Please visit and bookmark KeNakohm.wordpress.com, as this site, HannahSA, will soon be shut down!
Friday, July 6, 2012
New website launched: Ke Nako!
Please visit and bookmark KeNakohm.wordpress.com, as this site, HannahSA, will soon be shut down!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Ubuntu : Humanity : Vulnerability
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Spring 2010 Snippet

Friday, March 11, 2011
Complexicated. Peace Building

1. Know yourself and your core values2. Examine and weigh the true motive behind your anticipated/desired actions3. Seek to add value to, edify, exhort, and empower people. Treat everyone in-line with how God views them (remember, Christ already took our punishment)4. Be process oriented. Extend an invitation to dialogue and reach understanding5. ALWAYS conduct yourself in a way that is consistent with #16. Be 100% yourself and accept the others as well7. Recognize the origin of the "problem" and approach with tenderness and confidence8. Engage fully, be transparent, seek truth and reconciliation9. "Set the table" by creating an atmosphere of GRACE where safety (and, if possible, trust) is the priority10. Align your heart with God's and soak it all in prayer
Friday, December 3, 2010
Telling home
We were at one of America’s most overpriced, pseudo-local, coffee joints when it happened. All I did was ask about her summer and time in South Africa.
She took a deep breath and was still before the furry. She leaned forward a tad and a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she navigated past today’s events and last week’s drama. She looked down for a moment, grasping for a way to wrap words around incomprehensible experiences. Her eyes darted from memories of milli-pop to Mammas, from textbook to touch, from baboons to billboards, but finally, they left her left hemisphere and landed on her palms.
She shot up with eyes burrowing through her hands, “Look! Look here!”, she turned her palms toward me, “Do you see these hands?” she pressed in with sharp eyes, “Do you see these hands!?” she insisted!
“Who do we know here in the US who’s hands have literally touched every element of their house? Who’s so ingenious that they were walking along the road one day, saw a piece of tarp or a scrap metal and thought ‘Hey, that would be perfect for that hole in the bottom corner where that rat keeps coming in!’ so they picked it up and kept walking. Or who do we know that is so clever, compassionate, and connected in their community that they see something else and think, ‘Oh, that’s exactly what my neighbor has been looking for! I’ll take that to them tonight!’ so they toss it over their shoulder and keep walking. Who do we know whose hands have literally touched every element of their house? Who’s paired their own sweat and sacrifice with honest need and interdependence to lay the physical foundation of their house? Who do we know like that?”
Her eyes softened and shoulders began to round, “Its beautiful,” her voice now delicate and tender. “The attention to detail, the dedication, the creativity and industriousness to build a house from everyday items. Its so resourceful and clever! It’s beautiful!!” But then there was a pause and suddenly her eyebrows went from soaring above her smiling cheeks to swooping low and nipping at the pointed words to come. “And its horrific,” a fire blazed from her lips, “that a person must construct their house out of scraps that clutter along the highway!” Her palms became fists, “And it’s horrific that while World Cup stadiums and world class accommodations are being built ten miles down the road, that a Mamma and Dada can be found bent over, scrounging through heaps of crap to build their home…” The fire stilled and her head bowed. Was it shame? Was is confusion? Was it sympathy that lowered this head of steam?
But her eyes met mine once more and she continued, “But here’s the thing.” She leaned in, “Here in the US we have houses. Ohhhhhhh we have houses! Everyone has a house,” bouncing her head back and forth, “We have big ones, little ones, cute ones, fun ones” practically mocking her statements at this point “everyone has a house,” she said and tacked a strong period at the end.
A slight pause allowed time for a softened demeanor again, “But in South Africa,” she gently raised her left hand and spoke warmly, “they have homes.” Her palms open before her, “They might not have houses, but they have homes. And you know it when you walk in and are wrapped up in a big hug and greeted by everyone on the street.” She looked around, “You might not see an oven or even a countertop, but you know as soon as you pass through that doorway you’re home.” Her voice trailed off at the end as she faded back into her seat and there she sat, drifting back into the terrible beauty of a land so dear.


Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Clanwilliam Excerpt- draft 1P
excerpt 2, draft 1
Excerpt from "Clanwilliam"
Water dances for Light’s adoration. It jumps & shifts to the sun’s applause. my toes flirt with the current. My head called upward by the baboons’ barks just past my vision. I am without a shirt and earlier I was without pants; water has a way of calming my insecurities and heightening my need for adventure.
The baboon is closer now, but I dare not get up, my patience will lure it to me. I am not the only curious creature along this riverbed.
When the sun was higher & I decided to walk the river instead of cross it, a fish came at me and shutter a shrill leapt out of my body! What gringos we giggled! Our bare toes squeezed the sand beneath our feet and our thighs prickled from the chill. Suddenly a rock came up to snatch at my leg, but it only got a bit of my shin. Silly rock :] We’d come from hiking the sacred San grounds. We scrambled up kloofs and wedged between rocks to find art from 150,000+ years ago. To find stories of treks, of birth, of killing & eating, or sex & playing, of animals & children. Each shape had been on purpose, but the seasons turned them into mere glimpses. Half remained under a crevasse, I imagine my mom would have painted these had she lived here, they were like kloof dwelling wallpaper.
The water makes way for my feet and changes its course, all the while… dancing, descending, demonstrating its majesty.
We were standing at the bank, plotting our route across. We were standing at the bank, begging the water to invite us in. It noticed and motioned us up the river. It delighted and wrapped refreshing bands of clarity around our legs, but only for a moment. we were on our own way home and didn’t remain for long. It kept tickling us. we giggled uncontrollably!
We emerged from the water’s embrace with puffed chests and childlike grins. In our skivvies. our feet triumphantly marched back to camp. Cheyenne and I were home two hours ago.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Ubuntu Documentary: part 3
Creative- looked to use symbolic and artistic elements to portray ubuntu
Educational- looked to summarize and explain ubuntuDifficult Dialogues- looked to capture and showcase the charged and sensative discussions between races, ethnic groups, sexes, cultures, and ages in Cape Town
Below you will find the one I helped create: