“This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree; but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.” ~ Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
South Africa has been an interesting place. The country is still struggling in poverty, racism, and AIDS. The injustice inflicted on women and children still reign, and ignorance and lack of education shows it’s marks. For example, in Zulu culture, it is important for a man to have more kids than his father had, for no other reason than pride. He doesn’t have to take care of or raise the kids, just impregnate a woman. That is why there are a lot of rapes here in South Africa and why the population is so large. Also, it is a common belief that to rape a virgin will cure the AIDS virus.
This month we have been working for an organization called Zimele. Zimele helps empower women to help their community. There are savings groups, orphan care, job training, education programs, health clinics, and prayer teams. These women are incredible. These are just ordinary, everyday women, mostly grandmothers–or “Gogo’s” in Zulu.” They have very little, but they give generously, especially their time. One woman who we stayed with had three kids of her own, but then took in three orphans from her community. That is another thing that makes Zimele an awesome organization; they encourage those in a village or community to take care of their little ones.
My team stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in a remote rural village outside Winterton, South Africa. We slept in a hut, made fires twice a day, had candle lit bucket showers (I’ve never had a more romantic setting for a shower before. I just prayed no one would walk in the room while I had a bucket poised above my head)and had no electricity. Every few days we would take our electronics next door to the cheif’s house where they could charge. The ladies who took care of us lived a couple miles away and would arrive at the B&B at 4 am to serve us and to begin the days activities.
Our team mostly helped the women with crafts that they intended to sell, support them in community activities, and visit the orphans in the village. Here are two stories from this past month;
1) Running with the Gogos.
One morning our team was told that we would be exercising with the Gogos in the village and that we would meet them at the soccer field. Our team thought that we would probably be doing stretches or possibly jazzercise with the grandmothers. Some of our team put on flip flops and didn’t bother changing into work out clothes. However, when we showed up later that morning, the first thing the ladies wanted to do was to run a lap around the soccer field.
I cast glanced at some of my teammates who looked at horror at their flip flops. Mercy decided just to run barefoot, already claiming that it would be a “big win for the Irish”, and Victoria Pierce happily took the job as camera woman, who would be stationary in the middle of the field.
The Gogos were dressed no better; most wore slippers or boots and all wore dresses and skirts. We ended up running two laps around the field, and then had races! One woman commented on me winning one race: “You run like a spring buck.”
We then danced, and played games. One game was a giant duck duck goose, but instead of tapping the person they want to run, the ladies would slap the person’s backside as hard as she could. In the first round, one of the gogos hit Beth Crenshaw so hard that the rest of us winced and jumped. It was the “slap heard ’round the field”, and Beth’s shocked and pained face as she raced the gogo had us all laughing.
It was one special day where we got to know the women of the village, and only the first indication that beneath the wrinkled eyes and flowing skirts, were powerful, passionate, and incredibly strong women who had the gifts of perseverance and laughter.
2) The Mockingbird Next door
We lived next door to the Chief and his family. Whenever we would go over to his home and ask to charge our electrocis, we would meet his daughter. His daughter was about 40 years old and she had a mental problem that caused her to scream and babble nonsense in a desperate and loud tone. The first time I heard her I was shocked and scared. I’m not a person who likes yelling and it was an extra barrier between communication. The daughter also would try to get your attention, pull up her skirts and show us her thighs. Then she would try to pull up our skirts and point to our thighs. We figured out that she asking us to give her our tights and skirts.
Now, this past month we had a Squad wide book reading challenge. The person who read the most pages by debrief won (Incidentally, I did win this challenge, but I won’t say my how much ha ha. I like to inhale the written word :). I had a wealth of books that I read from this month, including The Hiding Place, No Longer a Slumdog, Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom, and The Help. But the first book that I read was To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee. It is one of my favorites!
One day I was over at the Chief’s house, dropping off our phones and laptops and praying. There was a lot of spiritual warfare there, even in the so called churches and places of worship. It was always mixed with spirit ism and ancestor worship, with a dash of something else. Whenever I went over to the Chief’s house, I would feel uncomfortable and pray. While I was doing this, I heard the daughter’s shrill babble in the room next to me.
And it hit me.
She was “Boo” Arthur Radley, a character in To Kill a Mockingbird–If you don’t know who that is, I hope I did you a favor by igniting your curiosity. Read the book!– She was also a dearly loved daughter of the most High King. I shouldn’t be nervous around her just because she is loud and different. I was just fearing the unknown with her. I heard her come into the room, turned, and gave her a huge smile.
“Sobowna!” I said which means hello in Zulu, (even though it is not the correct spelling).
The daughter continued her loud babble, sounding as though she was panicking or crying out for help in some unknown children’s language–but her face radiated a beautiful smile at me. She couldn’t help how she sounded, but she did want to communicate and be communicated to. I sat down beside her on the porch, and we went through the thigh and skirt ritual, this time with me nodding, smiling, and saying yes. This seemed to please her and we sat for a minute in silence just looking out across the lawn.
Later on I did give her my skirt and and tights, two things I was going to abandon soon anyway. She was thrilled.
That’s all for now! Thank you all for your continuing prayers!
God Bless!
~Tori
