for the animals
and the systems. Balancing the humanity and human element of things-
which I don’t have to face as much. The stolen generation I can’t
even comprehend. But it was good to watch.
But at the end of the day we have always laugh, and I can go
barefoot at the office or in the garden, and now that it is cold my
friend Lucy convinced me to buy house slippers that I keep at home and
bring to the office and feel like Mr. Rogers changing shoes every time
I go outside or come back in.
Lucy was convinced it was because it was too cold on the tile floors-
(Cold because it is autumn, but instead of being like fall it was
just cold with too much rain and no heat or insulation anywhere.
Today is still cool- but its bright and some trees have different
colors- not like ours- but looking for the positive in the season and
starting to make soup and get good tea)
My desk is a whirlwind of graded papers and little notes or things to
remember, and vegetable inventories and receipts that need to be
accounted for and books to start planning lessons and a book of
poetry. And then the lists are even longer than that, but the papers
are there and growing just enough to get by, as the computer files
grow to start new little tasks we need done.
But I have gotten used to it and don’t really feel the pressure, just
do what I can and then try to listen when others are overwhelmed.
06 May 2010
Chicken Farmers
In an attempt to demonstrate caring for the chickens, I stood in front of the students’ tea and biscuits for their tea break. I said "you can have tea once you go check on your chickens and make sure they all have food and water."
In general the class is very good at checking on their chickens. They have been divided up into five groups and each group is raising about 40 chickens. It is a lot more work than they expected, and in the last few months I have learned how much attention chickens need, especially when you have many other jobs to do. I had gone to check on the chickens while the student were in class this particular day, and was not pleased by what I had found, partly because the feed had run out.
Everyone checked on the chickens and then had their own tea. Later in the day I apologized for my abrupt attitude and the way I approached the situation. They all seemed receptive. Then as we were clearing the air one student said there was something else we need to discuss. She said they class was offended when I left them a note on the board addressed to Chicken Farmers to give the chickens their vaccinations.
I was a little surprised. And explained I had meant to uplift their work with chickens in a fun way. We began to discuss a bit more, because while she was offended by being called a farmer- I wanted to affirm the positive role of farmers in society. And in fact my whole department revolves around different types of farming. I went on to speak of the respect we should have for the work we are doing, but also any farmer as these are the people that ensure we eat. I tried to explain the friends and colleagues of my parents who work in agriculture and why it was important to me.
Still I receiver don’t call us farmers. I am still working to get to the bottom of it, because the histories of different students assign a different meaning to certain titles. Farmers were sometimes the oppressive people in society. I want to be respectful of this and had not thought about it writing this quick note on the board. But I have a fear that for some, the job is not considered worthy enough to them or that they are above being called a farmer. And knowing the lack of appreciation for farmers and farmworkers in the US, I would be disheartened to think it extended to my students who are trying to help lift their communities out of poverty.
In general the class is very good at checking on their chickens. They have been divided up into five groups and each group is raising about 40 chickens. It is a lot more work than they expected, and in the last few months I have learned how much attention chickens need, especially when you have many other jobs to do. I had gone to check on the chickens while the student were in class this particular day, and was not pleased by what I had found, partly because the feed had run out.
Everyone checked on the chickens and then had their own tea. Later in the day I apologized for my abrupt attitude and the way I approached the situation. They all seemed receptive. Then as we were clearing the air one student said there was something else we need to discuss. She said they class was offended when I left them a note on the board addressed to Chicken Farmers to give the chickens their vaccinations.
I was a little surprised. And explained I had meant to uplift their work with chickens in a fun way. We began to discuss a bit more, because while she was offended by being called a farmer- I wanted to affirm the positive role of farmers in society. And in fact my whole department revolves around different types of farming. I went on to speak of the respect we should have for the work we are doing, but also any farmer as these are the people that ensure we eat. I tried to explain the friends and colleagues of my parents who work in agriculture and why it was important to me.
