I lived.

Before starting this YAGM journey, I simply told my friends and my family that I was going to be “serving” for a year in South Africa. I didn’t have all the answers and didn’t know what I would be “doing” everyday; but I was certain that I was going to be serving. It would be a year filled with learning and confusion, year of wonder and frustration, a year of struggle and joys; but a year that I had simplified as a year of “service.”

And it’s not to say that this year I haven’t served. There were times that I felt I was “doing” what I could. But in all these quotations of “doing” and “serving,” I realized that those things were the smallest fraction of what this year has been. My hands weren’t necessarily doing “work,” they were being held by my little neighbors on afternoon walks, or being handed a slice of bread to share by a teacher, or chopping vegetables with a friend in her kitchen as we talked about our day.

I didn’t just serve for a year in South Africa. I lived.

I lived as I woke up every day and showed up, with my hands open.

I lived as kids in my 2-3 year old class progressed in learning to count from 5, to counting to 10. (VERY EXCITING with BIG high fives!!!)

I lived as I learned to redefine what “success” and “busy” meant in my every day to day.

I lived as I witnessed funerals of some of my friends who lost their father, mother, and child.

I lived as the hot summer sun faded into a brisk winter, and T-shirts became layered under warm sweaters and scarfs.

I lived as I learned how to dance like no one is watching from the pros: 3 year olds.

I lived as I cried laughing at stories shared with me between a woman and her daughter who adopted me into their family and home.

I lived as I forgot what my life was like back in the US, and I began to lessen my grip on the things I thought I missed most.

I lived in a conversation of confusion, but was meet with grace and kindness by others who translated and taught me Setswana.

I lived in frustration, as I continued to learn the histories and complexities of Apartheid in South Africa, racism, gender inequality, domestic violence, economic inequality and corrupt institutions.

I lived in quietness, only to be interrupted by giggling and singing in the street from my 4th grade girl neighbors.

I lived in prayer to find stillness, peace, and understanding.

I lived in gratitude, because somehow, each day, someone was there to share a smile.

I walked into my community as a complete stranger, and left it as my home. I made friends, young and old, who taught me more than I’ll ever know and walked alongside me. And it’s not to say every day was easy; I struggled some days, faced difficult loneliness, and I faced a lot of really tough questions. But in all of it, I lived. My community taught me and showed me to live by no longer going through the motions, no longer checking the clock, but by being intentionally present together.

I’ve been out of my community for almost a month now. And it’s been an emotional rollercoaster of goodbyes, see you laters, and reunions. I’m now continually faced with the difficult question of: How was it? But I’m at a loss for words in how it “was.” Because how do you just simplify a year of living?

This year I was invited. This year my hands were held and embraced by others. This year I talked less and listened more. This year I found hope and joy in our broken world. And this year I couldn’t be more grateful to have lived.

Ke a leboga (Thank you)

Modimo a go tlhogonolofatse (God bless you)

Purple Lipstick

Recently in my community and throughout South Africa, there has been more attention towards and more awareness of gender based violence. Although this isn’t new news, I’ve heard and talked about it more in my community this month than I have all year. According to Statistics SA’s 2016 Demographic and Health survey, on average 1 in 5 South African women older than 18 has experienced physical violence. Even more so, 4 in 10 divorced or separated women reported physical violence. In her book, The Born Frees, Kimberly Burge comments on this persistent injustice in South Africa:

“Why do South Africans, who fought so courageously and fiercely to rid their nation of a racist government, tacitly accept the abuse and killing of their mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, and friends? I cannot understand it.”

I certainly can’t either. Throughout this year I’ve met and heard stories about women who have faced domestic violence. Whether it was themselves, their daughter, niece or friend, it happens more to often than we would like to think.

I’ve never been made more aware of my gender until coming to South Africa. There’s been more attention on my body image, what I should wear, on my relationship status, and on my age. More attention on where I go, what time, and who I am with. More limitations. And much of that has to do with my safety. But sometimes I can’t help but ask, what if roles were reversed? It can feel defeating. How can we get beyond these limitations? And even more than limitations, how can we bring and end to gender based violence?

But in the past few weeks I’ve come to realize that I haven’t been seeing the whole picture. I’ve been so focused on the negative and injustice, and blind to the strength and determination. Like last week when I attended a funeral Friday afternoon and women from the community came in numbers with their kitchen knifes to help prepare alllllllll the food for the family. Or my friend who works her butt off everyday, to give all her earnings to her son to pay for his education. Or a conversation with a 14-year-old young woman, who tells me, “I don’t know who made boxes we girls are supposed to fit in, but no one is going to put me in a box.”

It’s these women who remind me that those limitations and abuses are not the end of the story. As I am continually inspired by them all. I also can’t help but thank my amazing friend Gontse for teaching me more about actually hearing the voices of the women of South Africa.

I met Gontse on my first day at Kopa Dilalelo, the primary school I volunteer at. Immediately she reminded me of my best friend and college roommate, Carolyn. She was so welcoming and asked me so many questions right off the bat. Gontse included me in everything from day one, whether she was translating conversations in Tswana for me or taking me with her to pick something up at the tuck shop. She would grab my hand and say, “Samantha let’s go!” (Talk about walking beside our global companions! Literally!)

Gontse has been there with me through thick and thin, helping me without even always knowing. She’s there if I need to vent or ask for advice. Gontse knows me beyond this YAGM year. We’ve spent many afternoons sharing life stories and getting to know each other. I love the days when we laugh over cultural differences and phrases. Apparently “guesstimating” isn’t a word used very often in South Africa! I love to laugh, and Gontse and I are always laughing together. She welcomes me into her home with open arms. Even once when I was having a bad week and she didn’t know, she invited me over and had bought donuts for us to share! It was a little taste of home I needed. Gontse is the kind of friends to just call and check up on me. She always knows what’s going on with my family back home and always asks how the other volunteers (by name) in my group are doing. She encourages me to be me, that I am beautiful, that I am enough, and that settling is not an option.

Gontse has a two-year-old son and continues to inspire me beyond belief. As she juggles school at university and motherhood, she still has time to support her friends and her community. As the only parental supporter of her son, Gontse empowers single women everywhere. And even on the days I know she is most tired, she handles it all with grace. She’s not willing to settle for herself or her child. She is strong, determined and will not let limitations hold her back.

Two weeks ago I was visiting Gontse at her house. She brought out her favorite purple lipstick, she wanted me to try it. I was nervous and she just laughed. Never have I been brave or bold enough to wear a lot of lipstick, let alone purple. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. Little did Gontse know that purple is my absolute favorite color. We went for a walk to pick up her son from the crèche and I felt empowered, hand in hand with our purple lipstick. I walked with a new found confidence. But it was more than that. Although odds can be against us, a lot of pressure on our actions, and limitations we can’t control, we walk hand in hand because we are stronger together. Purple is the color for domestic violence awareness, a symbol of peace, survival and courage.

