Christmas 2010

Dear Family and Friends:

Many of you know that we send a Christmas letter out each year to those who do not live near us. This year, that means nearly all of you. You won’t be receiving a card as that would cost about as much as a plane ticket to Tampa. So we ask that this year and the next two, you settle for a post on the blog. We will miss your letters and cards this year. Feel free to contact us at dcroland@gmail.com and let us know what’s going on in your lives.
We arrived in Africa as volunteers in late July knowing only a little about what we would be doing. If we thought for a moment that it would be low impact work or easy, we were greatly mistaken. We knew what gifts God has given us, but we failed to appreciate that, over the decades, we had developed certain other skills, interests and passions. These, together with our gifts, are our tools - everyone has them. The humbling surprise is that when these tools are reconfigured and re-calibrated, then dropped into a country like South Africa, they can make a difference in ways we could not have predicted.

Our primary job is to develop and implement one of the core required courses at the seminary. The former “Field Work” course was not working for a host of reasons. We have taken on the task of re-inventing it into what we now call The Field Education and Ministry Course. The aim is to bring seminarians into close contact with people in need: those with or affected by HID/AIDS, crime, aging, hunger, abject poverty, dying, disabilities, malnutrition, injustices, gender bias - the whole panoply of issues that pervade the culture. Here the seminarians put their academic learning into practical hands-on ministry. One of our greatest joys has been meeting leaders in many agencies and projects that serve vulnerable populations, and asking them to provide opportunities for seminarians to serve. Through these contacts, we are developing a network of agency partners who understand that ministers are in a unique position to transform the nation. Some agencies have volunteered to provide training in listening and caring skills for people in crisis, transition, grief and dying. It has amazed and heartened us how receptive people are to participate in this project. Right now, it is still on paper, but ready to launch when the students return in late January. There will be bumps in the road, but the potential for seminarians to have experiences that threaten to change their attitudes from indifference to caring, and from passive observation to leadership are there.

From time to time, some people have responded in ways that reveal a subtle cynicism, as if to say, “It’s all been tried.” But cynicism, while convenient, is not an agent of change or transformation. We refuse let it direct what we are trying to do. This little job we thought we thought we were taking on is at once daunting and important. The training of servant leaders is very serious business.

We are living in a society that needs major re-tooling. The govenment drifts toward corruption nearly to the point of acceptability. The bureuacracy is choking initiative and creativity. For example, one of the local public hospitals serves 150 patients with a staff of 500. We read recently that there are 5 million registered taxpayers in South Africa and 13 million people who are receiving grants (welfare). We read statistics that 10% of juveniles believe that theft is justified if it is something you want, and that rape is justified if the girl wears suggestive clothing or he pays for the date. These conditions are not sustainable. And they are the tip of the iceberg. Only a change in the human heart can begin to restore communities. It will happen, if at all, one person at a time. In some small way, we believe we are helping in that effort by joining in the mission of the seminary: the forming transformative leaders for church and nation.

Taking on a challenge like this isn’t done for the recognition. Neither is it pollyannish or quixotic, unless hope has evaporated. We may never know what contributions our efforts produce. We do know that we were sent here to be faithful seed planters. God promises to do the rest. It really is what Christmas is about.

Cheri and Doug

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At this season of giving, we invite you to participate in this effort. We promise that this will be done only once each year. Ideally, we want you to come here, visit and gain understanding. If that is not feasible, you can help by making a tax-deductible contribution as follows:
Hyde Park United Methodist Church
500 W. Platt St.
Tampa, FL 33606
Designate for Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary/Roland
Be sure to include your address for a letter from the church confirming receipt of a donation.

Just One Day

by

Cheri Roland

It’s not been a quiet week in Lake Woebegone, or at the Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary, for that matter. Everything here at the seminary is brand new. Doug and I feel like midwives helping to birth this new environment, curricula and policies. We are finding ourselves under the mind-blowing spell of the seminary’s president, Ross Oliver, one of God’s chosen visionaries. As we journey up and down this challenging path as the newest members of staff (pronounced “stahhff”), our trail continues to expand, encompassing obstacles, detours and interesting side excursions. And I was worried I would be bored!

