No need for words...

Me and Stacey

A toothless smile, outstretched hands, no hesitation, no fear. Our eyes met and a connection sparked to life. Hope emanated from within her and her eyes begged me for only one thing: love. We stood hand in hand, swaying back and forth as the music of the Lord filled the room, though the voices that echoed around me were but a muffled melody amidst my own thoughts and words of the Holy Spirit: “Look at her. She is my child just as you are. This is love. Love that is innocent, courageous, joyous, zealous, simple, embracing, pure, captivating, vivacious, warm, hopeful. This. Is. Love.”

           

Seeing her surfaced another reason why I am here. This feeling of reassurance that I am meant to be here, whose origin I cannot describe, enveloped me in a warm embrace as her laughter filled my ears. Simultaneously, tears filled my eyes as my heart was overwhelmed with both joy and sorrow. How long had it been since I had been completely detached from myself and consumed by such pure love? Too long. Far too long. But by the power of God’s grace and mercy, that changed today.

Although our encounter lasted less than an hour, the little girl that I met at a church service this morning made a timeless impact towards my perspective on love, purpose, and life. The church service was in association with Place of Hope, which is Hannah’s (one of my 19 awesome housemates) service site. In short, Place of Hope is designed to empower women and their children in crisis to get back on their feet and move forward.

Today was my first time going there and needless to say, it will not be my last.

Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. 

1 John 3:18

Lovingly yours,

Janelle
 

A week of tourism...and then some

Wow, 12 days since my last update...whoops! :/ While I haven't been updating on here, I've definitely been journaling my thoughts and just haven't had the time to type everything up. So here's a little shpeal to get things going: 


Okay so the first week we were here felt like we had done a month's worth of tourism stuff jammed into 1 week. Here's a taste of Day 1 through Day 8:

-          Sunday – exploring, went for a run, pizza with group (the pizza was surprisingly good), train ride to the BEACH, out to dinner/Stones 

-          Monday - visited some people's service sights (got to see mine!), went for a run, café garnish with group and Melikaya and his wife

-          Tuesday – Signal Hill, more service sites, run, stayed in at night to hang pictures of friends and family on my wall and paint nails

-          Wednesday – UWC orientation/registration (9 am - 5 pm), traditional food at awesome authentic African restaurant (see previous entry for my "food for thought" haha sooo punny!)

-          Thursday – District 6 museum, Slave lodge museum, photographs exhibit, fruit and veg market, waterfront (went on HUGE ferris wheel!), run/walk up part of mountain

-          Friday – Parliament, UWC to find classes, lay outside, yoga, Long Street - 1 bar and 1 clubby bar

-          Saturday – free day! old biscuit mill market, horse races, laundry 

-          Sunday – robben island, train, nap, run up part of mountain without stopping (wicked steep), house meeting

...phew! It may not seem like that much but combine that with an 8 hour time change and major jetlag and you've got quite the schedule. But I'm not here to give you a play-by-play of my day(s). No, I'm here to offer my thoughts and reflections on my experiences. That said, week 1 was super busy but totally awesome. Week 2 I started classes, which I am taking 4 of them: Theology of Forgiveness, Leaders in Grassroots Organizations (both required Marquette courses), Topics in Film (counts as my English literature credit and I get to watch Shakespeare movies for homework - love!) and finally Social Problems and Development (Honours level course through UWC's Institute of Social Development). Theology is awesome so far because it's designed to be a reflective course on our experiences here in Africa, Grassroots is very interesting because I know very little about social development and how these things work, English seems pretty laid back and won't be too difficult, and finally Social Problems is challenging because it's more of a work load than I expected (3 page papers every week) but I am definitely going to learn a lot. Oh well :)

Also in week 2 my housemates and I had a traditional "braai" which is an Afrikaans term that is synonymous to an American BBQ or cookout. We all prepared an American dish, invited South African friends, and it turned out to be really awesome. We even had a hula hoop contest in our backyard - totally sweeeet! And then there's week 3...A LOT has happened this past week and because of that I will be blogging about it separately (cliff hanger!). On that note, it's 12:30 AM and I have to get up in 6 hours to go to my service site so off to bed for now.

Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall

Isaiah 40:30

Sleepily yours,

Janelle

Patience is a virtue

If you want the perfect place to people watch, the horse races are where it's at. Saturday Caitlin, Vicky, Sarah, and I went to the J&B Met "Larger than Life" horse race event. As per the advertisement "the J&B Met is all about glamour, networking, fashion, sophistication, and 'partying' with friends." We saw some of the craziest dresses and outfits EVER. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The day started off with a walk to the "Old Biscuit Mill" market where I found some awesome produce/fresh foods and browsed the many different clothing shops for a few hours. Despite the massive crowd and surplus of bodies moving about (it's only open Saturday mornings so a large crowd is to be expected), I was enthralled with the atmosphere. All the food was completely natural and the samples were simply scrumptious! To top it off, I found the chair I want to have on my porch when I'm old and retired (featured on the left); super comfy and just my size :)

Later in the afternoon the girls and I dolled up (which I discovered is a very relative term) and were off to the races! Well, at least we thought we were until we arrived and realized that Vicky and I didn't have our IDs, which I didn't know we needed. FAIL. Although paying for and finding a taxi back was a pain, it turned out for the best because we got to pick up Sarah and we found Tony, a really nice taxi driver. Right, so the races…I’ve basically decided that if I ever get rich and bored with my money (after I solve world hunger and establish world peace, of course) I’m going to buy the most ridiculous looking dress and go to the races for some fun. I have never seen so many exotic dresses or attire in my life! It was definitely the equivalent of prom on steroids. Just saying. 

The next day we ventured out to Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 18 years out of his total 27 years behind bars. Talk about a reality check. We boarded a large ferry that took us over to the island and as I gazed out the window at the vast ocean I tried to envision how Winnie (Mandela’s 2^nd wife) felt when making this same trip over to visit her husband over 40 years ago. The prisoners were described as “wild animals” to the prison wards and were treated as such. As a result, prisoners only got 1 visitor every 6 months for 30 minutes. It must have been a bittersweet feeling for Winnie; sweet and full of excitement because she was about to see her husband but also bitter in knowing that in less than 1 hour she would be back on the ferry until another 6 months had passed. Even upon arrival visitors were not allowed to make physical contact with the prisoners. Rather, the prisoner and visitor were separated by a glass shield and could only communicate by a phone system, which was tapped into by a prison ward to ensure no political issues were discussed. Winnie could see her husband’s face, hear his voice, and put her hand up to the glass but could touch him. Now for some people this may not appear as such a big deal but think about it: this is your life partner. The one whom you vowed to share everything with, to take care of until the day you die, to be there in sickness and in health, everything. And yet there was nothing Winnie could do to help her husband. “Look but don’t touch.” How torturous! In the midst of my imagination, the ferry slowed and we arrived on the island. Even after my mental imagery I just engaged in, I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

I learned that there is not only 1 but 4 prisons on Robben Island: 2 of which I cannot remember the name of (Google is failing me right now), 1 is the infamous maximum security prison where Mandela was held and the final one was that of Mangi Sabuki (definitely butchered the spelling). I unfortunately don’t recall much of his significance or why he was imprisoned but hris importance for me was to see the 2 small rooms he lived in for many years before he became mentally ill and passed away supposedly of cancer. For the purposes of the museum only a few of his belongings were displayed but it still cemented the idea of “living simply” and desire to “simply live.” To imagine my life stripped of all my material items and personal relationships is virtually impossible. Sabuki only had a pen and paper to communicate with the outside world and the occasional viewing of the prisoners from the maximum security prison as they walked to the limestone grounds. I can’t comprehend that kind of living because it’s barely living at all.

We moved along to a few other sites, including the amazing view of Table Mountain and Cape Town from the shore, until we finally arrived at the Maximum Security Prison where we were given a tour by an ex-prisoner. As we walked through the rooms and hallways I realized that I was walking though history, and history that happened less than 20 years ago. History that happened in my lifetime. I learned that three words spoken by Mandela saved this country from a bloody civil war: “Tolerance, reconciliation, and hope.” If that wasn’t enough of a reality check, seeing the conditions these prisoners endured and then standing in that same structure only 17 years after South Africa’s first democratic election definitely was.

But what really blew me away was seeing Mandela’s actual prison cell. Earlier in the tour we had been shown the dog kennels where the prison ward’s kept the dogs and to my unfortunate surprise Mandela’s cell was smaller than one of those dog kennels. These prisoners really had been treated as “wild animals” and I could not (and still cannot) believe that Mandela lived in such a tiny space for 18 years in order to establish freedom for himself and all the people of South Africa…wow.

To say that I desire the patience of Mandela is an understatement. I will be the first to admit that if things do not go according to plan or there is a lot of waiting involved I do not always have the best reactions, such as frustration, anger, and annoyance. A recent example was yesterday when I was highly irritated and fed up with UWC’s lengthy registration process and having to re-arrange my schedule for the 3rd time. Yet after seeing the conditions Mandela experienced I am ashamed of myself. Eleven days into this trip I have realized that I am privileged in variety of ways that I was unaware of, and because of that I will strive to embrace struggles with acceptance rather than shoving them away with frustration.

A hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel.

Proverbs 15:18

Patiently yours,

Janelle