Finding Shade: Justice for Our Neighbors

Epiphany

2012-01-06T12:43:00.000-05:00

Today I shall direct you to another blog of my friend and brother David Hosey, a mentor to all in my class of Mission Interns.

It's about Epiphany and why it just may be important like all those other holidays we just had.

Check out the Hosey Blog

Thanks Hosey!
Hannah

"Christmas Card"

2011-12-19T12:20:00.000-05:00

A few years ago my brother came across an image and sent it to all of us near Christmas. Ever year and especially this year as I reflect on walls and migration this image comes to mind. The image is sold on a card by the Coalition for Justice and Peace in Palestine.

but that it is a tool to rebuild communities

2011-12-12T21:30:00.000-05:00

My last semester of college I attempted to do a study of poetry in social justice movements. Needless to say I loved it and wrote a few reflections pieces in response. I was looking for some poetry to send to a friend and came across this from my final. I also thought the Harjo quote was fitting.

Harjo "contends that poetry is not only a way to save the sanity of those who have been oppressed to the point of madness, but that it is a tool to rebuild communities and, ultimately, change the world: 'All acts of kindness are lights in the war for justice.'”
-Publisher’s Weekly, Review of Joy Harjo’s How We Become Human

Living Definition

define social justice:

then do we start with cruelty,
or dignity?

must we characterize power,
or first, deprivation?

should we delineate ethics
or equality?

have we explored who it’s defined for,
or could it be universal?

do we denote law,
or value?

define social justice:

can you open up a dictionary,
or what about your heart?

will you describe what words designate,
or can you illustrate?

won’t you assign something for society,
or for yourself?

is it ascertained for the broken,
or forgotten by your guilt?

do you have a basis to comprehend,
or will you miss our translations?

define social justice:

because your definition must be alive,
or our ink will fade…

Our Wish This Christmas

2011-12-08T16:52:00.001-05:00

This Tuesday as I drove down a road from the highway, I wondered how much further I had to go and why people were driving so fast on a two lane road with no lights. I slowly came into the town and then followed my phone google maps to the church.

From my conversation with the Pastor I knew to expect that I would have no idea what exactly I was going to be doing until the moment I was doing it. Luckily I have had a lot of practice with that. In fact as I walked into the Haitian revival service, it reminded me of some of the services I miss form my time in other countries. So it may have been my first time in an all Creole environment, but it was still familiar.

It was a special children's service and just so genuine and sweet I truly was honored to be there. The Pastor wanted me to introduce Justice for Our Neighbors, because our new Lakeland clinic will be able to serve people from the congregation. The Pastor also wanted to take part in "A Wish for the Holidays: That all Families be Able to Stay Together." (A project of We Belong Together.) So after the service I went back with all the children and we talked some about parents in other countries and deportation. Then they wrote to President Obama and Congress. It was amazing to me how much a connection the children got and how well the ones with parents still in Haiti took it.

So I wanted to share some letters with you:

Bishop Whitaker's Intro

2011-11-30T12:44:00.000-05:00

Ornella, age 9, from First Hispanic Kissimmee UMC

I also wanted to share the Bishop's Introduction for our JFON Florida Advent Devotional:

As the church prepares for the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ at Bethlehem when the heavenly host of angels announced peace on earth, you are invited to prepare for Christmas by using this Justice For Our Neighbors Advent Devotional. The devotions in this book will enable you to see more clearly how our relationship to our immigrant neighbors is connected to our life as disciples of Jesus Christ, whose own birth occurred during a journey that had to take place because of the decrees of the government.

The church has been called by God to show hospitality to strangers ever since the time of the apostles. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews wrote, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (Hebrews 13:2).

The author of Hebrews was thinking of the story of Abraham who showed hospitality to three men who were angels of the Lord (Genesis 18:1-8). In Orthodox iconography, these three angels are depicted as messengers of the triune God.

The hospitality Abraham demonstrated toward strangers became a characteristic mark of the people of Israel to whom God was revealed as the One “who loves the strangers, giving them food and clothing” (Deuteronomy 10:18). The church, which worships the God of Israel who sent Jesus to be the Messiah, is also called to show hospitality to strangers as a sign of God’s love for them.

Why would God call God’s people to demonstrate hospitality to strangers whom we today call immigrants?

The context for this divine direction for God’s people is the story of the tumult of humankind throughout history. In all times people have left familiar places for a better home. Often they have left because of wars, oppression, persecution, poverty, famine, and climate change. In other words, human suffering has always been a main motivation for migration. In this world of suffering, God’s people are called to be witnesses to God’s compassion for those who are pushed around by the tragic forces of history and nature.

Many of the immigrants to America are a part of this larger story of migration because of human suffering. We too are called today to show hospitality to strangers by our welcome, our practical help, and our advocacy on their behalf. In answering this call we may discover that they are the angels of God, the messengers to us of the love of the triune God who is present with them and who has pledged his commitment to their cause according to divine revelation in both the Old and New Testaments. As the stories of Jesus’ infancy indicate, God’s revelation to the world came through Jesus Christ who was born in Bethlehem on a journey coerced by the government and whose family had to migrate to Egypt to escape threats to their security. If God’s supreme revelation occurred in this Jesus, then we should expect to find God’s presence with our neighbors who are immigrants today.

-Bishop Timothy Whitaker

Advent

2011-11-26T12:24:00.001-05:00

(by Laura, our Attorney's daughter, age 12)

As you know my job is to support education and advocacy movement around immigration with JFON. Doing this within the church has some obvious links I really enjoy. And at some point the idea of an Advent Devotional seemed important. So much of how we get to real dialogue is through stories. The links seemed so clear to me, a journey, being registered, people begging for mercy from God, and through all of that a path for hope.

But I think the most important reason for the JFON Advent Devotional was the variety of perspectives become come to JFON with. Its not one type of person who volunteers or one reason people become passionate for justice for migrants. But in some ways I think it is important for people involved with JFON to remember how their call and spirit is tied to their service. And on hard days its good to know I am connected to all these people and all these stories no matter how different each of our introductions are.

Please download and share to journey with JFON this Advent.

JFON Advent Devotional

JFON Advent Booklet

Blessings for a thoughtful journey,
Hannah

Hymns

2011-10-29T12:07:00.001-04:00

Every once in a while I highlight a song on this blog. I really should have highlighted more songs we sang in South Africa and DRC. I realize how much I miss the much more daily singing and praise and dancing in South Africa. I realize this most when I am in a large group of people singing.

But when it comes to United Methodist hymns or hymns Methodist sing a lot things strike a cord with me. Blessed Assurance was the first song at the United Methodist Women District Annual Meeting I am at right now. It is actually not my favorite tune, but I have heard it in so many languages now that memories flow as it is played.

Then a choir sang "We are Called" which has a special place in my heart from singing around the piano at Dumbarton UMC with the people who taught me what being called met. I love the song, and the energy it is sung with there. At a conference in DRC I realized singing was the way to engage people. So in front of 500 people cut my presentation a little short to sing We Are Called in front of the entire room. It is moments like that I know I am not acting alone, but am lead. Or a bit crazy.

Today we also had communion. The last song the leader started was "One Bread, One Body". The message is one I think we need constant reminding of. But also it makes me feel safe and at peace. The sing reminds me what I am connected to. And as the others the places of home I have sung it.

And then towards the end of the session we sang "Hymn of Promise". Part of the reason hymns are important to me is the connection to my Grandmother Mary Lou Hanson. I believe she is the root of my being Methodist. There were other family members before her, and my parents decisions, and some really great United Methodists I grew up with and work with. (there are also other things more connected to beliefs, but that is for a different more complex discussion).

My grandmother died 7 1/2 years ago and my Dad decided to have "Hymn of Promise" sung at her funeral. I remember wanting some other song, that today I can't remember. It was an interesting time for me in understanding my identity as a women in our family and the strength my Grandmother had. The words of the song are written on the wall of my room in my Dad and Janes house. (One of the only times I remember getting away with writing on the wall. )

So when I hear the song I remember home and my Grandmother.

and especially as with all these hymns

I imagine my grandmother singing them

And I lift my voice in song.

October

2011-10-18T09:16:00.001-04:00

I love fall on the east coast (of the US). This far south where we have days that still reach 90 degrees (though we are really moving into the 80's) aren't quite the same. Some in Florida swear to a difference in the air, but the signs of change are very small. From what I can tell there is only one tree near me that has bits of colors changing.

Then thinking I won't get to see all the fall colors, I am struck by the sunset one night. So stop to take in the colors from a parking lot.

DREAMers and Organizers

2011-10-07T11:33:00.000-04:00

My friend Mayra, who inspires me and pushes us all to do more. Check out a local article on her below.

Again in my last blog the crux of the issues is human suffering (and its human suffering in our neighborhoods) and an attack on human dignity. I know I should be more careful or provide better explanation.

But instead let’s talk about something that gives me energy. I said I worked with some incredible people. As we are in the last few days of the DREAM Sabbath, I am inspired by the small things I have seen happening as DREAMers tell their stories. I am inspired as I see interest and care grow in groups I was unsure would really listen. In Africa I wrote a few times on the importance of sharing stories and how it was asked that everyone (all) shared stories. My friend Lucas was speaking to my young adult group and someone thanked him for sharing his story. He eloquently responded with gratitude and that they all had stories of such important worth as well. Its moments like this all my “lives” connect, the same themes are necessary.

When I speak about HIV, I explain how my journey with stigmas and fears developed. I did not think I really had any, until I realized the day when I truly did not care or question what your HIV status was. Of course I would care if you share anything with me or need something. But a person’s identity is not a disease.
The same has happened here. I was driving some friends one day. They were asking me questions about South Africa and as I got into the conversation, I realized due to their immigration status they would not be able to travel to South Africa until something changed, or maybe ever. It wasn’t this moment I really thought about the difference of driving and depending on what state we were in their status really does make a difference in whether I drive them or not – legally. I do not change, and they do not change as people if we are driving and cross a state line.

As my friends who have been working on the DREAM Act are baffled that it hasn’t been passed yet, I start to feel old. Or maybe more excepting of a reality that shouldn’t be there. Or know that while they are organizing like veterans of this moment, there are others that have been in it over 10 years. I am still inspired that the people I learn from in terms of organizing weren’t even 10 when the DREAM Act was first proposed. (I think community organizing is the best part of my job, and it is only a very small part.) Not that age is a big thing, just startling sometimes when you are in a Board meeting and someone who seems your age and in the grand scheme of things is, but they share they are 17.

So let me stop rambling and share a story of my friend Mayra with you.

http://www.theledger.com/article/20111002/NEWS/111009877?tc=cr

Burn Out or angry together

2011-10-05T09:37:00.000-04:00

Someone recently asked me if I was getting burned out. He was very sincere and was reacting to my explanation of my job and the legal and social difficulties facing immigrants in Florida. I laughed to myself, because at 25 if I was burnt out after 6 months in a job I would be a little concerned. I also know burnout is just not an option or letting an situation get hopeless. I respect too many mentors or people that I have studied that even in the coldest and darkest places pull through.

Back to my situation, some days things are frustrating. When I first got here I would get so frustrated (but always hid behind a smile) when people wouldn’t listen to what I was saying or would justify inaction. At this point, I have calmed down a bit and take more seriously meeting people where they are. I am less offended when people put me in my place as a young woman, even when if they just listened they would learn something. I appreciate the opportunity for any discussion much more now. Some days maybe I do not push enough because I want to make absolutely sure I am being respectful, especially to pastors I meet with. But somehow and sometimes in places I least expect it, I am with groups who are so genuine and sincere. Maybe they are genuine about their own point of view, or in an ability to ask good questions and learn, or they have their own migration story they share. Those days I learn a lot and am extremely thankful for an honest point of conversation. Those days make me remember to leave my preconceptions at the door, because maybe someone else’s preconceptions aren’t what I think.

I get frustrated when I meet really interesting people who we can’t do anything for in the legal system. This would probably be where the man’s comment of burnout came from, as it gets the most personal of the frustrations. Some days it is heartbreaking, but some days facing reality is. In fact some situations make me angry, especially when it is young people just trying to find a way to act with integrity. But when I am with people, I am generally happiest. Even when one problem can’t be solved, we find a space to talk and laugh and share. Maybe that sounds horrible, that a human face and stories we can do nothing about doesn’t make me angrier. I guess it is that I am rarely frustrated directly at the client and as I have written about before, its heartwarming to see a group of strangers become a cross-cultural community in an evening. And if I start feeling helpless or hopeless, how can I ask anyone else to act. At the end of the day under all the forms and fees and borders and expired licenses and raids, at the end of the day under all of that is a place for hope and for smart action.

And about 6 months in I think the best part when I do get really angry or frustrated – is I have some good people to do it with. I may not have a large group of friends here, but I have some incredible colleagues. Some who have long journeys with a change of heart or experience. Some who have worked hard and been very secretive about their lives. And some who have found strength in not being so scared and publicly talking about their status. Some who are finding creative ways to bring everyone to the table. Some who are passionate about justice, and some who are just tired.

I think if we are going to be angry or if we are going to try to find hope, it is much better to do it together. It can help protect against burn out and ensure we use all that emotion to get somewhere.

VA Bishops Convocation on Immigration Oct. 1st

2011-09-27T13:38:00.000-04:00

As some of you know (who are in the Methodist circles) I grew up part of the Baltimore Washington Conference and the Virginia Conference of the United Methodist Church. I am very excited and sorry I will not be at 'home' to attend Bishop Kammerer's Convocation in Manasas. I hope there will be powerful discussion and transformation at this event and for the Virginia Annual Conference. I have much gratitude for all planning and attending this event. What a great way to start October and conincide with DREAM Sabbath.

Many of you who read this blog are in the area for the event this Saturday, so please check below for more information. And who ever is there, let me know what you learn.

GBCS Faith in Action Article

Click here for Brochure for Bishop's Convocation on Immigration

In memory of Wangari Maathai

2011-09-26T13:40:00.001-04:00

‎"In the course of history, there comes a time when humanity is called to shift to a new level of consciousness, to reach a higher moral ground. A time when we have to shed our fear and give hope to each other. That time is now." ~ WANGARI MAATHAI

What a powerful quote for all the issues we are working on and community. And what an example of how we can stand for environmental justice, human rights and peace at the same time. And how each are linked. A very powerful "Mad" Woman role model and leader. (The below article references her being called a Mad woman, I do nto agree with how the sentiment at that time was used.)