The process of becoming an ordained minister in the Methodist Church of Southern Africa differs from our way in the States, and is quite confusing to these two foreigners. We discovered there is a category of probationary pastors who have been ministering part time, or even full time, but have not had the traditional three years at seminary; along with doing on-line academic courses, they must gather annually to attend two weeks of intensive training in order to eventually become ordained. Helping to construct this two week training period has become one of our more recent assignments. Currently Doug and I are privileged to be working with a group of 21 such probationers, here from all over the country to experience life at SMMS, the emerging center of Methodist training for the entire southern African continent.

On Tuesday I joined this prestigious group, traveling 40 minutes out to the township of Mpop in a very cosy van. This gave us all the opportunity to get acquainted. I was humbled by the talents and expertise represented. These folks, aged 33 to 60, are touting resumes that would make any employer’s mouth water, from business men with Harvard degrees to government officials to university lecturers to psychologists to social workers, teachers and retired policemen. Half of these ministers spent the day at Masibumbane HIV/AIDS Mission, which I shared with you in my previous blog; my group reported to the Ethembeni Mission, just a short way up the mountain.

“Ehtembeni” means “hope” in Zulu. And hope is what this dedicated group of Christians bring to their HIV/AIDS patients. This organization, headed by Grant Edkins, is the other half of the team responsible for the beautiful change taking place in the township of Mpop. And we are thrilled to report that Ethembeni will be another of the seminary’s partners in “forming transforming leaders for church and nation”.

Grant welcomed our group as we gathered under the tree in the yard in front of the small Hospice building, and talked about the aspects of the mission. This program has three legs: a Hospice unit, home health care visits, and the crèche/project unit attached to their tent church.

1. The four bed Hospice unit serves those who are so ill that they are unable to care for themselves and have no care givers at home. Roughly half of patients admitted here on death’s door end up able to return home in good health. Grant gives all the credit for this amazing success rate to the power of prayer, combined with good nutrition and ARVs (antiretroviral drugs) administration. Their patients are ministered to with the Gospel and prayer FOUR TIMES A DAY! And the results confound the doctors!
2. The team of trained home healthcare workers divide up the township’s patients, walking miles and miles (or kilometres upon kilometres) over steep mountain paths to bring scripture and prayer and comfort every Tuesday and Thursday. They also assess the needs in each household, as well as helping with cleaning, bathing and daily living tasks when need be. When a patient needs to be admitted to the unit, they send for the four wheel drive “ambulance”.
3. About 70 children from the township attend the crèche, where the staff cherish these little ones as if they were their own. They are feed, bathed, clothed, loved and nourished by the Gospel – all things missing at home. In the same building, those patients who are physically able are taught how to make crafts to sell, and staff and patients provide training on computers (courtesy of Coca Cola) and torturing for the school children.

After devotions conducted in several languages, with our prayers sounding like the Tower of Babel, we were split into teams to accompany the six home healthcare workers. Our groups left the sanctuary of the cooler shade and began our journeys, trudging up crude dirt and rock roads that became more rugged the higher we went. Each team was to visit eight patients; we would eat our packed lunches somewhere in route.

Hospitality is paramount among this culture. In every stick and mud walled home we visited, the mother would graciously invite us inside and insist we all sat, on benches or chairs brought from out buildings, or on mats on the dirt floors. One woman stayed on her hands and knees during our entire visit rather than letting a visitor stand.

Our visits followed a pattern. One of our Zulu speakers would always first introduce us (the children were especially fascinated, even scared, by the two white folks), and the family members were asked what their needs were, as well as the state of their physical health. Then we would pray with them, often laying hands on them, share Scripture, and sing.

