Hope, history, and a chicken

It is so different being back in Cape Town and spending my 

days at JL Zwane Community Centre. I find myself steeped in working with Spiwo, talking over several issues, collaborating on writing a letter and a newsletter piece, and planning next week's leadership training. I've seen and talked with friends from last year.  But I will wait to introduce you to them, because  the experiences of last week, of visiting rural villages in the Eastern Cape, continue to tug at

my heart. And I feel compelled to recapture some of those moments.

Living Hope

After spending all of last Tuesday with Xola (whose name means "peace"), driving up and down those rugged roads in the hot dry sun to the out stations in northern Transkei Xola took me into the small town called Idutywa.  (Thabo Mbeki, former President of S. Africa is from a small village in the Idutwya area.  By the way, most of the freedom fighters, members of the ANC, e.g., Mandela, Zuma, Sisulu, Tambo, hail from the Eastern Cape--and they are all Xhosa, yet come from different clans).

In Idutywa, I spent the night with Rev. Litha Madaka and his family. (Litha means "light," like the light shining  from heaven through clouds.  Think Renaissance paintings.)  

We arrived at Litha's home just in time to gather around the TV to watch Obama become President. (Feeling so grateful -- and surprised--that Litha had a TV!  But his main station church and the mans was in the town of Idutywa, which means more access to electricity. I cried.  Xola and Litha were so excited, In fact every South African I have met expresses profound hope, excitement and joy. Lost count of how many times people, of all colors, have asked me: "are you excited about Obama?"  Obama continues to ignite such hope, opening up worlds of possibilities for people all around the world.  People here often equate him with Nelson Mandela.  I'm trying to find the words to express what a phenomenal experience it was to be in the rural part of South Africa, surrounded by black South Africans, watching Obama take the oath of office. It actually felt, and still feels, totally unreal. 

So above is a photo of Litha in front of his main station church, right in the town of Idutywa. I've include a photo of his beautiful five year old daughter, Khanyisile (which means something about house of girls - girl power-Yes!). Before she went to bed, she came into my room, saying "Good night, Auntie." I think her parents were trying to get her to say "Good night, Ariella."  I'll take the "auntie" any day. She was very excited about the next morning-first day of school.  Remember, this is summer and December through mid January all of South African goes on holiday, much like the French do in August.

 History's tight grip

On Wednesday, Litha and I spent the day traveling to some of his 13 out stations churches. after first having tea and coffee at a small hotel's restaurant in Idutywa. When you're in Africa, a small hotel in a rural town is a bit shabby to the say least, and very, very, very slow service. 

The roads to Litha's out stations weren't so steep and rugged as in the northern Transkei. But Litha was hoping that more of his elders would be around so I could meet them. Unfortunately they were not.  However, here is a photo of Alice, a retired community health nurse. She has a tremendous amount of vitality. You can see it in her face. 

We also visited a couple of schools.  At Duff school (named after McDuff, a Scottish missionary), one of the poorer schools, (that means one of the poorer of the poor) there were about five people from the provincial bureau of education. At the beginning of the school year, they go around to all the schools within their assigned area, evaluating schools on their readiness. Now, you need to understand that schools in the townships, and even more so in the rural areas, are so under funded and under equipped, it's amazing that schools even exist at all.  There is still so much damage, trauma and negativity attached to education, all left over from apartheid's horrible bantu education, and of course apartheid in general. Bantu education was part of the dire apartheid laws and practices that grossly fed the nationalistic ideas behind apartheid.  Families pay for school and children have to have uniforms. So if they are too poor for the uniforms or shoes, kids often don't go to school because then they stand out.

And you have an under funded and under equipped government that doesn't seem to know what to do. And you have parents who are uneducated and children who often scorn education. It will take generations to make any significant changes and shine a bit of light on this dismal education system for the poor (which is the majority) in South Africa. More on education in rural South Africa a bit later. 

So back to the education evaluators. I was brought in to meet them.  They didn't know what to think of me being there.  They thought at first I was a teacher or some kind of educator from the states, which meant I was there to both evaluator THEM and then give them money.  Litha told me afterward that they were very nervous.  As a minister he can come in any time and actually oversee and observe what they do.  So they were indeed nervous about why we were there.   They ask me if I was connected to an organization that could fund the schools. When I replied, "No, I'm not," one woman kept pushing me to go back home, and raise money for them, because why else I am there, if not to help them with resources?  Litha explained in Xhosa that I was there to help with leadership development.  That did not seem to sit well with a couple of them. They thought their leadership was under review and also didn't understand the need for leadership or in general capacity building,  when they lack basic resources.  

