The desert really does look like an ocean of liquid gold. Flying out of Amsterdam, my KLM flight chartered a course directly over the Saharan Desert. Whorls, swirls, dunes, and monotonous wave-like lines stretched forever in all directions visible from the plane window. As the 11 hour flight progressed and night fell, a deep abyss swallowed the golden sea. No lights punctured the darkness until rather suddenlyJohannesburg, South Africa flickered in welcome.
Three continents, 2 planes, 24 hours, and an easy 5-minute immigration checkpoint (when I had to lend the customs agent my pen so she could date my passport) after departing Atlanta, I was on African soil.
There is so much I want and need to say, but our contact's house where we are living does not have internet and it is difficult to find and use internet cafes. I knew in my head that South Africa would not resemble the African bush I had so long anticipated visiting, but the constant refrain in my head is that God has me exactly where he wants me. The team agrees that it is difficult at times to remember we are actually in Africa. Our ministry location is in Bellville, a rough neighborhood outside of stunning Cape Town, SA. We assist our contacts – Pa and Ma (as everyone calls them) – with their outreach to the children of the community through spending time with them and this week running a more structured day-camp of our own invention.
Though the neighborhood seems okay, if poor, on the surface, we were instructed to go nowhere alone. One of my teammates who grew up in the east New York City and went to school in Los Angeles said it reminds him a little of "the hood." Last night we were informed that the tentative peace between the gangs shattered in a neighborhood across the main road with the shooting of a 14-year-old. I have met an 11-year-old on his way to buy marijuana. Yet, the kids prove their resilience and continue to share dreams of being mechanics, lawyers, doctors, and even a child psychologist, though most of these careers are informed by what they have heard a family member does or have seen on tv.
Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at all the similarities across the ocean, but even many little things stretch beyond geographical boundaries. The uniqueness of my name continues to produce many funny comments and reactions. The first time 11-year-old Xena, our host's granddaughter, heard my name she scrunched up her face and asked, "Isn't that a boy's name?" Walking through the neighborhood with Pa, we met his friend delivering a paper and his reaction when I introduced myself was, "You mean, like Wesley Snipes?"
South Africa has 11 official languages and though most of the kids speak fluent English, we have all enjoyed learning some Afrikaans. A few favorite phrases (all spelled phonetically):
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thank you very much: "buy a donkey"
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good morning: "queea morna" (often shouted at each of us in the morning by Pa)
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how are you: "ook handet"
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good, thank you: "hoot, donkey"
Thank you all for your continued prayers and interest. I will probably be posting more about this trip after I return to a land of wireless internet access, but hope to post at least a couple times while still here.