Last week Gontse invited me to attend a memorial vigil with her, for a young woman in our community whose life was sadly cut short as a result of domestic violence; she has left behind her two young children. On our way to the service, Gontse let me borrow a black jacket and handed me some of her purple lip stick with a big smile. I smiled back and put it on with out hesitation. Together we stood supporting this woman and so many of our sisters who continue to face gender based violence. “We aren’t going to let this keep happening.” Gontse told me.

And she’s right.

Thank you William

I wanted to introduce you all to someone very important in my life. Although this blog doesn’t do justice for how special this person is and how much he means to me, I hope it can give you all a glimpse of how grateful I am that through YAGM and by the grace of God, we became friends.

I met William on my very first day in Mabopane. He helped pick me up from the bus station. I was extremely nervous not knowing where I was or what I was getting myself into. He greeted me with a warm hug saying, “Hello my darling.” And in that moment I was overwhelmed with comfort. Everything would be okay. And that day he made a mark on my heart forever.

William is 71 years old. He grew up working on a farm for Afrikaners with his mom and dad and all of his 7 siblings. I cherish the days I can sit with him and learn about his life. William grew up and lived half of his life under the laws of Apartheid. I’m so thankful for his vulnerability in sharing his stories with me. He talks about having jobs in the workplace where he was discriminated against based on his race and language. His struggles in commuting hours to and from school on foot everyday. How he never gave up hope or positivity, because he knew “God was with us.” He tells me, “If it were still Apartheid, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now having a conversation about life. I’m glad that it’s over and we can be friends.”

William is now retired, walks everywhere every day, gyms in the mornings, and works three days of the week on the church grounds. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I look forward to seeing his bright and smiling shining face. He always greets me with a giant smile from ear to ear. “Hello my darling!” His presence is so calm, peaceful and content. There’s always time to stop and chat (or sometimes have tea!), no matter how busy either of us are. Whether he is teaching me about a tree in the yard, or we are updating each other on our family, it makes any kind of day I’m having even better. When I spend time with William, even if for a few minutes or a few hours, I gain a sense of joy that I think we all lose when we get wrapped up in the business of every day life.

William always, and I mean ALWAYS, knows what to say. Sometimes he even gives me unsolicited advice that is exactly what I needed to hear! I even tell him, “It’s like you knew what I was thinking.” And he merely says, “God works in mysterious ways,” with a big smile and laugh. William is the kind of friend who will sit down with you for an hour or more to look at pictures of your family. “They are all so beautiful,” he says. The kind of friend who prays that he will get the chance to meet them all at my wedding someday. The kind of friend that when I am struggling or stressed, reminds me to be the person I am, because that person is enough; “The person God intended you to be,” he says. He is the kind of friend, that when I heard difficult news from home, showed up unexpectedly. And when he saw me upset, wrapped me in a warm hug and dropped everything to stop and pray for me and my family.

One day I was sitting in a taxi, on my way to town. The taxi driver drives all around Mabopane until the taxi is full with 16 passengers. Low and behold, walking in the distance I see William, and he gets on the same taxi as me! I couldn’t believe it, what were the odds?! He smiled and laughed at my shock. “I’m telling you God works in mysterious ways. God really is so very good. He puts the right people in your life when you need them.” And it couldn’t have been more true.

William has taught me that friendship has no limits on social systems and no limits on age. Friendship finds us and guides us in the ways we didn’t know we needed. And friendships with each other are exactly what each of us desperately needs in our lives.

This YAGM year has brought me so many gifts. But William has been a gift I never knew I needed. Recently he said to me, “My dad taught me that when you care and love someone, you must tell them. Don’t hesitate to say it, or say, ‘No I’ll just tell them later.’ You must tell people you love them always when you have the chance.”

Words cannot describe how much myself, and soooooo many others love you my friend.

Thank you William.

Freedom Day

Even after 8 months of living in South Africa, I still struggle to wrap my head around the histories and complexities of Apartheid. A government that forcibly discriminated against its people based on race. Apartheid is an Afrikaans word meaning, “separateness or a state of being apart.” For nearly 50 years, Apartheid was the government’s law of racial segregation. During Apartheid you were classified into one of four categories according to your skin color: White, Indian, Coloured, or Black. Your classification then determined everything in your life:

-your voting rights

-where you lived

-where you could or could not travel

-where you went to school (if at all) and what you could study

-where you could work (if at all) and what work you could do

-who you could marry

-where you worshipped

-what toilets you could use

-what public transport you took

-what cemetery you could bury your relatives who’ve passed

And the list could go on.

And if you did not comply with these laws and were caught, you could have been beaten, arrested, or killed. Even for the simplest infraction like not having your identification book with you.

Everyday I witness the wounds still struggling to heal from Apartheid, and the scars that will forever be left behind. I live in a township that is about 45 minutes from Pretoria (town), the nation’s capital. A township where black people were forced to live outside the city. A place where even today, you very rarely see white people walking on the street or speaking the local language. A place where jobs are not, and if you don’t have a car you pay for public transport everyday to get to and from work in town. I listen to stories of people in my community. Of people recalling getting beaten for being seen in town. Recalling not having freedom to have a job or discriminated against based on race and language in the workplace. In town, I’m shown an old “white only church,” that has a sounding alarm that was used during Apartheid to warn people to duck under pews because police are firing at black people being seen in the area.

On of my dearest friends in Mabopane, William, has taught me so much about apartheid through his life stories. William is the kind of friend who can sit with you outside with a glass of water and talk with you for hours. He tells me his stories of growing up, of working, and knowing Apartheid his whole life (71 years in fact!) And there’s one story that I will never forget, one he has given me permission to share with you all:

When William was about 15, he and some of his friends were going to town after school. When they were there, they were stopped by three guys asking what they had in their bags. They told them they just had books. And the three guys responded, “You’re a baboon, baboons can’t read.” Then the guys started to fight William and his friends. An older white man came up to them asking what they were fighting about, saying to William and his friends, “You shouldn’t be here anyways, go back to the farms where you belong.”

But he never said anything against those men’s verbal and physical abuse. He never wished ill of them. And when I asked him why, he said, “We can’t blame each other. It was the government that set these rules to separate us.” He reminds me that, “Before there was no freedom, but it’s better now. If it were Apartheid, you and I wouldn’t get to be here talking about life together.” I sat in awe of his positivity and unwavering hope for the people of his country. “It was tough, but God was with us.” My respect for him is beyond words.

And this is just scratching the surface. There are still so many stories not shared, issues and facts of Apartheid, like gang rape, torture, unlawful arrests, murder, hazardous living conditions, stripping of identity and dignity, acts of dehumanization, and again the list could go on.