Previously I had made many home visits in townships, when Doug and I first arrived in August, as well as on my first mission trip to SA in 2008. I was overwhelmed by the sheer weight of their illnesses and their poverty, their lack of water and food and sanitation. And all we could do was to pray! When I voiced this frustration to our president, Ross, he forcefully reminded me that, “Never try to stuff God into a box made of human understanding; never discount what the Lord can do. Your job is to plant seeds. He’s got the rest covered.”

So, back to Tuesday. This experience was different a little different because all of our patients were HIV+. Being first an oncology nurse, and then a “jail nurse” the last 22 years, perhaps I was seeing these patients initially through my medical lens. Add to that my American bent to try to fix everything yesterday… I must tell you my heart was torn apart – but at the same time so filled with an inexplicable joy at their unwavering faith! These beautiful children of God, so sick and helpless in their abject poverty, were hanging onto life by their belief in a Father who loved them so much that this love would sustain them, no matter what. How humbling was this revelation for a nurse who has so many answers!

Still, in a few places I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut (just to ensure our American reputation didn’t slide). We stooped to enter the abode of one family, a healthy mother with many children, asking their needs after greeting were made. The mother went outside and returned soon, supporting a tall, very thin daughter, who she settled on the arm of their couch. This girl was obviously not well, and the home healthcare worker, in Zulu of course, questioned her mother about her current condition for quite some time. Then the mother left again, only to bring another daughter in, but this one needed to be carried. About the same age as her sibling, she made her sister look healthy. I had to swallow my gasp. Her mother laid her down, propped up between two of us. Listless, her head lolled to the side. The nurse in me kicked in. I asked her and her mother question after question, our team leader translating, and took her pulse, checked her skin turgor and temperature. She was hot to the touch, dehydrated, and had an elevated heart rate. I found out that not only was she HIV+, but she had tuberculosis, all too common in those with HIV and now the cause of more deaths than AIDS. She wouldn’t be able to start her ARV’s until she completed her TB meds. I tried to emphasize the necessity of her drinking more water, washing her hands, covering her cough, using her own eating utensils, etc; I don’t know how many of my suggestions were communicated to the patient or her mother. Presumably for family use, I saw one large pop bottle on the shelf, half filled with water. When we finally emerged from the dark stifling shack into the blinding sunlight, I hoped that family didn’t hear my sobs.

The other visit that shattered my heart was with a mother of five small children, all healthy except for her and her little daughter. After we had talked and shared for some time, the mother went to the adjoining room. She returned, carrying a tiny child, her face whitened by dried perspiration, listless and frail with toothpick limbs and distended belly, into the main room. This woman had found out she was HIV+ when this daughter was positive at birth, three years ago! Once again, I had to hide my tears. This child, too, had TB.

Death is a way of life on this mountainside. But Ethembeni Mission is here, in the middle of life, fighting with all God has given these dedicated servants, pushing back death every labored step up and down these dusty paths. And I was privileged and blessed to follow in their footsteps for just one day.

MPOP

By Cheri Roland

Something’s happening here – but this is the good kind of something. Such was the impression Doug I received the first time we drove up the tree lined main road into the township of Mpophomeni, just 40 minutes north of the seminary.

Today the term “township” comes with a negative, at best, connotation. A township is an area, usually remote, established by the Apartheid government to assure separation of the races. It is a rabbit warren of squalor, HIV, and hopelessness. Violence, child-headed households, unemployment, starvation, open sewage, lack of water, alcoholism, cultural superstitions, witchcraft, and garbage heaps punctuated by ramshackle shacks of tin and mud are the norm. We have experienced many such areas in the developing world, unfit for human habitation.

