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.