Living multiple worlds, bridging two

It's been a while since my last entry.  I've begun so many new entries, planning to finish it the next day. But then that next day proves to be so rich with experience, I find myself needing to start afresh.  

Each day flies by and is filled with multiple activities, multiple interactions, multiple experiences. I find myself moving from one world of meaning and experiences to another, often several times within a day. I'd like to introduce you to some of these multiple worlds I find myself in, though each world in itself is a world within worlds, and I've only just been able to have a peek into each one myself.  These multiple worlds include the breath taking landscape of the tiny bit of the Cape area I've seen, including Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point; the bit of rural village life, which I wrote about earlier; black township life of Gugulethu and Khaylisha; colored South Africa; white privileged South Africa, and Jewish South Africa. 

At first I thought I'd try to describe these worlds one-by-one, and as I experience them--very separate and disconnected--but something happened yesterday that give me pause about that approach.  For yesterday was a day in which steps were made to heal the separateness and to build a bridge of connection, understanding, possibilities, and hope among two worlds.  

Captonian Jews in Guguletu 

Like last year, I am staying with Joan, a white Jewish Capetonian who works at Monkeybiz (a women's economic empowerment program).  How I came to stay with Joan last year is a long story. The very short version is that Kevin Winge, Executive Director of Open Arms, set it up. Open Arms and Monkeybiz also have a special relationship. 

Last year I soon learned how small, insular, and conservative the Jewish population is here. Joan's son, Greg, asked me several weeks ago, 

"What do we in South Africa take for granted, and what do you in America take for granted?"   What fabulous questions. One thing I definitely take for granted in America as an American Jew, is that we are many in population, and range from being totally secular to the ultra observant and everything in between. Because of this range I am able to be part of two vibrant, wonderful Jewish spiritual communities, the congregation of Shir Tikvah, and the international community of spiritual sisters and brothers through Rabbi David Cooper. And that I also am part of a great Buddhist community.  Nothing like these (especially the Jewish communities, and not so sure about the Buddhist either) exists in South Africa. So I was dumbfounded when I did not meet any or virtually very few Jews working for social justice here. For there were indeed Jews who worked in the struggle against apartheid. (For the record, this time around, I have indeed met a few more, but they are by far in the minority, and don't get support from the Jewish community here.)

As I've learned more about the history of South African Jews, I begin to understand. But only begin. At times, staying with Joan, I feel like I'm suffocating due to the insular narrative most of her friends live in.  Yet Joan is so open, loving, warm, and gracious. She is so different than most of her friends in being so open and wanting to experience life. Working at Monkeybiz is a reflection of that.  Yet yesterday proved to an example of what can happen when you ask people to challenge their conventional ways of thinking and responding. As one of the women said yesterday, "Look what happens when you're willing to get out of your own box."  

So what happened yesterday? Like last year, I began to meet (and now re-meet) some of Joan's friends (all Jewish). They asked me if I was here on holiday and I replied, "No, I'm not. Like last year, I'm working out in Guguletu," and then continue to describe the leadership capacity work with Spiwo.  Mouths drop open and then, like last year,  I'm asked,  "Are you sure you're safe?" I have less patience with this than even last year. And I also realize this is spot where I am called to be more compassionate. It's easy being compassionate with people who have nothing and face dire hardships every day. It takes a lot more work (at least for me) for compassion to grow with people who have so much and yet are so fearful.  How can I learn to embrace them with their vulnerabilities and not treat those of privilege as "the other?"  How can I expect them to practice compassion if others like myself refuse to find their humanity and vulnerabilities, their stories of meaning and hope?

About a week after I  arrived in Cape Town this year, Joan and I were out for a walk.  I asked her if she thought any of her friends would be willing to go out to JL Zwane, see the Community Centre and tour the township.  First she said a quick and emphatic, "No." Then she replied, "What a minute."  She then proceeded to name many friends who might at least consider it. 

Yesterday, 12 of Joan's  friends, along with Joan, rode the Centre's bus out to the township. They visited a community school where students are crowded into old shipping containers that serve as classrooms, where there is not enough desks or classroom materials, or proper electricity, where many students don't have uniforms, shoes and/or enough to eat, where it is so hot in the summer and so cold in the winter, making learning (and teaching) difficult. They visited the spot where Amy Biehl, the American student, was murdered in 1996 and heard how her parents, during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, learned how their daughter was killed.  Joan's friends also heard how Amy's parents established The Amy Biehl Foundation and now two of her killers work for the Foundations.  The group also visited the Gugulethu Seven monument, discovered how in 1996,  seven young black men in Gugs were set up by the South African Police Force to be killed by the police. They saw the horrendous poverty. One or two of the group had been in townships, back in the 60s and 70s, working to address social ills. But she had not been back since, and most had never set foot in a black township before. Fear had always kept them away.  (Historically, there are indeed reason for this fear. One being that the apartheid government was allied very closely with the Nazis during World War II, and many Holocaust survivors came to settle in Cape Town. Yet the racism runs deep.) 