For more on Wangari Maathai:
NY Times article, "First African Woman to Win the Nobel Peace Prize Dies"

Or search and many other articles are available from this week.

(Thanks for bringing this quote to my attention Paz)

Labor of Love

2011-09-03T09:36:00.000-04:00

I was invited to write a brief piece in conjunction with GCORR's 'Labor of Love' the Labor Day.

Feel free to read and if you haven't yet take the pledge to Drop the I-Word. If you have, invite 5 friends to take the pledge. Along with thinking about how we talk about other people and words that refer to people, remember all the work that sustains the way we live and all the hands that contribute.

"In March, a friend invited me to pledge not to use the phrase "illegal immigrant.” I understood why that was important and I truly believe a person’s identity cannot be illegal. Real transformation for me, however, began when I invited other people in my community to join the pledge with me. One small word sparked hours of discussion about our perceptions and misunderstandings and our stories of migration.

I recently met two young men graduating from high school that are part of a local church's youth group. They were realistically concerned about their options because although the United States is home to them, they did not have the documents that would allow them to go to college or get a driver’s license. Strong young men that grew up in the church were looking for a way forward with integrity. And the saddest part for me was they could not go talk to the adults in their own church about it due to anti-immigrant.

As a church, I do not think we intend to use words that keep people we may know and love in the shadows. Sometimes I think we miss seeing how connected we all are in God’s Kingdom. Today, I invite you to join in signing the "Drop the I-Word" pledge with me. Take a minute to think every time you hear people being referred to as illegal. Take a moment to think of the people and stories that are overlooked when we use that word. For me, that one moment of thought is what makes dropping one small word transformative."

Have a good weekend!
Hannah

Picture from a clinic

2011-08-30T15:13:00.001-04:00

Every month we have another JFON clinic in Orlando. For me as for most in my position this is a highlight of each month, because this is where community meets and takes place. A few months in I am learning the ropes and the stories of our volunteers. Sometimes the logistics and sorting out little problems take a few minutes, but then something starts to happen.

This month our clients waiting to see the attorney had stories they wanted to share. I sat listening to one man while holding another women's 2 week old granddaughter. I laughed with other volunteers as the hospitality coordinator encouraged people to eat more ice cream. And for one man from a different country we had to assure him multiple times that Root Beer was not actually beer and contained no alcohol, and we sat with him as he tried it for the first time. (I couldn't convince him to try a root beer float )

And as the evening wore on and one client waited on her ride home and another to see the attorney something happened. It wasn't just a conversation between the volunteer and a client. It was a conversation between all of us. The whole room was connected through food and time and a basic understanding in something we cared about.

One client was playing the piano in the room of this church. And then the playing changed a little and I looked over. The client didn't look like he was playing but I still heard noise. He pointed down and I realized another clients two year old was playing with the man. Two people many years different in age, very different in country of origin, in color of their skin, in language, in culture…

But happily playing the piano together.

And that's the picture I got to go home with in the midst of all the stories I heard that night.

2011-08-23T13:03:00.001-04:00

"Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed. You cannot uneducate the person who has learned to read. You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride. You cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore."

– Cesar Chavez

I think I do my reflecting at the grocery store

2011-07-29T16:51:00.000-04:00

Many people come back to USA from abroad and are overwhelmed by the grocery store. This is generally an initial reaction and I have found myself reflecting on this a few months later with a different reaction. A family friend was filling me in on some South African stores before I initially left. She said you can pretty much get anything in South Africa you can get here, but sometimes you will find it in a different type of store.

In my memory now I don’t focus on the early times we couldn’t find something, and that was for the most part trying to cook thanksgiving dinner in the opposite season. But we learned who to ask or where to find it.

Now being back I guess I struggle with it again. Part of this could be due to more regional stores, whereas most any city in South Africa had the same chain store or an open market place. I am surprised by the local farmers markets here. Partly due to the season, but there is much less produce then I would assume in Florida and many are just distributers for Farmers. (Maybe that is easier than the long row of stands down Church Street in Joburg where we would pick and choose from different sellers.)

Now in the land of plenty in my local grocery store last week I couldn’t find feta. I finally did find a little pre crumbled package. (It is a smaller store, but at any major store in a city in South Africa I could find it. Maybe not in a township) It’s not a fair direct comparison, but I spent another 20 minutes just walking around the grocery store, with too many options I just didn’t really want. I knew I wouldn't find ostrich, but I wanted pro-vita crackers and feta and the type of cranberry apple cinnamon tea I like. I am sure I can find substitutes, but I don’t remember missing things this way in South Africa. Trying to satisfy three different people, with different diets, all trying to be polite in the grocery store was often a stressful challenge first in South Africa. So it’s funny to write about it, but once you get past the shopping it’s about food that becomes meals and is shared.

I think it’s more that I had a system; I had everyday life figured out. And as I rebuild trying to do that again some days there are road blocks. I guess it’s just the transition to find the things I like again.

So some days I spend twenty extra minutes in the grocery store imagining what Lucille and I would get excited cooking. Or I call my dad asking what kind of mustard I like. (In fact I think I have talked to every immediate family member via text or on the phone in the store in the last two months).

And I check all the teas just in case one will be close enough.

reflection 2

2011-07-10T16:05:00.003-04:00

Reflection on Mathew 25

2011-07-10T16:04:00.000-04:00

all.

2011-07-05T21:33:00.005-04:00

I have struggled with the word all. a lot lately. or maybe more what I perceive to be people's understanding of the word all. maybe all adults should have another elementary school lesson on the definition of all and a few other seemingly simple words.

so I have questioned what all means. and after the 4th, how truly to we stand behind "all created equal"

I think some use all when they are advocating for one excluded group, but who is the all behind all the people you care about, all your friends, all the people you can see?

instead of continuing I will leave you with a word cloud. Many thanks to my friend Ethan for introducing me to www.wordle.net/

(I have made a few others off of blogs, and a few on some verses i still have to post. one for blog on Jan 1st and the other when I blogged about never being called a stranger. Feel free to click on those and check them out.)

Define American

2011-07-05T13:09:00.003-04:00

Pulitzer Prize winning Journalist, Jose Antonio Vargas wrote an important article a few weeks ago for the New York Times. I am sure many of you have seen it, if not click here. It is a different kind of coming out story. He is now working on a project to Define American. See more here

This is exciting work for me as my current work is right in the same line. How do we have a genuine conversation on immigration? How do we dialogue? (Haven't quite gotten there yet in Orlando, but definitely meeting some good caring people, that are learning a lot fast.)

But I was posting this somewhere and read the last line again. It hit me now living in Disneyworld country. all over the world it's acceptable to dream about mickey... what other dreams are acceptable?

"My mother told me I was excited about meeting a stewardess, about getting on a plane. She also reminded me of the one piece of advice she gave me for blending in: If anyone asked why I was coming to America, I should say I was going to Disneyland."

For Our Neighbors

2011-06-30T12:25:00.004-04:00

After 2 weeks of traveling to conferences (that I was actually quite impressed with). I came straight back into work as we had our Orlando Clinic on Tuesday night, and both the national attorney and our new attorney were overlapping.

We have clinics one a month in the areas we serve so potential clients can meet with the attorney. They are held in churches so we can also offer hospitality and so there is a possibility of linking to a community. The clinic is really the only place volunteers meet clients, as so much is done between the client and the attorney in confidentiality. Some people our attorney can serve, help with filing paperwork or represent. Others do not have a legal pathway at this point, and can only be advised. This free advice is very important though, because unfortunately there are a lot of people who charge a lot of money pretending to do something that cannot be done.

A. I was happy to spend a little time with both attorneys. I am excited by our new JFON attorney in Florida and even more so because she seems interested in outreach to the community. This will make working together really great and it will be easier to achieve the whole mission of JFON. She is very dedicated and from what I can see (and understand) I respect her work. Also just having someone else in the office is mutually beneficial for us.

B. I like clinics. I love spending time with people and for right now its really my only set up venue for education. This week I was giving information on the DREAM Act as the hearing in the Senate had happened that day and nationally we were pushing to get the house to hold a hearing by calling in out support of the DREAM Act.

Now all of these things are important to share, but its hearing peoples stories and showing solidarity that is the best.

One family had called a few times during the day for directions. They said we they were in Orlando at 3pm. I was a little worried about them waiting, but explained the clinic did not start til 5pm and there would be no one there before then. The woman said they were coming from far and wanted to make sure they got to Orlando in plenty of time to find everything.

(I think at every clinic I have been to at least one family has come from over 3 hours for a chance to talk to an attorney.)

At the end of the evening I was trying to give them extra fruit to take for their journey. They explained they were staying in Orlando for the night, because they did not feel as safe driving in the dark. So I told them to take it for breakfast. I had no idea if the attorney was even able to help them.

Then as I was saying goodbye to a volunteer the family said goodbye as well. They had not planned to stay in Orlando, our volunteer must have heard their story and invited them to stay with her for the night. So all three women left with out volunteer, who had humbly provided even more hospitality. I would have never known of her providing for her neighbor had I not been in the room at that moment. She asked for no recognition, but simply made sure people that had just come into her life had a safe place to stay.

Moments like that make me proud to work where I do.

Moments like that make me remember what we are called to do.

Moments like that make me believe it is possible for a positive change to come.

we can't all do everything, but we can all do something.

blessing and hopefully,
Hannah

reflection

2011-06-16T09:27:00.002-04:00

She asked me to walk with her to an appointment with another community group. We didn’t have any work transportation and it was against the culture and I guess wisdom to walk alone. Especially as a woman. So if we needed to go somewhere for work or to buy lunch we asked someone else to join. I often enjoyed the buddy system time, but some days it was hot or there was other work to do.

But I had never gone anywhere with her so I said yes. We were talking about things and I mentioned we had no mirrors where we were staying. (Living in three different places we went from no mirrors, to an awkward amount of too many mirrors, to no mirrors again). It is interesting the things you stop paying attention to with mirrors, but I mentioned it none the less.

We worked in a church where some people were a little better off and I figured someone would have an old mirror lying around or in a room they didn’t use too much. She seemed concerned and asked if I would like her to find a mirror maybe from a friend. I didn’t want to inconvenience her and new she was struggling to make ends meet with time and money. I explained I was only looking for something to borrow for a few months and then would give it back before I left South Africa.

She stopped walking and said no you couldn’t give it back. If someone gave you a mirror it would be a gift to you. You couldn’t give it back.

I didn’t want something new or really a gift, but to borrow something that would be useful to someone again. Our debate continued, even though I had started by just making conversation. I explained I couldn’t really bring a mirror home with me, it would break in a suitcase.

She finally said well you could give it to someone else who needed it, but it would be an insult if you gave something back to the person who gave it to you.

I understood her point. The next day, she told me to take the white bad in the staff room. It was for me. I figured out she didn’t want to bring attention to it or talk about it at work. When I got home I opened her present that was carefully wrapped in newspaper. It was a piece of mirror about the size of a piece of paper.

Sitting on the sink in the bathroom it was still hard to hold to be too useful. And people often asked why it was there or told me to be careful with the edge. I hadn’t intended on a joke about mirrors becoming my gift, a reminder, a lesson. So to me the sharp edge of a mirror didn’t make it trash or dangerous, it was a gift and the connection of our stories.

In Zulu her name means gift. Nosipho.

Ministry With*

2011-06-15T14:51:00.002-04:00

Check out the United Methodist Churches new website
Ministry With*

This is their video:

Thanks United Methodist Board of Global Ministries and United Methodist Woman

fair or just?

2011-06-14T09:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was at a planning meeting for a 1st-8th grade summer camp that will focus on justice at a local church this summer. They really have some great ideas, it is centered around Micah 6:8, and I am coming to speak on the “walk humbly” day. (If you have any ideas for the 1st-4th graders for my hour session of time to be engaging, send them on over)

This team of adults was really excited to engage with these young people in exploring their spirituality and the call to justice. Smart people were coming up with these ideas but something didn’t sit right. It was thoughtful and real, but fair and just were in a different context.

Yes there is something to learn when one group of children get all the expensive toys and other children don’t get any and the reasons behind it. Seems unjust and unfair, the kids will understand this based on the activity and maybe can start thinking about it.

But then is justice and fairness all the children getting all the really expensive toys? Is that what we all want to work for?

I encouraged that we just focus on toys, instead of one group getting toys and the other picking up trash. While the realities of wealth may come into play in certain exercises, we need to be careful of the value judgments we make. I have seen other children with no toys at all play very happily, some work too or are just much more respectful about chores.

I think the kids will get fair, and maybe even really start to understand ways other people live. I think it’s a great first step. But we that are a step or two beyond that or who want to change the world… we need to think about what we are trying to change it to and what we have to work with. Sometimes changing this at one end, means the other end has to give up some things.

I struggle with justice that means you need to live like us. I struggle with it for many reasons, but honestly worldwide its just not sustainable. We got good words, but how do we learn to live like and with each other justly? And with all of us?

2011-06-05T22:10:00.000-04:00

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Transitions

2011-06-05T13:23:00.000-04:00

Two questions that I think I could have done a better job answering when I spoke to churches and other groups were:

What culture shock are you experiencing or noticing?

And What can we do?

My hope is to make a whole tab on this blog on what you can do. My work with Justice for Our Neighbors is much more focused on that, but my time in Africa leads to some good examples to.

But for a little more lighthearted let me mention what I have noticed with all these transitions:

- Driving on the right hand side of the road again was not really an issue, but I miss driving stick and putting the car in neutral and when I come to a roundabout/traffic circle I have to look at it and think for a minute.

- didn’t take too long, but unlimited internet

- conference calls… (the number and length and learning how to *6 are its own kind of culture shock)

- Diet coke at the office instead of tea or coffee (Florida thing) In South Africa my coworkers would make me wait to work or speak with a client until I had fixed my morning tea.