So many people lost their lives fighting for freedom from Apartheid in South Africa. And today we celebrate those lives.

Today, April 27th, 2018, we celebrate Freedom Day in South Africa. On this day 24 years ago, South Africa held its first post-Apartheid democratic election. These elections were the first time anyone over the age of 18 from any race group were allowed to vote. Before 1994, only white citizens had the right to vote in South Africa. On this day, Nelson Mandela was elected president. On this day, all people of South Africa had the right to their voice. And in the words of Nelson Mandela:

“As dawn ushered in this day, the 27th of April 1994, few of us could suppress the welling emotion, as we were reminded of the terrible past from which we come as a nation; the great possibilities that we now have; and the bright future that beckons us. And so we assemble here today, and on other parts of the country, to mark a historic day in the life of our nation. Wherever South Africans are around the globe, our hearts beat as one, as we renew our common loyalty to our country and our commitment to its future.”

Our hearts beat as one.

And even though we celebrate today, we undoubtedly still have a lot to learn about Apartheid. It is important to note that even though Apartheid has ended, it does not mean that the work is done in South Africa. Apartheid wasn’t just a pesky scab that was ripped off and thrown away. There are still many steps to take toward equality. Today South Africa is going through the repercussions of Apartheid, what many like to call an “economic apartheid.” Unemployment is at an all time high, recorded at 27% in 2017. If you have time check out this article, it touches on these some of these economic issues South Africans face today:

https://mobile.nytimes.com/2017/10/24/business/south-africa-economy-apartheid.html

I most certainly am not by any means an expert. Please take time to read, do your research, and listen.

Breaking Bread Together

My dear friend Mama Golo likes to make this delicious bread we call dumpling, “le dumbolo” in Tswana. I absolutely love it! I always look forward to when she brings me a slice or two once a month.

She always smiles and says, “Mama Samanta come and eat your dumpling!” Mama Golo is like a mother to me, and so when I asked her if she could teach me to make dumpling someday, she was so very happy. “You are my daughter, I love you very much,” she always says.

On Sunday I picked up my ingredients at the local tuck shop and walked over to her house. I was surprised when she said I only needed a few things!

 

Ingredients:

-1 kg Cake Flour

-1 10 g packet of instant yeast

-A pitcher of warm water 

-A small handful of sugar

-A few pinches of salt 

-A touch of vegetable oil 

-A lot of sunshine and a lot of love

 

“It’s very simple!” she told me. First, we grabbed a big bowl and mixed the flour, yeast, sugar and salt. Then we slowly added the water and oil, and kneaded the dough. We did this until it was a perfect gooey texture. Then we covered the bowl and set it outside in the sun for the dough to rise. It took about an hour for the sun to get the job done, then we put our dough in a plastic bag we lined with a drop of oil. From there we got a big pot and put a metal bowl inside. We placed the bag of dough in the bowl, and filled the pot with a few inches of water. We put the pot on the stove on high to boil for about 3 hours, and just like that we had delicious dumpling!! I was surprised at how simple the whole process really was. The prep time took only a few minutes, and Mama Golo showed me that what was most important was a lot of time and good company. 

I was so thankful for Mama Golo to go out of her way to teach me how to make dumpling. But actually our work didn’t stop there! As we waiting for the dumpling, we cooked A LOT! Typically people in my community spend their Sundays cooking after church and serve it throughout the week. Together we cooked so many things! We made coleslaw, chackalaka, beet root, rice, cabbage, chicken, and gravy! Mama Golo also made mashed potatoes and mashed pumpkin! I learned so many tricks and secrets she uses in the kitchen. She was telling me how much she loves to cook, and she is very good at it! We used everything, wasted nothing and composted the scraps in her garden. Even though at times I felt incapable and slow, she continued giving me tasks and thanking me; “I would still be cooking for hours if you weren’t here to help me.”

 

The more we cooked together the more I wished I had done this more with my neighbors back home. As I live and experience this year in SA, I continue to reflect on how much I have let time negatively impact my relationships with others. And why is that? We are socialized to prioritize time, to have a full schedule. “Sorry, I’m busy.” Maybe I’ve gone through the motions of “breaking bread together,” but there is more to it. As Mama Golo and I chatted about life and hummed to the radio in the kitchen, I found a sense of comfort in losing track of the time. She taught me that there’s always a time to learn, and it’s doesn’t have to be on a schedule because it’s never too late. 

When we finished cooking, we sat down and ate, it was a feast! Mama Golo is always feeding me, much like my mom. In South Africa, wherever and whoever I am with, there is always food being shared with me. Even if it is just a slice of bread, a half of a corn stalk, or a cup of juice, we share. It’s an understatement to say food brings people together. Food nourishes our bodies, and we need it; just like my community reminds me how much we need each other. 

Now when I think of breaking bread together, it’s more than just the pieces of bread. It’s about taking time that’s not on a schedule for others. Its about being vulnerable and not the expert. It’s about the process, not the end result. It’s an invitation to learn and listen. It’s about literally breaking down barriers and sharing stories with one another. And it’s all these things that actually fulfill us every day. 

When the dumpling was finished, Mama Golo called me into the kitchen. It was absolutely beautiful. “You did it!” I said. And she responded with a big smile, “We did it.”

Ngiyabonga Swaziland

Last week I hit the road and ventured on my way to Swaziland!! I was attending a mini retreat with Alex and Jordan, and then had the chance to spend few days after visiting Jordan’s site.

I was nervous and excited for my travels; I had never traveled into another country on my own. I really wasn’t all to sure what I was doing, but I hoped and prayed for the best. The afternoon before I was leaving, a woman I teach confirmation class with offered to drive me, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She drove my 45 minutes into town and 45 minutes back early in the morning just to help me get to where I needed to be. I was so thankful for her generosity and care. (Thank you Mama EU!) And the kindness didn’t stop there. During my five hour taxi journey, I made a friend, Solomon. Solomon told me all about his life and accompanied me the entire journey. He taught me all about the crops, trees and wildflowers we passed along the way. “It’s a beautiful place,” he said grinning ear to ear as we drove into the mountains. Once arriving in Mbabane, we shared a hug and good wishes farewell. I again, continue to be reminded to worry less, let go of control and trust in the overwhelming kindness of others.

My newfound friendship with Solomon was the perfect welcome and example of the the people of Swaziland. I couldn’t have been more grateful for constant hospitality from all the people I met along the way. Like Bongi who greeted me at the ELCSA office with a warm hug saying “You are welcome here,” and as I was leaving, “When are you coming back?” And Jordan’s host mom, Make, who reassured me that her house was God’s house and that I was always welcome.