We then went to JL Zwane for a visit of the Centre, meet Centre staff, see a bit of what the Centre does,  and to watch Siyaya perform.  Siyaya is a musical and dance group, created to provide HIV/AIDS outreach and education and to give talented young people an opportunity to develop their musical, theatre and dancing gifts.  They are phenomenal. (When Joan saw them for the first time a couple of weeks ago, she was blown away.  Joan's passion is the arts, especially music and dancing. She had hoped that a professor of music and opera from the University of Cape Town would be able to join us, but his father had just passed away. She will make that connection happen though. She is determined to do so.)  

Joan's friends were totally blown away with the experience. They saw the children come in for the after school tutoring and hot meal program. They saw the beautiful hall that is used for weddings, community meetings, and on Sundays, church.  Spiwo also spoke to them as South Africans and the responsibility we all have to one another, how he'd much rather be drawing on the expertise of South Africans to solve South Africa's problems (rather than those of Americans and others overseas.) He was brilliant and they loved him.

Throughout the tour, I told the story of how I got to come to Cape Town and why I was there, about working with Spiwo and the leadership program, how Joan and I met.  I also sprinkled in some Jewish teachings, such as what tikkun olam (repairing or making whole the world)  means to me. I spoke about how at any given time there are 36 tzaddikim, righteous ones, who through tremendous acts of loving kindness and courageous righteous deeds bring about tikkun olam in a given moment of time. That their coming was a courageous act of helping to heal and make the world whole. It was courageous because as I said, most had to overcome their fears, huge, deep, and overpowering fears.  They truly came open hearted and opened eyed.  

Joan had asked each person to bring some food for the Centre.  They came laden with food: fruit, vegetables, and bread. And one woman brought a box of children's books for the children's library.  People gave 500 Rand on the spot. Yet, these gifts of generosity are only the beginning.

As they were leaving, and even into today through emails and phone calls of thanks, each person said that this visit had dramatically opened their thinking and challenged their assumptions.  A number of them spoke to me about different possibilities, different connections they each have, to provide support to the Centre and its work, to find partners to help the Centre have even a greater impact in the community. How these acts of support and kindness will take shape, time will tell. But these were and are women who will make exciting things happen.  I know it. I feel it. So does Joan.  

I can't begin to tell you have exceptional this is. White South Africans of any kind, rarely step inside of the townships. To make it happen took a real collaborative effort between Joan and myself.  It brought hope to Spiwo and the Centre, that perhaps there are some white South Africans to truly join together in the kinds of partnerships he has developed with others in America and the U.K. 

Two highly distinct and separate worlds that are indicative of South Africa, and represent my experience here, the black township and the white privileged Jewish, have taken the first steps toward reconciliation, new meaning, and new found possibilities. 

Yesterday brought to mine a quote I like from The Education of Little Tree:

"When you come to something good, the first thing you do is share it with who you can find; that way the good spreads out, with no telling where it will go." 

The photos are from yesterday.  

Meet the leaders

Thought you'd like to briefly meet the 13 ministers who went through the training and hear a little more about the week.

Start with the large group photo: you will notice that there is only one woman; that's Thembazana. Her congregation is in the Eastern Cape in the rural areas, and she faces a lot of cultural issues as a woman minister. For example, it's a Xhosa tradition that women are not allowed at the gravesite of a man.  So Thembazana has to figure out ways around these cultural traditions that shows respect, yet allows her to step more fully into her role as minister and as leader. It's really tough. Yet, she is a dynamite of energy, power, courage, and love.

In the front row, from right to left:

Zweli: he is an Anglican minister from Port Elizabeth. I met him last year when, one Sunday, he preached at JL Zwane. He and Spiwo are good friends and colleagues. He grappled with many narrative concepts, first stating his belief that leaders are born, not made. By the end, he wasn't so sure. We decided he was living in the question itself, which is a good place to be.

Loyiso: you met Loyiso in an earlier blog. I spent a day with him in the rural areas.  He's a big teddy bear of a sweetie and he continued to correct my Xhosa and teach me more words (which of course are now totally gone from my brain).

Steven: Steven is Zulu but speaks Xhosa, and I believe Setwana, fluently. (There are 11 official

languages in South Africa.) He hails from the Durban area. He was quiet during much of the training, yet when he spoke, he was so spot on, and willing to take risks.  His Zulu name, which he doesn't use much, means "lion."  He said that now he feels more comfortable living his name and living fully into his vision, his preferred story, as if it's happening now.

back row, from right to left:

Vuyo: Coming from a very rural area near Botswana, Vuyo is younger then he appears, 33. Before becoming a minister he was in business. And it shows.  He has an astute mind for many of the aspects of planning and seemed to grasp narrative practices. He talked a lot about the need and his plan to drill boreholes for water, because there is such a lack of water in his area. And now he has more tools to bring people together to make it happen. 