- air conditioning (not the cooling factor itself, but the isolating factor of moving through space and time in air conditioned vessels)

- living alone for the first time and not working with a staff of 15

- knowing what a prima facia is and moral perptitude

- gathering at coffee shops or restaurants instead of family homes to share a meal or visit

- when I am meeting someone for the first time I shake hands with me left hand on my right forearm. (no one has said anything about it yet, but in greeting in Africa it was necessary to show respect and now it feels disrespectful not to do it, and its habit)

- using a dryer. Pants I have had for over a year fit differently ad I couldn’t figure it out, until I realized I had used my mom’s dryer to dry my clothes, and these pants had only ever been line dried.

- and I think its just as much as a shock when things you haven’t done in almost two years come naturally and you don’t really adjust at all

- Though the amount of construction and new building in Arlington took me back a bit. Traveling the US before I left for South Africa and living in Africa and knowing the world impact of recessions – it was very surprising to me to see and realize my home towns isolation from much of that.

- NYC was one of the easiest places for me to visit, with the least shocks, oddly enough

-and as a few of these have mentioned, transitioning to Florida has its own culture shocks

Thanks for helping me think about the transitions,
Hannah

i was never called a stranger.

2011-06-05T12:13:00.002-04:00

in a year and a half in another country (to my recollection) no one ever called me a stranger.

as I work to change the names we call migrant people in my ‘home’ country,
as I hear the words people wish were not associated with them,
as I hear the pain that comes from illegal, alien, other, and even the mild stranger,
I am reminded of a time when I was an other – but I was claimed in a strange land.

my first day of work at Bula Monyako my now friend Patty took me on a tour and introduced me to everyone. she would say proudly (and not fully understanding who I was) “this is Hannah, our missionary.”

somedays I may have had to struggle with my American identity and everyday I was welcomed into a different reality.

but no one ever called me a stranger.

the perspective of my work today in the land of freedom and opportunity is much different. It has been a painful week of learning the good words of inclusion and diversity have boundaries with much bigger walls than I realized. Some days I would rather go back to being a stranger.

2011-05-25T11:36:00.000-04:00

“Our Art must become a process – a living, growing thing that people can relate to, identify with, be part of, understand; not a mysterious world a universe apart from them.
As politics must teach people the ways and give them the means to take control over their own lives, art must teach people, in the most vivid and imaginative ways possible, how to take control over their own experience and observations, how to link these with struggle for liberation and a just society free of race, class, and exploitation.”
-D. Kobe waMogote Martins

airports

2011-05-23T16:19:00.002-04:00

more on transitions...

I love airports.

What I really love is the feeling of going somewhere new or the adventure/journey continuing. And the plane ride is the time to stare out the window in a very calm state on my own, reflecting on the excitement. Sometimes coming 'home' from places is a bit sad, but its exciting to see the people who are waiting at the airport. I like knowing exactly what I need to do at the airport and walking down the long hallways. I like staring out the windows and catching up with people before boarding. I like frequent flyer miles. I like treating myself to a coffee or meal. (though I think its funny, because its more expensive on the outside and I rarely treat myself then.) I love traveling, but the early morning long layovers can be kind of rough. I love people reading all the names in my passport and the comments.

I attribute my true excitement to that fact I got to travel with my parents as a very young child. We may have never had a membership to a pool, but we had clip on wings! It was an adventure just in the airport. (I do not remember as well all the stress of travel my parents went through for me. But I still hold with me the sense of calm when you get to the seat and have nothing to worry about until you land.)

I am the same way about liking to have something bigger to look forward to on the horizon in my schedule.

I thought about this some during all my travel coming back to the US from South Africa and going to midterms etc.

It is more bittersweet to fly and transition now. Now going somewhere new, means really having to leave somewhere else. And I think the someone else's are always the hardest. I think the list of places I want to return to grows as well, but the realization that one place makes it easier to live the way I like with people. At the same time I couldn't imagine being 'grounded' and I gain so much from all the places I go and people I meet.

In the last week people have heard about my program and life and the new response is, isn't that a lonely life?

I reiderate: Bittersweet.

sometimes lonely, sometimes lively, and a lot of day inspiring and heart-wrenching.

The plus about flying now though, is my legs are longer and I am better at sleeping on planes now. The independence of flying alone at this point isn't so important; it's nice to text my family on departing and arriving.

I still love airports, I still love the possibilities and the people on the other end. I just sometimes wish my detours were in places not listed on my ticket.

"We Have a Dream"

2011-05-23T09:34:00.004-04:00

I love marches on May 1st. Yes this may come from my time in Cuba, where Workers Day is a very big deal. This year in the background of bills being hammered out in Florida's House and Senate, I participated in the Farmworker Association of Florida's Immigration Reform March.

Here is one of the signs:

dragging my heals

2011-05-03T11:45:00.001-04:00

Some days I struggle to know exactly what to share on my blog. In my last few months in South Africa I started to decide if the purpose was inviting people to share with me on this journey I should be open. Some days I do not have the right words, so refrain from posting. Some days I do write, but the documents stay in the folders on my computer.

But for instance bloging about the transition from South Africa to the United States proved tricky to fully express all the emotions without stepping on anyone’s toes.

I love my family and my friends, but my everyday life was in South Africa with a new small family of friends. I had finally opened my eyes and realized the balance I had reached was healthy and I understood when it was my role to act or to learn and listen or to support. So when my plane ticket arrived via e-mail I broke down. Why was I leaving South Africa? Why was I leaving my daily life?

It took me a couple weeks, some good conversations, and a good church service to get me back on board with my program. And as much as I wanted someone to blame- it was my own choice. I signed on knowing this exactly would happen and believing in the importance of the domestic placement for the program and for my life. At the time I had no idea all the trials that would take place, some that ripped me even more from a sense of home, which meant when I finally found that solid dignified sense of home- it became a strong and powerful thing.

As we learn growing up though, the temper tantrum or digging or heels in becomes and exhausting waste of time. I love where I was able to get in South Africa and more important the people that are part of my journey and part of my family there. It was more important to be present and celebrate that then regret leaving.

Another piece that helped in transitioning was learning my next placement site would be with Justice for Our Neighbors. Do to the timing of the e-mail and life events, for a few hours all I knew was Orlando, Florida. I knew I would probably be living in a different part of the country, but Florida was not my top choice or what I was envisioning. When I got home a few hours later though and started reading through the materials, I was pretty impressed with the match of Justice for Our Neighbors and myself. My best friend in South Africa was sitting on the bed with me as I would blurt out another line from what I was reading, and we would discuss the possibilities.

A month after getting back to the United States and spending some time back with family and friends and the places I grew up, I understood my deep connection to all of that. As I boarded the train to come to Florida I was leaving two homes. Still in the process of transitioning from Africa, transitioning from my family and friends again, I was headed to Orlando Florida. And I was going where I was sent.

The challenge of getting people and churches to dialogue about immigration is here and there is a place for me to do something about it. Some of the people that fed and nourished me in the toughest times in South Africa did not have legal documents, other people being treated like slaves lived outside my back door, the person who taught me how to raise chickens and keep plants alive was also a stranger in a strange land, and children I knew had befallen prey to boarder guards. Being a stranger and loving sojourners on much harder journeys of movements, makes the realities of the stories in the United States even stronger for me. And any of those stories from South Africa are applicable stories in America. The church has supported me to spread the love we are called to share and to work for social justice so that every child of God is treated with the sacredness they deserve. And so I will be going right back into local churches, asking them to remember that same charge placed on me and them.

It is amazing how all the stories and homes connect. How they enrage me and impassion me to be right where I am. The hope is I do it with some grace and I couldn’t so that with all the support I have. But in my honesty these transitions do not come without pain.

I am realizing on Easter I called my ‘family’ in South Africa, and talked to my family in Arlington and in New York, got passed messages from friends at my churches, talked to friends across the country, and was welcomed to a new table in Florida for Easter lunch. And it is all these homes that have gotten me to where I am. I miss you all, but I always rediscover how much strength I keep from these relationships.

...but justice in practice is more powerful still...

2011-04-25T09:28:00.001-04:00

When I was in Nashville a few weeks ago during my first week of work and the national Justice for Our Neighbors meeting I saw this book.

Well really I was in the first shuttle over to the church we were meeting in and there was a set of books they were collecting/giving away. Many were church based etc, but of course the one with South Africa in the title caught my eye. I think it was a guide to South Africa written for Americans in the 70's. Then I realized it was written by Alan Paton and one of the last chapters goes through the political parties and politics of the time. (Alan Paton wrote Cry, the Beloved Country- which I suggest reading, I think I read it in middle school. I was with a white family in South Africa when the movie came on TV and it really hit home again for the wife.)

Anyway these are the concluding paragraphs of the book, which I find interesting and in some way connected to in coming home from South Africa. Funny that I find it as I start with JFON, but the connections are always there.

Here you go:

"It is very important to me that young people from other countries (I do not call them foreigners, because I dislike the word) should visit us, and try to understand the difficulties of our problems. Especially am I glad that Americans should visit us. It is very important that Americans should understand the problems of as many countries as possible, because America has such a power, and therefore such responsibility, in the world. I believe that America takes her responsibility very seriously, and therefore it is important that she should increase her knowledge.

…But an allegiance to our countries becomes deeper and truer when we owe an allegiance to something even greater, to truth, to justice, and to the welfare of the whole human race. That is what I believe, and I know that many Americans believe it too; they believe that that is the way to become not only better citizens of the world, but better citizens of America also. They become better able to carry out their great responsibility to the world.

As your ship leaves the harbor of Table Bay, I say not goodbye, but tot siens, which means that I hope to see you again. As you sail away from Africa, you will for a long time see the great mass of Table Mountain, the same as was seen by the first white men who came to make their homes in South Africa. They brought a new life to this country. They changed the old life beyond recall. It goes on changing, and it is our duty to see that it changes for the good of all who live here.

No country likes interference from outside in its internal affairs. Yet no country can live without some kind of interference from outside. From now onwards your interest in South Africa should be better informed than it was a few weeks ago. And above all, remember this – the greatest service that any person can render to the cause of peace and justice in the world is to ensure that peace and justice prevail in his own country. Justice in the ideal is a powerful thing, but justice in practice is more powerful still, and can influence powerfully all the peoples of the world."

Howard Heiner

2011-04-10T13:12:00.000-04:00

Maybe it’s a circle of life or maybe it is just part of life. I opened an e-mail this morning from the United Methodist Missionary Association sharing of the passing of Howard Heiner.

I am a bit new to these circles in direct ‘missionary’ ways, so don’t know Howard as a colleague like others in the association. However, Howard and his wife Peggy have been part of my journey with this program. During my road trip around the country I stayed at their house in Ashland one night. They know and worked with my parents as well and on the list of people I stayed with journeying around America old church members and missionaries were actually some of my favorite stops. I stayed with the Heiners after I had returned from my discernment weekend, but before I knew I was accepted as a Mission Intern.

It was a lovely visit. I was energized by their story and delighted to know them again as an adult able to hear and learn.

So my prayers are with the Heiners today. They blessed me with some of their faith and experience in this journey I am on. It is a different kind of mourning to me, when the voices that helped me to get to this place are no longer a phone call away.

Prayers for Japan

2011-03-22T13:00:00.002-04:00

Information and updates from fellow colleagues working for the General Board of Global Ministries. The impact of natural and technological disaster are unreal in my mind. And incredible stories in the midst of so much uncertainty and suffering.

http://new.gbgm-umc.org/

http://gbgm-umc.org/global_news/full_article.cfm?articleid=5986

http://gbgm-umc.org/global_news/full_article.cfm?articleid=5987

2011-03-07T23:28:00.002-05:00

This months photos and quote seem very fitting right now as I am at debriefing and training with my Mission Intern cohort in Atlanta. We have had some rough and emotional moments, but something tonight clicked and with all the emotions I was glad they are the people I am surrounded by. And in the midst of it all to hear more about their journey and stories. So Ill start with the quote:

"Return to old watering holes for more than water: friends and dreams are there to meet you." African Proverb

Purgatory

2011-03-05T23:18:00.000-05:00

It seems a good time to blog in my life is waiting for a flight. Purgatory. This is a bit how I viewed our 8 hour lay over in Frankfurt Germany on the way to the US.

You see until the last minute I was sending goodbye messages on my South African sim card. And on the other side I’d be telling my family I landed safely. But in Germany I had no access to communication with any of the worlds, no befores or afters. (I could have I am sure if I had been willing to pay the money.)

Literally all there really was to do was wait. And arriving at 5 am makes for a tiring layover, and I figure if really in purgatory one would have a bit of a headache and having nagging fatigue.

(Please note the use of purgatory is only for illustrative purposes and does not reflect my religious views or any idea of how God and life work.)

And then you wait for a voice to call you and tell you your wait is over, continue the journeying and please make sure to fasten your seat belt. Somewhere watching lots of movies on those little screens come in.

And in some way all the emotions get put on hold, those emotions of see you laters and hellos. I really don’t have a life in Germany, I just happened to be there. The truth is maybe the wait time is necessary and much less of a purgatory. The over 35 hours of travel wasn’t too bad, no bus ride through Zim and Mozambique to Malawi- but just fine.

And now I have already completed the first leg of my US travel and had to say goodbye to my brother and Meridith after a few days hideaway staying in North Carolina. And a little bit of a delay to right this blog. I am headed to Atlanta for debriefing and looking forward to seeing all my friends just back from their placements. Its great to be seeing so many people this month and maybe the leaving will get easier with all the arriving, but for now it just feels like a lot of leaving.

So I guess the plane rides and journeys are needed to regroup and be ready for the next place. Cause the big trick to all of this is being present where you are, which is sometimes hard when you have just left home.

2011-02-05T05:02:00.001-05:00

"A Dream is not a Dream until it is shared by the entire community." -Khoi Proverb

(I made a calendar for family and churches of 2010 photos for this year, so I will post each month as it comes for each of you. And if I ever get the funding I'd send EVERYONE one.)

January 31st: Project Jan complete

2011-01-31T04:02:00.000-05:00

If you have been following closely I may have not always posted everything on time. But now the month is complete, and I promise I didn’t get to half the things I set out writing. I hope this helps tell some everyday stories from here though.