Not only was I grateful for these beautiful people inside and out, I was amazed at the beauty of this country. Swaziland is filled with lush green mountains that wrap you with open arms. I was intrigued by vegetation I had never seen before and smiled at the content grazing cows in the fields. Living in Mabopane, I’m surrounded by people and noise all the time, and I love it to know end. But the quietness and peacefulness of Swaziland reminded me how nature can bring you pure serenity in seconds. And quietness, even though I don’t always like it at times, brings us peace to really listen.

While in Swaziland I had some amazing and memorable experiences:

Laughing to no end when we got lost and we’re kickin’ up mud on some back roads.

 

Walking for an hour and a half to Jordan’s community of Mankayane and learning more about his awesome everyday life there.

Being given a Siswati name by Jordan (Bongani) and his co-workers: Siphesihle meaning “a good gift.”

Harvesting beans with Jordan and his host dad, Babe, as he taught us the best way: fill a bag with stalks and hit it with a stick!

 

 

But a moment that I will never forget was in the evening on my last night in Mankayane. Jordan, Make and I were sitting on the porch watching the sunset and Dennis (host nephew) playing/herding the cows in for the night below us. Make was telling us more about some of her traditions and cultures, eating biscuits in between. As the coolness of night approached, she leaned over and asked me what had brought me to Southern Africa. Why did I want to be here? I struggled to find my words, there are so many reasons and even ones I’m still processing. In my head I thought about wanting to give back to the church, wanting to find myself, wanting to learn and share more about the world. But at this point, those things seemed like interview question answers from a year ago.

It was moments like these that truly brought me here. Sitting on the porch sharing biscuits with one another. Being present in watching the sunset, thankful for the day and not worrying about tomorrow. I’m here in Southern Africa because of people like Mama EU, Solomon, Bongi, Alex, Jordan, Make and Babe. I’m here to witness and experience the pure kindness and care people really do have for one another.

Being halfway through my year of service (can’t believe I’m saying it out loud), I’m grateful to go places I don’t know, welcomed by those who don’t know me, and never being the same.

Ngiyabonga Swaziland. Thank you Swaziland.

Eleven

South Africa has 11 official languages:

1. English

2. Afrikaans

3. isiZulu

4. isiXhosa

5. siSwati

6. isiNdebele

7. Sesotho

8. Sepedi

9. Setswana

10. Tshivenda

11. Xitsonga

Nine of these languages are Bantu languages, meaning native. The first two, English and Afrikaans, are of European origin. I’m amazed and grateful to live in a country that prides itself on diversity and acceptance of cultures. South Africa, if I might add, also has one of the most progressive constitutions in the world. I love the part of the Preamble that states, “And believe that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, united in our diversity.”

I’ve been lucky enough throughout my time here so far to hear almost every official language in some way shape or form. Setswana is my favorite (I’m biased because that’s what we speak in my community) but seriously I love the simplicity and beauty of how it sounds! I continue to be amazed by the intricacies and overlap of each one. One of my goals for this year is to learn how to greet people in all eleven languages, it’s a work in progress.

When I greet people in my community in Setswana, some people are shocked. They say, “Yoooooooo! You know Tswana?!” I’ll never forget the day I was walking to my crèche and greeted a gentleman in passing. He stopped and said, “I never thought I would hear a white person speak Tswana to me. Thank you.” I never realized how my white privilege is connected to language. If I don’t greet them first, people greet me in English or sometimes, but rarely, Afrikaans. I certainly don’t know Afrikaans, so my puzzled face in response provides a laugh and the next question, “Which country are you from?” In a book I recently read called A Different Kind of Aids, the author, David Dickinson, spends some time talking about language. He states, “The vast majority of white South Africans speak hardly a word of any African language.” In South Africa, your race contributes to what language you speak. This is a result of the Apartheid government, in which people were separated by force of the government based on race in 4 categories: white, Indian, colored, and black. This then resulted in separation and lack of exposure to all the languages of South Africa.

Ive also come to learn, especially at my primary school, that English is “taking over.” I watch kids struggle in reading and writing in Setswana. Every year in grades 1-7 the students take their Home Language of Setswana and their First Additional Language English. Even some of my friends my age here have told me they can only hear Setswana, they can’t read it. In school they were taught to read and write in English. Dickinson also says in his book, “The ritual reality of language in South Africa is that 9 of the 11 official tongues, which are nominally equal, are dying. They are being abandoned by those who seek to get ahead. To get ahead means immersion in a world that communicates in English, the language of the universe, the language of science, the language of business, the language of law, the language of diplomacy, the language of the future.” I find discomfort in the truth of his statement and witnessing it in everyday life. In South Africa, in order to attend most universities you must know English and have high grades from your Matric Exams. Although I see and recognize the counter argument, that English is a mediator between languages to help people of differing languages communicate, it still saddens me. There are amazing languages all over the world losing traction to English. Becoming lessened and forgotten.

In the US we don’t think about these kinds of issues. We want things to be efficient and for communication to be easy. I cringe at the thought of the comment we tend to hear all to often, “You’re in America speak English.” We require it of each other. We don’t want to listen. We don’t want to learn. We want everyone else to conform. We marginalize the other.

My most humbling and unwavering Setswana teachers are my 2 and 3 year olds at the crèche. They continue to remind me, without even knowing, to stop and listen. To actually listen, not just hear and shrug in lack of understanding. To try with one another. To not get frustrated in miscommunication (even though they sometimes do get frustrated with me haha). That language is more than words, and we don’t have to speak the same one to know one another. Together these little kiddos and I laugh, smile, jump, dance, cry, eat, and give the best most amazing hugs to one another all in the same language.

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Meet the Team!

I wanted to introduce you all (finally) to our AMAZING YAGM Southern Africa Team! Each one of them brings something unique to the table to make our team of nine as special as it is. Together we are a loud, caring, hilarious, and strong family. I give thanks for every one of them and this journey we are on together.