Yet this is a huge issue, according to Spiwo. One of the social and cultural narratives is the dependency on financial handouts from whites, rather than building toward self and collective sufficiency.  And it is deeply embedded in the black culture to look for where to get money NOW. Of course it harkens back to the harsh lived reality of apartheid that everyone here carries with them.  Furthermore, according to Spiwo and Litha, there isn't much confidence in the government improving educational standards or outcomes. 

Litha introduced me to the principals at two schools, including the school I mentioned above. They seemed so grateful that I was visiting their schools, yet because it was the first day of school, things were a bit chaotic.  Seeing the lack of resources they have, even at the new school, overwhelmed me. Take one of our inner city school systems and multiply the challenges and issues onethousandfold. 

After spending most of the day with Litha, asking him a ton of questions about himself and his congregation, he drove me through the town of Mthata and to the area called Malungeni, where Spiwo is from, and where he also is building a programme centre. (More on that later.)   

In Mthata, there is the Nelson Mandela museum.  Mandela is from a village close by.  Mthata is like a very typical African town: the streets bustling and ripe with people and activity: stalls of fruit, traditional herbs, housewares, other food items, etc.  People here as well as in the townships and other village towns, walk the streets because most are unemployed. It is estimated that well over 90% of people living in the rural areas are unemployed. Therefore, they have nothing to do and their homes are so small. In the townships, the shacks are too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter to stay inside.  

The Chicken

I spent Wednesday evening in Malungeni, at Spiwo's home. He has been building a conference/workshop centre and developing program's for his village.  I'll talk about those in another blog, because I want to end this one with my day with Rev. Loyiso Bashe (Loyiso means victory.) 

Loyisho is the minister of the main Malungeni church.  And we had a great day, as he took me to several of his out stations, which were very, very rural.  Not sure how very rural becomes very, very rural, yet perhaps it's because I was able to meet with many of the abadala (that's plural in Xhosa for elders. Loyiso was insistent on me learning Xhosa. In fact, I think if I spent 2 weeks with him, he'd have me speaking his language.)  

Our first stop after he gave me a tour of his church, was an orphanage that he is trying to get his congregation to support. Unfortunately, the kids were not back yet from being gone for the holiday.  Like orphanages of old in the states, during major holidays the kids have to leave. Some do go back to their homes or stay with other relatives.

Another stop was a very small church that operates as a school during the week. Although this was the second day of school, kids were not in class.  There was a funeral. Funerals last two to three hours, and if teachers are attending, then they dismiss class.  So when we got to this small church/school, there were lots of kids spreading what I thought was mud on the floor.  As soon as Loyiso said, "Ah, African polish," I noticed it was manure.  Once it dries, it is hard and clean. If you look closely at the group photo of the kids, you will see the manure on some of their hands and in the background.

As I mentioned, Loyiso was able to take me to some of his out stations to meet abadala (elders). At one, the church is tiny and, like many of these churches, need to be rebuilt. In fact, one of Loyiso's goals is to rebuilt all of his 15 out stations by 2012. Not a small task.  Congregants begin by bringing bricks when they can. Once there are enough, then the building begins. It can take awhile for people to be able to afford to buy a brick or two.

At one out station, we got there in time as the women's group was gathering. The elder, who you see holding the little girl, said (in Xhosa) that if he knew I was coming he would have prepared a gift--a sheep or a chicken.  A true gift of honor.

When we got to another out station, one that was the furthest away from the main church, the umdala (elder) was there with his wife.  You can see the two of them with Loyiso.  After Loyiso explained why I was there (to help with leadership development) she said she wanted to give me a gift of a chicken. She ran and slaughtered a chicken (it wasn't dead, I think she cut a main artery), and it was wrapped in a plastic bag.  Of course I said enkosi (thank you in Xhosa) a multiple of times. And I was indeed deeply honored. For people who don't have enough to eat, it is quite a valuable gift. We drove away with the chicken on the floor of Loyiso's car.  I asked Loyiso to please give it to the orphanage.   When I told Spiwo, he roared with laughter.

Okay, all for now. Many thanks for all the emails.  Haven't had a chance to respond to them all. Hope to get to them soon. Wonderful to hear from you all!

