New website launched: Ke Nako!

New and improved with more visuals and a larger collection of writings, photos, updates, & links, visit my new online home, Ke Nako!  It is currently live and will officially be announced via email this weekend!

Please visit and bookmark KeNakohm.wordpress.com, as this site, HannahSA, will soon be shut down!

Ubuntu : Humanity : Vulnerability

Hope and peace are worth listening and living toward

UBUNTU

HUMANITY

VULNERABILITY

The three videos below give us a place to begin speaking into the radiance of humanity, of our humanness, of our shared beauty and brilliance. Of the monsters in our closets and the moments we're too ashamed to mention. Of our ability to soar on wings like eagles and slit throats. Of our misconceptions, glorious triumphs, and failed attempts. Of our world and what we see in us. Of our intense complexity, power, love, passion, confusion, intention, fear, and peace. What an overlooked privilege and responsibility it is to be entrusted as human.

Watch these video clips, not all at once though. Watch them slowly, think about them, their implications, the inferences you can make based on them, how they challenge and/or bolster what you've accepted as true and certain, what will you do now that you know this?

These clips are a good jumping point and I hope they leave you asking good questions... let's invite one another into wading though our thoughts, actions, and ideals together... it can be quiet puzzling, but we are not hopeless or helpless, though it may feel that way at times.

Chew thoroughly.

UBUNTU (1 of 3 from my trip to SA)

PHILIP ZIMBARDO: RESEARCH, HUMANITY, POWER, GOOD/EVIL

BRENE BROWN: THE POWER OF VULNERABILITY

Radical interdependence.

Shalom.

Systemic and systematic evaluation, empowerment and reform.

as always, thoughtful and respectfully provoking comments are requested

Spring 2010 Snippet

I was flipping through an old journal the other day and ran across this. It was flanked by reflections on how our South African preparations were coming along so far. With issues of race, class, religion, war, peace, humanity, violence, and justice dripping from every pre-departure reading I was just kicking around a few thoughts involving serious "buzz words" like justice and grace.

Journal Entry Snippet

8 March 2010

... Justice is good. Grace is better. God is both.

What would happen if people began to buy into the fact that there is no person who is more important or less important than someone else? What if people began to believe that they are inherently valuable and worthy? period. They were before they achieved one thing and they will be equally precious ever after a billion failures. That God has loved us 1st, reconciled us to Himself, and through the greatest demonstration of love ever displayed He justified us through FAITH, through our BELIEF, through our "buying in" to the fact that what we do, how we strive, and our petty attempts to be good enough... or at least better than the next guy ... won't actually get us anywhere.

Our momentary successes achieve us nothing more than one more thing to dust. Once we begin to grasp this concept we are entertaining the idea of grace and justification. Can we humble ourselves enough to see our striving for perfection can only lead to 2 things: failure &/or self loathing. We will NEVER maintain "good enough" for long enough. But since we are continually trying to justify our worth through external pursuits, we must constantly PROVE that we are better than other people. Thus,

we criticize where we could encourage,

we reject where we could embrace,

we distance when we could draw near.

Our fear of inadequacy blends with our disbelief and insecurities, to manifest itself in self-centered, prideful, greedy thoughts, which turn into behaviors, which turn into norms, which we accept and subtly intoxicate generations of people and entire nations with. Our disbelief in the gospel is raping ourselves, our humanity, and our world.

Love manifested in public is viewed as justice.

God wants lovers, not workers.

...

Complexicated. Peace Building

Tempe, Arizona, USA

A wise and free man recently coined the term "complexicated". What is it? I'll define it in a simile.

The meaning of shalom is to the word peace as the meaning of complexicated is to the words complex and complicated.

Peace building is not tidy and it does not follow a straight path. It is rarely quick and never painless. To pursue peace building, reconciliation, forgiveness, and/or shalom is to purposefully place yourself in a state of unconditional surrender to the will and nature of Christ, it is to have a "yes" in your heart, and a tender confidence about your acts of love. It is to respond to the heart of the Father and the thoughts He has of you, so you might lead an uncanny life of love and grace, repentance and compassion, of faith in action.

