South Africa Mission trip August 2008

An article from the "Fort Beaufort News, Beaufort Advocate", Thursday, August 28:

The Newton UCC Primary School was very fortunate last week when they received a two-day visit by a group of 16 Americans from the Glen Ridge Congregational Church in New Jersey. As part of an outreach project, the group, during their two day stay, had accomplished quite a lot by erecting two vegetable tunnels with almost 2,000 spinach seedlings, putting up a jungle gym in the play park, and did a rainbow mural on one of the play parks walls. Learners were exposed to a variety of activities which included working with microscopes (these were later donated to the school), art, storytelling, and games. According to the principal, Mr. Neville MacDonald, this visit had a huge impact on the learners' morale and attitude. One lesson that was definitely learnt is that learning can be fun!

If you would like to see pictures of the Mission Trip to South Africa, please click here:

http://grccafrica.shutterfly.com

Click on the Day tab, click on the first picture, and click on the "slideshow" - enjoy them!

Reflections from Felicia Dolan

South African Mission, July 31, 2008 - Felicia Dolan

So this is it! The day has begun. Shall I say a blurry of a day, spanning oceans, thousands of miles, and uncountable happenings? One day spinning, spinning into two, melding into three. Before my African departure, mundane as it may seem, I go to work, my last day at summer school. My students' faces are happy, jovial, expectant. They should be, we worked and had fun all summer.

My daughter passed her 20th birthday three days ago and cleaned out her childhood it seems. She gave me dozens of stuffed animals to gift my students. My students commented on how new they looked. They were a part of Christina's childhood she was eager to cast away but as I gave them to my students I commented on each one, their meaning emotional, their cuteness, their softness cuddly as I savored memories of Christina the child, my daughter, my baby.

I left school in a flurry, a rush to "get me to the church on time" not for the chiming of the bells but for the van to the airport. I left in a tizzy of expectation and somehow as I traversed Ridgewood Avenue . . . I suppose I exceeded its speed limit a little bit, but hush, this is a secret so please don't tell anyone. I was soaked in perspiration, eye on minutes ticking away, and crestfallen as I was stopped by one of our officers . . . All I need say, he is a kind man. I was early! The vans had just arrived as Christina and I piled our bags onto the walk.

A motley crew we were, most of us simply sharing pleasantries before this day, busy with our lives, our concerns. But this day is different. I had never suspected we would share intimate parts of ourselves as time went on. People do on trips such as this one but I had never comtemplated it nor realized how well we were to get to know the individual. Our thoughts and motivations reveal themselves in the littlest ways. As a family of Christ we have a box, neat and settled. It is soothing that way. As a family on mission striving to understand and connect, learn and share with our brethren we stand exposed with uncharted ground before us traversing not our familiar Ridgewood Avenue but veld, mountain, ocean, shanty, huge black cast iron pots of stew holding our dinners, open air market, shebeen, shaman women cavorting about divining our health and future, Xhosa glottal stops, Afrikaner gutterals, high pitched shouts of welcome, the serenity of native animal habitat (its quiet is astounding and one of the most beautiful things in my life), smiles, church, and song. Though it was winter we experienced the African beauty of warmth.

All of this awaited in stolid silence for us to uncover as the babes we were.

As babes we approached the plane with our mantle yet of home and the lives we have led so far. Cautious we were with each other at the airport, polite and cordial while we anticipated what our journey was to hold.

This is our first day. Happy, heady with excitement, open to what may fall. Our plane ride was uneventful. Thank you, Lord. The long hours in flight sped as we chatted, watched movies, catnapped, ate, watched movies, read, and watched movies. Did I say how we were held captive watching movies? Oh well, I don't do that often at home so I may as well on the plane. Time seems miniscule when one considers how life can change drastically in the twinkling of an eye. Our lives did change abruptly in so many ways, too many to list here.

We begin our African Mission in Johannesburg in the dark, at night. Our van driver was a man of few words but he was informative if asked questions. I didn't see that man smile that night nor the next morning. His job is more portent than the miles to and fro the airport.

