Further Horizons
a new dawn breaks
radiant light from sea to sea
gilding the peaks of Chomolungma
contrasting the contours of the Jordan Rift
their depths are revealed
to that golden sphere
for there is nothing new under the sun
but there are further horizons with in my soul
the ways of Man
are known to all
but the path of a man
who can claim to know?
his steps are kept hidden
even from himself
yet
from vainglorious ambitions
to the meanest of schemes
God knows the heart and breath
of every single thing
from the plunging roots
to the stretching leaves
each budding flower
and fruit filled tree
from bark to sap
canopy to twig
God knows them all
each furry squeak of every mouse
and mane tossed roar of any lion
wail of wolf, and hyena howl
the Lord knows every one
each well intended blunder
and great but horrible decree
each birth and death
every pugnacious massacre
He feels them all
amidst the grime of future devastation
the cold, silver night of depression's winter
the tastes of joy
the fragrance of despair
every dappled wood of inspiration
and deep, clear lake of love's strong draught
the monumental peaks of utter failure
to the small, close meadow of worshipful transformation
God is there
from the tidal shores of current hope
to the cold, crushing trench of doubt
He is there
even to the furthest horizon of my soul
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Mountains and Madness
I just finished reading "Into Thin Air," earlier this week. That is an intense story. It's a first person perspective (of author Jon Krakauer) of the ascent and descent of Mt. Everest in the Spring of 1996, when one of the worst "disasters," ever happened to a team.
I believe it takes a certain type of person to want to climb mountains. To know that one wrong hand hold, one wrong placement of your foot could lead to your imminent demise...that takes incredible bravery, ludicrous stupidity, or some form of mental deformity. But that's just my opinion. And yet those who want to climb Everest?
Completely bonkers.
Now before you go off thinking I'm ridiculing people who do this I'm really not. I'm not of the mindset, "Well, you wouldn't have died if you didn't climb that mountain," or "You'd still have your hands and feet..." No. I admire the people who can do it. Do I think it's necessary, absolutely not. Neither are movies, TV shows, or books. But I love them.
Reading the pages of that book, I felt like I was there on the mountain with them. The panic, the confusion, the dizzying sense of lack of oxygen and how it slows down your brain. So much that the author confused one of the people he was closest to on the climb with someone else. Which may have resulted in the others death. Which the author (at least at the time of the writing of the book) seems to be plagued with "survivors guilt," over.
It was a traumatizing and life altering experience for all who started up the slopes.
This climbing of mountains reminds me of living a life following Christ. Sometimes we encounter mountains on that journey. Things such as debt, temptation, pride, death in a family etc. Those are mountains that we have to overcome. That we have to climb. We don't need to be trained. We don't need expensive gear and permits. (It costs up to $25,000 to get a permit just to climb Everest, forget about flights, gear etc...) We don't need supplemental oxygen because out bodies can't function at those altitudes. All we need to climb those mountains in life, is Jesus.
In John 14 he says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled." He had just told the disciples that he was going away. But that they didn't need to be worried because he would be back. He says it again later, "Do not let your hearts be troubled or be afraid." Why? Because he was sending "the Spirit of truth," to be with them.
He calls it the Spirit of truth, right after he tells them "I am the way, the truth, and the life..." Jesus is the truth, so the Spirit of truth is the Spirit of Jesus. The Holy Spirit of God. He is with us. That is all we need. For climbing over or moving the mountains before us. Jesus is all we need.
Sure that is easy to say. But it's like any relationship with a "real" human being on this earth. You get to know them by spending time together, talking, and most of us like getting to know other people one on one. Group settings are great, but to get to the heart of someone, it's intimate and close.
It works the same with Jesus. I don't think he's the center of attention type of guy. I mean think about that. He always like to go off alone, or just be with the disciples, or even among them was closest with Peter, James and John. If you were at a party with Jesus, you probably would know he was there.
So, if you're at a party or out with a bunch of friends or just distracted by life, Jesus is there, wanting you to spend time with him, but that's up to us. We need to put down the iPad, step away from the XBox, let the kids do their thing, and spend time with him. Alone, in quite away from the chaos that seems to be life.
Movies and TV can wait, the Game...can be recorded, that new whatever...can be put off one more hour. You get to know Jesus by spending time with him. Real quality time.
So, he tells us not to be troubled...I'm leaving you my Spirit. We need to get to the place where we say, "Thanks, that is all I need." And we can climb that mountain, because Jesus is there with us. We don't need our friends and family (although they are great to have) but Jesus needs to be ENOUGH. All we need.
Because when Jesus is that for us, he can use us to help others. When we aren't relying on the strength of those around us, but solely on Jesus, his strength supersedes our ability and transforms others.
Another thing about climbing mountains. Don't go out of your way to climb a mountain that isn't necessary. Jesus said this (Matt 6:34) "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Don't climb the mountains that aren't yours to climb. It's so easy when we try to serve others to take their burdens upon ourselves. But that isn't our job.
Yes, we are to love our neighbors, and help them. But their spiritual burdens are for them to bear, or drop at Jesus feet. We can share life, encourage and pray for them, but we can not forgive sin and wipe them clean. That is God's right, and his alone. Galatians 6:2 tells us to "bear one another's burdens," and I believe in context with that passage it is saying exactly this. To share in experience, prayer, support and understanding. But do not take up their sin as your own.
If you are ministering to someone who is addicted to say gambling, you don't in turn start to gamble to understand them. You don't take their debt onto yourself. You help them along, keep them accountable, and as Jesus said, "love your neighbor as yourself."
Sometimes we struggle and suffer similar things with people at the same time. We can encourage one another, smile, and help each other along, but we have to remember that it's God, not us or our friend that is going to get us to the top of that mountain, and down the other side.
God, Jesus, the Spirit as one are the author and finisher of our faith. The beginning and the end. Jesus took on the sin and suffering of the world, he knows exactly what you are going through. He already carried you through it. Rely on him.
Don't lean on your own strength, your own determination. Trust in Jesus to be there with you every step of the way. He can't be burdened with sin, just like he wouldn't be limited by oxygen if he were to climb Everest. He is strong when we are weak, and we will be strengthened in our weakness by him.
So seek courage and strength from God when you have to climb to the bewildering peaks of whatever obstacle you face, he will see you back down safely, and make you stronger than you were before by replacing your reliance on yourself, into trust in him. So when you are back in the valley, you will have had a life altering experience with a positive outcome.
The only casualties will be the sin, fear, and regret you leave behind.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Sketchbook Dump
This is pretty much a dump post of all my sketches in my current book. This will increase dramatically as the days come. I may not post everything that I sketch, but I'll be trying to draw for at least 15-20 mins a day unitl ideas and concepts start happening and I go for hours.
So here is the latest image from Jan 6th. I just doodled the girl on the left. She's a bit crosseyed, and has alignment problems with her nose/mouth but I was happy with the hair. Inspired by the Adam Hughes "Powergirl" portion of my Mac background. Which is where the random eyes and mouth come from. The lips in the upper left, and the eye in the lower right are from another AH sketch of Wonder Woman. The pair of eyes is from Power Girl, and the bottom eye is just my interpretation of my interpretation of the right eye.
This one is pretty self explanitory. Just sketching during Easter service at church a few years back. If it helps, he looked less European in my mind, it just didn't translate to paper.
So here is the latest image from Jan 6th. I just doodled the girl on the left. She's a bit crosseyed, and has alignment problems with her nose/mouth but I was happy with the hair. Inspired by the Adam Hughes "Powergirl" portion of my Mac background. Which is where the random eyes and mouth come from. The lips in the upper left, and the eye in the lower right are from another AH sketch of Wonder Woman. The pair of eyes is from Power Girl, and the bottom eye is just my interpretation of my interpretation of the right eye.
Cthulhu here is just an unfinished doodle of the creepster from HP Lovecraft's amazing stories.
This one is pretty self explanitory. Just sketching during Easter service at church a few years back. If it helps, he looked less European in my mind, it just didn't translate to paper.
This one is just a toonish girl. Her hair is starting to become kinda tentacle-y. Watch out.