I am writing on this because my time in South Africa continues to impact the way I think and act, especially in moments like these.

Currently, I have the opportunity to practice what was demonstrated to me in South Africa about coming to the table, the posturing of our hearts and humility of our minds when honorably engaging confrontation, the ways and foundation of facilitation, how salient and healing the truth is, the importance of being quick to listen and seek understanding, why/how to creatively approach concepts, etc. These were some of the concepts we dove into and got stuck in while I was in South Africa and they continue to impact my thinking and actions. So much of my heart and character have been revealed and refined over the past nine months, especially the past 5ish, and I am forever grateful that my journey intertwined with such remarkable and compassionate people.

I am deeply grateful for the example Teri & Gordon displayed by showing me what healthy communication can look like and making space for all views, those lessons have been so helpful... as many things have come very fast and as a giant surprise the past few days. There is much to say and many details I have not mentioned, but re-hashing details is not why I'm writing, I am writing to encourage and express my gratitude for my Directors' lives and sacrifices, and to openly express my admiration of their personalities, uncommon lives, and creative giftings. To give real life testimony to the impact they had on me and the way God has used them in my life to encourage, challenge, and spur me on.

The spurring and transformation of my mind have finally arrived at a place where those lessons can be carried out in a significant manner. This opportunity has come as a result of the trouble I am having in processing some community leaders behaviors and what they show value for. My heart is tender and broken right now. So much is happening and it all seems so unjust and broken. I am deeply grieved, saddened, & hurt. Yet hopeful and certain of the goodness of God. This is a place of such wretched tension and glorious demand, of shalom for the beloved. I believe humans are my family and my opposition is in the spiritual realm, so grace is abounding. I am praying to discern God's voice, receive His love, repent completely, and stand dressed and ready in the full armor Knowing His love for me & delight in me. God is shalom and chesed, may I know Him as such.

Please watch the following clip and consider this perspective prior to continuing:

I watched that clip about 5 minutes ago and wanted to share it with you ;]

In light of the lessons that have settled deep in my heart from South Africa and my desire to honor and demonstrate Abba's heart in my conduct, especially when attempting to engage in confrontation from a Kingdom perspective, I would like to share some of my first thoughts about entering conflict.

My Preliminary

Thoughts on Personal Preparation for Mediation & Conflict Facilitation:

1. Know yourself and your core values

2. Examine and weigh the true motive behind your anticipated/desired actions

3. 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 understanding

5. ALWAYS conduct yourself in a way that is consistent with #1

6. Be 100% yourself and accept the others as well

7. Recognize the origin of the "problem" and approach with tenderness and confidence

8. Engage fully, be transparent, seek truth and reconciliation

9. "Set the table" by creating an atmosphere of GRACE where safety (and, if possible, trust) is the priority

10. Align your heart with God's and soak it all in prayer

Ideally, all of those would be worked though PRIOR to engaging with conflict, but we act out of the overflow of our hearts, so hopefully we are becoming a people with pure hearts and overwhelming love.

I truly desire to be a peace-maker as empowered by the Holy Spirit, to call forth the greatness in people and glorify God through it, to kneel with grace, rise among the saints, and be a conduit for healing to touch earth from our holistic Lord. I know this process must soaked in prayer and saturated with the goodness and mercy of God, so keep that in mind, as I have assumed that to be understood. This perspective is relatively new to me, but as my value for wholeness and shalom increase, I am trying to navigate my way through life in such a way that I become my message.

OFFER WISDOM:

I am young and an idealist, but there is an innocence about youth that is beautiful and blinding, so what are you thoughts on how to approach conflict? In your opinion, what is the desired posturing of a heart when in the hea(r)t of a moment? Why?

There are zillion scriptures that come to mind with this topic (conflict, shalom, forgiveness, justice, personal ownership, etc), but which one(s) do you draw from?

Thoughts on the video clip?

I would like to hear and weigh any advice you might have for me as I make a life of truth seeking, facilitation, healing, and next steps. If you have advice from your experiences, would you please share some with me/us?

Words are powerful, but actions are revealing.