Still I receiver don’t call us farmers. I am still working to get to the bottom of it, because the histories of different students assign a different meaning to certain titles. Farmers were sometimes the oppressive people in society. I want to be respectful of this and had not thought about it writing this quick note on the board. But I have a fear that for some, the job is not considered worthy enough to them or that they are above being called a farmer. And knowing the lack of appreciation for farmers and farmworkers in the US, I would be disheartened to think it extended to my students who are trying to help lift their communities out of poverty.
20 April 2010
We have powerful soil at the Centre
So my job is taking a toll on my clothes. And there is not enough bleach to make my socks white again, but I face washing them after every poverty alleviation week. Just got through the last batch.
When I blog about transportation I will tell you more about the toll on my clothes and fun with battery acid...
now the trick will be finding warmer shoes as the mornings and evenings get colder.
When I blog about transportation I will tell you more about the toll on my clothes and fun with battery acid...
now the trick will be finding warmer shoes as the mornings and evenings get colder.
31 March 2010
i got tested for HIV
I got tested for HIV.
Jen had organized visits to the VCT clinic and home visits for the students, and worked it out so Rachel and I could also go. (The second day there ‘had’ to be staff present.)
So we all got into a taxi and headed for the VCT clinic in Alberton (also UM run). After an introduction and some questions, we were asked if we wanted to be tested. I was actually hoping all of the students regardless of age or material status would get tested. Some students were tested for the first time and can you imagine that kind of pressure. Tests always present pressure and even the things you think you know may not be valid. So I went in the room with the nurse and had my finger pricked and waited to see the results.
I am a big proponent of accepting testing. I think it keeps people from perpetuating the stigma. When I came out of the room, I was careful with my facial expressions, because everyone’s status is their own and I didn’t want to affect anyone else’s feelings. My exit counseling was a little rushed, but we had to go to the site visits, and the lady was very sweet nonetheless.
As we waited there I also couldn’t help look at the huge PEPFAR plaque. Its interesting seeing all these things played out on the other side. I think it was a similar feeling seeing UN trucks in DRC. And the VCT clinic was doing good work, and some of my largest issues with PEPFAR are being addressed. It is always interesting though knowing what is behind funding and deciding how I feel about it and how it really affects people.
I got tested for HIV and probably will again. And the circumstances are different here- but it’s not just an Africa problem, not just a young and old problem… there is a campaign here that says the Church has AIDS. Shouldn’t the church know its status? Shouldn’t you? If you and I know its easier for others to find out. It affects us all. Especially here though, where stigma’s are still high, but education is starting to take hold.
Then we went to go for home visits to people in the community. My group went into a township. The home-based care volunteers were a first brief and I was disappointed they weren’t sharing more with the students. But I also think they had to build some emotional barriers to keep going with the work.
The first stop we made was because the grandmother of one of the clients was calling to us as we walked by. The granddaughter is 9 and was at school. I was wondering if she was born with it, but as we left the caregiver said no – she was raped by a stepfather – who has since died along with her mother. However, she is doing very well know and back in school. The grandmother or Oma, was very interesting in me, because she was concerned about my skin and getting sunburned. It was very entertaining when I realized what she was trying to share.
And I realized though I didn’t fit at all in the community, in some ways I longed to be living there instead of farther out in the country. The sense of community with small gardens in the front of a small house or people walking by or people up to no good, just made me feel more alive. One of my students is a refugee from DRC and she said “people always told me to stay out of townships- that they are too dangerous, but this doesn’t seem too bad to me.” I responded we should be smart and careful wherever we are, but people live in any community no matter the statistics- and we should always respect where there is life.
All the clients we visited were doing relatively well, but each had their own struggle and was pretty open to sharing it. One was 54 and just very funny, obviously enjoying the attention but reaffirming the things she learned about the disease, even if other people do not understand and are judgmental in their ignorance. The students main comment was that people could still live with HIV and the impacts of that.
On the way out I wish I had my camera- there were two lines of wash. The first with clothes, the second with stuffed animals hanging by clothespins.
In debriefing with other groups one of our male students, Chembo had a really interesting experience. The men are separated, because they are not allowed to visit women. Chembo’s visit was very transformational for him I believe. He was visiting a man, who had a family but didn’t seem to get much help from his family. Out of concern Chembo asked how his family and especially his wife did not help him more when he was suffering. The caregiver slowly explained, that the man was never there for his family, and now that he was sick needed the wife. The explanation continued as the man slept around quite a bit and most offensively raped girls.