Here’s the team! (from left to right, starting with the back row)

Alex LaChapelle –WI

Pietermaritzburg, South Africa

Alex is a pastor who hails from Wisconsin and he is our SA Country Coordinator! I met him for the first time at the DIP Event where I interviewed and was then placed on the Southern Africa team (bless). During our awkward group lunch interview (lol), I was relieved; this guy was pretty cool and I had a lot to learn from him. He seemed like the exact kind of leader I needed for the year, and I was so excited for the possibility of being on the team. This is Alex’s first year as the Country Coordinator, so we are all continuing to learn a lot together and I love it! Through all the ups and downs with our teams complications with visa applications, he always made sure that we never gave up hope and that we would forever be a team of eight. I’m so grateful Alex established a strong foundation for keeping faith for our little SA YAGM family. Alex is full of laughter, ambition, and the best most hilarious accents. He tells the best stories, has an awesome taste in music (in case you didn’t know he kind of, a little bit, likes The Avett Brothers) always lends an ear, and is willing to take one for the team when monkeys chase you outside his house. (P.S. Thanks again and sorry for leaving you to defend yourself, that was my bad)

Jake Connealy –MN

Venda, South Africa

Jake is spending his year serving in Limpopo, South Africa in the Northern Diocese. He is currently teaching a business class at the high school for grades 10 and 11 and next year will be helping with English classes. Jake lives with a host family and his TshiVenda is on point. He continues to impress and inspire us with his language learning skills. Every time I tell people that we have another volunteer in Venda, they say “YO! TshiVenda is very hard.” And yet he is mastering his community’s language better than any of us, and you can quote me on that. I also met Jake for the first time at the DIP Event during our country meeting. I very much remember his accent; the Minnesota accent is fascinating. I remember seeing him again in the airport after the event and awkwardly waving, saying something like, “Yeah! Southern Africa.” Don’t worry he didn’t forget and reminded me months later. Jake is one of the most genuine, non-judgmental, and caring friends I know. He can sing like nobody’s business, thinks playing with the water when doing the dishes is fun like I do, and has hands down the best puns of anyone I have ever met. Jake continues to teach and strengthen my faith by reminding me to let go of the control I think God has; and he always has an ear to listen that is never on a time schedule. (P.S. Your raps are more lit than litrinomics)

Meredith Bruster –IA

Soweto, South Africa

Meredith is spending her year serving in Soweto, South Africa in the Central Diocese. She lives and volunteers at Diakonia AIDS Ministry. During her week she assists in creating marketing materials, after school tutoring, and bringing the biggest smile in to work. She also is a dedicated runner, in case you didn’t know, and she has been volunteering in leading some exercise classes as well. I first met Meredith during our group lunch interview with Alex at the DIP Event. I was in awe of her genuine thoughtfulness and overwhelming sense of peace. I knew I had a lot to learn from her and I was right. She constantly teaches me what it means to be a supportive friend, how to genuinely offer love and care, and helps me to appreciate my fruits and vegetables more than I ever thought I would. Everyone knows the saying; “She has a smile that lights up the room,” but that is only true if it is the Meredith Bruster; I’m beyond serious. Meredith is a beautiful singer, has hands down the most hilarious and “interesting” quotes, and hands affirmations out like candy. (Did I mention she likes to run?) I continue to be inspired by Meredith’s positivity, strength, and constant sense of wonder for this beautiful world we share. I certainly don’t thank her enough for her unwavering friendship and always offering to give a hug. (P.S. Libras will always be the best, and YOU KNOW WHY)

Jordan Zeihr – NC

Mankayane, Swaziland

Jordan is spending his year serving in Mankayane, Swaziland in the Eastern Diocese. He spends his week serving at the local primary school and chilling with his awesome host family. Jordan has become our group’s most avid and biggest fan of the soapies (South African soap operas) he watches with his host family every night; it is highly impressive. I first met Jordan at Orientation in August in Chicago when I confused him with his best friend Bryan Lester (they are both really tall and blonde and both went to UNC, honest mistake). I knew that when he got us lost on our group scavenger hunt in Chicago, and gave me so much sass about it, that we would be friends. Jordan has the best taste in music (AKA Chance the Rapper and Jack Johnson) and I absolutely love it. He really enjoys cooking, pushing me down in the sand when I’m trying to get up while playing soccer, and is an avid reader. Jordan is incredibly humble, down-to-earth, and quite hilarious. He is the kind of guy you continue to learn new things about him all the time, and I can’t wait to keep learning more as the year goes on. Thanks for reminding me to always sing and dance as if no one is watching. (P.S. The color that looks best on you is maroon, and paired with my orange watch, it’s fire. And I mean it. Go Hokies…..and Heels)

Jacob Shelor – PA

Manzini, Swaziland

Jacob is spending his year serving in Manzini, Swaziland in the Eastern Diocese. During his week he spends time volunteering at the Dean’s Office and the local crèche. I’ve actually known Jake for many years! We were both devoted VA Synod Event attendees. Jake was always singing, smiling, knew everyone and I always saw him giving out hugs (I was secretly a big fan). We knew of each other, but never had a small group together and we weren’t reunited again until we were sitting at the airport in Chicago for the DIP Event. I saw him and was so excited, another VA person! (Then I accidently called him by his twin brother’s name Josh, again so, so sorry, that was my bad). But during that overwhelming, fun and emotional weekend, Jake provided me with a sense of peace and comfort. He wrote nothing on his preference card in regards to his country placement, because his faith was strong and he trusted the process (inspiring!). I made him hold my hand during the announcements of placements, and then was in awe that we would both selected to serve in Southern Africa. Jake is a devoted and loyal friend to everyone, will always bring a smile to your face, and he continues to teach and inspire me about power of faith. (P.S. You make the best pies, Apple and Sheppard’s!)

(front row, left to right)

Anna Moorhead – WI

Bonaero Park, South Africa

Anna is spending her year serving in Bonaero Park, South Africa at the ELCSA Churchwide office in the Central Diocese. She spends her week working for ELCSA Development Services who do a variety of work on gender based violence, HIV & AIDS Nutrition Garden programs, capacity building, and cultural diversity. Anna also lives with a host family in Atlasville and loves spending time with her host sister and brother. I first met Anna at the DIP Event because we were both interviewing for the same countries. She was so sweet, calm and ready and willing to take on this year. We stayed in touch after DIP and finding out we were on the same team. I remember telling my grandparents that she would be my new best friend, even if she didn’t know it yet! Come to find out she said the same thing! Anna has the sweetest Wisconsin accent and continues to teach me so much about the Midwest (I love it). I admire her dedication to this program, her faith, and her friendships. Anna may be the sweetest, but when her sass comes out you better brace yourself, and I absolutely love that about her. She is the best bus and plane buddy (when we aren’t falling asleep lol), the biggest and best coffee fan (and chocolate), and her SA twist on green bean casserole is pretty good! Her presence is full of grace, peace, smiles (the best selfies), and positivity. Thank you Anna for your constant reminders of what it means to be a best friend. (P.S. Are you sure it wasn’t a cat?)

Abby Mandris – NY

Piggs Peak, Swaziland

Abby is spending her year serving in Piggs Peak, Swaziland in the Eastern Diocese. She lives with a host family and spends her week at volunteering at the local primary school. I first met Abby as she was boarding the plane to Chicago in Baltimore. We were Facebook friends before we met, and so as she walked passed I creepily said, “Abby!?” Luckily it really was Abby. She sat in the seat next to me, and I sighed with relief. In just our first few minutes of chatting, I was so grateful that we would get to share this experience together. This girl was the coolest and I couldn’t wait to get to know her more. Abby is pretty hilarious and has the most contagious laugh that makes you laugh even harder. She is beyond talented in photography and always captures the right moment. I continue to be inspired by Abby’s bravery, care for others, and the power of her words through writing. She absolutely has the best taste in movies and writes the sweetest cards. Abby is super go with the flow, can read through books like nobody’s business, and will always share her tomato soup with you. Abby gives the best hugs, and I couldn’t be more grateful (seriously the are the best, it’s no joke)!! I certainly don’t tell Abby enough how beautiful, strong, courageous, and inspiring she is. (P.S. Put your positive pants on! They look good on you!)