I asked him if he ever had trouble driving his airport route. Simple question. I don't know why I asked. I watched him consider the question, driving, pensive. I thought him in deep concentration on the road and slow to answer. Answer he did though. He told me he had been hijacked three times during this year on this same route. I asked if the bandits hurt anyone and he responded, "One needs to be quiet and hand over what they ask." If they "catch a fright" they would kill in an instant. I asked him if he experienced shooting as he was hijacked and he responded, "Yes." It was, in fact, on this same airport pickup with passengers from a flight. My mind was now alert and peering at traffic wondering what may befall us. We had traveled across the world without incident. Johannesburg may well be another story.

We are happy in our ignorance sometimes. We arrived at the Shanguni Inn and it was beautifully aglow with springbok (springbuck) heads and other things African on the walls. Our African repast was heartily welcomed. Our hostess explained each dish and we feasted the night. At the inn that night Jenny Ogden, my daughter, and I met a Dutch family on vacation. As we shared a glass of wine they told us how they loved their trip and related their experiences. Experiences we were open eyed to hear and itching to feel for ourselves. Our trip has begun!

Day 2: Sunday, August 3 - by Mary Anne Miller

Each of us woke this morning at the Stumble Inn in our "theme rooms". With sharks swimming all around me I was eager to have breakfast downstairs with Superman over my head to protect me. The only reason for a tourist to visit East London is to experience the Stumble Inn.

Our first mission encounter began this mornin gat Zwelitsha Church, a Xhosa (black) church outside of East London. When we arrived we were greeted by elders of the church and ushered into an anteroom where we prayed. We then entered the church and were seated behind the altar. Our young people were motioned to come and sit with the women's choir. As the church currently has no pastor, a member of the congregation conducted the service in Xhosa and some English.

It was at this our first church service in South Africa that we realized the power of unaccompanied singing. The parishoners as well as the choir are very serious singers. Singing is an important part of the serivce and, as we discovered later, an important activity in the schools.

At the end of the service Linda Woodbury read the 23rd Psalm to the congregation and then presented the book to them. Pictures of Newark were interspersed with the words of the prayer.

After the service we invited members of the ocngregation to trace their hands on a felt square, write a greeting and sign the squares. The squares will be sewn together to make a wall hanging for our church here in Glen Ridge. Many people enthusiastically participated. We also gave out puppets, representing Biblical characters for the children in the congregation.

Dawn and Jon Barnes took us to a restaurant for lunch and then we began our tour of historic sites in King William's Town and Bhisho. First stop was Steve Biko's gravesite and Garden of Remembrance. Steve Biko, an activiist in the anti-apartheid movement in the 1960s and 1970s, died in police custody in 1977 at the age of 30. His death caused great outrage and he became a true hero of the anti-apartheid movement.

Our next stop was Bhisho, the administrative capital of the Eastern Cape. Bhisho is well known as the site of a massacre of 29 peiple in 1992. Governemnt troops opened fire on an ANC march of 80,000 people, protesting the lack of free political activity and an end to state violence and repression. A large plaque was erected at the site of the massacre honoring those who died that day.

We returned to East London in time for dinner at the home of the Masimilas. Julian is a UCC minister and also head of the parole board. He serves the Newton Philipton Congregational Church once a month and we will hear him preach on Sunday, August 10. We were served a wonderful dinner with many South African specialties.

Day 3- East London/ Township tour and Samaritan Care Center reflections

Monday morning and another gorgeous sunny day. The weather couldn't be more perfect. In the high 50's in the morning and climbing to the mid to high sixties, low seventies during the day. Our driver and guide for the Township tour met us early at the Stumble Inn. His name was Velile and he was a very outgoing young man who proved to be very knowledgeable and lots of fun. We later learned from Dawn, that Velile had won the South African Tourism Award last year and a trip to the US!