Telling home

Homes

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.

Her living room in America

her kitchen

----------

our Kitchen in Khayelitsha

Living room

our homes

Clanwilliam Excerpt- draft 1P

So, I'm having trouble deciding what to write, how to write it, etc etc etc. So for now, I'll post an excerpt from an idea and style I was playing with during our 2nd week in SA.

Below you will find a short clip and a series of pictures, followed by an excerpt from mini-story. The mini-story was written one night in Clanwilliam, but the visuals were taken sporadically during my time there :] I didn't take the pictures to match the story, but a few do, so I thought it might be nice to look around a little before going deeper into the setting & scratching at the interior.

River Journaling: location 1

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.

Ubuntu Documentary: part 3

Last night the team got together for a Documentary Screening party and it was so much fun! For the most part, this was the first time I'd seen everyone since I was a little ball of tears at the Joburg airport in July, so it was so much fun to see people, hang out, catch up, and watch the short documentaries we recently completed.

Originally, we had "three days" (aka 1.5) to brainstorm, storyboard, interview, shoot, edit, polish, and complete the documentary while in Cape Town. This is an insane request, especially when each group of five students only had one camera and one computer for editing! Needless to say, we were all on edge and INCREDIBLY STRESSED. Honestly, those 2 days were more stressful than all three years of finals combined. We knew the documentaries had to be quality because we received grants and funding from national sources, our directors reputations would be affected by what we produced, from a content standpoint they had amazing potential, and because these would be plastered all over different parts of Arizona State's website. But, in our ridiculously stressed attempts to create something worthwhile we were running around with our heads cut off, forsaking the very essence of Ubuntu, the topic of our documentaries. Luckily, our directors realized this, called a meeting the night before they're due (which was our 2nd to last night in South Africa), and we all listened to each other's concerns.

I had been all over the Western Cape shooting footage that day, didn't even make it back in time for dinner, and was not happy they called a meeting because it was stealing precious time I desperately needed if we were going to start and finish this film in the next 16 hours.

to complete our documentary I was not happy they were cutting into my time. Out of no where I started crying because I saw myself putting the completion of this task over maintaining great relationships and saying goodbye to South Africa in a meaningful way. ...

Our directors ended up extending our deadline, at the expense of their professional reputation with the foundations that sponsored the projects. This was merely another show of their great compassion and belief in living a whole hearted, connected life above all else.

A (singular) result of our time focusing on understanding, dialogues, transitional justice, ubuntu, and the beauty of South Africa were a series of three documentaries, each with a slightly different slant:

Creative- looked to use symbolic and artistic elements to portray ubuntu
Educational- looked to summarize and explain ubuntu

Difficult 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:

This is a short documentary that looks into the meaning of Ubuntu.

Created by five undergraduate students during a summer program in South Africa and funded by grants from the Ford Foundation and Arizona State University's The Center for the Study of Religion and Conflict, this is one clip from a three part series.

Body: explore & engage

another journal entry

20 July 2010

I've decided that living a supernatural lifestyle is a must. People are looking for the supernatural and to experience what they learn in the Bible. But the church is falling dreadfully short. We, the Body, are not living out our God-given identities which is a huge problem because God longs for us to know and love Him, experience our lives and identities the way we were designed to, and then to be a conduit to bring Heaven (and all that it encompasses) to Earth- this includes the supernatural. As I sit here in Africa and write, I'm reflecting on how how visible and accessible the spiritual realm is here.

For instance, many people in the black community are either familiar with or participants in "traditional healers'" ceremonies and practices. These practices do involve the spiritual realm and people do have encounters with spirits, etc... however, the motivation and result of this is fear. Fear of their ancestors interfering with their lives if ignored. Fear of man... fear of... fear of... fear of... The intentions are typically good, like a mother might become a visit a magic man to protect and help her daughter do well in University. This is common because culturally it is accepted and expected. Plus, more than likely they've seen "bad things" happen to people who haven't performed the ritual, or paid the shaman, etc. The problem expands when you learn that most of these people also identify as Christians. So they pray to God, believe in Christ, and still find it necessary to call upon their ancestors and contact the deceased for protection and security.