January was a good month. I have had to start dealing with the fact while days aren’t always easy, I love it here. That this is my life and these people and stories have made is possible for me to truly live in South Africa. I listen to traffic reports now and know where all the areas are. While my American accent is still a dead give away, I know the diversity of communities in this area better than a lot of South Africans. So while this is home and I feel strong it, I also have to prepare to take the next steps in my journey.

In less than a month I leave this place I love. Some people are saying its going to be so strange I’ll never see you again. I ask how do they know that, but for people that have never traveled away from the town they are from I understand the concept. Its far and a ticket can be half a years salary. Others look at me and say I know you will be back.

The song Hear I Am Lord has been coming up a lot and the line I have been thinking of is “I will go Lord if you lead me, I will hold your people in my heart.”

Sometimes it is a rough and beautiful thing when you realize how serious all these words are…

Central Methodist Chuch

2011-01-30T15:57:00.001-05:00

Freddy and I went to Central Methodist Church in Johannesburg this morning. WE have all been a few times before, but to the French service because some of our students and colleagues from SHADE from DRC attend there. And it is always nice after getting used to the singing and dancing during church, then going back to more of the white traditions in church to come back to our Congolese friends.

But again on the list I had really wanted to go to the main service. Central is a pretty controversial place, because its extreme welcoming hospitality to refugees and immigrants had put tremendous stress on the resources of the church and general conditions. So different people I work with are in different camps about that. Believe me I have had to talk out protocol many a time in the last few weeks, but also how do we serve as we have been called to.

This Sunday happened to be when all of the youth society stewards were being appointed for the whole circuit. As you will see in the video the Youth wear blue and can be very strong in the leadership of what we would consider youth/young adults. Adults wear red as church uniforms in the Methodist church. (Sorry it’s a bit shaky, other clips have better songs, but I was swaying and dancing too much and don’t want you to get sick…) actually too big to upload now, but soon.

Anyway it was a wonderful service to be part of. And standing there knowing the night before the same sanctuary had been filled with sleeping people that had left their own homes and families. People on a hard journey, just needing a safe place to sleep. It’s not as simple as all that, but as you look around imagine all the people that have been in the sanctuary and for all the purposes.

And there are successes too. The school connected to Central that mainly serves Zimbabwean children, many who risk their lives traveling over borders and struggle everyday to stay in this country, many without the care of their own families, passed their international examines with over a 73% pass rate. (High for most South African school) And a 100% pass rate for subjects like English literature and Divinity. This Albert Street School has been a real inspiration to me while I have been here. I encourage you to keep it and these learners in your prayers.

Cradle of Humankind

2011-01-29T15:36:00.003-05:00

We have lists. Yes lists of things we want to do and people we need to see before we have to leave South Africa. Rachel calls it her bucket list.

The Cradle of Humankind was on both of our lists. My mom and I had actually wanted to go when she was here, but I finally got the hint the last day she was here it was more important just to sit around talking then getting all the sites in.

So we called Lucille, fetched her in Pretoria, and headed out to Maropeng. This is a site where many fossils have been found especially of pre human primates. So I was imagining more outdoor type things etc. And we had heard about a boat ride…

Well there is another cave sight you can go to, but the museum is supposed to be very good so we opted for that. I was quickly reminded of my anthropology classes, the museum of natural history, and a fancy interactive science museum.

The boat ride was through all the four basic elements, but it was dark right before you got something, and I am sure many children come out the other end crying. I may have been a bit frightened a few times, so didn’t get the full appreciation of the development of elements.

What I was most impressed with however, was the social awareness that was evident throughout the museum. The contributions modern humans are making to speed up the next extinction phase. Sort of a where we are from, how we have developed, and the good and bad coming from it. And of course how important bi pedalism is… but also communication etc.

It was a good day for the ladies to be out and thinking…

Amen Sisi

2011-01-28T03:35:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you just connect with people. Some days I just want to be doing more at Bula. I want more projects, but I also want to respect the balance. And sometimes I just need to be there waiting for who drops in.

Some days it is someone who just really needs someone to listen. We have counselors, but sometimes they don’t make it to the appointment. And I have the time to just be patient and listen. I have the luxury of getting back to what I was doing later and listen.

Sometimes everything out of a person’s mouth is what they think I want to hear and a lie. Some days it is important things. On days like today I wish I was certified as a counselor, so I could keep the trust people start building with me often in the reception area. But I have the ability to be straight with people or listen or give little ideas in the role I play.

Some days people come in and see me speaking English and avoid me like a plague. My colleagues are often disappointed in these people and know they could speak English if they wanted to. But the issues people come to Bula Monyako with are personal, so no one needs to be my best friend. I try to give them space and have other people work with them. In other situations I’d want to build more understanding, but I have no judgment for them. They are already judged enough or worrying what their status is.

Sometimes grannies and old men come in. Some that struggle with English or writing, but we communicate beautifully. We connect and I am able to assist them, or they are able to explain something.

Today some cans fell out of food parcels so I went quickly to the two pensioners that had been given parcels to check. I guess I grabbed one of the bags quickly and the man said “ohh do you work for the police.” I said no I don’t. He was playing some but said, “That’s the type of thing they used to do, they could just grab things from you or do anything they want.” I apologized and explained I just wanted him to get everything he was supposed to. I apologized a few more times after that and he said he knew he was just explaining about the police. As we were finishing the conversation I said very sincerely, “Well, Mkhulu I am very glad that this country has changed since then.” And he said, “Amen Sisi (Sister).”

Some days we learn, sometimes we pray. Some days we connect and things move forward. Amen.

Playing the Enemy by John Carlin

2011-01-27T03:24:00.000-05:00

People forget Invictus and read this book. It is the book Invictus is based off of, but goes into all the ways Mandela has to learn about Afrikaaner culture (including Rugby) to win over his jailers and the government. And then after that to unite a nation. Well written and a gem for a peace and conflict resolution kid like me.

Mandela is getting out of Milpark hospital today. The hospital we know well from Emily and Joanne’s stay in July. And I must say Madiba is truly a leader, a father, and an uncle to this country. And I have more than become South African in that respect. I hope the country does not fear what happens to Mandela too much though, he is still a man. And his work will live in this country and with so many people. With people I meet, but they must not be afraid to see this in themselves. You see we all have a bit of our parents in us.

So get well Madiba, but we were listening even if we are afraid sometimes.

End of the intro to Playing with the Enemy by John Carlin

"More than once people remarked that the book I was going to write felt like a fable, or a parable, or a fairy story. It was a funny thing to say for those who had been the real-life protagonists of a blood-and-guts political tale, but it was true. That it was set in Africa and involved a game of rugby was almost incidental. Had it been set in China and the drama built around a water buffalo race, the tale might have been as enduringly exemplary. For it fulfilled the two basic conditions of a successful fairy story: it was a good yarn and it held a lesson for the ages.

Two other thoughts struck me when I took stock of all the material I had accumulated for this book. First, the political genius of Mandela. Stripped to its essentials, politics is about persuading people, winning them over. All politicians are professional seducers. They woo people for a living. And if they are clever and good at what they do, if they have a talent for striking the popular chord, they will prosper, Lincoln had it, Roosevelt had it, Churchill had it, de Gaulle had it, Kennedy had it, Mar¬tin Luther King had it, Reagan had it, Clinton and Blair had it. So did Arafat. And so, for that matter, did Hitler. They all won over their people to their cause. Where Mandela - the anti-Hitler - had an edge over the lot of them, where he was unique, was in the scope of his ambition. Having won over his own people - in itself no mean feat, for they were a disparate bunch, drawn from all manner of creeds, colours, and tribes ¬he then went out and won over the enemy. How he did that - how he won over people who had applauded his imprisonment, who had wanted him dead, who planned to go to war against him - is chiefly what this book is about.
The second thought I caught myself having was that, beyond a history, beyond even a fairy tale, this might also turn out to be an unwitting addition to the vast canon of self-help books offering people models for how to prosper in their daily lives. Mandela mastered, more than anyone else alive (and, quite possibly, dead), the art of making friends and influencing people. No matter whether they started out on the extreme left or the extreme right, whether they initially feared, hated, or admired Mandela, everyone I interviewed had come to feel renewed and improved by his example. All of them, in talking about him, seemed to shine. This book seeks, humbly, to reflect a little of Mandela's light."

The Price of Avocados

2011-01-26T12:04:00.000-05:00

When I was visiting my friend Katie last April in Malawi, we had lots of avocados and friends of hers sent me back with some that I carried on the 40 hours bus ride home. And then we ate guacamole. After this I decided I needed to stop being cheap and enjoy avocados. This took a bit of time but by the time we moved into joburg and had street markets to get more avocados. The way I saw it 3 rand was much better than $3 in the US. (3 rand is about 40 cents USD)

Then they started going out of season – but I got to accept that 5 or 6 rand would be okay everyone once in a while. And I began to say what am I going to do without avos.

Well today as few vendors still sell them, I saw them in the store. They looked about, but this out of season thing I try to take seriously and I walked right by the beautiful green with little heartache.

I don’t miss my avocados as much and I was worried about. And I must remember the blessings of living places where you eat what is in season, instead of what’s been shipped across the world to be in season.

I really believe there is a lot to be said environmentally and culinary creatively to be said for eating in season. So maybe it’s the price of avocados… but I’m enjoying new things and will have to go back to avocados as a special treat.

2011-01-25T11:29:00.000-05:00

"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." -Nelson Mandela quoting Marianne Williamson

i believe in dancing

2011-01-24T00:22:00.000-05:00

MIs and US-2's will recognize this from training. I had hopes to do some edits and add some things, but then it just sits in my journal. So why not publish rough drafts. So its not writing, as writing is the art of rewriting what has already been rewritten. But my friends, if you read this you know the blog is far from that. more getting ideas out, and running off for the day. But here goes, an idea:

i believe in dancing

i believe the spirit dances weaving all together

i believe light can dance upon darkness

i believe we can stomp or sway in the struggle

i believe we never dance alone

i believe in the harmony uniting the different movements of the dance

i believe we turn and forget to feel the truth in others dances

i believe dancing can be painful and ache

i believe our laughter is joy dancing

i believe our dancing can be quite or loud

i believe God already knows our steps and takes delight

i believe our dance can change and can transform

i believe in dancing

A big pot of pea soup

2011-01-23T00:17:00.000-05:00

I am sick today. So I stayed in bed and was told not to think. And that is what I did. I stopped and despite wanting to be better, I just was. Despite my list of joburg things yet to do and the Sunday's slipping out from under me. I stayed at home and watched a movie and made pea soup. And other than being sick, I was a much more delightful person for it. And I thought of my pop pops who used to make pea soup, and despite years and miles and ages - we are all connected through a big pot of pea soup. Even that part on the bottom that burns a bit but tastes so good.

So I was sick, but I was doing just fine.

(The next day being sent home from work, and then having to stay home, weren't as fun. There comes a point when you are ready to be useful again.)

But there was a big pot of pea soup and light dancing in my room.

The Christmas Present

2011-01-22T00:14:00.000-05:00

Some of you know my love for Mama Judy’s. And I use her name, but it’s for the whole family and the place. In a strange way it’s our little homestead.

We brought Prince and Priscilla back and enjoyed a giant pot of samp and beans on the concrete outside the house, and our family mat. We were celebrating Mama Judy and Papa Gs birthdays. Then the ice cream and cake a cards to follow. It is amazing how hard it is for children to eat a whole bowl of food, but a whole bowl of ice cream or two is nothing.

The kids and Rachel and Freddy went to play jump rope, but my sore throat was getting worse. So Mama Judy and I like we were 16 lay on Prince’s bed and just talked. There is something about talking to her that makes it all a bit easier to understand. Complaining doesn’t really exist. Things just are the way they are, but we learn what strength is as we talk. The hopes and dreams peak through, but most of that joy and pride gets transferred to the children. And even when there is no money and things seem like pipe dreams, there are still possibilities and plans.

A few short weeks before we were celebrating Christmas there. Mama Judy showing my mom and Sarah how to make pap. The giant game of keep away that landed me in the pool (okay I jumped). A table full of people, who all got up to dance after dinner. Silly jokes and swimming in a pool in the dark. Mom giving Freddy swimming lessons and Judy and I dancing on a ledge in the pool. Papa G’s jokes.

And in our American tradition, presents. The kids got books it seems from everyone and art supplies. I thought we would overwhelm them. But for all of Christmas I was waiting for one gift. I had decided in all these conversations with Mama Judy, where little plans and dreams came in what this gift would be. I had talked to Rachel and Jen and they agreed.

Mom ad Rach played it off well, and the last big box went to Mama Judy. I was already excited and at peace and where I was supposed to be. But my excitement was with her. And she slowly opened it until she knew what it was, then in less than ten minutes it was up in running. Robert Papa G’s brother that sews for a living was there and the lessons were already started. Oh course Freddy went over the safety lesson first. And she remembers all the little tips everyone gives her, like my moms on the iron being sewing’s best friend.

She calls it our sewing machine and teaches herself a bit everyday. I don’t know if there was anything I would be so excited about, and she teaches herself so that she can have a future to provide for her family in another way. We are very proud of the new pillow cases and she has put ties on my piece of fabric to make it a skirt. (Papa G's instructions during the process were priceless, and I shall remember every stitch with pride.) But she provides for all of us with a joy in the diligence. So we all learn together on “our” sewing machine.

And that my friends is my best friend Mama Judy and our best tangible Christmas present. Always so much to be thankful for at the ‘homestead’.

THE Sleepover

2011-01-21T12:13:00.000-05:00

Prince and I come up with ideas and plans and for the most part they work out. Like for Christmas we decided we had to all play soccer a few weeks in advance. (We celebrated with Mama Judy’s family on the 26th, and there was so much soccer I even ended up diving into a pool fully clothed for the ball. I also love to see Prince and Priscilla laugh).

So our latest scheme was a sleepover all the way in the tall flat in Jo burg. Prince is seven and I am pretty sure this was his first sleepover. Convincing Mama Judy and Papa G was not a challenge as they trust us and these kids are very grown up. So off we headed after work and driving to Walkerville to fetch our young brother and sister. And a song filled ride back with the obligatory are we there yets, and the kids set out to play.

