Open Arms in South Africa and Ariella Tilsen

Looking Back to Look Forward

2009-03-08T01:01:00.000-08:00

It's so hard to believe that late tonight, Cape Town time, I board a plane to return to Minneapolis. These eight weeks went in one breath. But what a breath.

Looking Back
This past week Spiwo and I returned to Malungeni in the Eastern Cape, where Spiwo is from. Two events took place. First, we did a follow-up workshop with eight of the 13 ministers. Two of these ministers, Vuyo and Zola, drove nearly 1200 kilometers one way to attend. (And many of the roads are, narrow or dirt and not well maintained.) We all had dinner together on Tuesday evening and started the next morning with breakfast at 7:30. The day was one of substantial learnings for everyone (including me). We explored how things had changed for each of the ministers since the training a month ago, and where they wanted specific assistance. Especially exciting -- and helpful -- was when Spiwo and I were able to more deeply model narrative principles and practices in response to the ministers' sharing problem-saturated stories where they felt stuck. The risks and courage of a couple of them took were awe inspiring.

After the nearly 24 hours of being together, I returned to my space and wept. The tears were of deep gratitude for the extraordinary privilege of doing this work in South Africa with Spiwo, and for knowing I'd be returning home soon. My ambivalence about returning home is overwhelming.

The second event was the organizing, purchasing, and disbursing of food parcels sponsored by Arm in Arm in Africa. Arm in Arm is connected to St. Joan of Arc Church in Minneapolis, and has a close relationship with Open Arms (check out Open Arms' website on this blog site to learn about Dusk2Dawn, a fundraising walk in September in support of both organizations' work in South Africa). Spiwo and others organized this effort (they've done it many times before). I helped unpack the trunks full of 30-lb bags of flour, maize, beans, rice, sugar, samp (traditional South African grain made from maize), and very large bottles of cooking oil. I also helped stack the piles of these items. Yet in all honestly, most of the work was done by the young men and boys. In South Africa, especially in the rural areas, you rarely see women doing this.

It was a beautiful day. Before the distributing the parcels, Spiwo gave a blessing. Then he called out each family's name. The atmosphere quickly became very festive. Some people came with their wheelbarrows to schlep the bags of staples to their homes. More often though, I saw women and children walking home, carrying as much as they could.

You can see the photo of the food parcels being stacked and all lined up on the lawn. There were 80. At first there were 70, but then Spiwo learned of 10 more families that were in extreme need. There was much scrambling behind the scenes to be able to acquire enough for the ten extra families.

As I've mentioned before, although much poverty exists in the townships, it's even deeper and more harsh in the rural areas. One story involves a young woman and her three year old daughter. The young woman's mother, who was about 60 or so, died a few months back when the roof of her tiny shack caved in on her. A couple of this woman's children (the photo of the woman holding the little girl is one) were living with her, including one who is so disabled she lies in bed all day, stays covered up and won't talk or look at anyone.

Since the mother's death, the children and grandchildren have even less than before. They live in such a tiny place, cooking outside. Just when you think you're heart can't be wrenched any more, when you witness situations like this, you know the heart's ability for feeling the suffering of others is infinite. Spiwo asked me and Lizzie (a British woman who is staying at Malugeni for six weeks helping out in many capacities) to take food supplies to this family. Normally he would do it, but as Spiwo told me later that night, his heart could not face their situation. For Spiwo to feel this way says a lot.

Earlier this same week, when Spiwo and I visited his 80 year old mother, who lives in her own roundeveld, she remarked how sad she's been, explaining that there are now two to three deaths per week in the Malungeni village. About two-thirds are probably due to HIV/AIDS. Spiwo's mother lives on her own and is mostly bedridden due to arthritis. There is a woman who takes care of her during the day. But her teenage grandchildren, who are supposed to spend the night with her, often do not. They are off who knows where. The loneliness and forsakenness in the rural areas are profound.

Spiwo's place in Malungeni is quite something. He has spent a few years building this up. He is trying to create a conference center in the middle of this rural area. Often whites from America or the UK come and help out with projects and now they have a nice place to stay. A group from Global Volunteers comes every couple of months for three weeks to help mentor teachers in a nearby school. I suspect (but it's only an assumption) that Spiwo wants people to see what can be achieved. What weighs heavy on his heart is how few people truly make it: get educated and acquire the skills necessary to work and support themselves and their families. It is heart-wrenching beyond words that Spiwo is still seen as an aberration rather than the norm. I've noticed how emotionally and spiritually exhausted Spiwo can get.

On a more upbeat note, I've included some photos of people gathering their food parcels and a few photos of children. (Children LOVE having their photos taken and then seeing themselves afterward. What did we do before digital cameras?) I've also uploaded some photos from another day of kids sitting in a circle with Spiwo as he passed out apples and photos of older siblings, aunts and uncles, and parents of the children who helped Spiwo in building of his home here. When Spiwo is here, the children swarm around him.

Looking Forward

The leadership workshop in Malungeni was very well received. In addition to this follow up session, people expressed their strong interest for more guidance and coaching. This is understandable because they are trying to upend the systems of oppression that are so rooted in South African life. Spiwo's vision is for he and I to work with several new groups of ministers, as well as teachers, principals, community leaders, and youth. Our hope and plan is that I'll return in September or so, and stay for an extended period of time. This would allow us to work with several new groups, while doing follow-up and coaching with those who have gone through the week long workshop. And as we make more inroads into the worlds of white South Africans, particularly the Jewish Capetonians, perhaps there will be more support from other South Africans. When I return to the States, I will work on raising funds to continue, broaden, and deepen what we have started.

Now and Here

This is my last blog from South Africa this time around. I look forward to returning to work alongside Spiwo again, to bear witness to courageous individuals who continue to struggle to loosen the deep seated hold of apartheid's and colonization's brutal legacy; to join with these individuals so they can better see, uplift, and embrace their own possibilities, expertise and wisdom; to nurture the relationships between members of the Cape Town Jewish community and JL Zwane Community Centre; and to have my heart stretched wider and deeper with every breath I take here in South Africa.

I thank you all for your support--emotional, financial, spiritual, etc--and for bearing witness to the stories throughout this blog, which are only an iota of what swirls within me. My heart is filled with big gratitude.

-Ariella

Living multiple worlds, bridging two

2009-02-16T06:32:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-09T22:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-03T12:01:00.001-08:00

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

Hope, history, and a chicken

2009-01-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-25T04:51:00.000-08:00

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