Ok, so here's kind of an artsy-fartsy thing. I just had this idea going through my head about what people believe etc, and wrote the words down. Then I sketched in pen and these random images are what we have.
Ok the next 2 images are from a story I'm "working" on. The first is a villain who was pretty much what I thought the "boogey man" looked like. Slimey-mud guy, with a mouth that can open the entire length of his body. The name Bubak comes from "research" I did on wikipedia about folk tales etc. He's seriously a bad dude despite this cartoonish rendering.
The faires fighting over a pickle slice. Seemed like a great way for the hero to think he's loosing his mind. He's an American office drone working in London. He looks out the window of the whateverteenth floor and sees this.
So the Easter Bunny gets the birds and the bees conversation. Meh. I think I referenced a t-shirt for the basic design of the bunny. It was a squirel.
I was anticipating "300" coming out a month after drawing this one.
I think I had just watched "The Messenger - The Story of Joan of Arc." She is a fascinating person and has an incredible story. So this is her getting burned at the stake. Delightful, I know.
Uncertain Hope (a poem)
Uncertain Hope
the corners of the globe draw closer together
yet never have they felt so far apart
traveling nowhere at the speed of light
we drift apart as human beings
connected by the avatars of Imagination
nothing is stable
but Hope remains
i don't know where I'm going
or how i will get there
plans i had made to take me to the future
forge me where I stand
unable to go
regrets and pains tether me still
yet there is Hope
the gulls of Failure cry out
Uncertainty is assured
Doubt strives to remain secure
while Confusion lies in the prow
Sorrow is churned within the wake
there is no solid course nor ground
malleable and unsure is the way before
the compass falters
still Hope remains
it drives me forward
and sustains my steps
when all is uncertain
Hope
the corners of the globe draw closer together
yet never have they felt so far apart
traveling nowhere at the speed of light
we drift apart as human beings
connected by the avatars of Imagination
nothing is stable
but Hope remains
i don't know where I'm going
or how i will get there
plans i had made to take me to the future
forge me where I stand
unable to go
regrets and pains tether me still
yet there is Hope
the gulls of Failure cry out
Uncertainty is assured
Doubt strives to remain secure
while Confusion lies in the prow
Sorrow is churned within the wake
there is no solid course nor ground
malleable and unsure is the way before
the compass falters
still Hope remains
it drives me forward
and sustains my steps
when all is uncertain
Hope
Thursday, January 6, 2011
For the Trees (a poem)
"For the Trees"
looking to the East I see a tree
it stands alone, magnificent
I stare and wonder at it's glory
I begin to journey toward it
focused and sure of my way
all along the path
I marvel to God at the splendor
and beauty of this tree
long weeks pass ere I reach the shade
beneath it's expansive branches
"God!" I cry, "Let me be a part of this!
Let me stay here and care for this tree.
Surely you pointed me to this place."
God sighed and pointed, "Look, there."
I followed his finger as it pointed back to the tree.
I examined the texture of it's bark, the complexity of it's leaves
"That is what I'm looking at!
God, this gift, it is beyond my understanding.
Let me stay here and learn."
Again God sighed.
He looked at me, as only a father can,
when their children doesn't understand.
He took my by the shoulder,
guided me just past the tree and said,
"No. Look at that."
I followed his outstretched arm
and saw
just beyond the tree
before me sprawled massive mountains
and leagues of forests full of beautiful trees
my mind struggled to comprehend all that I saw
the hues and shapes of his design
how did I miss all this!?
How did I journey for so long
and not see this vast ocean before me
I looked up to my Father
He smiled
"Go." he whispered softly
and he gently pushes me toward my future
looking to the East I see a tree
it stands alone, magnificent
I stare and wonder at it's glory
I begin to journey toward it
focused and sure of my way
all along the path
I marvel to God at the splendor
and beauty of this tree
long weeks pass ere I reach the shade
beneath it's expansive branches
"God!" I cry, "Let me be a part of this!
Let me stay here and care for this tree.
Surely you pointed me to this place."
God sighed and pointed, "Look, there."
I followed his finger as it pointed back to the tree.
I examined the texture of it's bark, the complexity of it's leaves
"That is what I'm looking at!
God, this gift, it is beyond my understanding.
Let me stay here and learn."
Again God sighed.
He looked at me, as only a father can,
when their children doesn't understand.
He took my by the shoulder,
guided me just past the tree and said,
"No. Look at that."
I followed his outstretched arm
and saw
just beyond the tree
before me sprawled massive mountains
and leagues of forests full of beautiful trees
my mind struggled to comprehend all that I saw
the hues and shapes of his design
how did I miss all this!?
How did I journey for so long
and not see this vast ocean before me
I looked up to my Father
He smiled
"Go." he whispered softly
and he gently pushes me toward my future
Awakened
So, a few months ago a friend sent me a link to a letter. A letter challenging the North American churches in regards to artists. It really connected with me, not so much in the vein it was intended, but that it awoke some, thing, with in me. The artist that has been dormant far too long.
From that spouted a conversation with my pastor about using those talents, and he suggested/asked that I make our churches Christmas Eve Story/Coloring book this year. Two months later, barely on time for deadline I produced "Gordon." It was the most hands on drawing I had done in years.
3 to be exact. When I last went home for Christmas. Right after creating Gordon, I went home to PA again. I had a few really great conversations over the scant 3 days I was there. Conversations that have given birth to new ideas. Conversations that are still reverberating with in me nearly 2 weeks later.
I got a few books by comic artists that I love, and studied their work, and words (if provided) about what they learned as they drew etc. I then purchased a cheap set of new markers.
Breaking them in lead me to the following image below.
He came from the idea of doing poster like images of Bible Stories. Since we're talking about Daniel at the Bin this month, I figured I'd start with Daniel in the lion's den. I roughed out a few thumbnails, and was frustrated. So I thought I'd just try a close up his face. So I googled "old man's face," and sketched this fellow. (I just re-did that search and you can probably find the basis for this sketch there)
There are things I like and don't like about it, and that's all good cause it's a sketch. Granted it took about 30-45 mins so it's a long sketch, but there he is. I will continue working with my style and try to find a place I like. When I get the full image of Danny with the lions, I'll share it too. I do like the different line qualities the different pens gave. I found a loosenes in the line work when I inked it that I've not experienced before.
Thanks to J. Scott Campbell for the idea of the "black triangle" bust look. I'm sure others have done it, but I know that's where pulled that black "V" from. (I think it ended up giving him an Obi-wan vibe.)
For now, I going to try to sketch at least 15-20 mins a day and shake the rust and cobwebs off the old drawing hand. See what comes of that.
Til then, Happy 2011!
From that spouted a conversation with my pastor about using those talents, and he suggested/asked that I make our churches Christmas Eve Story/Coloring book this year. Two months later, barely on time for deadline I produced "Gordon." It was the most hands on drawing I had done in years.
3 to be exact. When I last went home for Christmas. Right after creating Gordon, I went home to PA again. I had a few really great conversations over the scant 3 days I was there. Conversations that have given birth to new ideas. Conversations that are still reverberating with in me nearly 2 weeks later.
I got a few books by comic artists that I love, and studied their work, and words (if provided) about what they learned as they drew etc. I then purchased a cheap set of new markers.
Breaking them in lead me to the following image below.
He came from the idea of doing poster like images of Bible Stories. Since we're talking about Daniel at the Bin this month, I figured I'd start with Daniel in the lion's den. I roughed out a few thumbnails, and was frustrated. So I thought I'd just try a close up his face. So I googled "old man's face," and sketched this fellow. (I just re-did that search and you can probably find the basis for this sketch there)
There are things I like and don't like about it, and that's all good cause it's a sketch. Granted it took about 30-45 mins so it's a long sketch, but there he is. I will continue working with my style and try to find a place I like. When I get the full image of Danny with the lions, I'll share it too. I do like the different line qualities the different pens gave. I found a loosenes in the line work when I inked it that I've not experienced before.
Thanks to J. Scott Campbell for the idea of the "black triangle" bust look. I'm sure others have done it, but I know that's where pulled that black "V" from. (I think it ended up giving him an Obi-wan vibe.)