But the township of Mpop, as we call it, paints a different picture. This large tract of land, lying between high contoured hills of sugar cane and trees, once belonged to a white farmer; in a reverse move from politics as usual, the farm was confiscated by the government to be used for the 35,000 displaced Zulus that now make up the Mpop community. This farmer was so distraught, after learning that his precious land was going to further the Apartheid cause, that he committed suicide. The majestic line of trees, reminiscent of rural roads in France, is courtesy of that original farm owner. As we travelled up and down the rutted dirt roads, we noticed actual yards around some houses, several with fences, flowers, and gardens. There are more goats and cows than in other townships. There are more children in their neat school uniforms. We looked at each other in amazement. We already had been told that this area has 82% unemployment and the highest rates of HIV infection in Kwa-Zulu Natal, the state with the overall highest HIV+ rate in all of South Africa. Add to that, as in most developing countries, the fact that work here is done by the women. In rural South Africa, the majority of these women are the grandmothers, or go-gos, taking care of their many grandchildren since the middle generation has died or abdicated their maternal responsibilities. The majority of men are nowhere to be found.

We were here to visit the Masibumbane HIV/AIDS Mission, which we eventually located in the only two storied house in the area. This organization seemed like the perfect place to establish a partnership with the seminary for our Field Experience and Ministry Course. Rob Kluge, a member of the local Hilton Methodist church, had single-handedly founded this mission in 1999 with the support of the Atonement Lutheran Church in Missoula, Montana. With their support, he purchased a small two room house, adding on a large back room and a second floor. It is now the headquarters of a comprehensive program of self-sustainability, dignity, empowerment, and hope for the entire area.

Supported by contributions from the US and members of his local congregation, Rob has developed and implemented a comprehensive package of 11 programs that are transforming this community from darkness into light. It all begins with a 6 step empowerment agenda to move the clients towards self-sufficiency within four months. The goals include improving the long-term physical, emotional and spiritual well-being of the families; the clients then will make a contribution towards rebuilding this community ravaged by sickness. The results “will practically demonstrate God’s love by His Spirit through Jesus Christ”. But there are NO hand outs here; the program is based upon the Biblical principle of “no work, no food”.

The clients move through the application process of understanding and accepting the ground rules (each week they are given tasks to do for which they will be rewarded), and their physical and material needs are assessed while they are provided help with expenses, which they must pay back in full with their first stipend. If they agree to abide by the requirements they are put on the waiting list.

The emergency phase encompasses the first two weeks during which all aspects of the program kick in: 1) the client receives the workbook in which given tasks are assigned and evaluated weekly, 2) full weekly food rations start, 3) money for electricity, cooking utensils and hot plate are given and recorded, 4) their children’s school and health status are addressed, 5) a system of disciplinary actions are initiated if obligations are not fulfilled, 6) accountability for earned money is demonstrated (clients must save a certain percentage), 7) emotional counselling is started, 8) first tasks of tidying the yard and house are assigned, 9) their CD4 count is drawn at the local clinic and if below 200 they are started on ARV’s, and 10) they are assisted in filing their grant applications (if HIV+ or have dependents, government assistance is available).

Step four is the stabilization phase, slated for six weeks. Now the Mission can start to assess if a client is willing to take initiative to better herself and family. She receives food in proportion to her performance of the given tasks; her Mission budget account, as well as an actual bank account, are opened; healthy life style, organic vegetable gardening and home-based care teaching starts; spiritual counselling is offered; her grant application process continues; her funeral policy is applied for (a monumental problem here - sans this policy, her death can sink her entire family); and she learns how to make and use a hot box, a kind of township crock pot, an insulated top and bottom cushion which serves to continue cooking the food, greatly decreasing fuel consumption.

During the rebuilding phase, she get trained to crochet very attractive handbags (marketed locally by the Hilton congregation), learns the basic principles of working with money, starts her garden, and is assisted with making a will and obtaining a title deed for her house.

Finally, after about 12 weeks, she enters the maintenance phase. Now, ideally, her family is strong enough physically, emotionally and spiritually to begin to care for itself. Her food rations stop so she must start buying food and utilize her garden produce. Spiritual and emotional counselling, as well as gardening advice, are still available. To give back to the community, she is encouraged to do up to two hours of voluntary service a week.