When the Body ceases to operate in our identities as children of the Most High and does not move out a place of love and belief in God's promises, then we leave ourselves and everyone around us empty handed and searching for the power & authority that we, as believers, have access to and should be operating in, but aren't.

Besides, if someone has witnessed the "psuedo"-power of a demonic presence, but has never experienced the power of God, then of course that person is going to believe more in the traditional healers powers because their is evidence of their teachings by how the spiritual realm is being accessed and demonstrated. Yet, it is deceptive and filled with fear, shame, and destruction.

How great would it be if the Body began to operate in her God-given authority to teach and demonstrate the Kingdom of God with the supplement of signs and wonders! To release love, gentleness, and compassion... to escort in the King's divine breakthroughs by fully utilizing the resources we have available to us as sons and daughters of the King. There is not a problem on Earth that God does not have the answers to or resources for, so why aren't we asking, declaring, and proclaiming? God is in a good mood. Granted, this doesn't mean suffering or illness will cease, but it does mean believers are going to have to take risks and truly explore and engage who they are if Heaven is to be found on Earth.

It is a natural phenomenon that what we believe will determine how we behave. So, if I believe that God wants to heal people, wants to set the captives free, wants to shower love on all His creation... then I too will want to do these things. My belief in God and His power and goodness motivates my behaviors. I do not wish to trap God in a box because of my fear, failures, inexperience, or uncertainties. I truly believe God is mighty to save, has made a way through Jesus for us to be reconciled, and that He longs for us to experience His presence, love, and will for our lives. Therefore, I desire to be an active and sensitive ambassador for God through my speech, actions, purity, and life. Your Kingdom come on earth as it is in Heaven is not some far off phrase that I ritualistically repeat... it is an actual way of being as lead by the Holy Spirit!

feel it, you are here

Hello from the land of infinite toilet paper in public restrooms and buildings with indoor temperature control! lol, I have safely returned to the US and am trying to "be where I am" like I did in SA, but I'm not so certain that this is where I want to be right now. Oh well, I'll chalk it up to the re-entry process.

Okay, so I have a whole bunch of entries I want to post on here, but I can't decide if there is an order with which I should proceed (like chronological, or topically, or by style) or if should do a random smattering since they will all be 100% raw entries anyway. As of right now, I'm going to use the random smattering idea, but use chronology as a dim guide. Then, once I revisit them, I'll work them into a larger, cohesive unit.

Unfortunately I don't have pictures from the exact places/moments that I tell stories, but hopefully this will give you a snapshot of the places I reference.

Our Chariot

held building anticipation & really funny stories for 18 hours

Welcome World

mural near Green Market in Cape Town, next to it was the World Cup bracket

Found Object Homes drawing

Some days I wasn't able to write, so I jumped back into my 5th grade self and took up doodling stories that words wouldn't meet, yet

Site B Homes

I took this picture through the back window of Dada's car before he dropped me off @ EduCare for one of my internships. note the sticker

I'd been in the country for no more than 90 minutes and I'd already plummeted from my initial state of giddy anticipation. We'd de-planed, ceremoniously took our first big breath of South African air, collected our baggage (minus 1), met out directors, and loaded the van when it happened. I was riding on the left hand side as we zoomed toward Hillcrest, the bed and breakfast we'd call home for our first 5 days, when I saw informal my first "informal settlement". It went my window, road, grassy patch with cows grazing + boy with stick, graffitied concrete wall, then what seemed like a zillion unfit, shanty structures that I wouldn't call houses, but that I knew were homes. A titled pole would prick the flat-roofed horizon and from it a web of tangled, electric nightmare would droop down to the homes.

It seemed like this scene had been put on "loop" outside my window because it went on kilometer after kilometer. The only reason I knew it was real was when I would catch a goal celebration from a boy playing soccer in a small patch of space between the highway and the graffitied wall, or when I'd see a lanky black dude or thick Mamma walking alongside the highway on a narrow, well beaten path.