For now, I going to try to sketch at least 15-20 mins a day and shake the rust and cobwebs off the old drawing hand. See what comes of that.
Til then, Happy 2011!
Monday, August 9, 2010
My Eyes Have Seen
Never Enough
I can't even begin to think how to describe this trip to people. I've been home just over a week and I'm still reeling from the experience. At church and work people ask me how it was. And it's hard to answer. "Great." "Amazing." "Incredible," don't seem to do it justice. It was truly an experience you'd have to take for yourself to understand.
So while words and descriptions may not be enough...they can be something else. I can reach out with words and stories and convey some ideas or impressions of what the trip was like. To share that little piece of Africa that has grown in my heart like elephant.
Chrysalis
In the Western World, particularly the USA, we have wrapped ourselves in a cocoon of self-service and entertainment. Oh, we're connected to the outside world, in that we feed off their suffering to reassure ourselves that we're O.K. (Granted I'm speaking in broad strokes about our society and culture at large. I know there are many good people out there doing good things.)
It makes me think of my favorite line from Watchmen (graphic novel or movie.) Nite Owl and the Comedian are breaking up a mob of civilians in New York:
Nite Owl "...What's happened to America? What's happened to the American dream?"
The Comedian: It came true. You're lookin' at it.
I'll spare you from where my mind wants to go with this right now and relate it back to the trip. My point is that in America we don't fight for anything any more, we don't really work for it. (Again this is generalization, I know there are many people who work very hard every day) By that I mean we don't have to hack a living out of the wilderness. We can have everything delivered to our door, or the palm of our hand.
Proverbs 12:11 "He who works his land will have abundant food, but he who chases fantasies lacks judgment."
We've filled ourselves up with the fantasy of convenience. We're in a chrysalis of laziness and selfishness. And I am terrified of what we will become when that shell starts to crack open.
Bricks
I used to think so many things about who I was, what my goal in life was and on and on. But I've come to learn a few things about myself. Over the past 4-5 years I've been on a rediscovery of who I am. Where I belong in life, and most importantly who I am in Jesus. I know I've got a lot of problems and I'm far from perfect. I'm about as far from perfect as a snake is from the clouds. I knew going to Africa would be a major life changing event for me. But I had no idea how much, I'm still sorting through all of it.
That first day at Botshabelo we started work by learning to build. Anyone who knew me when I was younger know I loved Legos. I still do. If I had money to spend on toys I would most certainly be buying Legos to this day. I loved building the designed playset, learning how to fit pieces together then taking them apart and making my own design.
So getting to learn how to use real bricks to build something that could sustain more use than a Lego castle was exciting. We were to build a brick wall surrounding a sidewalk, and turn it into a giant sandbox. So that first day we learned how to scoop the mortar with a trowel, plop it on the ground, lay the brick, check levels, tap it, remove apply more mortar if needed, then lay it in. Then start over with the next brick.
There was something to holding that trowel in one hand, grabbing a massive grey brick with the other, and putting on the mortar that just felt...right. No job or work that I had ever done felt as whole and real as that. Brick by brick we built that wall. For half the time there I was able to help with the construction of that wall. Layer upon layer, mortar, brick, level, mortar, brick, level. A kind of rhythm set in, and the pit walls began to take shape.
Building this wall spoke something into my soul. I love to create things. I think that's why I love writing so much, and stories. Building this wall was a form of creation. It told a story of our labor as we worked to the final covering. So over the course of 11 days it transformed from a sidewalk, to a plastered wall, painted white with hand prints, names, and designs all over it. Where once nothing had been, a long sand box now rests, and is climbed in, jumped over, played in and filled with the sounds of laughing children.
And to know my hands, sweat and labor helped make that thing a reality...I've never known a comparable experience.
Grave
There is nothing in the world that compares to digging a grave by hand. I didn't know the people who died from Adam, but their passing will forever be a part of my life. Two people I had no knowledge of before I learned they were waiting to be buried. Their existence in my life started with learning of their deaths. It is a strange way to meet someone.
It was Tuesday the 20th of July. For us it was 12:30 PM. So here on CST it was 5:30 AM. The men of the village, including Raf, Steve and myself, started back from lunch up the long hike through the village across fields of tall, dry brown grass, to the charred fields and eventually arriving at the graveyard. The guys hung their jackets or shirts on a tree with massive thorns and set about the dimensions of the graves.
Then, with pick and shovel the digging started. We all took turns. Never have I as emotionally "off" about a physical task. To know we were digging a hole in the packed red soil of Africa to inter two people was surreal. I never anticipated that being a part of my life. It was so unusual, but so natural at the same time. It made sense in a way that I can't describe. At least not in this format.
One of the guys with us streamed dance tunes from his cell phone as we dug. Little by little we made our way down. Eventually the three of us headed back to the playground to go back to building. The other guys continued on digging until almost 8:30 that night. Apparently after we left the ground got "hard and rocky" and we were nearly halfway done when we left only 2 hours into digging. So they spent 6 hours digging about 3 feet in each grave.
The next day was the funeral. I won't go into a full description of it again, but once over, the graves were immediately filled and rimmed with big stones. The 8 hours of digging quickly filled with the casket, and red dirt. Red dirt mounds surrounded by stones and at the moment charred black earth. To have been a part of the final resting place for those two bodies, to have stood in their grave as it was being dug...it moment I will not lightly forget. I know that all that went in there was the bodies, and what made them who they were in life was long gone.
It was all simple, and to the point. No elaborate mausoleum and pricey headstone. No backhoe or machinery. Just men with shovels and picks, bent backs, and sweat. And I know that the people of Botshabelo will be back on that hill, with shovels, songs and prayers much sooner than we could hope. There, death is quite literally a part of life.
Level
If working on the sand pit wall was satisfying with each brick, creating the foundation of the kiddie-pool was utter frustration. This was my second task to focus on in Botshabelo. The sand pit was moving nicely, and other guys were working on finishing the construction while the ladies plastered it. A few of us started on the new pool.
We started out in a slightly sunken 'pit' on the edge of the playground. We set stakes in the four corners and tried to make them straight and 6 meters each side. Then we set to clearing the grass, and excess dirt to level the ground. Next we started with a row of bricks. We didn't have the foundation of the sidewalk to work off so we had to make it level, and 90* angles in the corners. KU (our friend from Ga-Rankuwa) worked tirelessly on digging and removing the soil, Christie would go before me and clear out loose earth and rocks and get the gap between the ground big enough for a brick. Then I came a long, placing the brick, leveling it, adjusting etc.
It was mentally exhausting. And it was slow going. So when the other team memembers finished plastering, or building a swing set, or whatever they were doing, the three of us could look at the pit and say, "we got 6 bricks level." It was tedious and slow going. I had a lot of time to think and examine things.
Sitting in that pit, moving a brick into place then checking the level was not hard work physically. But it tolled on my mind. I'd wait and watch as the little greenish-yellow liquid and bubble would bounce around before settling into place just a pen's width away from center, and then remove the brick. Add some loose soil, replace the brick, check level, tap the right spot to flatten the new earth, and...almost level. Repeat. Repeat. Clear away some earth cause there was too much..repeat, level, repeat.
At last the brick was in place! Shuffle my seat over that red dirt, and start on the next brick...repeat, repeat, repeat.
Tedious. But necessary. Anyone who knows anything about building, or drafting, or co-ordinates etc will tell you that a little bit off here, means a huge way off at the other end. And Con made sure we were aware of that concept, even on the sand pit construction.
It's a lot like life.
We set everything in place, and it looks level...but something is just a little off. And if we're not careful we don't see it until we reach the end of that line and realize we are nowhere near where we expected to be.
Choices we make, exceptions, lapses in judgment...indulging into that moment of complete selfishness...pushes us a little farther off the line. If we are out of level enough at the beginning we may not even recognize ourselves at the other end.
Matthew 7:13-14 says this, "13 Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. 14 For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it."
I think God has a plan for all of us that He wants us to choose to be on. He won't force us to it. It's a choice we make. A path we have to walk ourselves. We may have help from time time, or others accompanying us in different periods in our lives, but it is our walk with Him. And it's so easy, so very easy, to divert from that path.