Ryan Morrow – NC

Mbabane, Swaziland

Ryan is spending her year serving in Mbabane, Swaziland in the Eastern Diocese. She works at the ELCSA Lutheran Development Service office. During her week she has the opportunity to accompany her coworkers to visit community members who are HIV positive, orphans, elderly, and/or living with a disability and helps in the LDS with paperwork in the office whenever she has the chance. I grew to love Ryan even before we met; on Facebook, we both shared our love for our favorite exactly the same favorite meal: Meatloaf with mash potatoes and broccoli. From then on I knew this girl was the absolute best. Ryan and I first met when we were randomly placed as roommates for Orientation in Chicago. Together we shared our love of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, playing “black is lava” on the crosswalks, and beating Jordan and Bryan in foosball. Ryan is compassionate, caring and beyond genuine in her relationships. She will always do what she can to make you feel included, welcomed and loved. Ryan is the best storyteller I know; she has the best stories but tells them in ways you will never forget. Ryan is hands down hilarious and continues to make everyone and anyone around her laugh. She consistently loses what are the odds, is really good at running through sprinklers and making hand turkeys. Ryan has the biggest heart that she wears on her sleeve. Ryan continues to teach me the reality that things will always work out and God will provide. I couldn’t be more thankful for her endless friendship, always being on the same page, and constant strength to embrace this year. (P.S. Wanna bite?)

 

SA YAGMS 2017-2018

Pressing Play, Not Pause

As the orange and maroon leaves fade into winter back home, I’m gearing up for the heat of summer. As Amazon continues to fill my inbox with reminders of the latest Christmas deals, I use some extra change to buy an orange at the fruit stand to share with a friend. And as the sun sets here in South Africa, I smile knowing it’s shining somewhere back home.

Before starting this journey, I simplified some complexities of the year. I assumed it would be a year of growth and change for me, but not back home. Maybe my dad would have a few more gray hairs (sorry Dad!) or maybe a new store opened in town. It would kind of be like a year on pause, that things would be relatively the same as I left them in August; I would just be different. Or even that I would keep back home on pause, keeping it out of site and mind. But as holidays pass and season change, I’m realizing this isn’t a year on pause. Maybe I thought so to help with my fears and homesickness, maybe I thought it would make it easier. But that’s not the case. Life is going on here and at home. And it sounds silly and selfish; of course I knew things wouldn’t be the exact same. But coming to terms with it and facing it up front is a bigger realization than I expected.

No matter the comfort of thinking or hoping things would be the same, I am grateful that I’ve come to appreciate the changes. I don’t want things to be the same. If we aren’t growing and changing, we aren’t living. After my few months here, I am certainly not the same. Ive grown and changed in ways I never expected.

Now,

I find myself singing everyday.

I stop and talk with people as we walk past, because I’m not counting the minutes to where I need to be next on my schedule anymore.

I’ve fallen in love with writing again.

I appreciate my family and friends supporting me back home more than I think I ever have.

In my spare time I’m not checking my latest Snapchat or Facebook notification on my phone. I embrace the quiet and the stillness, not feeling the need to occupy my time.

I find unmeasurable joy in little kids who always seem to make my day brighter without even knowing.

I wait patiently, more than I ever have in my life, and my mom can definitely vouch for that.

I read a lot. In my few short months here I’ve read 12 books (and counting), more than I have read for myself in the past four years. I continue to realize the importance, power, and privilege reading holds.

I listen when I’m in conversation, and not getting distracted worrying about what else I need to do in my day. I actually learn about what’s happening in people’s lives, more than just a “How are you?”

I find comfort in peace and prayer.

I use less, waste less, spend less and live more.

I trust in knowing things will somehow work out.

And I honestly believe that kindness can break down walls and move mountains.

Living in my community has taught me a lot. Though there are always ups and downs (the ups always greater than the downs), I couldn’t be more grateful for the ways I’m growing. I’m not the same, and it shows me even more that I shouldn’t want things to be the exact same at home. No matter the fear I’ve had of missing out on certain days, I smile and give thanks that they happened.

If things stayed the same, there would be fewer stories to share, less joys and growths the celebrate. Because at the end of the day, this year away isn’t about me, it’s about living and walking together. The important thing is that we share these changes with each other.

Thank you all for giving me grace through this lesson learned, and many, many, and I can’t emphasize enough how many more to come.
Press play. Share it.

Ministry of Presence

In the US, we have a very individualistic culture. In saying this, I mean culture as a lens through which we see the world. This isn’t to say we don’t do things together in our communities, but we live in a society that forces us to prioritize our personal jobs and our families. We tend to get so wrapped up on time and tasks that we forget those around us. “Time is money.” Granted I am speaking generally, this is not the case for all of us; but it is true of our society. To be honest, I’m not even sure if I could tell you the name of my next door neighbor of 10 years.

In South Africa, life is different. In this collective culture, you rely on your neighbors. The South African philosophy of “ubuntu” explains it perfectly: people are people because of other people. Your neighbors are a part of your everyday life. In my community I always see people together and when you don’t greet people as you walk by (a good lesson learned) they will ask you why you aren’t greeting them. I’m Steve Biko’s book, I Write What I Like, he says, “We regard our living together not as an unfortunate mishap warranting endless competition among us but as a deliberate act of God to make us a community of brothers and sisters jointly involved in the quest for a composite answer to the varied problems of life.” Living in Mabopane has taught me a lot, but overwhelmingly showed me what it means to truly love your neighbor.

Funerals and Weddings:

I will never forget my very first weekend in Mabopane. My pastor informed me that there would be a funeral at our church. I asked him if it was okay if I attended. He responded chuckling, “Yes of course. You don’t have to be invited to funerals. Everyone goes, that’s just what we do.” He likes to call it, “Ministry of Presence.” That when things happen in your community, just being there even if you don’t know the family can be powerful. This was a big surprise to me. I have never attended a funeral or a wedding in which I didn’t know the person or family involved.