Zamuxolo and Sibusisso: These guys also come from the Eastern Cape rural areas.  I briefly met Zamuxolo when I was visiting.  He was with Litha, Xola and myself as we watched Obama become president. He was sick for a couple of days, and although present, was quieter than what I believe he usually is. Sibusisso is quiet yet his eyes are always shining bright. When he talks, he also shows that he seems to understand what Spiwo and I are inviting people to consider--and how to reposition themselves. 

Wonke and I are now Facebook friends. He is a techie and was teaching several of the ministers how to access email by using their cell phones. He privileged his courage many times by offering himself up to our questions when he found himself "wrestling" with what we were saying. He is a dude.

Xola you also met in an earlier blog. I spent a day with him in the northern Transkei. He immersed himself fully during the week, even though he (as well as many if not most) struggled with the concepts and the practices. He was very open about many things which made it easier to bring out his own expertise and help him claim those.  He always smses me (sending text messages), staying connected. 

Phindile also is from a rural area in the Eastern Cape. We met, albeit very briefly, when I was with Loyiso. He is super quiet, and has penetrating eyes.  He looks as if he is always thinking deeply about what you're saying ("still waters run deep"). And I think he is. He too took risks, especially during an exercise when they were doing an exercise that started with claiming their roots and the people who were there for them when growing up. He was abandoned as a child. I asked him other questions about who was there for him?  Who befriended him? As he thought about this, re-remembering those who were there,I wanted to make sure that this process was okay with him, even though his eyes began to sparkle. "Yes, very helpful," he said softly.

Litha was another minister you met in an earlier blog.  It was at his home were we witnessed Obama being inaugurated. At the beginning of the training, we introduced a quote by Nisargadatta Maharaji (Hindu teacher) about knowing the world is one, that humanity is one. Yet you "must attend to the way you feel, think, and live. Unless there is order in yourself, there can be no order in the world."  (Not exactly a narrative notion; however, I am constantly weaving in my contemplative Buddhist, Jewish, et al mystical learnings. Besides, this is a big issue here: looking external for help/handouts.)  Litha thought he didn't agree with this statement. When we came back to it at the end, he said it made more sense to him now.

Zola comes from a rural area near Limpopo, which is very close to  Zimbabwe. His community is seeing cholera cases.  Not good. He really opened to a narrative approach and seemed to have a lot of fun with it.

Lentikile (behind Thembazan) comes from the Johannesburg area.  He is Soto.  He doesn't speak Xhosa but understands it perfectly. His English is also fabulous.  And he is studying Hebrew. That was fun because I brought up some Hebrew words and their mystical meaning as they relate to leading or narrative practices.  I told him his Hebrew, though, is probably much better than mine. He asked really good questions.

Endings and beginnings

The training ended on a high note. We were able to video tape pieces throughout the week and we captured a reflection session at the end when we asked what really worked for the participants. (Note photo of Spiwo standing with a young man, Siphiwe, and a video camera. (More on Siphiwe in another blog. He and I are learning together how to record and edit via Spiwo and my Mac laptops.) 

At the very end of the workshop, we closed with a Xhosa tradition of journeying, isivivane.  It's a bit hard to translate exactly, and the Zulu meaning is something different than the Xhosa. To the best of my understanding, it is a custom of honoring those who have gone before by placing a stone on a pile of stones that has been created by those who have previously walked along this path. It also has to do with acknowledging that you are here, at this moment in time, precisely because of those who have walked before--that you are now journeying into the future, into the unknown, knowing you are standing on the shoulders of all those who have gone before you.  And that you have a responsibility to journey into the future knowing that others will stand on your shoulders, too. So what are you bringing with you on this journey? We asked them to consider what of the past week they are taking with them.

Before each person placed a stone in a clay pot, they said a silent prayer.  The clay pot with the stones now sits in JL Zwane.  I asked Spiwo why we did not do the ritual outside like we first talked about.  He said that you are not suppose to move the stones once a pile has been created. That when the ministers returned they'd be looking for the stones. If the pile was outside, kids will play with the stones and dismantling the pile. He explained further that kids don't understand the significance and meaning of the stones.  Now that Spiwo has revived an ancient tradition in a modern context, this new pile of stones placed by these leaders will be able have a sacred place and be allowed to grow once again in meaning for the wider community.