We made home made pizzas, danced, ate grapes, and watched Finding Nemo. I read parts of The Little Prince, and Prince and Priscilla read Dr. Seuss for Rachel and my bedtime story. Then woke up as young children do early enough for early morning cartoons (so Hannah and Rachel didn’t have to jump to it too quickly). Then more fun in the kitchen with homemade pancakes and a cake to bring with us for their parents.

During this time I may or may not have been starting to get sick, which is the other explanation for the tardiness in blogs. However, as we got deeper into the Little Prince’s story, I would ask should I keep going and Prince would look at me and say, no you need to go and sleep or rest for a little bit. But we always continued with another chapter anyway.

Heading Home

2011-01-20T00:08:00.000-05:00

So after all this moving, Rachel picks me up and we head on home.

They are doing major road work on the main route back to the city. I have been telling you about the sunflowers too. So some of this road work is taking over the sunflowers. And I was about to kick myself because I didn’t have my camera with me, to photograph the juxtaposition of the concrete and work equipment to these pesky sunflowers. As we are driving the earth is being scooped up heading toward the line of sunflowers.

Then just a bit further down the road we hit almost standstill traffic. We aren’t even halfway home and are planning to go serve soup on the streets that night with an organization Rachel had volunteered with a few times. (Our commute home is generally at least 45 minutes)

And we see another patch of sunflowers and start joking about going to grab some. Rachel is in the middle lane at this point but we are moving pretty slowly. We miss that group of sunflowers, but soon cross a bridge and come to a few more. Rachel has a chance to get in the other lane and there are some up ahead, so I jump out when the car isn’t quite stopped. But catch my footing and start running for a nice one (as traffic is moving faster than the standstill now). Luckily the flower is against a stomp so I brake it pretty easily, then start running trying to grab one or two more on the way, with only a raw hand to show for it. (We didn’t have a knife in the car or anything to assist with the tough stems.)

Rachel is a bit father up, so I continue my run noticing a group of guys in the back of a truck obviously thinking this girl running down the side of a highway holding up a sunflower was a bit funny. Rachel found some space to stop and I jumped in. Turns out Rachel decided she could stop because the guys behind us were laughing their heads off.

And thus our new little friend brightens up the flat and will not be taken by any heaving machinery. Not that we saved it, as I tour it out, but it does really brighten our day and it entertained a lot of people heading home on the N12 west.

Cheers,
Hannah

Moving Day

2011-01-19T00:06:00.000-05:00

We made pretty good time to work, so I was a bit early. Soon after I was called because a young white man was looking for some clothes. I am often the one they call to deal with the homeless guys that come in, and often the white people as the only white staff person. Then again I can’t speak other South African languages fluently so there are a few clients I can’t assist, thought most speak English.

This guy was very gracious with the clothes assistance we could give and hoping to get into rehab. I spent a few minutes talking to him, because he was open and seemed pretty lonely.

Then I get back into the office to find everyone else there has mobilized and moving is in full force. So I jump in as well. We have been moving our office from the old building that was part of the old church manse (parsonage) into a new building on the other side of the church. I made the mistake of having heals on the first day our manager decided to take some things over.

Imagine a bunch of people carrying all sorts of office things on their own or in trips with two shopping carts. It was back and forth all day long and lots of questions of where everything goes. This may be South African of me, but I finally got a tea break, that I had missed the chance for before we started the moving.

We had a lot to do so didn’t want to take too many break. Finally when people took a chance for lunch, I just laid down under someone’s desk. They were buying food or getting food ready, and a bit applaud when I joined them and just ate my soup cold. I appreciated a few moments of being lazy.

I didn’t mind so much the weight of things, and it is always funny doing trips with shopping carts and the humors I work with. But I found a problem in the edges of things being so small that they put too much pressure in one spot of my hand.

And then what do you do when you have to pass the church moving stuff while a funeral is going on? I had serious dilemmas about this, but we tried to time things appropriately. As all the furniture was already outside. The guy from the funeral home stopped us at one point and said, “Pick ‘n Pay (one of the major grocery chains here) called me and wants their cart back.” Took me a second to realize he was making fun of us.

And somehow by our own manpower and “job creation” as everyone joked, we managed to move our offices ourselves. Which is the second organization I have now helped move offices since I have been here. But major difference in distance (one the same block, the other across the country.) But hopefully we will get all set up and more space will help everyone be able to have the resources to accomplish all we are trying to. Though I feel like everyone did a very good job of having to work onto of each other before, so we’ll see how all adjust.

(Day continued in next blog)

Walls and Constitution Hill

2011-01-17T23:52:00.000-05:00

"They told you your life was over beyond this gate" -Nolundi Ntamo
Entrance to the woman's prison at Constitution Hill. Former site of prison within Johannesburg leading up to and during Apartheid. Now home to NGO's and the Constitutional court.

Walls change us and our freedoms at times. And walls and jails can be said to break people. These walls tell stories that could have broken so many. But there are ideas greater than walls, so behind these walls great leaders slept. Some broken and some changed, but ready to work for freedom. I don't know how, but even behind these gates and walls, all life was not lost. And the very same walls are now used to uphold the human rights that weren't even considered within the very same bricks before.

"The city was a dangerous place if you were black. Women going about their business shopping or trying to make a living selling fruit or other food were vulnerable to arbitrary arrest. They were randomly accosted by the police, herded into kwela-kwela bans or marched on foot to this jail for transgressing petty apartheid laws. With babies on their backs, shopping bags in their hands and dreams in their hearts, their daily lives were regularly disrupted." -Constitution Hill

'My Grandmother taught us to say goodbye every time we left because we never knew if we would come back or not. We used to say, "If you don't see me, check for me at Number Four." -Nolundi Ntamo, pass offender, 1980 and then repeatedly

scattered thoughts on MLK Day and love

2011-01-17T04:38:00.003-05:00

I am not always full of school spirit. Maybe it is that it is easier for me to relate to people and be proud of ideas than institutions. It’s a funny thing as I was my Jr, and Sr, Class President in High School and I ran for student government in college.

But last week I got an e-mail about a group of protesters from Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) coming to DC to protest at the Kennedy Centre, the Islamic Centre and American University. And this is where I got defensive for my school, for the staff I know there or crossed paths with, and the students I studied with or are studying since. I got defensive for everyone and wanted to go and say no one should interrupt the important work you are doing, no one should disrespect you, especially in the name of God.

Today in MLK Day. Harder to remember this in South Africa, but still an important day and an important leader globally. I think of the leaders here that died, but also the ones that didn’t and brought South Africa forward. What if MLK hadn’t died so young where would his ministry have taken the United States if it continued? How do we continue it?

And so I remember messages of love and how do we use them with the epic strength there can be in love…

Protesters came to American University to use wrath and judgment in the name of God. I personally have some pretty large issues with people who take the name of God to discriminate and question and harm. American University is a place full of faith and where faith is questions. Personally it is a stop on my faith journey if you want to travel back on the map. There are many types of faith present and radically different beliefs. I think the largest attack at AU was towards the entire community towards acceptance of different types of sexuality. We have a very strong GBLTA community at AU and an even stronger social justice community. And it is not a bubble where no one faces problems, acceptance and truly seeing another person is not cakewalk. But it is a step closer to walking towards a just place. It is on the path to understanding what love is and how to love our neighbor.

So yes I got defensive, because it was an attack on people and a community I am part of. A community that I stand with and I defend, because all people need a safe place and too many people just asking to be themselves especially in the GBLT community face hate or violence. I have many other blogs to write on the perspectives I have seen from Africa. And truthfully sometimes on my blog I am not as vocal as I could be. The situations I have faced here require face-to-face conversations, and do not always produce understanding, but many misunderstandings can come from my spouting.

Truthfully I know everyone at AU is an adult, but it still felt like adults coming to interrupt school and a place of learning. Though I think everyone at AU stepped forward to take a bigger lesson than a class can offer. (This is maybe a frequent occurrence in some ways at AU; the learning is definitely not all in the classroom.)

The entire community worked hard to respond through love. The United Methodist theme for the week was Oscar Romero’s words “Let us never tire of preaching love… love must win out; it is the only thing that can.”

For more information on all the ways the campus responded visit http://www.aumethodists.org/wbc/ “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” – MLK. And they stood together to spread love instead.

Let us never tire. I will work on my defensiveness that has more turned into pride. I will continue to hope the WBC people can see and really see the people around them, or some face-to-face conversation will plant more seeds on understanding. I will wear my Oscar Romero bag this week and remember this power of love (and try to explain who Oscar Romero is to the stares I get at the bag.)

Let us love. When it is an injustice far away and when it is one that targets us and comes knocking at our doors. And let us make sure no one has to stand alone in the face of hatred, love should not have to be a lonely place.

Happy MLK day, let love direct our actions. Let love be the ‘force that will overcome the world.’

Besides, “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.

With love,
Hannah

Water

2011-01-16T04:05:00.000-05:00

And hear I am complaining or noting the weather. It this time of year that the earthquake hit Haiti last year and it shook us here. By us I mean Jen and Rachel and I. We had just moved to Drumblade from Cape Town and out in the country with no good internet access, hearing bits of news was devastating. I just kept thinking why such places of poverty, yes its natural disasters but also political and human disasters when you look at the differences that people go through in natural disasters.

Maybe it was because I have lived in Cuba and feel connected to the region and was in a new place feeling unconnected. Or maybe it just felt like every time I turned there was another disaster somewhere. Then when you know people where the disaster is it brings it home again. So at this time I have two strong things to share.

One is a remembrance of Sam Dixon and Clint Rabb from UMCOR and GBGM, all those in Haiti, all those affected by Cholera and all the other places that faced earthquakes last year.

And at this time it is for all the rain and flooding. For Australia, Brazil, parts of this country (South Africa). For all the people being displaced by flooding.

I think of how much rain is so important in all of our lives. At the centre I focused on water for the devotions and in our Nutrition and Hygiene class one week while I was teaching. I used a water study for groups written by Beth Norcross for some guidance. But we looked at all the major passages on water in the bible. We went through each and decided when was water life giving and used in a positive way for people, when it was used for the earth, and when was water destructive. It was one of my favorite devotions in fact and I am brought back to it now.

The truth is I live on the 7th story right now and in my head I can’t quite comprehend flooding here. I can’t comprehend it at my parent’s houses; yes water damage, but not evacuating where I live. I have thought about it many times, living on Islands, doing work in New Orleans, and thinking about water levels rising internationally and coastal areas and Island nations. But I can’t comprehend the feeling.

I sort of feel the way that saying goes about hunger. If only the places that needed water could get some and the places with too much had less.

Once upon a Christmas Eve… (part 2)

2011-01-15T03:35:00.001-05:00

(Continued, see see part one first on the day before.)

Now I have been talking a bit about walls and here is where I faced mine for Christmas Eve. There is nothing quite like being locked outside the church on Christmas Eve. The church is in downtown Benoni and it was after 8pm at night so we take safety pretty seriously. I had jumped up to get Joyce on autopilot and hadn’t told the guard or anyone I’d be right back.

We left Freddy with the car and tried to go check the other gates. Then I started phoning my mother hearing the hymns playing hoping she would see and could get help. I was tempted to call the pastor, but he was almost at his preaching. Mom had begun to get worried in this time, mothers just sense things. So I finally directed her out the door of the church and talked to her through the gate, trying to explain to her who could help, though she had never met anyone. One of the stewards finally came not realizing the gate was locked and tried to help then went back again for more help.

And in we finally walk during the middle of the sermon on not being caught up on running around but making time for the baby Jesus. I walk right to our seat and we almost made a pewful. The rest of the service and one last song were nice. I was just happy everyone that was there had got there. And that my friend could share in Christmas not loneliness. The truth was all of us had had the potential to be lonely, but mom had come all the way from the US, and Freddy had joined us, and we had had the time to bring Lynn as well and all was as it should be.

Except that I was not supposed to be running around on the chance of missing the baby. But see the way I see it we were just running around so more people could see and share and I think Jesus understood. Hilton, the pastor, did at least.

So amidst all the running around, I was finding peace in my own way, especially aided by my mother who instead of saying Hannah too much, helped all the pieces fit.

We dropped Joyce back off, and it was very special for me to see her for Christmas and headed back to Rachel and Sarah. We were a merry band in Lynn’s hotel room talking about many numbers of things. But alas we had to love and leave.

Though I miscalculated time for goodbyes and such and we had to get 20-30 minutes past where we lived to get to Trinity the church Rachel and I worship at for a communion 11:30 service. It was lovely to spend the time with Lynn as we had been at the same church it all seemed fitting. (The next day mom and I went by the hospital to see her and her Dad and skyped with her family that was gathered waiting for her in London.) We also had great news I forgot to mention that the problems we were worried about with her Dad were misread so he was closer on his way to going home. Quite a Christmas Eve blessing.

So again almost as if Rudolph was guiding us, though more it was the lightening. We were never where the rain was falling that evening, but every time we went outside the energy of lightening came forth. Not quite the magic of snow falling on Christmas Eve, but still definitely something there.

And somehow we made it to Trinity at 11:30pm exactly and walked in right as Rev. Ike started welcoming everyone. And I sat down and opened myself for Christmas. They did a litany for all of the advent candles. Soon I noticed tears running down my eyes for the peace candle. I always think of the Prince of Peace and peace to the world around Christmas. Of the soldiers that met in the trenches for Christmas, but somehow peace struck a deeper cord this year. Somehow I felt the violence and what it does to people’s hearts much more and yearned for the beauty of true struggles for peace. And surrounded by people I loved and with the possibilities for peace in my heart I let the tears fall, until I took communion.

After the service that sense of magic that I couldn’t quite reach last year had come. And the band of tired hope filled travelers made our way back into the quite downtown of the city, over the Mandela Bridge and up to the 7th story flat. And sat in candlelight and talked until it was finally time to sleep to be able to wake up for Christmas morning.

Every part of the evening, I was right where I was supposed to be...

Once upon a Christmas Eve… (part 1)

2011-01-14T03:24:00.000-05:00

Come back in time with me and I’ll tell you a story about a Christmas Eve in South Africa. My lovely mother came to spend three week in South Africa for Christmas, after the two of us were apart for over a year.