Love,

Ariella

(P.S.  Sorry about the photos being out of order. Still figuring out this blog thing!)

 

Blogging at last!

Greetings from beautiful South Africa! Since I've been here for nearly two weeks now, where to begin, when each day, each moment is a world unto itself?  What you see above are photos of northern Transkei, a rural area in the Eastern Cape. More on that world a bit later. 

Beginnings

First, let me sketch the landscape of how and why I came to be here. Some of you are familiar with this story, yet others may not be.

I've been involved with Open Arms of Minnesota for many years. Open Arms is a small nonprofit that makes a huge impact. OAM prepares and delivers nutritious meals for people living with HIV/Aids, ALS, MS, and those recovering from or in treatment for breast cancer. Once Open Arms completes its capital campaign and the building of its new facility, it will be opening its arms even wider, offering meals to anyone with any illness (including caregivers and dependent children) who would not get healthy meals otherwise. Open Arms is recognized as a leader, nationally and internationally, in addressing issues of hunger and poverty. Connected to Open Arms, first as a consultant and then as a volunteer, I've truly gained much more than I could ever give. (www.openarmsmn.org)

About nine, 10 years ago, Open Arms entered into a "twining" or partnering relationship with the JL Zwane Community Centre in Gugulethu, a township outside of Cape Town. Among the programs that Open Arms currently supports at the Centre are the HIV/Aids Hot Meal and Support Group and the Rainbow After School program, in which kids receive tutoring to help them stay in school and a hot meal--often their only meal of the day. JL Zwane, under the leadership of Rev. Spiwo Xapile, is doing amazing work in the township in trying to address the the devastating issues of poverty, HIV/Aids, and hunger. JL Zwane is also seen as a leader in South Africa in having a positive impact in its community.  

In the summer of 2007, Spiwo was in Minneapolis. He and I met and began talking. He asked what I do and I mentioned leadership coaching (among other services). His response was, "Leadership? I'm looking for a different approach to leadership development, one that is not hierarchical and is inclusive of women."  I explained how I apply narrative practices in leading. This seemed to resonate with Spiwo. 

The short of it is that he invited me to come to JL Zwane in January 2008 to work with him to provide a leadership workshop targeting community leaders from the townships. We had no way of knowing if this approach would provide contextual meaning and purpose for the participants.  And we knew there would be language challenges, since I obviously don't speak Xhosa, and there would be several participants who are not fluent in English. We both decided to take a leap of faith.  And, the success of workshop was way beyond our wildest dreams.  Spiwo immediately began envisioning how to build and expand on what we did.

So here I am, back a year later, collaborating again with Spiwo. We will be working with a whole new group this time, about 15 ministers. And I will be doing follow up work with some of the participants from last year. This is a dream come true: to actively and purposely have a collaborative relationship with an extraordinary leader, using narrative practices while making a positive contribution within a community.  Yet, if this year is anything like last, I will learn far more than I could ever teach.  

A bit more context: Spiwo is a renegade minister and leader.  He is a Presbyterian minister who constantly challenges the status quo, the taken-for-granted practices of the church and of his community and culture. For example, he was probably the first minister in all of South Africa to openly talk about HIV/Aids and welcome those who are living with HIV/Aids into his community, into his church. He was also the first minister to welcome GLBT people into his church and into his community.  Spiwo has received, and still does receive, a lot of criticism for what he does and how he does it-- because he goes against convention and conventional wisdom.  But he gets results.  It is truly a blessing and gift to work side-by-side with him, learn from him. 

By the way, Xhosa names usually have a special meaning. "Spiwo" actually means "gift."

Landings

I arrived in Cape Town on January 12 to a very warm welcome--and I don't mean the weather (which IS wonderful, in the mid 70s to low 80s, not to make you all jealous, given the cold freeze that has an icy grip on the Northern Hemisphere). I was graciously and affectionately met at the airport by Zethu and Nonki, Spiwo's wife and daughter, and Xolani, the driver for JL Zwane.  All familiar, loving faces from last year. They spirited me away to the Centre, where Spiwo and I had a brief chat. We needed to figure out when I would leave for and return from the Eastern Cape. Much of the Eastern Cape is made up of rural villages. Since several of the ministers who will be participating in the leadership training live in and serve congregations in these villages, Spiwo and I thought it would be best for me to spend some time with a few of these ministers in their rural settings. That way I can begin to get an understanding of the tremendous issues they face daily. This, in turn, will help me in designing and adjusting the workshop, which is set for the first week in February.

