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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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.