More on our adventures during the rest of the trip later... But then there was Christmas Eve. I particularly like Christmas Eve. It’s something about the anticipation, but finding peace in a kind of magic at the same time. Slowly down is not something I am always good at, but I have gotten better in the last year.

Well the plans for Christmas Eve began to get more involved. Sarah, Rachel’s best friend was coming in at 5:30pm to the airport. Freddy had gotten off work in time. Mom had helped curl my hair, a tradition at home when I was running late so I could finish whatever else I was doing. And off we hopped in the car with Rachel driving and down the highway we sped (but not over the speed limit).

Until we reached the worse traffic jam I have ever seen on the M2 going east out of Joburg. I forgot to mention I was in the back seat sewing the last stocking to be hung on our TV chimney. And somehow everyone kept calm enough to make it through what turned out to be a traffic stop, hoping Sarah was not worried waiting.

We dropped Rachel to run in and zoomed to our friendly neighborhood car rental place where we park for free (this has saved us hundreds of rands while in SA, with visitors and car issues etc.). I did my quick hellos and explanations while running for the terminal. I sent mom to buy airtime in a system she doesn’t know, and Freddy and I raced upstairs to the food court to get the Christmas Eve feast. (Nando’s chicken and fish and chips.)

We arrived at the meeting place just after Sarah and Rachel had finished hugging and I may have been a bit embarrassing shouting a welcome from across the atrium, but we were a happy band. So then I raced ahead to retrieve the car and give my Christmas wishes to the car rental folks.

And off we headed to Lynn’s hotel. Yes, my friend Colleens mother and grandfather were both unexpectedly in South Africa for Christmas due to some health problems the grandfather faced in the beginning of December while on our traveling tour. We were still a bit worried as Christmas approached with his health and Lynn changed her flight to be with him longer.

I was very lucky to manage the figure out the directions their in the dark coming from a different side, but we got there quickly- just turns out I went to the wrong room, because sometimes I get numbers a bit backwards. But Lynn greeted us and we had our standing 15 minutes Christmas Eve dinner. Then left Sarah to freshen up and catch up with Rachel, while the other four of us headed to Benoni to the church I serve at for a Christmas Eve service there.

Mom and I were discussion turning off phones, when I had to dig through my bag and find mine. That was when I noticed I had a text message from my friend Joyce at work, who I thought had left the weekend before to go back home to Zimbabwe to be with her family. To this I immediately called her and asked her where she was. She said home (she lives very close to the church, while I live a 45 minute drive). More quick planning, which luckily my mother is very good at understanding and assisting with. So I told her to be ready and I was on the way to pick her up. My mom of course sent Freddy so I wouldn’t drive alone and she and Lynn would stay because I especially wanted Lynn to get a whole Christmas Eve service.

So we jumped out of the pews in good spirits. It wasn’t a second thought that my friend couldn’t be alone and needed to be with us at the service. So we jetted to her street and waited in the car for her. Headed back to the church and the gate was locked with no one in sight….

A poem, from the restaurant menu magazine

2011-01-13T03:21:00.001-05:00

Money for Candles

2011-01-12T00:23:00.000-05:00

Today, during work group of us from work went to pay respects on behalf of the whole office for the passing of a former employees grandfather. The Mkhulu (here grandfather) had often visited at work.

We went dressed in skirts and long enough sleeves. We brought songs and someone to read from the bible. And we brought money for candles.

I have been on one other occasion to go pay respects and that was for my bosses mother in law passing. Both times we took up a collection for money for candles. No matter how hard people are doing financially, they come up with something to give for money for candles. We go to the family and wait till other visitors are away from the family members grieving and then generally enter the bedroom filled with chairs. It is often the elders we pay respects to and sing for, and then a guy from work who hope to one day be a pastor shares a message. We sing some more (my colleagues think I know the songs because I sing along whether I know or understand or not). And then the family often shares something (again very hard for me to understand because it is in another language and I don’t know them well. It is easier for my to understand what my co-workers say even if I don’t know the words, because I know their clues).

And then we each greet the family as we leave the room, to move to another room for tea and cakes.

I love the way we collect money for candles it just sounded so nice, so I asked what it meant. And one of my co-workers looked and me and said, “Hannah, we don’t know.” More saying it is tradition so we don’t worry about it.

When we got back I asked Mr. Brown, our Mkhulu, at the office. He explained before the body came to the house before burial, and white sheet would be spread out and candles would be lit at the two corners. And candles would stay lit at these corners until the funeral was over. So no matter how much money you had you brought something to help with the candles.

The tradition has changed a bit and generally people just do that now for right as the body is brought to the house. But thinking on it there has been a candle in the room both times I have gone to pay respect. Mr. Brown says now it's more to help with tea or cakes for visitors, or just tea if people are poorer. But it is always some sort of collection of money.

Mr. Brown also says it is the only place he takes tea with sugar or cakes. He is diabetic, but in those situations he takes things as the family offers them. I am very humbled in these situations and the level on which you connect with people. For a week or more sometimes people just mourn and receive visitors.

So we always bring money for candles.

How to get your Macaw to head home with you after a day of work

2011-01-11T10:15:00.000-05:00

Just keep calling it and it will eventually climb down the tree and jump on the truck.

Excited Cook

2011-01-10T12:12:00.000-05:00

A few nights ago, Rachel and I were looking in the house for something to cook. We found the bag of black beans my mom had brought for me. Of course I hadn’t had time to soak them overnight, but somehow we decided to head forth on the course.

So I did what I could and then as I started cooking them, I decided to make morros y christianos. That way the beans would have some time to cook with the rice and other ingredients. And I could share a bit of “my” Cuban culture.

Well it didn’t turn out perfectly, definitely edible, but as I wanted to share something I wanted people to have the chance to love it as much as I do. So I started making excuses and warning people before they ate it. Just so they wouldn’t be disappointed. And maybe a bit so they would tell me I was wrong and it tasted good.

Well we had leftovers and a different friend over, so he also got my preface to eating it. And then we discussed why I needed to stop doing that.

When someone is giving a speech we always tell them to be confident and not preface with problems or fears. People will have more confidence in listening.

One of my best friends here, Lucille, cooks with that kind of joy and confidence. So this week, the lesson I decided I needed to take is from her. Lucy will look at the ingredients we have and decide on something that sounds a bit crazy sometimes. Often using tuna in ways I would never think of and at the time aren’t the most appealing. But knowing and cooking with someone over a year, when she starts getting excited about a new creation we all do. She’ll talk about how great it will be and then if she tastes it its pure joy. She’ll say its turning out so well. And then while we are eating she will enjoy it so much, that everyone talks about how good it is.

She doesn’t have to wait for other people’s reactions or being told she did well. No not Lucille, she starts enjoying it before we even get to that, and we enjoy it so much more because of that. And we have come up with some great combinations.

This week I decided, instead of worrying about the food or putting it down, get excited about it. It is going to taste incredible!

Will you use the faith you've found to reshape the world around, through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

2011-01-09T16:35:00.000-05:00

Probably the most important evening and maybe the only one that truly felt like Christmas last year, was doing a hymn sing with Jen's Hymnal.

This year a few weeks before Christmas I was leading a service and was looking through the Faith We Sing (as that is all I have now that Jen and I are in different cities). I was with some friends so we were going through different songs everyone knew, and then I came across the Summons.

So while my mom was here right after Christmas we were signing again one night and of course I kept coming back to the Summons. I really love the tune as well and I think that helps.

I also think its really powerful that every verse ends "in you and you in me" This kind of relationship seems fitting for my understanding, for journeying together and growing. They are not easy questions, though the tune can kind of lull you, but amidst the power of the question is a peace.

The Summons

Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer prayer in you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see if I but call your name?
Will you set the prisoners free and never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean and do such as this unseen,
and admit to what I mean in you and you in me?

Will you love the "you" you hide if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found to reshape the world around,
through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

Lord your summons echoes true when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.
In Your company I'll go where Your love and footsteps show.
Thus I'll move and live and grow in you and you in me.

And maybe I also struggle with some of this. "and admit to what I mean in you and you in me?"

But again I think its incredible to ask this invitation of growing in God and God growing in us. Its about answering and changing ourselves and what we portray to the world. But also letting ourselves be cared for, being open for the good and the challenging. its radical stuff, radical lyrical stuff.

Will you love the "you" you hide, if I but call you name?

the great South AFrican Outdoors

2011-01-08T06:11:00.002-05:00

some of the panorama's I was taking on vacation with my mom in December, that facebook told me I was not allowed to post. ohh silly size restrictions.

i dont like restrictions. anyway, truly lovely places.

unexpected places for real ideas and news

2011-01-07T04:56:00.000-05:00

I am very impressed by the way some news is shared in South Africa.

For instance

In the mornings driving to work you hear about the pop stars etc, but the commentary is also on real news with a real interest in it. One day an economist explaining what the strength of the rand means with the intelligence of a true economist, but humor to keep it interesting and accessable. Its not perfect, but the combination of music, fluff, commentary and news impresses me,

In another instance

One of my co-workers had the magazine from a major discount clothing store here. Kind of like an edgy more clothes focused target. So I was expecting the whole magazine to be a catalog of the clothes and discounts etc...

To my surprise less than a quarter was directly advertising their products. There were sections on how to compare prices grocery shopping and tips on savings programs. In another one an explanation of different types of life insurance. Honest pieces on the new information law out lining medias concerns on censorship power of the government or on the new child protection laws here.

I actually learned quite a bit from this catalog, including new healthy recipes. And the crossword puzzles over lunch with my co-workers don't hurt.

There is something refreshing about selling products, but also sharing ideas in a forum that reaches a good portion of the population.

works for me,
H

Matric Results 2010

2011-01-06T06:24:00.004-05:00

Imagine waiting for your final passing results of lets say your standardized tests, AP exams and final class grades at the same time, as a high school senior. And imagine awaiting these two days before you are leaving for college.

Yes my friends this week matriculants (like the graduating class) are getting there results and finding out whether they passed or not. Imagine being a school, a teacher, a parent, a sibiling... the entire country is talking aobut the Matric results right now. And I do not think we appreciated the intensity of it all like this in the US.

On the radio this morning they announced how many schools got a 100% pass rate in Gauteng, the province we live in. (Fact: Gauteng, means place of Gold in Sotho. Which is fitting as it gained it wealth and populance for the Gold mining.)

But they also talked with feeling for the Matriculants and about how they are the future of things in this country. I think it is also a big deal because college is not always as common nationwide. And the stress of these tests is something that is not forgotten the whole year through. Many are concerned now for the stress and teenagers commiting suicide. Its a scary reality, and makes me worried about how this pressure affects everyone.

Yesterday morning when we stopped for petrol, we got this handed a Citizen Newspaper and this was the photo on the front cover. With a headline aobut the joy of passing, but that only 6 out of 10 Matriculants will find jobs.

Jack Coulter, Jordan Vasani and Andy Petersen from St. John's College jump high up after receiving their results yesterday.

18 schools did not have a single pupil pass their matric exams. And this was the same case for the same schools in 2009. I know it happens, but that fact devisates me. And it devistates me that the discrepancies in education are so vast. here and in many other countries.

There are definately increases in the results this year. 2010 was a hard year for students in South Africa with a long break for the World Cup and a month later a three week long teachers strike. (Mind you there is a lot of private education in South Africa where students and teachers did not feel the same affects.)

The civil servant strike is also something I have wanted to blog more about. I am happy for unions to strike and for people to get a voice. It just gets so much more complicated when it is nurses and teachers providing necessary services and having such an important role. Also the scare tactics to keep collegues away was sad. But the singing going down our street during the strike was awesome.

Anyway despite all this, Matriculants still passed. And on this day I only hope more solutions are foudn to the education system here and everywhere. And for the furture of these people whether they passed or not, as they emerge beyond high school.

Congratualtions Matriculants!

Enjoy the next step,
Hannah

Okay the Time of the Sunflower and Rain

2011-01-04T23:00:00.000-05:00

You see it is without a doubt also the rainy season. We experienced this last year moving from Cape Town to Joburg. In fact the day we left Cape Town felt like the hottest day of summer and then we got to a cold rainy Josie. And for the most part we see the sun everyday, but yesterday was so dark and gray.

In August and September I was getting so anxious because it was 6 months without rain. The dryness wasn’t so bad, and it would have been miserably cold and wet. But I missed the energy in the air.

And people told me then not to complain, because what would I say in rainy season. Last year was particularly wet. But it sounds like it used to be hotter in the time here. Everyday we seem to get some sun and on sunny days it warms up and is very nice. On New Years Eve we watched fireworks in the lulls of rain.

Ohh yes these rains aren’t like warm summer rains at home, they are cold. And with the rains work gets much slower, because clients have to move through the rain to get to us.

We have had rain for a few months but generally related to epic thunder and lightening storms. Talk about energy then.

On Christmas Eve it wasn’t a light dusting of snow that gave magic to the night… No for hours and going to all our church services, there was always far off lightening. I didn’t see much rain, but the energy of the lightening was so present.

So these strong “sun”flowers on the side of the road stand up to the heavy rains, and somehow ‘sun’ and ‘rain’ fit together. For now. And a cup of tea under the blanket on a cool Jan evening doesn’t feel too different from Arlington.

It may be strange I write about the weather, but nowhere else have a spent a year full of seasons, but now Josie and I have been through it together.

the time of the sunflowers

2011-01-03T23:46:00.001-05:00

I think this year I have had more time to get to know a place. Living and growing up other places before I think something I miss, or others things are such a part of our seasons we know to wait for them.

In South Africa though, I either take better note, or am not used to it so little things stand out even on busy days. One thing is the flowers on the side of the road. Right now its particularly the highway.

Last March(after the rainy Ireland misty morning look) we got into the time of the pink and white flowers that are photoed on this blog from around that time. Or when the jacaranda trees came out and those glimpses of purple would make me stop what I was saying and just look.

But the last three days, I've noticed the sunflowers. I've seen them here before, but now almost as if they are trying to drive down the highway they are right at the edge looking one way or another. And it was totally unexpected that there would be sunflowers there for me. its like little surprises that are little gifts to make the world a little more thoughtful. In the grime and deep rains- there are sunflowers.