My eyes and heart had nearly reached their max when this scene was abruptly interrupted by a squad of blue flashing police lights escorting a FIFA tour bus on the other side of the median. "Ja, we tried to get you guys one of those!" our crazy haired, mysterious co-director laughed. The radio was faintly audible in the background and I heard the announcer proclaim, "FEEL IT! IT IS HERE!!!" with regards to the much anticipated World Cup the country was hosting.

My head returned left and made my eyes look again... "Feel it," my heart said, "we are here..." as if it knew something I didn't.

:/ :] :D

This has been a very rich and restful week for me :] I was able to attend some AIA planning meetings (which sparked some great ideas that I'm excited to share with our ASU AIA leaders), I took some awesome naps (which were non-existent the past 6-7 weeks), and I was also able to process through a few of the experiences I've had here through writing and drawing! But more importantly, the staff member here let me go where she went, so I got to sit on in some ministry time, meet her friends, relax at her house, etc. I feel very privileged to have gotten the opportunity to spend so much time with her.

I am incredibly grateful for this trip and the ways it has challenged, changed, and strengthened me and my walk with the Lord. I will be processing it for a long long time (and probably posting these things on here, so check back often! especially bc pics and such are still to come)!

I'm about 15 minutes away from heading to the Joburg airport to reluctantly+excitedly hop on a plane and return to Indiana with a pitstop in JFK for a few hours. After a bit of time in IND, I'll set out on an epic roadtrip back to AZ with one of my closest sisters :D


A few requests to you folks in the States:
1. If possible, please remember that when you ask me, "How was South Africa?" I will not be able to answer you fully. However, I would adore the chance to share with you, so just let me know to what depth you'd like me to go. Based on time given to respond, I'm brainstorming some of the most powerful experiences I've had to give you a vibrant and quick response to your colossal question, so let's have a fun time SHARING stories from our summer. I want to hear about how YOU are doing and what's new with YOU, too. :D

2. When ladies go abroad they usually gain weight... I am no exception. Culturally, its rude to refuse food or leave food on your plate, even when they serve for you and give you 8billion times more than will fit your stomach... you just make room. My diet here has been mainly starches, sugar, & carbs; while everything I've had here has been delicious, the meals have not been as nutritionally balanced or diverse as I am accustomed to, thus please be kind. I might have picked up a tinge of what some would call an "African body" hahaha jk ;] I'll be working out and eating better upon my return, so please be nice in the interim.
The upside? --> i have some lekker recipes to make when I get backkkkK!

3. I'd like to have a get together for all you who are reading this and for those of you who would like to hear, taste, and see more about my trip! Just a heads up Indiana and Tempe, I'll let you know more about time & place as soon as I find a place and can set a time :] its going to be so much FUN

4. Make sure you hug at least 3 people today.

5. Thanks for reading my posts and brace yourself for the stories and entries to come!!!

Joburg

I made it safely to Joburg and am enjoying the distinct pleasure of staying with a US AIA staff member who is currently serving in South Africa. Yesterday was my first full day here and after swapping a few stories the observation was made that I haven't spent much time with white people. I chuckled because its true, I really haven't spent much time with white people! Luckily, this last leg of my stay in South Africa will allow me the wonderful opportunity to live with and function inside a white, South African community.



I took plenty of pictures in Cape Town and will be posting and blogging related stories once I return to the States. God truly has answered our/my prayers in an abundant ways and I am excited to share these stories with you.

As for now, I had a journal entry from 15 June 2010 to share with you, but I decided that for the time being it is too long and that I don't have the time to write an intro/explanation for it, so I'll get to it when I get back to the States. Currently, I am working on a series of short stories

:]

commitment

Wow. the past three weeks have been CRAZY. INTENSE.

Each person has a story and when traveling to/in/through/around so many of them it makes for a marvelously rich and vibrant engagement of the heart and head. Since I last wrote I have been in the Townships to Diep River to Swellendam with the youth to Port Elizabeth and finally back to Cape Town.

Narrative has been written on my heart and I will continue the process of putting it through a pen so it can be shared and lived. I commit to writing and creatively exploring and expressing as God gives me inspiration and grace to unveil the extraordinary things that have happened here and those that will continue to happen. (in my mind that is a big, possibly semi-scary, commitment to make, so please read that with the weightiness of such a task... to honor people and their hearts, my audience, myself, & God, in giving voice...)