Our tour began with a drive through East London and a bit of a history lesson. East London, the only port city in the Eastern Cape was founded by the British in 1820 as a means to transport weapons up river to the missionary outpost in King Williams. The British had settled in the Xhosa tribal area and battles between the two were frequent. In 1875 the British invited the Germans to join them and help form a buffer zone against the Xhosa people. Most of East London was built around 1897 and the Germans established a wool exchange there. East London today is a melting pot of many people; blacks, colored, and whites. We stopped by an apothecary shop stocked full of herbs, potions, roots, etc. It was like stepping back in time to the witch doctor's shop; fascinating to see and a busy place!

Next stop was Duncan Village, a township of approximately 900,000 people living cheek to jowl in shacks and small cinder block homes. The size of the township astounded me. So much poverty condensed in a small area. Most homes had no electricity or running water. Some of the wealthier people had cinder block homes, electricity , even satellite t.v. and we even saw a few cars. We saw many women washing clothes and selling their wares along the streets. Selling vegetables is a big business. The alleyways were dirt and everything was very dusty. Dogs were everywhere and are viewed as a source of protection as crime is rampant.

Duncan Village started as a migrant labor camp where the men came from the rural areas to find work in the city. The men stayed in hostels and their wives were allowed to visit once a month and when they did they had to pay to stay. Their girlfriends, however, were encouraged to stay for free. Apartheid wanted to break families and this was an effective means to do so. South Africa is still very much of a male dominated society. There are many cultural differences to the US which makes figthing the HIV/AIDS virus so complicated.

Our next stop was the Brewery. Beer is very popular and they make their own from maize. We entered a dark shack filled with men and sat in a large circle on a low bench. Many of us shared a sip from a large communal tin can of beer . Velile was our interpreter. The men welcomed us and told us that the Brewery was like their church; they come to sit and relax, get away from the stress of township life and to commune with others. Many come every day and some stay all day except for meals. Women are welcome but they discourage underage drinking. The unemployment rate is as high as 80% in the townships. Many find factory work for several months a year and the rest of the time they live on a government pension. A family of 8 can live on R870 a month which is appromately $125. New businesses in the townships are evolving. Velile told us the popular ones are the 4 T's: Taxi's, Telephones, Tents and Taverns.

After the Brewery we visited a day care center and school, which they call a "Crèche" for 325 children between the ages of 2 months -6 years. The children arrive in uniform at 7:30 and stay until 1. They are packed in tiny one-room classrooms with earthen floors and some us chamber pots for bathrooms. The school has a tiny teachers room/office and a small kitchen where meals are prepared in pots cooked over a fire. They are taught to read on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. In spite of these incredibly impoverished conditions the children seemed very happy and excited to see us. They sang songs for us and were very polite. We were leaving when recess started and the kids all ran enthusiastically to the old worn and rusted playground equipment. It really struck me how happy and carefree they seemed in spite of their impoverished environment.

Velile told us many things. He told us about the plastic houses we saw dotting the countryside. These houses were built in June and December {coincides with the school vacations} and were used to initiate girls into womanhood and boys into manhood. Velile told us about La Bola, the "Bride price" that the groom must pay his bride's family as compensation for their lost wages as a result of her leaving the family. La Bola is an ancient custom and used to be paid in cattle but today most people pay in cash. This is an outdated custom and a real burden for young people. La Bola often delay's a couples ability to marry but doesn't delay their ability to have children. Women are not viewed as equal to men and women's rights are still evolving. Velile explained how since Mandela was President the government has been trying to get rid of the shacks. The government is building small cinder block homes with electricity and running water in neat little rows in new towns. The government registers the shacks then removes the people to the new homes and demolishes the shacks and doesn't allow new ones to be built. The government subsidizes these new "matchbox homes" but the people still have to pay for electricity which is more expensive than the free shacks. The government has a stated goal of "no more shacks by 2014". This seems very ambitious as more people keep moving form the rural areas and building shacks.