So we have reached the time of the sunflowers. not too big, not to small, but friendly and bright.

Walls

2011-01-03T14:14:00.004-05:00

Think on this for a bit, Ill write more on walls tomorrow. Lars (my brother) found this before Christmas a year ago from an Apartheid area Christmas card. The applications go far beyond that to many places. As my mom and I toured South Africa during her recent trip she kept reminding me and others of this card.

And at church yesterday as we thought about the wise men, this is what came to my mind. We have so many walls in this world...

Tree for a moment

2011-01-02T10:15:00.001-05:00

The tree on the border of beautiful afternoon sun and intense gray fog. Near "God's Window" Graskop, Mpumalanga, South Africa

May be more trees to come I really like them. But this one really stood out to me, and when the fog sent us back the way we came, we passed the tree again and it looked completely different.

Plan Jan

2011-01-01T05:45:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year!

Okay, this is my plan for the month: to post something on the blog everyday in January. Currently my internet isn’t working, but yes to post something for everyday. I have so many stories in my head and so much to share, but often the time to write my reflections is hard. But on the days where its not just reflections, I also plan to share photos.

So this is your free pass to give me a hard time if you don’t see something for everyday in January 2011. I shall try.

I was talking with Rachel and at different points shop keepers or sales persons right before the New Year. Rachel and I were saying 2010 was such a big year for South Africa, the whole nation was looking forward to the World Cup (well except those that holidayed away from South Africa to avoid it, and a few others). But some of the store clerks were just tired and ready for a new year.

Somewhere I fit into to all this. 2010 was a big year for me, the bumps and bruises healing and maybe a few small scars to carry forward. And definitely many new twinkles in my eye from all the joy and laughter. Mainly, lessons that will continue to carry me through to be stronger and thoughtful in different ways.

So as I should be looking forward its with some hesitancy I step, I like where I am today. And in a few months, knowing I could so much more in South Africa, I start the next big leg of the journey. I have no idea where I will be serving in the United States, so I dread goodbyes here, but I know soon my journey will take a big turn and I will be excited with energy and passion for it.

So peace to you all. Peace upon all you look forward to and all the unknown and unexpected joys and growing pains. Right now I am not anxious, I just want to be. I want to live everyday right where I am. But today I am calm, I am at peace.

Some days I know I will be more excited, but today I am happy as I just am…

May we all continue to journey together with peace in our hearts and actions and with strength in justice to create that.

Blessings to you,
Hannah

World AIDS Day 2010

2010-12-01T14:25:00.000-05:00

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

Working in a VCT Clinic

2010-11-13T01:34:00.004-05:00

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

Siyabonga

2010-10-20T15:24:00.000-04:00

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)

Journeys in Photographs

2010-10-14T10:29:00.000-04:00

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

Heritage Day

2010-10-14T10:07:00.003-04:00

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.

Transitions: The Update

2010-10-14T09:43:00.003-04:00

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

A Sabbath from my Head

2010-08-25T11:17:00.002-04:00

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…

Church in the ICU

2010-07-25T06:53:00.000-04:00

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.

Painted Faces/ Clowning around

2010-07-21T06:51:00.000-04:00

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.

Three Weeks at Milpark Hospital

2010-07-14T06:49:00.000-04:00

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.

World Cup!

2010-07-11T10:42:00.001-04:00

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

Winter

2010-07-01T05:21:00.002-04:00

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

2010-06-09T15:48:00.003-04:00

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.

World Council of Churches, DR Congo: after death of human rights activist, government must act responsibly

2010-06-05T04:44:00.000-04:00

From World Council of Churches e-mail.

media@wcc-coe.org

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.

Full text of the WCC general secretary's letter

WCC member churches in the DRC

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

2010-06-05T03:49:00.001-04:00

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.

Tell your stories

2010-06-02T16:27:00.002-04:00

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.

In the face of a smiling child : love more

2010-05-28T15:19:00.000-04:00

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

2010-05-28T13:32:00.000-04:00

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

2010-05-23T14:05:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-22T02:31:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-08T16:39:00.002-04:00

(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

2010-05-06T15:59:00.001-04:00

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.

We have powerful soil at the Centre

2010-04-20T12:26:00.003-04:00

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.

i got tested for HIV

2010-03-31T07:18:00.000-04:00

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

Easter as we head toward winter?

2010-03-30T00:35:00.004-04:00

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

Friendship

2010-03-25T00:46:00.001-04:00

"Oh, the comfort- the inexpressible comfort of
feeling safe with a person.
Having neither to weigh thoughts,
Nor measure words-but pouring them
All right out - just as they are-
Chaff and grain together-
Certain that a faithful hand will
Take and shift them-
Keep what is worth keeping-
And with the breath of kindness
Blow the rest away."

-Dinah Maria Muock Craik

HAPPY WORLD WATER DAY!

2010-03-22T02:23:00.002-04:00

During our Nutrition and Hygiene classes at the center last week we discussed disease travel and water.

My favorite discussion was on the gender roles associated with water, and some of the reactions when our students starting listing all the ways typical gender roles have women using the water on a daily basis, but men's role generally more related to income. It was a great discussion and helpful for talking about who in communities to train about what.

We also started sharing words for water in different languages, that I thought I would share with you:

Amanzi (Zulu/ ndebele)
Metsi (Setswana)
Mai (Swahili)
De L'eau (French)
Amenshii (Bemba)
Mema (Kaonde)
Manzi (Chechewa)
Omeva (Oshiwambo)
Mvura (Shona)
Emanti (Swati)
Agua (Spanish)
Vaetral (Afrikaans)

Think about all the ways you use water, all the ways your use less water, the grace in water, the life giving water, and the power of water.

If any students write water Psalms I will post them too.

Peace like a river,
Hannah

When you cry, cry for all

2010-02-25T07:20:00.000-05:00

When you cook you cook for many, when you cry you cry for all… African Saying Mama Tembo told me the night before the memorial service

People. It’s people I care about and with all the complications at SHADE at the end of the day, we care about people.

Two Sundays ago, Mama Tembo told me we were going to the hospital to see Mama Marijean’s daughter. I met Mama Marijean when we were in DRC for the conference and she is one of our main leaders there. Mama asked me to come to the hospital because I coordinate with our DRC satellite projects and work with Mama Marijean. I did not know Mama Marijean incredibly well but I knew she was kind, incredibly gracious and I had great respect for her. I wanted to see her.

It took me a little while to understand the whole story- trying to interpret French and Swahili. But the family had come because Esther the daughter was in a coma and needed better care than in DRC. She had complications during childbirth and everything was not removed causing an infection that spread throughout her body. By the time I first saw her she had had 4 operations and was being kept in the coma so she wouldn’t move and spread the infection anymore.

Since she was in ICU the visiting hours are only an hour and only two people are allowed at a time. I prayed with the family in the waiting room and greeted everyone. Slowly we all took turns seeing Esther.

Joyce, Mama Tembo's eldest daughter, and I were called to go into the ICU. I don’t quite know how to explain meeting someone for the first time while they are in a coma. I was glad I was there for Joyce, who knew Esther and could see the pain on her face seeing Esther this way. The nurse came in and told us not to be afraid to touch her and to talk to her. So I did I held her hand and introduced myself. I felt a little silly using English and added in what Swahili and French I could. And I just talked to her for Joyce and I. Her eyes fluttered a couple time while we were talking and she knew people were there.

I think I was confused if it was really my place to be there, but at the same time a powerful connection. As we went back to the waiting room I was still unsure and told Joyce we should have sang to her, we should next week. Song seems to be a better way to connect.

Esther’s brother, Michel, was sitting in another room alone, so I went to go talk to him. At first with French and Swahili, until he said you know I know English. So we continued on and I learned that he and his brother live in South Africa for school. I met Yannick the next week and appreciated being there as an outlet for the brothers.

We took the family to the Center to meet the students and pray. And got a selection of Congolese food we grow in the garden. Papa John, Esther’s father has an amazing sense of grace. And Mama Marijean was so strong and kind and laughing and hoping. Everyone was hoping.

It was then my week at the center and it was a very long week. During the weekend a team from the Church of the Resurrection in Kansas was here and I was speaking to Jonathan Bell after church. Finding our common histories as he had lived in DC for 13 years.

Jen got me for Mama very quickly and she pulled me away and said full of grief “Esther died. We need to go to the hospital.” We jumped into the car with the group from Kansas and the rest of the staff following behind, some in the pastor’s car that he lent.

We walked into the waiting room and Mama Marijean and her friend were on the floor unable to move but for the crying. Mama immediately rushed to the floor to be with them, as I moved the table of untouched tea and coffee. I noticed Michael upset in the chair next to them and went to him, while the women were greeting each other.

The rest of the staff was coming in and this tiny room was filled with people and sorrow. I couldn’t even tell you everything, but I went to go sit between the women so I could hold Mama Marijean. So I could just be there with them. Papa John even started a song, bringing comfort to others when his daughter who they had tried so hard to save had passed. She had had a successful operation that week and they said she had even been able to wake up- the devastation was intense.

The boys were doing a good job providing for their family even though they didn’t know what to do, especially for their mom. I asked Yannick, who was in a different room this time, if he had been home for his sisters wedding and he said, “Yes and now I’ll have to go back for her funeral.” (The situation with the husband was interesting, he had just gotten in from Congo and I had not even realized he was at the hospital till later in the week.)

Mama Tembo and a few of her family members had planned to go to the house to be with the family that night. But things got so late that we went Monday night. There were people all over the yard on the way in it almost looked like a college party. But then we went inside and the women were on the ground on blankets mourning. I am pretty sure Mama Marijean has been there since leaving the hospital and hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink. So Mama Tembo on one side, Joyce and the other and I by here legs sat with her and mourned.

The next night Mama Tembo and I planned the memorial service for Esther before they flew her back to DRC. Everyone was exhausted trying to help the family manage a way to take her home, and because the needs of the center kept going and were great this week.

Jen is in charge of spirituality, but it was her week teaching at the center so I told Mama I should help make the program and assist in what she needed. I also felt I had no idea what to do, but in a very small part I was on a journey with this family.

So until late into the night we planned out the service and tried to sing over songs in multiple languages and that everyone would know. Mama’s girls helped, as did Freddy, Deborah even wrote a poem on the spot for us to use. And in that exhausted room, I think we found some healing through music. Mama was especially burnt out- she has baptized Esther and the family was very dear to the whole Kalanga/Ilunga family.

I slept at Mama’s and the next morning Jen, Lucy, Rachel, and Yvette came early and helped me bring everything else we needed. Each took a part in the service too. And Danielle drove us behind the students as we made our way in Johannesburg for the first time since we lived here.

As the family started coming I tried to use grace in handling her family and the husbands family. They started coming to me to add in announcements they wanted to give and asked me to do it all.

The chapel at the morgue slowly filled as the service went on. I am not sure how everyone knew Esther, but it seemed like the Congolese community that they had here in South Africa and all those that couldn’t go back to DRC. I was trying to be as much support to Mama Tembo as I could. Watching Mama Marijean in the front almost kept me from going on, but at the same time made it important that I did.

At the end of the service we opened the casket and I was next to it as everyone walked by. That’s when I started crying. I remember at my step grandfathers funeral balling at the end of it. And I hadn’t known him like the rest of the family, but I could feel their pain so much and understood the gravity of the loss of Clark. But I remember saying see this is why I could never be a pastor.

And now I found myself standing next to the pastor helping lead a service for a group of people I do not know really in a very different culture. But I could understand the pain enough to know the vast amount of feelings around me I could never fully comprehend.

Mama Tembo and I were the last to go up to the casket. I held her hand as tight as I could knowing what she must be going though. And we sang with everyone else, and there was Esther. There was the woman I had met the week before and I was singing to her this time. She was surrounded in white and I half expected she would wake up. She was beautiful and I guess that’s the way it should be. She was 25 and had just started with her dreams. Within a year she had been married and pregnant…

And my heart is with Mama Marijean, because I have been to funerals before, but if I even start to have an idea of what my mother would be going through… I could understand her not being able to stand.

I ended up going back to the boys’ apartment with the family. Mama Marijean was back in her place on the floor by the time I got there, and Papa John offered me a chair. And the afternoon was a bit awkward as I just sat in the chair and the young people were outside or serving everyone. The men in chairs and the woman on the floor. And when Mama Tembo came to fetch me a few hours later, I said my goodbye to everyone and they thanked me so whole-heartedly. Papa John thanked me especially for all the support. And so I don’t know exactly why I went, but I had to be there. I think being there for the brothers was maybe the most important as in a lot of ways we are peers, but I sought them out to hear them. And I think we all have a lot of mutual respect.

I don’t have a good ending for you or perfect words. For the first time in my life I think I have questioned hope, for how much we hoped for Esther and earlier Sam and Clint. And at the same time being here and with the people I am with- I see everything as more a part of life. All the emotions, all the joy, all the sorrow- it is real and it is life- but nothing is the end of the world. And I am blest to be part of life.

It's Friday Afternoon

2010-02-19T07:17:00.000-05:00

Its Friday afternoon. The breeze is comfortable and caring and bringing a humble sense of freedom. The light is playing on the leaves and the rich soil prepared for planting. The small plastic hose is watering/ irrigating the ngai ngai we transplanted, Some are playing soccer in the front yard, others are doing their wash. And some are doing their knitting; Mama Odette just taught me how to crochet. The house is full, but everyone is spread out and peaceful.

I think for the first time in two weeks I am feeling calm. My back and shoulders are sore in ways they have never been before. Yesterday I was using a hoe a lot in the field, and pulling sun baked dirt can be intense.

Today was a good day. It was the last day of our first and very busy poverty alleviation week at the center. The students at the center are exhausted and have worked hard all week. Yesterday I could barely wake up I was so tired. I have been up at 5am everyday to be ready for transport and what we need at the office, but then I don’t start leading at the center until 8:30 or 9. It’s kind of like having two mornings, but only the energy for half of one. And then Vixa, Papa David, and I have been working with the students to plant and transplant and clean up the gardens and build beds in the field. Then I have been leading all the classes that go along with the practicals.