This is my last day in Cape Town, then to Joburg for a week, then back to the US.
Sorry this is so short, but must go to our final meeting and then pack into a kombi and sort through all the conflicting emotions that are trying to share space in my heart right now.

Thank you for your prayers, they have been answered! More to come...
keep praying though, the work is not done.

Read 2 back, then below

I've added 2 new posts today, so go to the right hand pannel and select
Preparing for and Entering Khalytshia
and then read the next one,
Wait. Did you hear that?



Additional notes:
transition into a colored community tomorrow
Wed a community memeber asked us for help bc he just discovered that an 11 year old boy was raping his 4 year old sister.
Khalytshia is beautiful and i truly enjoy being there.
i have more stoties and time to tell (right now at least)
singing momma's on the train from Khay into Cape Town from 5:00am to 7:00am = HEAVEN.


PRAYER REQUESTS:
More strategies & creativity
He is the GOD of this city
For teammates to have supernatural and undeniable encounters with God
For the Spirit's guidance in processing what I'm taking in
love love love love. grace. having God use me to help remove people's fear of punishment and shame. to usher them into relationship with God
Connecting w my new host family

Wait. Did you hear that?

We've been reading trauma narratives and talking about the importance of narratives and all they can cryptically communicate (...lllooooovveeee it! thought what was important for you to know before you read on).

This entry comes directly from my journal. I sat down on our day off and just started scribbling while in Cape Town and this is what came out.
This is rare- I'm inviting you in on the evolution of what will hopefully become a series of short stories from my time here. Usually I don't share the stories I write until after I've drafted several copies, re-ordered sections, actually completed them, polished them, worked on them for awhile, etc etc. SO, know this copied DIRECTLY from my journal without any edits (YET!).

This entry came on Monday afternoon after enter Khalytshia (see previous entry for more info) and being exposed to some crazy stuff. Things will definitely be taken out, added (like other sense and happy tones lol), etc but for now, welcome to what Anne Lammot calls a "shitty first draft" ;]




This blender of South Africa is as beautiful as it is confusing and today I'm learning to dance atop those sweet, sharp blades. Yesterday a woman followed us home, straight into the living room. It was awkward and clearly not right. But everyone moved forward, they even passed their little baby to this strange woman. She reveled in and revealed her wounded and wounding past. Parents dead. 3 kids. Lives alone. Left kids. 11 years HIV/AIDS positive. Suffering. Alcholism. Addicted to drugs. Thrives on killing herself at the local Shebeen. Numbing her pain one gulp at a time.

The women in my house asked if we had a problem with her being there. What does that mean? In 30 minutes, after entering the township only 90 minutes prior, the blend got cranked up! Then dance was foreign and accelerated, yet everyone knew the steps except me.

My senses became hyper-vigilant as I tried to follow their lead. Wait, she's drunk. Wait, they're allowing the 11 month old into her arms. Wait, they're feeding her. Wait, why are you telling me you left your kids and have AIDS? Wait, should I do something? Wait, someone help, I've lost sight of the lead. But wait, don't go, I don't want any problems. Wait, oh please wait!

Wait. Did you hear that? She awoke to the sound a husband's hand makes when it crashes into his wife's beautiful face. The wall doesn't go to the ceiling and one doesn't have to understand the township's mother-tongue to know what's happening between them. The closer the sun came to announcing a new day, the thicker the air became.

"Wait. Did you hear that?" I said to myself. I was on the kombi and had just explained that my Momma's sister had died a few days ago and I wanted to know what an appropriate show of care and condolence would be. These things vary between cultures, you know. She replied, "Shame..." a common response showing sadness, "Does she work for you?"