Chembo has some very firm beliefs on rape and was incredibly challenges by the fact that this man he met, that he was learning how to care for, had ruined other peoples lives. He told me he would have wanted this man killed at home, because he cannot tolerate the effects of this. But now he was faced on how do you care for someone that you had previously vowed to hate. What are you called to do in this situation? What makes someone human and can we really judge and decide who is?
The conversation was really powerful and I think Chembo will have to deal with what are the realities of this for a long time. And what do you do as a caregiver? What do you do about grace?
I think we have all cared for people at some point we don’t agree with, but something you have vowed to be against? I told him I think this is where the real mission of caring starts and brings a real world meaning of loving your enemies. Does he still deserve care and how do you truly care and not let you emotions negatively impact the situation? It is not a calling for everyone and I am sure we all have different views on it.
It is good to think about, but extreme to face. I am proud of him, willing to journey with this.
Finding grace and humanity,
Hannah
Jen had organized visits to the VCT clinic and home visits for the students, and worked it out so Rachel and I could also go. (The second day there ‘had’ to be staff present.)
So we all got into a taxi and headed for the VCT clinic in Alberton (also UM run). After an introduction and some questions, we were asked if we wanted to be tested. I was actually hoping all of the students regardless of age or material status would get tested. Some students were tested for the first time and can you imagine that kind of pressure. Tests always present pressure and even the things you think you know may not be valid. So I went in the room with the nurse and had my finger pricked and waited to see the results.
I am a big proponent of accepting testing. I think it keeps people from perpetuating the stigma. When I came out of the room, I was careful with my facial expressions, because everyone’s status is their own and I didn’t want to affect anyone else’s feelings. My exit counseling was a little rushed, but we had to go to the site visits, and the lady was very sweet nonetheless.
As we waited there I also couldn’t help look at the huge PEPFAR plaque. Its interesting seeing all these things played out on the other side. I think it was a similar feeling seeing UN trucks in DRC. And the VCT clinic was doing good work, and some of my largest issues with PEPFAR are being addressed. It is always interesting though knowing what is behind funding and deciding how I feel about it and how it really affects people.
I got tested for HIV and probably will again. And the circumstances are different here- but it’s not just an Africa problem, not just a young and old problem… there is a campaign here that says the Church has AIDS. Shouldn’t the church know its status? Shouldn’t you? If you and I know its easier for others to find out. It affects us all. Especially here though, where stigma’s are still high, but education is starting to take hold.
Then we went to go for home visits to people in the community. My group went into a township. The home-based care volunteers were a first brief and I was disappointed they weren’t sharing more with the students. But I also think they had to build some emotional barriers to keep going with the work.
The first stop we made was because the grandmother of one of the clients was calling to us as we walked by. The granddaughter is 9 and was at school. I was wondering if she was born with it, but as we left the caregiver said no – she was raped by a stepfather – who has since died along with her mother. However, she is doing very well know and back in school. The grandmother or Oma, was very interesting in me, because she was concerned about my skin and getting sunburned. It was very entertaining when I realized what she was trying to share.
And I realized though I didn’t fit at all in the community, in some ways I longed to be living there instead of farther out in the country. The sense of community with small gardens in the front of a small house or people walking by or people up to no good, just made me feel more alive. One of my students is a refugee from DRC and she said “people always told me to stay out of townships- that they are too dangerous, but this doesn’t seem too bad to me.” I responded we should be smart and careful wherever we are, but people live in any community no matter the statistics- and we should always respect where there is life.
All the clients we visited were doing relatively well, but each had their own struggle and was pretty open to sharing it. One was 54 and just very funny, obviously enjoying the attention but reaffirming the things she learned about the disease, even if other people do not understand and are judgmental in their ignorance. The students main comment was that people could still live with HIV and the impacts of that.
On the way out I wish I had my camera- there were two lines of wash. The first with clothes, the second with stuffed animals hanging by clothespins.