Just like it was easy to say a brick was "close enough" to level. It didn't cut it. I'd say that out loud, and move onto the next brick, and then something was off. So I'd go back to the previous brick and correct the "close enough," before returning to where I thought I should be.
I don't want to be like that in life. I don't want to have too much dirt under me to make me go over the level line. To be so full of stuff, things that aren't necessary that I'm bloated with life and can't be used properly.
Or to not have enough in my life. To be so restrictive to what I don't rise to the line that I'm supposed to be at. To fall short. I'm not into that whole concept of universal balance or yin/yang and that sort of thing. I do believe we can fill our lives with too much stuff, too much distraction, and not see what we should. Or the opposite where we don't learn enough, we don't seek enough and come up unable to reach the goal.
I also believe that with out God, Jesus, that it doesn't matter how perfect a life I live, I'll never be enough on my own. And the more I think about it, I don't want to be enough on my own.
Leaving a Piece Behind
I know I've left a piece of my heart in South Africa. The days, the work, the events we participated in, sliced off a piece and left it in the red dirt of the kiddie-pool, the mortar of the sand pit, the silence of the graveyard, the fur of the dogs and the laughter of the kids.
Not my heart.
I see now that it wasn't really "me" that I left behind. Though I think I will long to go back all the days of my life. But it's a piece of the heart of God. Regardless of what you believe, it was God who called me to go on this trip. If He had not, I personally, wouldn't have had a reason to go. I would have been none the wiser of my chrysalis, had I stayed home. I'd have spent the two weeks visiting with friends, watching movies, going to church and thinking I was an ok guy, living a good life, doing the best I could.
But I've seen something now.
I've been blessed with the opportunity of traveling to Africa. To see the hills around Botshabelo. To hear the laughter and cries of the children. To see Marion and her family going to and fro in the village checking on everyone and everything. I've seen the sun rise and set on a different continent. I've breathed in the air of Africa, listened to the songs of a funeral, hear the drums of the Zulu in the mountains. I've locked eyes with a lion and was terrified and amazed in the same instant.
I pray more than leaving a piece of my heart, the love that God gives to me, that I could bring Africa back with me. To carry a piece of that place in my heart. To retain what I learned and experienced, and to know that I am forever changed, not because something left me, but because something was added to me. The Township, the Village, the Mountains, the animals, and the People have all given something to me.
I pray that I will honor that, and live a better life than I did before I went. To open my eyes when I think I see. To open my ears when I think I've heard it all. To talk less, and participate more. To see the world around me not as my home, but where I'm blessed to be in that moment.
So there it is, my first real reflection over the trip. It's not everything. But it's where I'm at now. I'd love to see where tomorrow takes me, but I'm here today, and today will be enough for me.
I can't even begin to think how to describe this trip to people. I've been home just over a week and I'm still reeling from the experience. At church and work people ask me how it was. And it's hard to answer. "Great." "Amazing." "Incredible," don't seem to do it justice. It was truly an experience you'd have to take for yourself to understand.
So while words and descriptions may not be enough...they can be something else. I can reach out with words and stories and convey some ideas or impressions of what the trip was like. To share that little piece of Africa that has grown in my heart like elephant.
Chrysalis
In the Western World, particularly the USA, we have wrapped ourselves in a cocoon of self-service and entertainment. Oh, we're connected to the outside world, in that we feed off their suffering to reassure ourselves that we're O.K. (Granted I'm speaking in broad strokes about our society and culture at large. I know there are many good people out there doing good things.)
It makes me think of my favorite line from Watchmen (graphic novel or movie.) Nite Owl and the Comedian are breaking up a mob of civilians in New York:
Nite Owl "...What's happened to America? What's happened to the American dream?"
The Comedian: It came true. You're lookin' at it.
I'll spare you from where my mind wants to go with this right now and relate it back to the trip. My point is that in America we don't fight for anything any more, we don't really work for it. (Again this is generalization, I know there are many people who work very hard every day) By that I mean we don't have to hack a living out of the wilderness. We can have everything delivered to our door, or the palm of our hand.
Proverbs 12:11 "He who works his land will have abundant food, but he who chases fantasies lacks judgment."
We've filled ourselves up with the fantasy of convenience. We're in a chrysalis of laziness and selfishness. And I am terrified of what we will become when that shell starts to crack open.
Bricks
I used to think so many things about who I was, what my goal in life was and on and on. But I've come to learn a few things about myself. Over the past 4-5 years I've been on a rediscovery of who I am. Where I belong in life, and most importantly who I am in Jesus. I know I've got a lot of problems and I'm far from perfect. I'm about as far from perfect as a snake is from the clouds. I knew going to Africa would be a major life changing event for me. But I had no idea how much, I'm still sorting through all of it.
That first day at Botshabelo we started work by learning to build. Anyone who knew me when I was younger know I loved Legos. I still do. If I had money to spend on toys I would most certainly be buying Legos to this day. I loved building the designed playset, learning how to fit pieces together then taking them apart and making my own design.
So getting to learn how to use real bricks to build something that could sustain more use than a Lego castle was exciting. We were to build a brick wall surrounding a sidewalk, and turn it into a giant sandbox. So that first day we learned how to scoop the mortar with a trowel, plop it on the ground, lay the brick, check levels, tap it, remove apply more mortar if needed, then lay it in. Then start over with the next brick.
There was something to holding that trowel in one hand, grabbing a massive grey brick with the other, and putting on the mortar that just felt...right. No job or work that I had ever done felt as whole and real as that. Brick by brick we built that wall. For half the time there I was able to help with the construction of that wall. Layer upon layer, mortar, brick, level, mortar, brick, level. A kind of rhythm set in, and the pit walls began to take shape.
Building this wall spoke something into my soul. I love to create things. I think that's why I love writing so much, and stories. Building this wall was a form of creation. It told a story of our labor as we worked to the final covering. So over the course of 11 days it transformed from a sidewalk, to a plastered wall, painted white with hand prints, names, and designs all over it. Where once nothing had been, a long sand box now rests, and is climbed in, jumped over, played in and filled with the sounds of laughing children.
And to know my hands, sweat and labor helped make that thing a reality...I've never known a comparable experience.
Grave
There is nothing in the world that compares to digging a grave by hand. I didn't know the people who died from Adam, but their passing will forever be a part of my life. Two people I had no knowledge of before I learned they were waiting to be buried. Their existence in my life started with learning of their deaths. It is a strange way to meet someone.
It was Tuesday the 20th of July. For us it was 12:30 PM. So here on CST it was 5:30 AM. The men of the village, including Raf, Steve and myself, started back from lunch up the long hike through the village across fields of tall, dry brown grass, to the charred fields and eventually arriving at the graveyard. The guys hung their jackets or shirts on a tree with massive thorns and set about the dimensions of the graves.
Then, with pick and shovel the digging started. We all took turns. Never have I as emotionally "off" about a physical task. To know we were digging a hole in the packed red soil of Africa to inter two people was surreal. I never anticipated that being a part of my life. It was so unusual, but so natural at the same time. It made sense in a way that I can't describe. At least not in this format.
One of the guys with us streamed dance tunes from his cell phone as we dug. Little by little we made our way down. Eventually the three of us headed back to the playground to go back to building. The other guys continued on digging until almost 8:30 that night. Apparently after we left the ground got "hard and rocky" and we were nearly halfway done when we left only 2 hours into digging. So they spent 6 hours digging about 3 feet in each grave.
The next day was the funeral. I won't go into a full description of it again, but once over, the graves were immediately filled and rimmed with big stones. The 8 hours of digging quickly filled with the casket, and red dirt. Red dirt mounds surrounded by stones and at the moment charred black earth. To have been a part of the final resting place for those two bodies, to have stood in their grave as it was being dug...it moment I will not lightly forget. I know that all that went in there was the bodies, and what made them who they were in life was long gone.
It was all simple, and to the point. No elaborate mausoleum and pricey headstone. No backhoe or machinery. Just men with shovels and picks, bent backs, and sweat. And I know that the people of Botshabelo will be back on that hill, with shovels, songs and prayers much sooner than we could hope. There, death is quite literally a part of life.