I don’t mind being on all the time, but I never had time to plan everything in advance. So preparing, leading, and physically working all week has drained a lot of energy. I think we all have learned a lot this week. For some of the students we have had a lot of comparison of who works more and complaining. Yesterday I broke everyone into teams and I think we are starting to understand how to work in a community better and why we work so hard. Today I also took time out to play a game as a group so people got to know each other better and had time to play. We all need time to play even during lessons.

And I finished my assessment for them at 7am at the office in time to print before coming here. I used photos from the week and had them describe what we were doing and why it was important. I am actually pretty proud of it, because with the differences in language skills I think it was a fairer test on actual knowledge. And we got through the other abbreviated lessons in the nick of time.

Unfortunately our time for class is not totally conducive to agriculture, so most evenings we have been here to do transplanting late in the day so we can water it without the harsh sun. Yesterday that meant working from 6am to 8 pm. But I actually enjoy working in the afternoons and seeing progress here. Its funny I am leading this group of people, when in most ways I grew up furthest from farming.

The other nice things about working along side people is getting to have informal conversations and getting to know people outside the classroom. As my mother always advised parallel play sometimes makes communicating much easier.

So we have learned a lot of lessons this week, and while not always totally prepared I think it was valuable and incredibly productive. And I think though at times people felt overworked, we also had fun. Now I am enjoying spending down time with the students and friends. I also look forward to not getting up at 5am tomorrow, after almost two weeks of it for various work related things.

also I ripped a huge whole in the back on my jeans- luckily I had a very long shirt...

“We are sent. Not called to do something, but sent. We will know when we get there what we are called to do,” Rev. Clint Rabb

2010-01-25T02:24:00.000-05:00

I told Nissia (Mama Tembo’s youngest daughter who comes into the office after school everyday) that I really wanted to sit down and write but was too drained to sit at the computer. Well my lovely friend said well why don’t I do your hair and relax you, that will make it easier. So as I sit here she is playing with my hair… ohh no I think she may be teasing it. But staying relaxed…

I just heard that Haiti had another earthquake and I don’t totally know how to feel. I think studying abroad in Cuba, helped me better understand the difference between Caribbean countries and how they are used and the level of support they have.

Then things hit home even more, when we got an e-mail from Gail (The Africa regional Executive) on Jan 14th saying three GBGM staff were missing in a collapsed hotel. We were working on putting together bunk beds at the center for the students coming and Jen looked at me and said Clint Rabb. In the initial reading we thought it meant they were fine, but when I went to read it for myself it was talking about hopes for their safety not that they were safe. And through I don’t know Sam Dixon well, I knew the name and capabilities. So I broke down pretty openly and said if anyone would know what to do right now for the Haitians and the situations it would be them. It was like the wave finally hit.

I can’t imagine the range of emotions for their families. Later that day Jen managed to get back into e-mail and we found out they were found. We even saw a clip with Jim Gulley in it, so things seemed much more hopeful- but it also set in that after 55 hours how many other people were not going to be found and what did also this mean about the strife of Haitians. Then we found out at Mama Tembo’s house on Saturday night (16th) Sam Dixon had actually already passed and earlier information had not been complete and the Clint Rabb was in the ICU in Florida.

Rev. Sam Dixon

We had just had a celebration for our two new colleagues from the US who got married last may, but the girls wanted to through an African Wedding with initiation. Mama knew Sam Dixon very well, and shared that when she was just getting a food stipend with SHADE Sam had told her how much he believed in the work. He also helped her find a way to help pay her daughters school fees. We also saw Gail the next day, after she had just arrived in South Africa and got online from the hotel room that morning. Hearing both Gail and Mama’s stories help paint a picture of how many personal relationships Sam had and how he made individual people all over this world feel heard.

My relationship with Sam only had a little to do with the fact that he was the head of the United Methodist Committee on Relief (the organization I had decided in high school I would one day work for.) The reason I knew Sam Dixon’s name was not because I focused on all the work he was doing, it was because his name was on the contact information about Cuba. Last year with the storms that devastated the Caribbean, my mind had been more focused on Cuba than anywhere else because I had a personal connection from when I had studied there. Well when UMCOR was finally allowed to send funding, I was anxious to see if there was anyway I could go. It was a few weeks before I was graduating that December and I didn’t have a job lined up and I wanted to go back and serve in Cuba. After a day or two of leaving messages, Sam Dixon himself called me back on his cell phone on the way to JFK for some trip somewhere. I was surprised to hear from him myself and understood through our conversation that the money was being sent to the UMC of Cuba and they weren’t sending more people. But he was very kind and congratulated me on my upcoming graduation from American University. (I just checked and I still have his number saved in my cell phone.)

Well, during training with the General Board of Global Ministries this October, there we a few times we had to be at the main offices in the “God Box” in Manhattan. I will admit here there were a few times I wandered off while we were filling out forms, to try to find friends of my parents. In my wonderings I also came upon Sam Dixon’s office, which at the time was on the same floor as the young adult program and Gail’s. I decided the next time I was there I would check if he was so I could thank him. He was on the phone but some other people in the office told me I could wait.

I am so thankful I strayed off when I did and that I waited. I had the opportunity to go into his office and explain who I was and get a chance to meet him. He again congratulated me, this time for my upcoming commissioning as a Mission Intern. And I think also because of his support for SHADE. We had a nice conversation and then I hurried back to sneak back into training. And I thank Sam for taking the time to really hear me, when I was never directly part of his work. And it helps me realize how blessed so many people were to have Sam in their lives and in the position he was in. GBGM and UMCOR have not had the easiest time of late and lack of funding has affected all levels of the organizations – but there are still people like Sam and Clint and so many others we know, not compromising their level of integrity and support of this work, no matter how complicated things got.

Rev Clint Rabb

Rachel got a little bit of internet connection at home (something very rare and that can’t happen on my computer with our internet cards) and she and Jen found out that Clint had passed on Sunday (17th). The three of us were alone at home and in total shock. Clint is a tough guy and I don’t think I had wanted to contemplate how serious his injuries could be. After a little bit of time we each went to go get our notes from training and sat down and remembered Clint.

Clint Rabb led two of our sessions at training. He is also the head of Volunteers in Mission for GBGM. But out connection to him is really through his wife Suzanne Field Rabb. Suzanne is out former boss for the Young Adult Programs and went through the whole process of our entry as Mission Interns and US-2s. She is the person responsible for hiring us and training us. And through discernment weekends and training you learn a lot about personal sides of people. Through Suzanne and Beth Buchanan we knew a few things about Clint.

Then he came in to lead a session on the Theology of Mission. He kind of is a no nonsense kind of guy, with very different mannerisms than Suzanne so it took me until being into the exercise to realize how much I respected him and appreciated the session. And in reflecting being able to poor over the notes and have actual quotes written down was incredibly helpful. Jen and Rachel also added to the quotes and sharing all of that and caring about Suzanne and her family from afar was extremely powerful.

I also have a lot of respect for the way Clint cared about people, especially Suzanne. And his intense knowledge reminded me some of my dad. I would have liked to see a debate. I was also in the position of having very little free time to get to a doctor- but having an ingrown toenail that I needed to get taken care of before moving to South Africa a few days after. Clint knowing the area around Stony Point NY better helped me find an urgent care place, that Jen Chickering (currently US-2 in OK) graciously drove me to and sat in the exam room with the crazy doctors and me.

Somehow even though it was just my toe, hearing he was trapped at the feet made me worry about the feet. Just because he had helped me with my own.

I don’t totally know how to process these men are gone; especially for the worldwide community they served with knowledge caring and integrity. I don’t totally understand hope as I always have, because of the process they underwent. But I am totally thankful for the lives of these men and that I got to meet them for a brief glimpse.

And I also have had to realize that in working for social justice and in relief work, I will become to know more personally these stories. And in knowing these stories to know the pain of catastrophe more deeply and the inspiration more intensely in my heart.

So as my last note- these are two great men and I know there stories more than all the other extremely important people across Haiti that I pray for every time I pray for Sam and Clint. May we remember all the names we don’t know and all the people they are connected to across the globe. We are connected.

With peace,
Hannah

Some have asked for the scriptures we used for the Theology of Mission Session with Clint:

Luke 11:9
Galatians 2:6-10
1 John 3:16-18
Luke Chapter 6
Luke 4:16-30
Matthew 25:31-36
Matthew 4:21
Acts 1
Acts 13
Acts 6
James 1:27
Luke 10
Matthew 28:16-20
Job 28 (the passage Clint led the discussion on) and said, “Spend your time on the things that are important.”

beyond my little world

2010-01-13T07:07:00.001-05:00

Lots and lots to write about here. But I have a little internet
access today and one of my roommates told me about the earthquake in
Haiti.

I had to stop what I was doing at work to try to take it all in. The
poorest country in the Western Hemisphere and such massive devastation
with such poor infrastructure to provide for the needs of the people.
I thought it was fitting to stop and take a moment to think of all the
people affected, from the people that face such stark poverty, to aid
and government officials, to tourists....

Also from a prayer my Dad compiles for Mt. Olivet UMC.

"For the people in the Nyanza province of Kenya, where 90 percent of
the population experiences extreme food shortages and poverty. About
five percent of the people die each day. And for UMCOR as it partners
with the Emergency Relief and Rehabilitation Program for Nyanza
Province, a project of the United Methodist Church in Central Nyanza,
to provide food relief to 20,000 malnourished children, the elderly
and disabled, expecting mothers, widows, and internally displaced
persons."

We discuss social challenges on a daily basis, but I think these
should be brought to our attention. I am sure UMCOR and The General
Board of Global Ministries(my employer as a Mission Intern) are also
trying to do something for Haiti and I would encourage everyone to
look into the situation. Though I am sure all of you get better news
than I do.

gbgm-umc.org/umcor/

Thanks for reading! more on life in South Africa soon.

Pensively,
Hannah

IT IS THE EVE OF A NEW YEAR

2009-12-31T09:08:00.001-05:00

New Years Eve

I always mean to write more, and really wanted some time to reflect about the past year over the holidays. Turns out finding time to sit on my own is even more complicated.

And then things get a bit hectic (I have adopted using the word hectic instead of crazy etc, people use it a lot here and they understand me better to use it. Also I find it rather fitting) For example today we were told we have to be out of our house by sat afternoon instead of Sunday morning, and as we are visiting and staying with Jen’s friends on the other side of Cape Town we haven’t been there to pack. In addition when we were originally planning to go back on Friday to sort everything- we were told we would be picked up Sat morning…. Logistics such as these come up and then I don’t get to share it all with you.

But really thinking about the past year is quite amazing. I am surprised with how okay I have been with uncertainty in the last year and with how far faith can get you. Last January all I totally knew was I had a little bit of savings, I didn’t have to start paying my loans for 6 months, and I had a piece of paper that is somewhat respected in our society that may or may not help me get a job. Also the La Plantes were getting rid of a car and so how the scheme to drive across the country came up. Then what I thought was a casual relationship in January turned into having a confidant for the entire year- and it looks like for a while longer.

And for the first time I got to make my own decisions. I mean I think I am opinionated and stubborn enough that I have made my own decisions my whole life. But I really got to say I want to drive across the country and visit people and to wake up every morning know it was my decision which direction I would set out on.

And lucky for me the one job I still was waiting to hear from while adventuring, invited me for a weekend long interview. It wasn’t easy- it was soul searching to know if the Mission Internship was the right step for me. I didn’t want just a job- but was this what I wanted to dedicate three years of my life to. And the clarity came that this was something I could do and that I could connect to.

While this was the first year of my life I can remember not in school, it’s been a lot of field education. Even more than that I had the opportunity to teach for 6 weeks this summer with the Higher Achievement program. And I was challenged everyday by my students and by pushing myself. Luckily it was the most supported teaching program I could have gone into especially with no formal training. And as a teacher you are making decisions for much more than yourself, I was fortunate to have amazing colleagues and the opportunity to get to know the struggles in my student’s lives.

And then I prepared for the Mission Internship program. Originally thinking I was going to Mongolia. And truthfully my communication channels have changed so much in the past year that some people dear to me, may even think that is where I am. Then in September to learn I may not only be going to South Africa and working in Africa in general, but also I was going to the DRC, I was going to Congo. The history of the country and causes for the unfathomable violence took me to deep frustration in college. But it always seemed so far away.

Things still seem far away, but if I have learned anything this year- things aren’t as far away as you think. More important than that: I have never thought I needed to be rich. And have always agreed it is greater to be rich with friends and people than money. But this year I have been more than humbled in how true that is.

I said before this year I got to decide what would make me happy and head for the horizon. But I had options and the ability to make decisions only because of the rich tapestry of people around me. The people who shared or prepared meals for me. Those of you that made sure I had a pillow or just someone to check in with. For the people from literally all over the world that have shared stories with me. I never knew how rich I would be at my age and thinking back over the past year the rich tapestry of people that have surrounded me is almost overwhelming.

People from my past have resurfaced and family and friend connections have been amazing. My relationships with close friends has had to change, and especially the change of living with friends in college- but that DC family remains. My own family has been incredibly supportive as have my church family. And I am sorting out my family here, especially the family created through the other 11 young adults serving around the US and the world- especially the Jen and Rachel. I wish I could send the time to name you all, but every e-mail and conversation is flowing back to me just thinking.

And in the next year I think it will much more be my Africa year. Shaped by South Africa and especially work in DRC, Kenya, and Lesotho. Maybe this past year has been my wandering year- but in some ways I feel closer to all the key players in my life. I think I feel closer to myself.

And I am about to leave to go to a concert in Kirstenbosch gardens here to celebrate New Years. You know that song about old and new friends we sing on New Years. Well this year Rachel, my new friend and roommate, and I are going to meet Katie and Alex who are dear friends from DC and American University. And so I am excited to connect with different worlds to bring in this next year and to reunite with friend I ahvent seen in a year and a half. (I'll miss the Arlington Crew and all the fireworks and shannanigans!)

You see when I have less time, I just ramble - so thank you for reading. Maybe in 2010 I should work on being concise.

Also here 2010 is synonymous with the World Cup. !!! but that is a whole other blog.

Love to you all! Thanks for sharing with me and I hope you have a great adventure in 2010.

Cheers,
Hannah