Wait. Did you hear that? Lean in closer and listen with your eyes. Do you hear that? I'm the only white woman inside a local SPAR in a township that was constructed as a resting place for black workers who service white homes kilometers away. It was formally established during Apartheid and now is considered an "informal settlement" consisting of found object homes.
Constructed of tin sheets and a piece of wood here and there, the homes sing. Each carries a different tune, which will vary by day, but the major chords from the Momma's organic community gardens clash violently with the minor chaos of the Shebeen and traditional healers of bad luck and small penises. The sounds multiply. They rise and fall with infinite complexity. Somehow harmony remains, even with 1,000 people being added each day.

Wait. Do you hear that? A momma, who I'd never seen before, just carried her grace and peace straight into my heart by crossing the street and approaching me with open arms and wrapping me up in an embrace. I didn't even see her until she was a couple meters away from me. Her hair was wrapped in the same material as her homemade dress. She carried a bag in her hand and the experiences of tragedy and joy on her face. I heard her heart, it sounded like the Father's, it said, "You are welcome here, this place I call home, and you are family to me. You've never seen this face, but you know Me, and I love you..."

Wait. Did you hear that? That man just said he was a pastor, then shook 2 of my friends' hands followed by a hug; but on the 3rd he shook her hand then grabbed her breast! Immediately, she pushed his hand away, looked down, and backed away while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Wait. Did you hear that? Erik Taylor, an Afrikaner policeman during Apartheid, said he and his co-workers were incredible Christians. I would have guessed it as sarcasm has I not seen his sincere face. But wait? How could that be? He, along with a regime of Nationalism and propaganda, murdered hundreds of thousands in order to "'remain pure' like the Israelites had to in order to maintain their covenant with God so they could be His chosen people".

Wait. Did you hear that? "Mnuguuu!!! MNUGUU!!!!" the little kids giggled and declared! "White people! White people" they billowed from inside a pickup bed that was sitting on the ground, acting more like kraal than hauling bed. It literally means "dirty white sea foam". We waved and smiled, not quiet sure what to do because we are, indeed, white as the sand that makes their floor at night. We are, indeed, white as the invaders that raped their land, women, and humanity a few hundred years ago. We are, indeed, white at the people who raided these sections two decades ago and splattered bullets across their beautiful homes when scared. We are, indeed, white. But I am not only white, I am also an American. A person who is a millionaire from another galaxy that owns a few mansions and support a government that helped fund the Apartheid National Party and once put Bible verses on the cover page of Pentagon and Presidential military briefings. But, I am, indeed, more than skin, money, status, and nationality.

Wait. Did you hear that? Its the sound of a blanket muffling a lover's weeping. Its sound is tenderness. Its the piercing cries of a lover. Of a bride on her knees who is lovesick for her Bridegroom's return.

But wait. Did you hear that? Its the sound of exploitation. A foreigner has just stood up in their tour bus and clicked a picture of the zoo animals that inhabit the brighlty painted, shinny tinned, but usually rusted found object homes of Khalytshia. Its as close as most white people get... 6 feet above and behind 3 inches of glass, gawking as if these were creatures to behold and stare at from a distance. The white locals' fear has infected these foreigns. The seed they planted has grown and the guilt and confusion this poor foreign feels will only reinforce the problem because when he gets home he'll write a check and support a buffer charity. A well-indented organization, but deeply flawed because it perpetuates a humanLESS exchange where facts and figures reign supreme. Step into the community, invite more into your heart.

But wait. Did you hear that? Its the heavy breath of a spirit expressed. Its the sigh of a full belly and a longing heart. "What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy and walk humbly before your God." Micah 6:8 Give bread to those who are hungry. Give hunger for justice to those who have bread. Its the moan of my stomach when it changes place with my throat, causing my palms to become clammy and eyes moist. Its the battle cry of an EZER covered, in His blood, to rounding the Saints, listening to the instructions from the Lord of the Angel Armies who will do abundantly more than she asks. For His way is love and justice. Truth and Grace. There is freedom where He is and peace is His wake. She looks into His burning and tender eyes, He places His hand on her heart, and she joins with the saints in declaring, proclaiming, and bringing His kingdom. On earth as it is in Heaven. Battling with all the strength Hes given her and begging for more because she knows before the sun announced another new tomorrow thousands of women will begin their day with the branding mark of their husband's hand somewhere on their body.