Level
If working on the sand pit wall was satisfying with each brick, creating the foundation of the kiddie-pool was utter frustration. This was my second task to focus on in Botshabelo. The sand pit was moving nicely, and other guys were working on finishing the construction while the ladies plastered it. A few of us started on the new pool.
We started out in a slightly sunken 'pit' on the edge of the playground. We set stakes in the four corners and tried to make them straight and 6 meters each side. Then we set to clearing the grass, and excess dirt to level the ground. Next we started with a row of bricks. We didn't have the foundation of the sidewalk to work off so we had to make it level, and 90* angles in the corners. KU (our friend from Ga-Rankuwa) worked tirelessly on digging and removing the soil, Christie would go before me and clear out loose earth and rocks and get the gap between the ground big enough for a brick. Then I came a long, placing the brick, leveling it, adjusting etc.
It was mentally exhausting. And it was slow going. So when the other team memembers finished plastering, or building a swing set, or whatever they were doing, the three of us could look at the pit and say, "we got 6 bricks level." It was tedious and slow going. I had a lot of time to think and examine things.
Sitting in that pit, moving a brick into place then checking the level was not hard work physically. But it tolled on my mind. I'd wait and watch as the little greenish-yellow liquid and bubble would bounce around before settling into place just a pen's width away from center, and then remove the brick. Add some loose soil, replace the brick, check level, tap the right spot to flatten the new earth, and...almost level. Repeat. Repeat. Clear away some earth cause there was too much..repeat, level, repeat.
At last the brick was in place! Shuffle my seat over that red dirt, and start on the next brick...repeat, repeat, repeat.
Tedious. But necessary. Anyone who knows anything about building, or drafting, or co-ordinates etc will tell you that a little bit off here, means a huge way off at the other end. And Con made sure we were aware of that concept, even on the sand pit construction.
It's a lot like life.
We set everything in place, and it looks level...but something is just a little off. And if we're not careful we don't see it until we reach the end of that line and realize we are nowhere near where we expected to be.
Choices we make, exceptions, lapses in judgment...indulging into that moment of complete selfishness...pushes us a little farther off the line. If we are out of level enough at the beginning we may not even recognize ourselves at the other end.
Matthew 7:13-14 says this, "13 Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. 14 For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it."
I think God has a plan for all of us that He wants us to choose to be on. He won't force us to it. It's a choice we make. A path we have to walk ourselves. We may have help from time time, or others accompanying us in different periods in our lives, but it is our walk with Him. And it's so easy, so very easy, to divert from that path.
Just like it was easy to say a brick was "close enough" to level. It didn't cut it. I'd say that out loud, and move onto the next brick, and then something was off. So I'd go back to the previous brick and correct the "close enough," before returning to where I thought I should be.
I don't want to be like that in life. I don't want to have too much dirt under me to make me go over the level line. To be so full of stuff, things that aren't necessary that I'm bloated with life and can't be used properly.
Or to not have enough in my life. To be so restrictive to what I don't rise to the line that I'm supposed to be at. To fall short. I'm not into that whole concept of universal balance or yin/yang and that sort of thing. I do believe we can fill our lives with too much stuff, too much distraction, and not see what we should. Or the opposite where we don't learn enough, we don't seek enough and come up unable to reach the goal.
I also believe that with out God, Jesus, that it doesn't matter how perfect a life I live, I'll never be enough on my own. And the more I think about it, I don't want to be enough on my own.
Leaving a Piece Behind
I know I've left a piece of my heart in South Africa. The days, the work, the events we participated in, sliced off a piece and left it in the red dirt of the kiddie-pool, the mortar of the sand pit, the silence of the graveyard, the fur of the dogs and the laughter of the kids.
Not my heart.
I see now that it wasn't really "me" that I left behind. Though I think I will long to go back all the days of my life. But it's a piece of the heart of God. Regardless of what you believe, it was God who called me to go on this trip. If He had not, I personally, wouldn't have had a reason to go. I would have been none the wiser of my chrysalis, had I stayed home. I'd have spent the two weeks visiting with friends, watching movies, going to church and thinking I was an ok guy, living a good life, doing the best I could.
But I've seen something now.
I've been blessed with the opportunity of traveling to Africa. To see the hills around Botshabelo. To hear the laughter and cries of the children. To see Marion and her family going to and fro in the village checking on everyone and everything. I've seen the sun rise and set on a different continent. I've breathed in the air of Africa, listened to the songs of a funeral, hear the drums of the Zulu in the mountains. I've locked eyes with a lion and was terrified and amazed in the same instant.
I pray more than leaving a piece of my heart, the love that God gives to me, that I could bring Africa back with me. To carry a piece of that place in my heart. To retain what I learned and experienced, and to know that I am forever changed, not because something left me, but because something was added to me. The Township, the Village, the Mountains, the animals, and the People have all given something to me.
I pray that I will honor that, and live a better life than I did before I went. To open my eyes when I think I see. To open my ears when I think I've heard it all. To talk less, and participate more. To see the world around me not as my home, but where I'm blessed to be in that moment.
So there it is, my first real reflection over the trip. It's not everything. But it's where I'm at now. I'd love to see where tomorrow takes me, but I'm here today, and today will be enough for me.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Dirty Socks, Granola Bars, and a Dog named King...
So here I am. 3 weeks later, almost to the hour, when we left for South Africa. I'm not the same person. I may have only spent 14 days in the continent, but those 14 days have forever changed my life.
The trip there was exhausting and uncomfortable. But that didn't matter. I was going to Africa. Many reading this who know me, understand that is something I've wanted to do since I was about 15. The adrenaline was pounding through me like a freight train. When the plane finally landed and we disembarked, Jen looked at me and said, "Jesse, you're in Africa!" A phrase that would be repeated many times on the trip.
After all the airport hullabaloo, we headed out to our vehicles and I got my first deep breath of African air. It didn't have a smell that I was led to believe it had. If anything it felt alive with hope and posibilities. The fact that it was winter there wasn't lost on me. I loved it. Knowing I would be working in temps over 100 F was comforting. But it was chilly, and there was an energy an expectation with every breeze.
First Impressions
We arrived at our host homes a few hours later. It was a blitzkrieg of names, smiling faces, unfamiliar hand shakes and lots of laughter and familiar greetings for those who were not a newbie like myself. We settled in and got some good shut-eye.
4:30 AM – some harebrained rooster is declaring dawn. The sun wouldn't come up for at least another 2 hours. Eventually getting up and realizing, I'm in Africa!, I got ready and headed out side. The guys from our team, and the guys in Ga-Rankuwa (a township of Pretoria) were starting a match of football. So of course I joined in. It wasn't long before the thin air (slightly over Denver elevation) and my lack of physical fitness had me hacking up one of my lungs. But it was fun. Some of the girls eventually joined in before we set to the business of the day.
We sorted all our supplies and things for the days to come, then headed to the shopping complex. It was a small, mall-like place with a big grocery store, a chemist, some clothing stores, furniture stores, eateries, etc. We later went to Charlene's Place of Safety, which I didn't quite understand exactly what it's goal was, but Louisa and her team help children who are physically disabled through personal care and education. She has an amazing story, and could warrant an entry blog or several on her own.
Botshabelo
The next day we headed to Botshabelo in Magaliesburg. It was about a 90 minute drive from Zone 7 in Ga-Rankuwa where we stayed to Botshabelo. I believe Botshabelo means "place of refuge." And I would come to learn over the next 2 weeks that it really was. For the people living there, and myself.
Being winter, the landscape looks like something from a dry wild west movie. And pulling off the road onto their drive way (a bumpy, packed red dirt road) we saw the village and residences for the first time. It was exactly what I expected from the documentary (Angles in the Dust – available on NetFlix) and previous trip photos I had seen. But I couldn't have anticipated the reality of it.
With in moments of arriving the kids were everywhere. We had a quick introduction session with Marion, then settled into our "HQ." Then we were out with the kids, who wasted no time in starting some singing and dance games and pulling all of the team into them. Soon after that most of the girls were sitting on the dry grass having their hair braided. One thing I couldn't overlook was how happy the kids were. Smiles, laughter and joy everywhere. Also everywhere were the dogs. One particular stood out, a great behemoth of a creature that looked like a species that modern dogs had descended from. His name was Horatio, and I later learned he was a Great Dane. But he still looked primeval. If I were to sit cross-legged on the ground, and he stood next to me, he would have easily cleared my head by a hands breadth or 3.
