Real

The room was dark and the smell of paraffin was intoxicating. On the stove sat a pan filled with a corn couscous-type food called puthu. The walls were thick and made of cement. Around the home were a few shelves with dishes and a few small trinkets. And in the corner there were ten children huddled together close to the oven. Outside, the rain was falling and making mud around where the cows were grazing. It was my first time doing home visits for the Etembeni Hospice Centre in Mpopomeni. I was up in the hills delivering bags of food to families that have family members that are dying from HIV or other life stealing diseases. For the first time I saw the inside of home like the ones I’ve seen so many times before in pictures and magazines. It wasn’t real until that point. Being here in Africa, working with the population that I’ve wanted to work with for so long, putting faces and stories with pictures I’ve seen all my life… its real now. The pain and the suffering of patients and their families and the imminent death that comes with these diseases finally became real. I needed it to become real. I think a part of me thought that once I could see it and understand it I wouldn’t be as excited about it anymore or that it would take away some of my passion. But it did the opposite. It lit a fire under me to want to change the system and to search harder to understand the heart of God.

Two weekends ago we went to a city called Durban which is right on the beach. Before hand we spent some time at an indoor market. There was everything South African you could possibly imagine. Jewelry and decorations were hanging from the ceilings of the shops and every corner was crammed with trinkets and curries and the air was thick with the smells of South African foods. The colors were so bright and cheerful, though the light was dim in the shops. We met some women in the shops that thought we were so funny for wanting to buy so many pairs of earrings and not being able to decide which paintings we wanted. They also thought I was hilarious because I bought a basket for my mom, but it’s awkward to carry and I was trying to carry it around with me through the crammed little shops apparently I was making quite a scene.

We left the indoor market and headed to the beach for the rest of the day. Kelsey, Jeanna and I went and found some of the best iced coffee I’ve ever had and enjoyed it on the beach. It was a beautiful sunny day at the Indian Ocean. We were lying blissfully on the beach when we heard yelling and clapping from the water. Apparently there are lifeguards that lead songs in the water and people jump up and down and clap in different rhythms as a game at the beach. I really like this country.

This last weekend we enjoyed the finest in Zulu culture. We were a bit worried that going to a Zulu home and staying in huts meant we would be eating parts of a cow I never wanted to think about eating. But it was a wonderful experience. We learned all about Zulu culture: the multiple wives, the “homes” which consisted of five or six huts placed in a circle with a cow corral in the middle. They take the cow poop and put it in a pit in the ground and use the built up methane as a supply of gas to light their stoves. They did some Zulu dancing for us and cooked amazing brie (which means BBQ) and some great vegetables and bread as well as giving us tea and biscuits. We slept in huts and then woke up and made clay pots and beaded necklaces. It was an absolutely beautiful experience!

When we got back we quickly changed and jumped into the bus again to head to a professional rugby game! We had a South African with us who sat and explained the game to us. I loved the differences between professional rugby and professional football. It was all about the game. There wasn’t any loud music playing and cheerleaders dancing around. It was 80 minutes of uninterrupted quiet, intense man hitting man crazy rough bliss. Afterward, we headed into Durban for some Italian food with just a few of us to hang out for awhile. It was a beautiful night.

Life is beautiful. It’s filled with brokenness and tension and confusion and frustration and joy. Last week wasn’t pleasant. I can’t quite wrap my head around what God is trying to teach me about His Kingdom right now in this country that is in a beautiful grey area between the first and the developing world, between hate and love, between black and white.