So that’s it in a nutshell. Isn’t this just a FABULOUS program? You can imagine how these efforts have served to change the face of Mpop, one person, one family at a time. The mission is staffed by professional administrators and counsellors. The volunteers are this misson’s success stories, their former clients. Now add to this program their two day care centers, or crèches, which provide love, health care, food and teaching to the community children, many of which are HIV+ themselves. The love of God is palpable in this place through the efforts of His servants striving to make life a bit more humane.

Rob Kluge, the sole developer of this program and pictured above in the blue sweater, has given me his permission to share his inspiration with anyone who is interested. For more details, see www.masibumbane.org.za. And I must add that parts of the above description of the program’s six phases I plagiarized from the mission information booklet; I must give credit where credit is due!

You can appreciate the blessings Doug and I have received personally as we have travelled the greater Pietermaritzburg area, establishing relationships with some of Jesus’ dedicated disciples. Masibumbane Mission at Mpop is just one of the agencies in which our seminarians will be privileged to serve during the upcoming years.

ROLE REVERSAL

by Doug Roland

We still get inquiries about what we missionaries are doing here. The common vision is baptizing savages in the jungle. It's not us and it ended nearly 200 years ago in this part of Africa. That said, I think there are still some American evangelists who see it that way. In the modern mission trip context, it's painting old buildings, delivering medicines and materials, feeding the homeless and worshipping with the locals. We've yet to pick up a paint brush (though we have organized a crack painting team of seminarians.) Basically we get up and go to work each morning.

What we are doing is a dynamic determination, based on what's needed at the time. This is one of those times. Of all of the things I would not have expected, this would have been near the top of the list. In a couple of weeks, I will be leading 21 part-time and fully ordained Methodist ministers in two 90 minutes classroom sessions called "Excellence in Ministry" ; subtitled "A View From the Pew". (I'll take credit for the subtitle.) I am taking the 60 or so years I've sat on the other side of the pulpit and converting that into a learning or maybe awakening experience for these people. I have come up with some ideas.

A church is like s swimming pool. If not maintained, it will turn unattractive quickly. If not filled up it will evaporate. So it must be both stirred from time to time and replenished with fresh water. It's like the Queen of Hearts said: "We have to run fast just to keep up. If we want to get anywhere, we have to run twice as fast."

In thinking about how I will approach this, I intend to use my own experience at Hyde Park during the last 25 years. If you want to know more about part of this period of near-death and renewal, pick up Jim Harnish's You Only Have to DIe. Through many of these years, I held a variety of leadership position and read a good deal about church growth.

This approach evokes critical issues such as lay leadership, discipleship, spiritual gifts, missions and visions. If Hyde Park's experience means anything, it is that all these and more must be in play all day, every day. To rest is to stagnate. Or as John Tortorella used to say to the Lightning: "Safe is Death".

I am a little concerned about the very beginning - the idea of a non-minister, lay person without portfolio, telling them how to stimulate a church. Will they turn on me early? It could be an interesting debate. Bottom line is that lay persons are in a unique position to assess excellence in ministry, perhaps even more than ministers themselves who may be more attached to the structure than to the mission. I'm ready to defend that one.

This is part of what I love about this job - the chance to go out on a limb, roll the dice, get Out of the Box.

The powerpoint is virtually done. The breakout group questions are ready. I hope that these questions will challenge if not inspire them to reach a bit higher. All that's in God's hands, not mine.

I think there may be an undercurrent of support for my position of tacking away from the routine to the important. In a MCSA paper I get weekly, the President of some group of Lay Leaders in South Africa was quoted as saying, "My church is busy, and indeed very busy with thinkgs that do not change peoples lives - we are over-churched and under-discipled." That to me is a voice crying out to the ordained ministry for a new direction. If I'm right, this could be a good time indeed for a "View From the Pew."

What we are doing here has no glamour. It's a long-term deal - it will be years before the effects will be known.

A later blog will be coming about another project we are working on that may have significance for Methodists internationally.

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This next bit is not related to the above but is too good not to share. We attend a different church each Sunday. This week, the church's bulletin had a section on the sick and needy, listing their needs. The names have been changed.