We soon were taken to the area we would be spending most of our time in. The play ground. It was mainly an open area amongst some trees that had a few rusty jungle gyms and a dilapidated wooden play fort. It looked like something out of Dr. Seuss, only with out the fun bits. The first task was to turn the path (concrete sidewalk) into a sand-pit for the kids to play in.
This took the better part of the first week to construct. We got a hands-on crash course in building (aka brick laying) and leveling etc. And we just got started. The guys worked on this, while the girls were recruited to line out the eventual fencing, and start digging post holes. As evening approached and the sun started to fade, we packed up the tools and made way to the volleyball court. At Botshabelo that is how the adults unwind at the end of each day. And as I'm typing this, they are probably finishing up the games for the day now. We would play until we couldn't see the ball anymore, and perhaps just a bit longer. It was a great first day in the village.
Another 90 minute drive home, then dinner, group discussion, and rest. The next day started all over again.
And when I took my shoes off at the end of the day, my brilliant white, brand new socks were as red as the dirt we were working on.
And that is how the week progressed in general. Up early, eat, drive, work, eat, work, play, drive, discuss, rest. But there was so much between each action. The kids would come out during school breaks and help, or play. I know I got to have many great conversations with Con. The kids were amazing. Sometimes sitting and just watching. Other times helping, then being a welcome distraction from the building, or digging or painting that was to follow.
Every day we all worked hard, with out complaint, and till the last minute we could. We would welcome lunch when it came, 30-45 mins of rest eating PB&J, chips, some fruit, and probably a granola bar. Those became a staple for me everyday, granola bars, apples, and the amazing water. Their water out of the tap, or hose faucet was better than anything I drink here in Illinois. Even better than bottled spring water. It reminded me of the well water from home in PA.
So that was the "basics" of a day.
The dogs would also lie about all day as we worked. Some just snoozing away in the sun. Others looking for a belly rub or an ear scratched. In the first few days another dog, King, became a close companion. He followed us on our lunch break, and to the van at night. Like a silent guardian he was usually right near by.
Funeral
The first Tuesday of the trip, Steve, Raf, and I were invited to join the men of the village in digging some grave in the cemetery on the far side of the property. It was chilling to walk out under the noon sun up through the village into the hills across fire scorched fields to come to the graveyard. It wasn't the organized, manicured green lawns we're used to in America. Nor was the digging like home. We had about half a dozen spades and a few picks to excavate the six foot holes.
We were digging two graves. A man and woman. One died about 30 days before our arrival, the other about 20. BGC was able to pay for their release from the mortuary and allow the burial to occur.
So there were were, under the Africa sun, digging graves. Something I never thought I'd do in my life. For me, it was surreal and haunting. For the Africans, it was sad, but far to common. The men streamed music through a cell phone as we dug. First picking the soil, then others shoveling it out. Pick, shovel, pick, shovel. We only stayed about 2 hours. The men finished at about half past 8 that night.
We were to have a vigil that evening after working, but the bodies hadn't arrived yet. So we continued on with the volleyball until dark.
The next morning started with the funeral and it lasted until lunch time. We went to the homes of each of the deceased where songs, and dancing occurred and a message from one of the pastors (I believe she was also the grade 4 teacher.) Then we followed the procession though the village, up the hill, across the burnt fields to the charred graveyard for the burial. Another sermon was given that I couldn't understand. I stood taking photos or video, just taking it all in. Once done, the graves were quickly filled and mounded and surrounded with large stones. We proceeded in relative silence back to the village to wash our hands in aloe water, to remove the dead from us.
After a somber lunch with the team, we went back to work.
Drakensberg
The Dragon Mountains. A mountain range in Kwa-Zulu Natal. Homeland of the Zulu people and background for many battles in the tumultuous history of South Africa. This is where we went on Thursday. We loaded up 14 people in a 10 passenger van, and drove about 5.5 hours West/South West. Foggy and cloudy most of the way, the veil broke as we got near the mountains, and we were able to see them in their glory on the drive up. We saw baboons along the road, just doing their baboon thing. Everyone seemed quite excited at the wildlife in that moment. We even stopped to help push a truck up the road.
Here, in Bergville (Berg – Mountain) is a World Vision office. Jen and Ang (our team leaders) sponsor a boy, and Christie (another team member) sponsors a girl. We drove from Bergville to Okhahlamba (as far as I understand it, Okhahlamba is kind of like a county to us) to the shcool in which Sphe (Jen and Ang's sponsor child)attends. We passed out goodie bags to the students. We also go to see some traditional Zulu dances when school let out. It was thrilling to say the least. To hear that drum in mass back in the days when the Zulu's would do those dances before going to war would have been chilling. Just one drum gave me goose bumps.
After only a short stay we made our way back down the mountains. We stopped at a Western US themed restaurant for dinner where they featured Rib and Prawn, or Baboon Backside as an entree.
Askari
The game drive will stand out for me as a special event. It was on Sunday after a morning in the market and shops (which I would advise, save your money for the airport gift shops! You won't get pressured there, and can take your time and actually look at what you're buying.) Don't go in alone, and stick with your buddy. But it was a fun cultural experience. We had a great lunch of pizza in a kind of touristy spot next to the market.
But the game drive that afternoon was spectacular. We loaded up into a big open sided truck, almost like a converted military type vehicle and drove through the fields and hills. First we stopped in the lion's area. Here we eventually found 3 lionesses basking in the near evening sun. Just before we left, one locked eyes with me and followed my every move. Apparently one was doing the same to our guide, which he said meant it was time to go. I felt a genuine thrill of excitement and fear when her golden eyes locked with mine. I could have stayed in that moment forever, or at least until she decided it was time to eat. Me.
The rest of the drive was also exciting but that moment with the lion will stay with me for a very long time. We saw Rhinos (so close the driver had to clear the air brakes to chase them away from the truck) Buffalo, a giraffe, different herd animals, some hippos, a croc and eventually...as a special treat (as it was late and they were in their stable) we got to see the elephants. That was also an incredible moment. Walking into their stable, and having to press up against the wall so they wouldn't try to find food on us was so amazing. Seeing them right there 10 feet away. Huge! and only half their full size at the time. Another moment that won't be leaving me soon.
Nigh
The end was approaching as we only had 3 work days left at Botshabelo. We finished the sand pit, plastered it, filled it with sand, and painted it. The chain link fence went around the entire area, 5 new wooden swing sets were erected, the rusty jungle gyms were sanded and painted, the Dr. Seuss play fort was shored up, and painted, a balance beam, and tire monkey bars were put in also. A kiddie pool was started, but between lack of supplies and time it wasn't finished (and I anticipate seeing photos of it finished, cause I spent half my time in pit leveling the foundation brick with Christie, and KU.)
I was feeling kind of sick that day, so I missed a lot of the work. Con took me to the doctor and I got another round of conversations in with him. Also had a long talk with Marion and Leigh doing the Pin Code. Which was quite an interesting experience.
As the Sun passed it's climax, we finished up the last day of work and just played with the kids. There was face painting, nail polish, balloon animals, beads and the like going on, along with the standard volley ball. Con told us we did a good job, but the true complements came from the laughter and shouts of joy as the kids used the swings, played, and enjoyed the new play ground.
Darkness fell, a bonfire started and we began not our good-byes, but see you laters. I think every one on the trip intends on going back. Maybe not next year, but I'm sure we'll all return to Botshabelo at some point. As a group or individually.
Leave Taking
Leaving was hard. The people, the kids, even the dogs and sheep (who got out everyday and several times I got the chance to herd them back to their kraal,) were hare do to leave. Especially Horatio and King. King even tried to get into the van as we closed the door for the last time. I'll miss that guy. Along with everyone and everything else.