Here in Southern Africa, when someone passes away, the week is filled with gatherings. Monday through Thursday there are prayers held at the family’s home in the evenings. On Friday afternoon, the casket is then brought to the home and a worship service is held, followed by a reception with cakes (biscuits basically and I love them) and juice. On Saturday morning, everyone comes to the church for the funeral service and then you hop in cars to head over to the cemetery. While at the cemetery, we sing lots of songs as men of the family/church use shovels and assist in completing the burial. Prayers are lifted up and then everyone goes to back to the family’s home. Before going inside to say the final prayer, there are bins of water outside the home in which you must wash your hands. This is to symbolize and cleanse yourself of newness, of moving on. The family then has prepared an enormous meal for everyone to eat, no questions asked. I can’t emphasize how much food is served. Usually there is beef or chicken (or both), rice, bogobe, beet root, pumpkin, potatoes, spinach, carrots, and more, plus juice and cakes. In attending my first funeral that weekend, my eyes widened as I saw the family prepare the serving table. Together we then sit outside, eat, and just be present with one another.

I was also invited by my dear friend Mama Nkele to a wedding in her family. When we showed up for the celebration after, we loaded up the car with giant bowls of bogobe and buckets of cakes. We did not simply walk in, we strolled down the street singing and dancing. I wasn’t really sure what to do until a kind woman, who I hadn’t even met yet, grabbed my hand and showed me how to best “jive.” I wasn’t an outsider anymore. The wedding party danced in after us at the groom’s family home. For weddings, there is a celebration and welcome to the family for both the bride and groom. This simply cannot be done without the help of neighbors. This celebration shut down the street and everyone was there; I couldn’t have been more welcomed to simply celebrate love.

During my time in Mabopane so far, I have attended four funerals and one wedding, and I’ve been invited to another wedding next weekend. The community aspect of these services have been beyond impactful. “The more people the better,” they say. You attend funerals, even if you don’t know the person, to respect the dead and support your community. I tell my friends that in the US, you only go to a wedding if you are invited, and they are shocked. “YOOOOOO!” They ask me why, and for the life of me I cannot give them a good answer.

I’m grateful to have been invited to these services, and to continue learning more about what it means to practice “Ministry of Presence.”

HIV Beautiful

Everyday we meet people coming and going, and sometimes those people leave unforgettable marks on our path. Thank you to my beautiful new friend who has allowed me to share our experience together with you all.

We walked up to the house to be greeted by a slightly cracked open and welcoming door. It was painted a bright ocean aqua blue. In my head the phrase rang, “Come on in the waters fine.” After an echoing knock, we decided to rest in the shade and wait. A few minutes passed and a booming “DUMELA” (hello) came from behind. The bright and welcoming essence I felt from just the front door matched its owner perfectly. We shook hands as we were introduced, and just as contagious as watching someone yawn, I couldn’t help but smile with my new friend.

The bright blue paint followed onto the walls as we walked in. Serenity. As my colleagues and I sat down, my new friend joined me on the couch and placed her new bottles of ARVs fresh from the clinic on the coffee table.

With a sight of relief sinking into the couch, she turned to me and smiled. “O pila Samanta.” (You are beautiful Samantha). “Ke a legboga, o pila,” I responded. (Thank you, you are beautiful). “YOOOO!” Impressed with the little Tswana I knew, we chatted and I learned even more. She brought out old pictures of her and her son, who shares the same name as my brother. Her body was different in these pictures from what I saw of her now, but her spirit was undeniably the same. My colleagues told me she likes to talk a lot, which made all of us laugh. Laughter breaks language barriers.

As our special time together drew to a close, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. The feeling must have been mutual. My friend linked arms with me and together we walked down the street. Looking down I watched as our feet and strides fell in sync. My boots clicked on the sandy rocks as her bare feet glided along ever so quietly. The road was a part of her home. As the hot sun shined down on our heads and our arms draped around each other’s backs, I was beyond grateful for this true experience of accompaniment. We hugged as she kissed my chest farewell for now. “O pila Samanta.” “Tsamaya pila tsala.” (Go well my friend).

HIV: Human Immunodeficiency Virus

According to UNAIDS, approximately 36.7 million people are living with HIV/AIDS. “The HIV epidemic not only affects the health of individuals, it impacts households, communities, and the development and economic growth of nations” (hiv.gov, 2017).

Before my journey to South Africa, I knew about HIV, but not as well as I should have. I did not know the vastness and the impact it has had over time on this country, and so many others throughout the world. In a book titled “28 Stories of Aids in Africa,” Stephanie Nolen describes HIV as a virus that “destroys the immune system.” HIV is spread by transmission, commonly known through shared needles, sex, and breast milk. Although there is no cure, researchers have produced Antiretroviral Therapy (ARVs) that help people with HIV to stop the virus from reproducing. However, use of this medication is not always available or accessed for a variety of reasons, including negative stigmas and judgement.

Nolan states, “HIV grows best in imbalances of power, it has erupted and spread out from the most marginalized groups in human societies.” HIV continues to show us that the more we divide, discriminate, and other, the more we continue to fight an endless battle. Listen. Please take some time to learn more about HIV and find organizations that do good work in awareness and support.

Thank you to my new friend who has taught me more than she will ever know.

HIV beautiful.

6:30 a.m.

6:30 a.m.

There’s no need for an alarm; the bright sun and early rustling movements outside the window tell me it’s a new day. I hear the man selling vegetables as his voice echoes, “Yeeeeeaaaauuuuupppp” through each street surrounding me.

I’m out of bed. I wash my face and am refreshed for the day. I walk over for breakfast as I am greeted by a warm welcomed, “Good morning!” from my hosts, Moruti (pastor) and Mama Ruti (pastor’s wife). As I walk into the kitchen to fix my cereal and grab a banana, I read the magnet on the refrigerator that says:

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” -Niebuhr

Exactly what I need to be reminded of each morning.

I bid my home at the Modisa Lutheran Church (ELCSA) farewell for the day, as I walk out of the gates of the compound. The sound of the rocky dirt beneath me scruffs and crackles. I greet those on their way to school and work in Tswana:

“Dumela” (Hello)
“Agee” (Yes, hello)
“Le kae?” (How are you?)
“Keteng” (I am fine)

Some days I walk to the crèche (daycare/preschool). I’m greeted by 12 wide eyes and 24 tiny waving hands. “Mama Samanta!!!” For the day I’m complete immersed in the Tswana language. Children’s song are the best way to learn a language in my newfound opinion. During the day I help out Mama Hulu and Mama Nkele, both whose children are now grown up, but these 12 kiddos are just like their own. I learn how to cook pap and gravy with Mama Nkele in the kitchen for lunch. She teaches me to sing and dance as we wash after. Mama Hulu laughs as I attempt to respond to these unstoppable kiddos in Tswana. After all the children have left, the three of us walk together on our ways home. “Tsamaya pila” (Go well)

Some days I walk to the taxi stop. I meet up with Wendy, as we journey to the town over called Winterfeld. For the day we will stop by homes of those who are suffering from HIV/AIDS. We check on them, and from time to time bring them things like toiletries and groceries that they may need. The HIV/AIDS crisis is real, and we do not talk about it enough. I certainly didn’t before. In a book I finished this week called “28 Stories of AIDS in Africa” (2007), Stephanie Nolan says, “Each day in Africa, 6,000 people die of HIV/AIDS–a treatable, preventable illness. We have twenty-eight million reasons to act.” I certainly still have a lot to learn.