Holly - with the Adams', her collar bone is healing nicely, but has a broken bone in her leg after she sneezed recently. Is in a lot of pain.

Janie Felger - Eleanor's niece, is trying to fall pregnant.

Barbara Riggles - Milton and Dianne's sister-in-law, has started having fits.

Small Talk?

by Doug Roland

Since arriving here three months ago, I have had quite a few people brief me, directly and indirectly, on the state of affairs in SA. For the most part, this is from white men. Some comments have occurred in a conversation and the others just in passing. There are three common elements.

One is that they are non-solicited. These were not the result of any questioning or curiosity on my part. Instead, it seems that each person wanted to be sure that I, as a foreigner and Americans, understood.

Another is that they relate directly to the end of apartheid. Comments or not, every adult can quote the year apartheid ended. This is not surprising. The end of the regime reversed everything having to o with government. The 89-90% black population and its leaders stepped into power. It is the day the Civil War ended, Armistice Day, and Kennedy's assassination combined - days you'll never forget if you were alive at the time.

Thirdly, there is a distinct tone, if not full expression, of anger or sorrow. These are common responses when a way of life is gained on the one hand and lost on the other. For winners and losers, things would never be the same.

The comments run quite a gamut. At the game park, a lady who grew up in Hillcrest said that she and her siblings used to be able to play outside without concern, free of fear, and all that. Today, high fences and gates surround most urban homes. She was lamenting the loss of the life she remembered. Another was the man who offered, ". . nothing is like it used to be." This was his take on how the activities at the Royal Exhibition Grounds in Pietermaritzburg had changed. That may seem a neutral or even positive observation, but not when his body language and voice inflection revealed an underlying anger. This morning at church, a gentleman asked me how long I had been here and had I been here before. I said it was my third time and he replied that I must be familiar with what had happened in the country. I gather I would have received a lecture from him had I not assured him that I knew the circumstances.

Saturday was probably the most interesting encounter. After a cursory introduction, the man said he needed to make sure I knew the truth of what was going on in the country today, specifically how crime is uncontrollable. He reckoned that this was because the 1994 constitution went way overboard to the "other side". Specifically, he believed that the 'hearsay rule' made it impossible to prosecute anyone. I know enough to know that the rights in much of the U.S. Constitution are also present in the South African constitution. I finally responded in arguing the merits of the hearsay rule (prevention of prosecution without sufficient evidence) and that moreover, his concerns were much more about government incompetence than flaws in the law. With that he calmed.

What is curious is why do they seem to have such a deep-seeded need to tell me about it, each one assuming that I know nothing. What am I supposed to do?

Some things are for sure. Before 1994, it is obvious to me even today that this was a white man's paradise for many people. When something like that is plowed under, it is painful to the losers. It does not heal quickly. It isn't pretty. Today, it isn't better for a significant part of the population. The verdict is still out on whether the ruling party, the African National Congress, is capable of governing responsibly. Corruption is in bloom. Of the white people we know of similar ages, nearly all of them have a child now living out of the country, Australia and the UK seemingly the most popular. The massive shift in power triggered a tsunami of emotion in everyone. Tangible results were inevitable.

I have no conclusions to this. They are just observations. It would be easy, as someone here to help in the healing that will take generations, to pass this off as people of sour grapes, children who had their toys taken away. But that would be wrong. There is a possibility that we as neutral parties are given the comments as part of their healing. We know that they love their country, that several of them support causes for needy people, and that indigent black people attend their church services. As for Mr. Hearsay Rule? Well, he and his wife sold their home last year to buy a run-down rural property on about 60 acres for the purpose of saving the lives of 13 severely disabled children, all black, who were being abused in the sense that the prior operator of the property was accepting payments from the government to care for the children. The property was in dreadful shape, the children sleeping on the cold concrete. They were kept alive and nothing more. This couple has exhausted all their resources for the sake of these children. And, they have a vision for the future.