The next morning we packed up, loaded up and said so-long to our host-families. It was bittersweet. To have been so welcomed and loved with out question was heartwarming, and to leave it was heartbreaking. We swung by Charlene's Place to see Louisa and the kids one last time before making our way back to Joburg and the airport.
Sadness, confusion, joy, uncertainty, hope among many other flavors of life and human emotion swept over me as we made our way through the bustle of the airport, the shops and gate area. It continued on in the flight, the wait for the canceled flight in DC, the final hop from DC to Chicago and the bus ride to Minooka.
Return
Driving back to Theodore Crossing with Steve, I felt as if I was in some dream. That this life I left here in the US was some false reality I was waking back up to. I realized then that the dirty socks, granola bars, and a dog named King were now intertwined in my life. That with out them, and Botshabelo, the Cloetes, the kids, Bebo, Aniki, KU, Scramble, and all the rest...I would be less of a person. They had all gotten under my skin and become part of me in a sense.
And a portion of my heart will always be in South Africa.
I'm learning to live without out it while I'm not there. It has been a lot more difficult coming home than I could have imagined. Not the jet lag or any thing like that, but the emotional hurricane that has been raging in my head and heart for near on 5 days now. It's slowing down a little bit but there is still much to ponder and pray over.
This post is by no means all inclusive. There is so much more to say, and feel. But I would be naive to think I could convey that in a blog or even one conversation.
Ke a leboga (Tswana for "Thank you")
Friends and Family - to all of you who supported myself, and the team with finances and prayers, thank you!
Ga-Rankuawa – Zone 7 peps, what can I say, your hospitality and friendship will remain in my heart for many years to come. I will see you again! Until then, keep the beats flowing, don't let the fire on the roof go out, and keep surviving!
Botshabelo – Marion, Con, Leigh, Nicole, Shanna, Lefe, Lucas, David, Michelle, Alex, and all the kids, Horatio, King and all the Dogs, Sue, Tim and everyone else in the village, thank you. I can only hope what we were able to build lasts as long as what you have given our hearts and spirits. You are all amazing people, and that is hardly enough to say about you!
BGC Team 2010 – Tania, Mel, Raf, Steve, Jess, Maria, Ang, Patsy, Kristin, and Christie, thank you for putting up with my many failed attempts at humor, the cameras being in your face, and just being such an awesome group of people to have shared this experience with. You, like all the folks in South Africa have made an impact on my life.
Jen and Ang – thank you for being great leaders and teachers on this trip. Your example for starting BGC, and all that you do is a great inspiration!
Jesus – not to sound like an award show, but honestly, if I didn't have Jesus in my life, I never would have had a desire to go to Africa, I never would have met Jen and Ang, and I wouldn't be writing any of this right now. Thank you for your life, death, forgiveness, resurrection and simply everything...even the dirty socks, granola bars, and a dog named King.
The trip there was exhausting and uncomfortable. But that didn't matter. I was going to Africa. Many reading this who know me, understand that is something I've wanted to do since I was about 15. The adrenaline was pounding through me like a freight train. When the plane finally landed and we disembarked, Jen looked at me and said, "Jesse, you're in Africa!" A phrase that would be repeated many times on the trip.
After all the airport hullabaloo, we headed out to our vehicles and I got my first deep breath of African air. It didn't have a smell that I was led to believe it had. If anything it felt alive with hope and posibilities. The fact that it was winter there wasn't lost on me. I loved it. Knowing I would be working in temps over 100 F was comforting. But it was chilly, and there was an energy an expectation with every breeze.
First Impressions
We arrived at our host homes a few hours later. It was a blitzkrieg of names, smiling faces, unfamiliar hand shakes and lots of laughter and familiar greetings for those who were not a newbie like myself. We settled in and got some good shut-eye.
4:30 AM – some harebrained rooster is declaring dawn. The sun wouldn't come up for at least another 2 hours. Eventually getting up and realizing, I'm in Africa!, I got ready and headed out side. The guys from our team, and the guys in Ga-Rankuwa (a township of Pretoria) were starting a match of football. So of course I joined in. It wasn't long before the thin air (slightly over Denver elevation) and my lack of physical fitness had me hacking up one of my lungs. But it was fun. Some of the girls eventually joined in before we set to the business of the day.
We sorted all our supplies and things for the days to come, then headed to the shopping complex. It was a small, mall-like place with a big grocery store, a chemist, some clothing stores, furniture stores, eateries, etc. We later went to Charlene's Place of Safety, which I didn't quite understand exactly what it's goal was, but Louisa and her team help children who are physically disabled through personal care and education. She has an amazing story, and could warrant an entry blog or several on her own.
Botshabelo
The next day we headed to Botshabelo in Magaliesburg. It was about a 90 minute drive from Zone 7 in Ga-Rankuwa where we stayed to Botshabelo. I believe Botshabelo means "place of refuge." And I would come to learn over the next 2 weeks that it really was. For the people living there, and myself.
Being winter, the landscape looks like something from a dry wild west movie. And pulling off the road onto their drive way (a bumpy, packed red dirt road) we saw the village and residences for the first time. It was exactly what I expected from the documentary (Angles in the Dust – available on NetFlix) and previous trip photos I had seen. But I couldn't have anticipated the reality of it.
With in moments of arriving the kids were everywhere. We had a quick introduction session with Marion, then settled into our "HQ." Then we were out with the kids, who wasted no time in starting some singing and dance games and pulling all of the team into them. Soon after that most of the girls were sitting on the dry grass having their hair braided. One thing I couldn't overlook was how happy the kids were. Smiles, laughter and joy everywhere. Also everywhere were the dogs. One particular stood out, a great behemoth of a creature that looked like a species that modern dogs had descended from. His name was Horatio, and I later learned he was a Great Dane. But he still looked primeval. If I were to sit cross-legged on the ground, and he stood next to me, he would have easily cleared my head by a hands breadth or 3.
We soon were taken to the area we would be spending most of our time in. The play ground. It was mainly an open area amongst some trees that had a few rusty jungle gyms and a dilapidated wooden play fort. It looked like something out of Dr. Seuss, only with out the fun bits. The first task was to turn the path (concrete sidewalk) into a sand-pit for the kids to play in.
This took the better part of the first week to construct. We got a hands-on crash course in building (aka brick laying) and leveling etc. And we just got started. The guys worked on this, while the girls were recruited to line out the eventual fencing, and start digging post holes. As evening approached and the sun started to fade, we packed up the tools and made way to the volleyball court. At Botshabelo that is how the adults unwind at the end of each day. And as I'm typing this, they are probably finishing up the games for the day now. We would play until we couldn't see the ball anymore, and perhaps just a bit longer. It was a great first day in the village.
Another 90 minute drive home, then dinner, group discussion, and rest. The next day started all over again.
And when I took my shoes off at the end of the day, my brilliant white, brand new socks were as red as the dirt we were working on.
And that is how the week progressed in general. Up early, eat, drive, work, eat, work, play, drive, discuss, rest. But there was so much between each action. The kids would come out during school breaks and help, or play. I know I got to have many great conversations with Con. The kids were amazing. Sometimes sitting and just watching. Other times helping, then being a welcome distraction from the building, or digging or painting that was to follow.
Every day we all worked hard, with out complaint, and till the last minute we could. We would welcome lunch when it came, 30-45 mins of rest eating PB&J, chips, some fruit, and probably a granola bar. Those became a staple for me everyday, granola bars, apples, and the amazing water. Their water out of the tap, or hose faucet was better than anything I drink here in Illinois. Even better than bottled spring water. It reminded me of the well water from home in PA.
So that was the "basics" of a day.
The dogs would also lie about all day as we worked. Some just snoozing away in the sun. Others looking for a belly rub or an ear scratched. In the first few days another dog, King, became a close companion. He followed us on our lunch break, and to the van at night. Like a silent guardian he was usually right near by.
Funeral
The first Tuesday of the trip, Steve, Raf, and I were invited to join the men of the village in digging some grave in the cemetery on the far side of the property. It was chilling to walk out under the noon sun up through the village into the hills across fire scorched fields to come to the graveyard. It wasn't the organized, manicured green lawns we're used to in America. Nor was the digging like home. We had about half a dozen spades and a few picks to excavate the six foot holes.
