In true blog fashion rantings and ramblings on life and injustice

Sojourner looked at as a Refugee


I have to be aware of my identity everyday. And I have to be aware of my privileged both from events in my life and from my perceived identity.

The rest of this blog could unfold in 50 different directions based on daily experiences. I think if we care about social justice we cannot ignore our identities and how we impact each other. I could speak of where I fight to not fall into the historical or social pain aspects of my perceived identity bring to others. For my own students at Espoir, white missionaries are a great symbol of pain. Being white in general links to colonial injustices that are still part of African identities. The pain and injustice is not why I am in my role. I try not to focus on proving this fact, but on caring out how I see walking with the people I am living with and serving each other for greater dignity and respect.

Now the previous paragraph is one of the directions I can take. However, let us go down a different path instead.

The S in SHADE stands for sojourners. And in a essence all of us working and training in Johannesburg have a common understanding of being away from home. We were in the fields and the students were talking about missing home. I was listening and caring on weeding, as the students started discussing me, and how much longer I was away from my family. Sometimes I think my age and distance helps all of us understand each other.

In another sense I take for granted all the little ways that are part of others daily lives. I have no fear of standing up and saying this is my right. But others who are trying to change their lives give up rights in return for trying to live in South Africa, for trying to work, for trying to eat people all over the world give up these rights.

I get to be a stranger in a strange land, but know with certainty that I will have food on my table and that if the police stop me I have a valid visa and passport. I also know if I have problems I can make my own noise and have people to call. Both of my bosses also know this, but they are still careful in little ways everyday. The ability for people to abuse rights or make things hard for others they see below themselves is all to present everywhere in the world. But how often do you and I think about it? How often is there a simple solution we can give someone about rights?

To have rights you have to know your rights. But to live everyday sometimes its easier to know the system and where you need to be careful. And its exhausting for me to watch everyone around me and the ways they have to be careful and what they have to put up with.

But my friends that are sojourners that I see everyday… They thank God. They Thanks God everyday.

I just wonder what the people that spread this fear in others, or feel entitled to overwork others at their mercy. This is where I am learning even more to love my neighbor and my enemy.

I appoligise for the ramblings I will try to tackle this topic a little more concisely soon. Thanks for reading. I am angry for the way people treat others, I am angry about entitlement, and I am blessed that my friends still thank God while I stay angry.

Vuvuzela

I love it when sound making objects have a great name full of sound.

Vu-vu-ZELA. I think I like the name better than the sound of the horn for celebration. And as the days to the World Cup count down, the amount of vuvuzelas and sports jerseys increase..



In fact every Friday the nation has begun wearing sports team jerseys. Mainly Bafana Bafana, appropriate to support your own countries soccer team. Mama Judy’s children, who can barely get together a few cents, pay 1 rand every Friday as a fine for not wearing their school uniforms to partake in the ritual, particularly important as a student, and also as it seems bank attendants.

Everyone on the news is also very faithful at wearing their jerseys and supporting Bafana Bafana. As the excitement grows and we start preparing where we will watch games and getting our tickets to go to games- so does the concern.

The vuvzela sounds for excitement and loyalty and celebration of the world coming together. The vuvzela sounds as we show respect for sportsmanship and excellence (and entertainment).




But the vuvuzela also sounds with danger in the background. With tourists, excitement and too much alcohol crime and accident are a concern. My larger concern is for children. Children who have become business people and see this event as a place to make money, but children who are also in a very dangerous place in terms of trafficking and sexual abuse. Knowingly or unknowingly. (Don’t get me wrong, soccer has also done great things for South Africa kids- but those that make there living on the street and those from other countries making their living selling things. Not to mention the sadness in how childhoods are lived out. And the chance to play soccer, that’s a good chance to be a child or an adult.)

With our excitement and entertainment as humans somehow we also abuse the livelihood of others to enjoy ourselves more. Children in South Africa are having long winter holidays over the World Cup. It is true many would bunk (skip) for the games, but I am concerned over the risks some children will face without places to go. And the

So we must enjoy the sounds of vuvuzelas, but remember all the places that sound travels during twenty ten.

18 Days!
Hannah Bafana

The Soul still seeks a place to Be: Mama Judy's

Mother’s Day was the most appropriate time to write about Mama Judy, but the take home message was a feeling of home.

Mama Judy and I have some how decided we are family. We often refer to each other as sisters, but I also always call her mama or mother out of respect and some of the ways she cares. She works as our office cleaner and joyful talkative spirit. Early in our daily morning greeting she picked me up while we hugged, which we now take turns continuing.

Rachel and I began eating lunch with Mama Judy and Mama Vero (who also works at the office and the Kalenga/ Illunga household.) after I got back from my Easter trip to Malawi. My trip to Malawi also bonded us because Mama Judy and Vero are both originally from Malawi. Lunch with the both of them is wonderful and all aspects of life come up, but always in a matter of fact humorous Mama Judy type way. I think I have learned more form her about gander roles in different areas, than all of our work at SHADE around the issue.

A few weeks ago we joked about her teaching me how to crochet and she said yes on Sunday you come over. On Friday we spoke again and I was backing out a bit to try to sell vegetables with the students. To which I got an earful that it was the Sabbath and in fact also Mother’s Day so Rachel and I had to go over to Mama Judy’s house after Church. (Jen was in Cape Town with lovely visitors). I mean can I really turn down a good argument and we had been promising to spend more time with her children.

So after stopping by Mama Tembo’s to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and thank her for her role in our lives, we went two plots down to the plot that Mama Judy and Papa Gerard live. The whole family came out to greet us with a similar joyfulness as Mama Judy. Prince 7 and Priscilla 11 are well-behaved, hardworking, astute children that became our siblings on Mother’s Day. In fact I told them Rachel and I were going to begin to sleep on their bottom bunk and they would share the top bunk (We in fact have at many times been invited to stay there is we need to as it is so close to work.)


(using blankets to stay warm walking around outside, yes Mama Judy put it on me before I was allowed to walk out of the house)


When I lived in Cuba my friend Kelly and I had been invited to stay with a family for Mother’s Day and spent one of my favorite afternoons there in my four-month stay. I looked forward to Mothers Day in part because of this time and I knew it would be an all day affair. In fact we stayed for lunch and dinner as if their two-room home was our own.

So often our differences are apparent and compared here. And for the first time in a few months at Mama Judy’s on Mother’s Day, talking, eating, sitting on the bed all together, listening to music, and taking a walk around the plot- we were family without differences. Everyone was proud of who they were and did not get caught up on formalities. No one apologized for what was too little or too great, instead we all served each other.

We all served each other and enjoyed each other. And were comfortable in each other company. A pretty good example of Christianity and humanity. Rachel and I played with the children and spoke of real and difficult issues. I even fell asleep on the side of the bed and then was woken up to make the Mother’s Day pap after Rachel and Mama Judy had cleaned the dishes.



And we just were there. We just were. The souls had a place to be together and happily. I found true home in Mama Judy and here family. The next week we stopped by to see our brother and sister again and as I was getting ready to leave, Mama Judy said “where are you going my children its time for dinner?” And a meal planned for four was shared by all seven of us- and everyone was full.