Somewhere in scripture there is an imperative from Jesus to his followers to sell all that you have. Most of us turn our heads away, this being so "unrealistic". But these folks have embraced it. Through this Mr. Hearsay Rule may shed his anger and take comfort in a radical idea - that we exist to serve each other, especially the least of us.

Start of the Weekend

by Doug Roland

The seminary has four chapel services each week. The last one is at 7:45am on Friday. It is customarily a service of singing, usually a combination of English, Xhosa and Zulu songs. Or, it may be a song using all three languages.

Most weeks, there is a small, but growing, "praise band". Jenny usually puts it all together. It's a nice way to start the weekend, and I appreciate her creativity and willingness to take some chances.

Some of today's songs were not known well by the congregation of seminarians . . .and obvious others. What struck me, though, is how we listened intently to the first verse, then joined in the singing joyfully. It made me think there was something in the air that was different.

We had to work through a lot this morning. It was the day following the tragic death of the wife of one of the true leaders and most loved seminarians. His name is about 15 letters long. He goes by Gift, and he is exactly that. His wife died last Friday in an accident in which she was a pedestrian victim of a crash of two cars on the road. She and Gift had been married but a few months. The loss was incomprehensible. It has weighed on us all through the week. A number of seminarians and the dean traveled several kilometers to the funeral yesterday. And yet, on a cold, damp and dreary morning, the spirited singing rang out.

Jenny concluded the service by showing a wonderful powerpoint she created using the song, "Legacy" by a popular singer. There is a huge screen in the chapel that tends to engage the viewer better than most. She added photos to the soundtrack that related to the lyric. The theme of the song was how do we want to be remembered. It was the second time I had seen this, but the first time that I was moved. When the song was over, the powerpoint was replaced by a picture of all the seminarians taken some months ago……..

It is also customary that the president or the dean finishes with announcements ('notices' in S. Africa) There were few. Then he looked and stared at the faces on the screen, many of whom were in the chapel. Ross has an indefatigable sense of humor. He began to make amusing comments about the people on the screen, beginning with himself. One of the people running the sound and video sensed the moment and put the computer cursor on the screen, moving it around as the president cracked wise about the faces. Soon, many of us were doubled over, laughing at ourselves and with community.

Laughter can be and was contagious this morning, lifting us up from where we had been. It swept in on a great wave of joy, a reminder that even as we struggle with a senseless death, God joins us in our tears and our laughter. It is grace manifested in our lives. I doubt that this was Jenny's plan for the service. I really don't think any of us could have planned it.

HEATING UP

by Doug Roland

It's heating up in PMB and it's not yet summer. This afternoon (Friday) it was 38 degrees Celsius, 100.4 F and us with no air conditioning. But hardly anyone else has it either. The houses are constructed to trap the cool air inside and it seems to work. The humidity is 6% today. There is culture shock and there is climatic shock. Everyone, especially farmers are talking about the lack of rain, a condition going on for about 6 years. At the same time, the dollar continues to drop against the South African Rand.

We are reminded it is an election year by a rare visit from the postal service. We received our write-in ballots and two campaign brochures. I immediately got a headache. There's nothing like going out of the country for awhile to gain perspective. At least this far away there is an absence of the shrills and screams that have replaced spirited debate of an earlier time.

Meanwhile, our principal reason for being here - to help in the fieldwork aspect of the education of the seminarians, is also heating up. Field work, also referred to as work-integrated learning, means each person is required to spend about the equivalent of 1/2 day each week working in volunteer situations such as HIV/AIDS counseling, teaching teenagers the complex issues of teen pregnancy, working with orphans and a few others. Cheri and I have conceptualized a three year fieldwork program that focuses on a different area each term or 1/2 term. For example, the first year will revolve around life and death issues - hospice, suicide prevention, mental illness, family dynamics, caring for the aged and others. For weeks now, we have called on agencies, churches, hospitals, anyone else we can to explore ways for the seminary to partner with these entities next year.