We were digging two graves. A man and woman. One died about 30 days before our arrival, the other about 20. BGC was able to pay for their release from the mortuary and allow the burial to occur.
So there were were, under the Africa sun, digging graves. Something I never thought I'd do in my life. For me, it was surreal and haunting. For the Africans, it was sad, but far to common. The men streamed music through a cell phone as we dug. First picking the soil, then others shoveling it out. Pick, shovel, pick, shovel. We only stayed about 2 hours. The men finished at about half past 8 that night.
We were to have a vigil that evening after working, but the bodies hadn't arrived yet. So we continued on with the volleyball until dark.
The next morning started with the funeral and it lasted until lunch time. We went to the homes of each of the deceased where songs, and dancing occurred and a message from one of the pastors (I believe she was also the grade 4 teacher.) Then we followed the procession though the village, up the hill, across the burnt fields to the charred graveyard for the burial. Another sermon was given that I couldn't understand. I stood taking photos or video, just taking it all in. Once done, the graves were quickly filled and mounded and surrounded with large stones. We proceeded in relative silence back to the village to wash our hands in aloe water, to remove the dead from us.
After a somber lunch with the team, we went back to work.
Drakensberg
The Dragon Mountains. A mountain range in Kwa-Zulu Natal. Homeland of the Zulu people and background for many battles in the tumultuous history of South Africa. This is where we went on Thursday. We loaded up 14 people in a 10 passenger van, and drove about 5.5 hours West/South West. Foggy and cloudy most of the way, the veil broke as we got near the mountains, and we were able to see them in their glory on the drive up. We saw baboons along the road, just doing their baboon thing. Everyone seemed quite excited at the wildlife in that moment. We even stopped to help push a truck up the road.
Here, in Bergville (Berg – Mountain) is a World Vision office. Jen and Ang (our team leaders) sponsor a boy, and Christie (another team member) sponsors a girl. We drove from Bergville to Okhahlamba (as far as I understand it, Okhahlamba is kind of like a county to us) to the shcool in which Sphe (Jen and Ang's sponsor child)attends. We passed out goodie bags to the students. We also go to see some traditional Zulu dances when school let out. It was thrilling to say the least. To hear that drum in mass back in the days when the Zulu's would do those dances before going to war would have been chilling. Just one drum gave me goose bumps.
After only a short stay we made our way back down the mountains. We stopped at a Western US themed restaurant for dinner where they featured Rib and Prawn, or Baboon Backside as an entree.
Askari
The game drive will stand out for me as a special event. It was on Sunday after a morning in the market and shops (which I would advise, save your money for the airport gift shops! You won't get pressured there, and can take your time and actually look at what you're buying.) Don't go in alone, and stick with your buddy. But it was a fun cultural experience. We had a great lunch of pizza in a kind of touristy spot next to the market.
But the game drive that afternoon was spectacular. We loaded up into a big open sided truck, almost like a converted military type vehicle and drove through the fields and hills. First we stopped in the lion's area. Here we eventually found 3 lionesses basking in the near evening sun. Just before we left, one locked eyes with me and followed my every move. Apparently one was doing the same to our guide, which he said meant it was time to go. I felt a genuine thrill of excitement and fear when her golden eyes locked with mine. I could have stayed in that moment forever, or at least until she decided it was time to eat. Me.
The rest of the drive was also exciting but that moment with the lion will stay with me for a very long time. We saw Rhinos (so close the driver had to clear the air brakes to chase them away from the truck) Buffalo, a giraffe, different herd animals, some hippos, a croc and eventually...as a special treat (as it was late and they were in their stable) we got to see the elephants. That was also an incredible moment. Walking into their stable, and having to press up against the wall so they wouldn't try to find food on us was so amazing. Seeing them right there 10 feet away. Huge! and only half their full size at the time. Another moment that won't be leaving me soon.
Nigh
The end was approaching as we only had 3 work days left at Botshabelo. We finished the sand pit, plastered it, filled it with sand, and painted it. The chain link fence went around the entire area, 5 new wooden swing sets were erected, the rusty jungle gyms were sanded and painted, the Dr. Seuss play fort was shored up, and painted, a balance beam, and tire monkey bars were put in also. A kiddie pool was started, but between lack of supplies and time it wasn't finished (and I anticipate seeing photos of it finished, cause I spent half my time in pit leveling the foundation brick with Christie, and KU.)
I was feeling kind of sick that day, so I missed a lot of the work. Con took me to the doctor and I got another round of conversations in with him. Also had a long talk with Marion and Leigh doing the Pin Code. Which was quite an interesting experience.
As the Sun passed it's climax, we finished up the last day of work and just played with the kids. There was face painting, nail polish, balloon animals, beads and the like going on, along with the standard volley ball. Con told us we did a good job, but the true complements came from the laughter and shouts of joy as the kids used the swings, played, and enjoyed the new play ground.
Darkness fell, a bonfire started and we began not our good-byes, but see you laters. I think every one on the trip intends on going back. Maybe not next year, but I'm sure we'll all return to Botshabelo at some point. As a group or individually.
Leave Taking
Leaving was hard. The people, the kids, even the dogs and sheep (who got out everyday and several times I got the chance to herd them back to their kraal,) were hare do to leave. Especially Horatio and King. King even tried to get into the van as we closed the door for the last time. I'll miss that guy. Along with everyone and everything else.
The next morning we packed up, loaded up and said so-long to our host-families. It was bittersweet. To have been so welcomed and loved with out question was heartwarming, and to leave it was heartbreaking. We swung by Charlene's Place to see Louisa and the kids one last time before making our way back to Joburg and the airport.
Sadness, confusion, joy, uncertainty, hope among many other flavors of life and human emotion swept over me as we made our way through the bustle of the airport, the shops and gate area. It continued on in the flight, the wait for the canceled flight in DC, the final hop from DC to Chicago and the bus ride to Minooka.
Return
Driving back to Theodore Crossing with Steve, I felt as if I was in some dream. That this life I left here in the US was some false reality I was waking back up to. I realized then that the dirty socks, granola bars, and a dog named King were now intertwined in my life. That with out them, and Botshabelo, the Cloetes, the kids, Bebo, Aniki, KU, Scramble, and all the rest...I would be less of a person. They had all gotten under my skin and become part of me in a sense.
And a portion of my heart will always be in South Africa.
I'm learning to live without out it while I'm not there. It has been a lot more difficult coming home than I could have imagined. Not the jet lag or any thing like that, but the emotional hurricane that has been raging in my head and heart for near on 5 days now. It's slowing down a little bit but there is still much to ponder and pray over.
This post is by no means all inclusive. There is so much more to say, and feel. But I would be naive to think I could convey that in a blog or even one conversation.
Ke a leboga (Tswana for "Thank you")
Friends and Family - to all of you who supported myself, and the team with finances and prayers, thank you!
Ga-Rankuawa – Zone 7 peps, what can I say, your hospitality and friendship will remain in my heart for many years to come. I will see you again! Until then, keep the beats flowing, don't let the fire on the roof go out, and keep surviving!
Botshabelo – Marion, Con, Leigh, Nicole, Shanna, Lefe, Lucas, David, Michelle, Alex, and all the kids, Horatio, King and all the Dogs, Sue, Tim and everyone else in the village, thank you. I can only hope what we were able to build lasts as long as what you have given our hearts and spirits. You are all amazing people, and that is hardly enough to say about you!
BGC Team 2010 – Tania, Mel, Raf, Steve, Jess, Maria, Ang, Patsy, Kristin, and Christie, thank you for putting up with my many failed attempts at humor, the cameras being in your face, and just being such an awesome group of people to have shared this experience with. You, like all the folks in South Africa have made an impact on my life.
Jen and Ang – thank you for being great leaders and teachers on this trip. Your example for starting BGC, and all that you do is a great inspiration!
Jesus – not to sound like an award show, but honestly, if I didn't have Jesus in my life, I never would have had a desire to go to Africa, I never would have met Jen and Ang, and I wouldn't be writing any of this right now. Thank you for your life, death, forgiveness, resurrection and simply everything...even the dirty socks, granola bars, and a dog named King.
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