So the next morning, before heading out to JL Zwane, I went first to the Waterfront, a shopping centre, to purchase a cell phone. Having a cell phone in South Africa is essential. It is THE mode of communication and connection, both the phone and texting (called SMS here).

Well, perhaps because I was so tired from the flight and not having gotten much sleep the couple weeks or so prior to my leaving Minneapolis, I had a minor mishap. I tripped and landed quite hard on my butt. I felt something pop in my lower back. Fortunately, caring people surrounded me. One went to get a security guard, who then came with a wheelchair. I was taken to see the medic on site (that's a story for another time).  Without going into all the details, after a couple of hours I made my way, via taxi, back to where I am staying. I promptly proceeded to pump a homeopathic remedy and Ibuprofen into me. I was sure that I only badly bruised soft muscle tissue. Yet I could barely move and needed to stay flat on my back.

Two days later, instead of flying to East London and embarking on the journey into the rural villages, I found myself at Dr. Johnny Fine's office.  Being seen and examined by Dr. Fine was such a complete contrast to being seen by an American doctor. In many ways it reminded me of going to the doctor when I lived in London 30 years ago. Dr. Fine does not wear a white, or any color for that matter, physician's jacket. He is casually dressed and there is an informal and relaxed ambience to his office and examine room. The examination room is quite small and none of the obsessive sterileness that we find in America. No stiff, sandpaper-like white paper covering the examination table. And, when he asked me for a urine sample, Dr. Fine handed me one of those kidney-shaped containers I only see in movies these days, and leaves the room, closing the accordion door behind him. There is no bathroom to go to. You just drop your pants and pee into that kidney-shaped container. He then tests the sample for whatever, right there (well, after I pull up my pants and open that accordion door, inviting him back in).

He tells me I have a torn ligament in my coccyx, but I should go get an X-ray to make sure nothing is fractured.  I say no, explaining once again how I must be on the plan on now Monday for the Eastern Cape, and that I'm sure nothing is broken.  He gives me a shot of anti-inflammatory (you know where), and prescriptions for more anti-inflammatory and pain meds. In addition, he instructs me to call him at 7 pm Friday evening to tell him how I'm doing. When's the last time your doctor told you to call him on a weekend evening on his cell phone??

Bottom line: I took it easy over the weekend, took the anti-inflammatory but not the pain meds, was in constant contact via email with my homeopath about which remedies to take, went for an X-ray Monday morning to make sure nothing was broken, and then hopped a plane Monday afternoon to East London,  gateway to the Eastern Cape rural areas. (Guess how much all this cost me, out-of-pocket? About $65 for Dr. Fine and $50 for the X-ray and having it read by a radiologist. Never did I feel my care was compromised.)  Through this whole ordeal, Spiwo called every day, sometimes twice a day to see how I was. 

Openings

Finally, in the Eastern Cape and on the way to the rural villages. On Tuesday Rev. Xola Mluma drove me into and around the area called North Transkei, where his congregation resides--very rural and mountainous.  The roads are very rough dirt roads. And often, there is little indication of a road. 

This area, as is much of the Eastern Cape rural communities, is very dry. There is no running water and most people do not have electricity. Water is either captured rainwater and stored in tanks, or the women walk daily, often quite a distance, to a muddy river or stream to fetch water, carrying it back in containers on their head.

I've included a few photos from this first day, of Xola's rural communities so you can get an idea of what the landscape and homes look like.  Included is a photo of Xola with an elder of his main station church, and two women who also look after the church.  Please notice the blue door. I told Xola that the blue is a very holy color. It is the blue used in the Israeli town of Safat by the mystics of the middle ages.  There is also a photo of an elderly stock (e.g., livestock) herder. 

In the rural areas, there is a "main station" church with a "mans," for mansion. This is where the minister and his (yes, 99% are men) family live.  There are also "out stations," smaller places of worship that are usually led by an elder of that particular village.  The reason there are these out station churches is that it is too far to travel to the main church for most people: many are elderly and/or few have cars, and the distance to the main church can be very very far away.  Visiting the rural areas is like visiting the rest of Africa: very very poor, high illiteracy, very high HIV/Aids, hunger, lack of water, etc.  And yet, everywhere I went, the people I met where tremendously gracious and welcoming.  

More to come very soon about the rest of my time in the rural areas...so stay tuned.

Ariella