Samaritan Care Center

The Samaritan Care Center is a hospice for the terminally ill with the majority of patients infected with HIV/AIDS. TB is another frequently occurring disease. The center has 14 inpatient beds for men and women and they serve 89 outpatients. When we we visited I saw only one male bed empty. Founded in 2004, there are 25 volunteers serving 24 hours a day, seven days a week and 365 days a year. We presented our medical supplies to Rose the Director, and Mark, one of the founders. We explained how members of our church who couldn't travel with us wanted to partner in our trip and had happily donated supplies for the Care Center. They seemed appreciative of our efforts and surprised we had carried so much across the Atlantic . We then visited with the men and women in the Center and tried to talk as best we could as most did not speak English. It was a bit awkward I felt. Our group then split into 2 and went on home visits.

Numtu, a lovely young woman whose sister had recently died of HIV, headed my group up. She was living in a shack in the township with her sister's daughter (who looked 16) and her new baby girl. Numtu showed us her shack and was very proud of it. Numtu was very attractive, slim and well dressed. She had a very open personality and laughed a lot. She seemed happy and was constantly saying hi to all who passed by. It amazed me how well dressed many of the women were and how happy they seemed given their living conditions. Numtu told us she had a son who was starting University, which is remarkable as it is very expensive. Velile told us a course cost R1, 000. Only a very small portion of the population goes on to University and clearly education is a way out of the poverty cycle. I congratulated her and said I had a son the same age. She was obviously very proud of him. She was only 32.

We visited about 3 other HIV/AIDS patients in their shacks. The one woman who still haunts me was sitting on her bed, very sullen. She was emaciated. She told Numtu she had no food, her stove was broken and she had nothing for her 13-year-old son to eat. She honestly looked like she was going to pass at any moment. It was so distressing to see this. Outside her shack a pot was boiling on the fire, maybe that was a meal? Her son was playing kick ball outside the shack in his bare feet and torn school pants. A dog defecated in our path while several children covered with dust and dirt ran by us smiling and laughing. Some shacks had beautiful neat well-tended vegetable gardens while some did not. Some people earned money by renting their extra land for another shack. I wonder how these people survive.

We were certainly the anomaly that afternoon. Not too many white folks venture about the township alleyways. People were staring at us but were always friendly. A group of children began following us about. They were playing Frisbee with a record; a Beatles record no less. That really struck us.

All in all it was quite a day. It was a day of revelations. We witnessed the enormity of poverty, the strength of the human spirit, the suffering of those afflicted with HIV/AIDS, the smiling faces of the children, their beautiful faces. Africa is a country of contrasts. How fortunate we are to witness this first hand. Africa belongs to all of us; we need to care....

August 1, 2008 - Well, talk about highs and lows. We all arrived safely to the Stumble Inn B&B in East London. A very humorous place indeed. Each room has a theme. The sports room, the Marilyn Monroe room, the asian room, the Hollywood room, the Austin Powers room, the Robinson Crusoe room, and Patrick's and my room, the Playboy room. Yes, posters of Hugh Hefner relaxing at the Playboy mansion. It's all done with a sense of humour and is very kitschy.

After settling in this morning we went to the Barnes' house for lunch. Everyone is a little ( a lot?) jet lagged, and not even sure what day it is. (Saturday) After lunch we sat in the Barnes' living room and introduced ourselves with a quick blurb about what we hoped to learn and see. Christina Dolan talked about going to study in Rome after she gets back from this trip. We had just gone around the room when then the phone call came with news of her father's death, and everything changed for the Dolans. They changed for the rest of us us as well, but obviously not the same. As of 10:00 pm I am not sure if Felicia and Christina are returning home or staying in Africa.

In the late afternoon we returned to the Stumble Inn and a lot of us walked to the beach - about 15 minutes each way. Very beautiful. However, lots of home security in this nice area. High walls, gates, alarm systems, dogs, electified fence tops, razor wire etc. We were warned not to walk around outside at night even in the nicest neighborhoods - too dangerous. It seems that everyone retreats to their own "compounds" after dark. We have not yet visited the poor sections, although we could see some shanty towns while approaching the East London airport.