Some days I walk to the primary school, Kopa Dilalelo. With 600 learners (students), I am excitedly overwhelmed with hellos. “Lekua tlaya” (White person come). At the school there are grades R-7 (K-7). Each morning the 17 teachers and staff gather in the office. We have a morning song and prayer, followed by check-ins. I’m amazed at the collaboration. A teacher for grade 4 told me on my first day that, without heart you simply cannot do this job. I help me friends in the office, two women who file reports of every class and subject…. too many for me to count. I listen to them as they tell me more about their lives as single parents, with huge smiles as I ask to see pictures. My short walk home I am accompanied by students. They walk with me, ask me questions and as always try to teach me more Tswana. “Tomorrow” they say.

Some days I join members of my congregation for worship, funerals, or other services. I’m greeted warmly by familiar faces, “Sammy my dear!” The happiness, pride, and joy is beyond contagious. Whoever is around me shares their Tswana hymnal book with me, pointing to the words as we go along the song. Sometimes I stand up or do things at the wrong time, followed by caring chuckles and love. “Amen”

I live in Mabopane, South Africa. Mabopane is a township. Townships were established due to the Land Act in the 40s during Apartheid. (Please take some time to read and learn more about the South African Apartheid. A blog to come soon!) Mabopane is a place of movement, of learning, of tradition and community. A place where you go to funerals and weddings together. A place where you walk and share stories together. A place I have come to know over these past two weeks as home, and a place that has a lot to teach me.

My day draws to a close as I watch Mama Ruti water her rose garden in front of the house. Moruti and I chat about the day as the warm orange sun sets. Another day of listening, learning and living.

6:30 p.m.

Wonder

Today we went to Tea on 23, my new favorite spot in Pietermaritzburg. It’s this beautiful cafe where you can sit outside and become surrounded by all kinds of liveliness. As chickens and roosters play hide in seek in the bushes around you, you grow to be amazed at the tree near by full of purple and white flowers. Sometimes you even catch a glance of a majestic peacock passing by, but only for a second. It seems like everywhere you look there is something you didn’t notice before; a tiny chair that I would have been so eager to test out as a kid, a stone path that could lead you to a new hidden place, or a tall tree that you wonder what stories it could tell.

Wonder.

While we were finishing up our meal, these two woman who we had met one of them earlier this week, asked to join us for a chat. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be invited into conversation. I think now about this in a U.S. context, we have been losing a sense of authenticity. With so much technology, stigmas, divisions and time restraints, we aren’t as willing to spend a little bit more time hearing about each others lives. Or even asking. We lose patience, and I know I certainly have over these last four years in college. I would get so wrapped up in what needed to be done that day, in that hour, and deviance from the plan was not in my schedule.

As we sat together in the refreshing shade, our conversation turned to one of hope. These women shared their ideas of trust and authenticity in faith. In just meeting our group for a short period of time today, they were able to grasp onto a glimpse of each of our lives. One woman turned me smiling, letting me know that she felt my sense of child-like wonder. I was amazed. By just having a simple conversation, she saw something in me that I forget about. I was reminded of my own joy and creativity by a stranger. In the craziness of life, I’ve learned to get to the point, get the tasks on the lists done. It happens to the most of us. We can’t help but get wrapped up into what is in front of us that truly blinds us. There are so many languages to learn, people to meet, music to hear, food to eat, sunsets to watch and moons to gaze.

Turn judgement into wonder.

During orientation in Chicago, we were told as volunteers going into this year to turn our judgement into wonder. It hit me like a brick wall. I felt caught in the act, because I certainly haven’t been using my judgement as an introduction to a change in perspective. I realize this isn’t a practice that will be perfected overnight, but I think practicing overnight is key. I want to continue growing in the struggle to learn to better listen, ask big questions, and wonder more often.

As we drive around town each day, I see so many things. I see scarlet red dirt that shines brighter midday and makes me smile as it reminds me of my childhood. I see people walking home from the store or work chatting on the sidewalk together. I hear so many different languages that ring sounds of relation rather than drowning in words. I feel the deep orange sun as it kisses the mountains goodnight. I wonder what I have missed and hope I will see it tomorrow.

As our in-country orientation comes to a close this weekend, I’m excited to not just turn my judgement into wonder, but to continue to wonder more and more. At the entrance of the building at Tea on 23, their sign states:

“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.”

Let the mystery unravel and the wonder begin.

Home

Hello friends! Welcome to the first of many blog posts for this next upcoming YAGM year. I am very excited and grateful for you all to walk beside me on this journey.

 

Home.

In my room, I watch our crazy cat follow every movement and bird outside as she presses her nose against the glass window. Sitting on my bed, I am surrounded by my old high school awards, an abundance of seashells I’ve collected over the years, and so much purple everywhere you might guess it is my favorite color. (No doubt it is.) A lot has changed in this room over a period of 10 years. The walls are accompanied by different picture frames now and I’ve rearranged the furniture who knows how many times. I love this room and I’ve grown a lot living in it.

I think about my college diploma that’s now tucked away in my bedside chest after four years of hard work. Little did I know what was in store for me four years ago. I was welcomed with open arms into my second home Virginia Tech. A home that I shared the same space with the most unforgettable and life-changing roommate every day. A home that helped me embrace self-understanding and integrity.  A home that surrounded me with unforgettable people and mountains.

This summer has been filled with endless hugs, the kind of laughter that makes your cheeks hurt, and tears wiped away because the farewells are not forever. I’m so grateful for my wonderful family and friends who have shaped my sense of home. Home is a place your feet may leave but your heart will always be with those you shared it with.

Leaving home will not be the easiest thing I do, because home is comfortable and familiar. But this YAGM year is meant to be uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It will be a year of even more change, uncertainty and growth. I am so very excited for South Africa to become my home for the next year, and all the changes that will accompany it. I will be living intentionally in community that will shape me in ways I don’t even know or expect. I have a lot to learn.

I wanted to again say thank you to all of you who continue to support me through a variety of gifts in preparation for my year. Knowing I have so much love and support back home surrounding me during this next year of living in community means a lot to me. In just a few days I will be on my way to orientation in Chicago. Upon arrival, I will be greeted by an amazing ELCA Global Missions staff and 90 other volunteers from around the country. Together we will go out into the world to walk alongside our global companions and these places we call home.

Let the journey begin!

 

 

-SND