Other photos: 

• Zweli talking about his Tree of Life. Thank you Cheryl White and David Denborough from the Dulwich Centre. A great tool which I adapted for this group.
• Spiwo and Lentikile in dialogue over a concept
• Spiwo emphasizing the focus of narrative practice despite my handwriting
• From right to left: Zola, Thembazana, Vuyo, Litha
• Wonke in pensiveness
• Zola and Zamuxolo as part of skit (Zola seems to show up a lot in my photos!)

More reflections and what happens next in another blog, coming soon.

Ariella

In the thick of it

Wow.  I'm not sure where to begin. We've completed two days of the leadership training and I haven't even finished writing about the experiences of being in the rural areas. Perhaps I will return to those last couple of days later.

Although the training officially started on Monday morning, all the ministers (13 of them) arrived by Sunday late afternoon. That evening, we all gathered at JL Zwane for dinner, a bit of conversation, and a service led by some of the ministers with JL Zwane church leaders and elders in attendance. I had already attended the morning worship service earlier that day. Two Presbyterian services in one day for this BuJewpagan!  The services are 99% in Xhosa yet it doesn't matter.  The music and singing get into your heart and soul, carry you away, and have you feeling one with the whole congregation. When Spiwo preaches, you still know what he's taking about. (It helps that he sprinkles in a few key English words or phrases--the 1% of non Xhosa.)  Sunday evening was a smaller version of the morning service, with a lot of singing and dancing. The JL Zwane congregation is thrilled to be hosting these 13 leaders for leadership training. It is quite an honor for the congregation and community.  In fact, families in Gugulethu are hosting the ministers and are so excited to do so.  Remember, most live in shacks or very very small tiny tiny brick homes.

On Sunday evening one of the leaders of the church's men's association told me how honored the community feels to be able to host these leaders. He thanked me profusely for coming to their community, saying "we are so honored to have you visit us. We gain so much when people from your country come to us and share your gifts and presence  with us." I tried to express how blessed and grateful I am to be invited in and welcomed so lovingly into the community, and that I leave receiving far more gifts than I could ever give. He did not seem to believe me.

(Earlier on Sunday I met Spiwo's nephew who is a practicing homeopath! We talked homeopathy lingo for quite some time. Finding myself talking homeopathy talk while in a township was quite amusing to me. I still have homeopathy books to get rid of, so perhaps Limkile would like some of those.)

It's hard to describe or share at this point what's unfolding through the training, since we're in the thick of it.  Today they struggled with working some narrative concepts and practices. Yet that's what's suppose to happen. Through one of the exercises, one that required them to talk about future goals as if these were happening in the present, the issue of problems arose. We figured it might happen at this point.  So Spiwo and I used these real life situations to teach naming and externalizing the problem.  At one point, Spiwo asked me, "Can I interview you so they can better understand what we mean?" So Spiwo started asking me externalizing questions (which can and did get quite personal). We demonstrated how and why this technique alone can be so effective in reclaiming one's leadership identity.  It clicked and ministers started naming their problem-saturated story that keeps them from living more fully their preferred leadership story. Space began to open up, and several people were able to identify a time or two when they have stood in opposition to their problem-saturated story. One such story was named Elders in Charge. Often, particularly in the rural areas, ministers come and go, and over the years, the church elders have learned to like being in control of church affairs. So when a new and usually younger minister comes, making clear his intention to stay, he has to find ways to diminish the elders' influence that gets in the way of the community addressing the problems it faces, as well as reclaiming his duties and responsibilities as minister and leader. This problem-saturated story has many examples of pushing many ministers out of the ministry. Yet a few ministers recalled situations that demonstrated their ability to shift the status quo. 

It's truly humbling  to bear witness to these stories of both struggle and triumph, of the challenges the ministers face in their communities, and the lack of support they receive from the white powers that be of the church (most of the ministers are Presbyterian). Several talked about their desire to not be so beholden to the "manual and rules" of conduct and procedures created by the church.  I asked Spiwo about his relationship with the manual and these rules and procedures.  His response: "I really don't know what these say or are about and I don't care. I learned a long time ago if I waited to get approval for what I thought needed to be done, I'd still be waiting."  Many of the ministers were truly taken aback. Spiwo then talked about how the policies are made by white ministers who have no idea of what it's like working in black congregations, in the townships or the rural areas. So why should he follow those rules, when black ministers were not asked to be part of constructing those?

I am only touching on the tip of the iceberg of what has transpired these past couple of days. But hopefully, you are getting an idea.

I keep pinching myself to make sure I'm really here, doing this work and more importantly, working in collaboration with Spiwo. The flow between us never ceases to astound me; we are beginning to finish each other's thoughts or start saying the same thing at the same time.  

Many of you have emailed asking about my backside. It's much much better. Not 100% yet. Standing a lot the past couple of days has not been great for it, but I'm not complaining.  I feel very grateful for how NOT serious an injury it is and that I recovered pretty quickly.  So thanks for your concern and care.  

All for now,

Ariella