Finally, this evening we returned to the Barne's for Brii (that's not the right word, but it's South African BBQ). Great food, great people. All really tired.

August 2nd, 2008 - CindI am finally recovered from a brutal flight. It seems dehydration and jet lag is a bad combination. Lots and lots of liquid and a sleeping pill last night worked their magic and I was at least functional this morning.

Last night, we were at a cookout, African style (no giraffe or buffalo meat), when we received word that the father of Christina, one of our group, and the ex- husband of Felicia, another member, had died unexpectedly. After many telephone calls and much heart searching, they decided to stay with us although they are very subdued. The young girl is a year younger than Kerry. They knew each other in high school but were never close. Kerry has now taken her under her wing.

This morning we went to worship at a Congregational Church in Zwelitsha, one of the black townships. The township was much livelier and active than the white suburban areas we drove through. People were in the streets and the stores, selling produce on the streets, washing cars, grilling food, and generally hanging out. When we got out of the vans, we heard music coming from everywhere: hymns in African harmonies, rap, reggae and other music.

The church is quite small, about the size of the chapel at my church. We were met by old African men dressed in their suits and best clothes. One elderly gentleman had a grizzled beard and was wearing a vivid hounds tooth jacket, a sweater vest that somehow mixed blue, pink and purple on a field of green, a dark brown shirt with white abstract patterns and a blue, purple and brown paisley tie. He must shop at Nordstroms.

We met first with the elders, mostly men, and the student minster, a young woman. They welcomed us with hand shakes and explained when we would be introduced, then the choir came in clapping, singing and dancing. The words were in Xhosa(the click language that you hear in Miriam Mkeba songs)but the harmonies and rhythms were compelling. Even middle aged white people had to move. The harmonies were like Ladysmith Mombambo (the group that Paul Simon used on his Graceland album), except they were primarily female singers. There were no instruments accompanying them.

We were seated at the front of the church, behind the minister, where the choir would be in our church, looking out at the congregation. Kerry, Abby, Michael and Patrick, as the youths (anyone under 35) were with the choir. The service lasted about two hours and was almost entirely in Xhosa. It didn't matter. The music was so compelling. Kerry sat with the choir and sang and danced with them. They actually had hymnals in Xhosa, so she read along and tried and I could hear her voice above the others from time to time. Abby also had a hymnal and was singing along. Michael and Patrick would clap from time to time, but seemed a little more concerned about their dignity. The people in the choir loved them. The choir, and the congregation, were incapable of singing without moving and there was a lot of singing. There were 7 hymns and several other call and response parts of the service. Every time, the church ladies, immaculately and beautifully dressed, were up and moving, even the great grandmother types. And they sang. Some of the hymns even had what appeared to be choreographed dances. I have been tired in church before but never before from dancing.

In our honor, the scripture reading and the sermon were done in English as well as Xhosa. John and Dawn each spoke and prayed. We were introduced and introduced ourselves and then Linda presented our gifts. The congregation was told of the loss of Christina and Felicity.

After the benediction we walked out of the church with the entire congregation up and singing.
We then met with the entire congregation and had them do a banner of outlines of their hands with their names and favorite bible verses. The 23rd Psalm seemed particularly popular. We had a marvelous time, shaking hands, hugging, talking, taking pictures, playing with the kids. Michael, Patrick, Abbey and Kerry were particularly popular among the children as they all played with the puppets we had brought.

Later, we went to the grave site of Steven Bikko, one of the martyrs of the fight against apartheid. He was killed at the age of 31 by the security forces. He wrote "I Write What I Like". His life was celebrated in the book "Cry Freedom" which was made into a movie with a very young Denzl Washington playing Bikko.

We also went to the site of the Bhisho Massacre, where South African Security forces fired into a crowd that was marching in to a rally protesting the lack of progress in the negotiations to end apartheid. 28 people were killed. Among the marchers was one of the elders from the church where we worshiped.

Tomorrow we go on a tour of one of the black townships.