In debriefing with other groups one of our male students, Chembo had a really interesting experience. The men are separated, because they are not allowed to visit women. Chembo’s visit was very transformational for him I believe. He was visiting a man, who had a family but didn’t seem to get much help from his family. Out of concern Chembo asked how his family and especially his wife did not help him more when he was suffering. The caregiver slowly explained, that the man was never there for his family, and now that he was sick needed the wife. The explanation continued as the man slept around quite a bit and most offensively raped girls.
Chembo has some very firm beliefs on rape and was incredibly challenges by the fact that this man he met, that he was learning how to care for, had ruined other peoples lives. He told me he would have wanted this man killed at home, because he cannot tolerate the effects of this. But now he was faced on how do you care for someone that you had previously vowed to hate. What are you called to do in this situation? What makes someone human and can we really judge and decide who is?
The conversation was really powerful and I think Chembo will have to deal with what are the realities of this for a long time. And what do you do as a caregiver? What do you do about grace?
I think we have all cared for people at some point we don’t agree with, but something you have vowed to be against? I told him I think this is where the real mission of caring starts and brings a real world meaning of loving your enemies. Does he still deserve care and how do you truly care and not let you emotions negatively impact the situation? It is not a calling for everyone and I am sure we all have different views on it.
It is good to think about, but extreme to face. I am proud of him, willing to journey with this.
Finding grace and humanity,
Hannah
30 March 2010
Easter as we head toward winter?
We get up early in the morning, and it is enough to experience the cold. As the season's change here, midday can still be very warm, but you can feel it at 5 am and you know autumn and winter are setting in. The same not wanting to get out of bed feeling that early in the morning.
And a few weeks ago I was having trouble understanding Easter at this point. I think at SHADE we have all been through quite a lent journey and we are looking for signs of Easter.
A few days later we were driving to work on one of these cold mornings, and a field we go by everyday was covered in flowers. These white and pink wild flowers were covering the whole field. And then I noticed them on the side of the road and another field. You see it ad finally cooled down enough for these flowers to bloom. And now I take note of them all over the area. And spring and flowers aren't the only meaning of Easter- but there has been something reassuring and calming in these flowers.
A few days later it was my week training at the centre, and Akim came to me to tell me something about the chickens. And lately when he has come to tell me about the chickens- it means I need to get them something or something is wrong. Living things are very needy. I was already a little stressed but braced myself to her and and decide how to make a quick plan. (Getting medicine and chicken feed without transportation is a little difficult) But instead without changing his normal tone he told me our first layer has laid an egg!
I carried the egg around for a day to show all the staff and students. We had just started the layers on the laying mash and in the midst of everything else, when I wasnt even thinking about it- we had our first egg.
And it looks like an egg should, and even nicer than the store bought ones. Since we have had a few other complications- but eggs coming from our work and our center...
Happy Easter Everyone! The signs are here indeed.
With Hope,
Hannah
And a few weeks ago I was having trouble understanding Easter at this point. I think at SHADE we have all been through quite a lent journey and we are looking for signs of Easter.
A few days later we were driving to work on one of these cold mornings, and a field we go by everyday was covered in flowers. These white and pink wild flowers were covering the whole field. And then I noticed them on the side of the road and another field. You see it ad finally cooled down enough for these flowers to bloom. And now I take note of them all over the area. And spring and flowers aren't the only meaning of Easter- but there has been something reassuring and calming in these flowers.
A few days later it was my week training at the centre, and Akim came to me to tell me something about the chickens. And lately when he has come to tell me about the chickens- it means I need to get them something or something is wrong. Living things are very needy. I was already a little stressed but braced myself to her and and decide how to make a quick plan. (Getting medicine and chicken feed without transportation is a little difficult) But instead without changing his normal tone he told me our first layer has laid an egg!
I carried the egg around for a day to show all the staff and students. We had just started the layers on the laying mash and in the midst of everything else, when I wasnt even thinking about it- we had our first egg.
And it looks like an egg should, and even nicer than the store bought ones. Since we have had a few other complications- but eggs coming from our work and our center...
Happy Easter Everyone! The signs are here indeed.
With Hope,
Hannah
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