We work closely under and with the Dean of Studies, a black Methodist minister named Sox Leleki. While we are culturally separated, we are discovering each other's gifts. We seem to feed off each other's ideas, and in that process, a new excitement about the program begins to spread. The seminarians are doing a lot of speculating on what this means to them and they will learn soon enough.

Before we came, the program was a requirement that needed filling, a box to be checked. It has enormous potential in transforming the seminarians and forging lasting bonds with the community. But it is an overwhelming job to plan spots for around 80 people, not to mention following up and evaluating the program. Now, though, with two new staff members (us) we feel it is within reach.

One of the greatest joys in being here in the second year of the seminary is plowing new ground for future years. What we do today has consequences for decades. The closer to getting it right this time through, the more there is to build upon.

It has been gratifying as well to experience the responses we have received from the heads of the agencies were we have gone. For sure, Christianity is growing in the southern hemisphere while declining in the northern hemisphere. Thus, we do not encounter resistance to an religious institution's interest in developing a partnership. The people who will be served by the seminarians in field work are of many faiths, especially in this neck of the woods with many Muslims and Hindus. (Note: the first Indian indentured servants arrived as here 150 years ago today.)

Of course, it's not all roses. It's 100+ degrees outside, we have 2 ceiling fans, a family 24 hours away, governmental bureaucracy that makes the U.S. look streamlined, loud neighborhood dogs that sometimes bark most of the night, and extremely loud birds (brown ibis) that a game preserve employee called a flying vuvuzela that wakes just before dawn and makes sure the rest of us do too. And we are beginning to lose some of our impatience since no one seems to care if it takes 3 days instead of a hour. A local paper publishes the TV schedule for the week and always leaves out Thursday. We no longer go to the toilet. We go to the ablution.

These locals oddities of speech, behaviour and environment are to be celebrated just as a foreigner to the US should celebrate the Theater of the Absurd that defines our election season. We smile and carry-on, enjoying all that is different, reveling in work that we do, and thanking the God that sent us here and watches over us.

The Adventure Continues by Cheri Roland

Semester break. I remember those with extreme fondness - uninterrupted sleep and interrupted routine, like good food, staying up late, and watching TV. Well, Doug and I just returned from our first semester break here at the seminary. And, yes, it was all I had remembered from years ago, except for the watching TV part. It was all I had hoped for and anticipated – and more. It was one big check mark on our bucket list – a true African Adventure.
Sunday AM we packed up and drove our little white (now tan) Toyota four+ hours up BIG hills and down, north along the coast, then west, to the premier provincial game reserve called Hluhluwe (pronounced “slu-slu–we”) - Imfolozi, two reserves joined at the hip. It was sort of like camping in a thatched hut with hot water and electricity, equipped kitchen, bamboo walls and stone floors. They call it “self- catering”. We even had a little deck out back, virtually at the forest’s edge, for our borrowed gas braai (barBQ) and critter-watching. The entire camp is “protected” by an electrified fence, which we saw several nyala leap over in a single bound… While we were moving in, a troop of inquisitive monkeys leapt through the surrounding trees, checking out these new Americans who were undoubtedly easy marks for snacks and fruit and overall fun. We were thrilled at their reception and our great photo opts, not realizing we were being set up…

FLASHBACK: Do you know about Flat Stanley?? Second graders at St. Mary’s have an annual project involving a little boy who has been squished under some unfortunate circumstances and rendered unable to locomote under his own power. So now he gets mailed to various places to have adventures. Our “adopted granddaughter”, Mary Grace, the cutest and smartest second grader ever, sent Flat Stanley, in his blue jumper (sweater) and yellow pants, to us for unequaled thrills and chills. We laminated him for posterity. He already was getting acclimated to this culture and begging for more. Particularly excited about this trip, we photographed him on our steering wheel (wrong side of course), as well as on the railing of our hut in the park. He absolutely loved those flying monkeys. He could even follow their route, crashing through the trees as they soared from one to another. What could be more fun?
So we now return to our story.
Monday morn started at “O-dark-thirty”. We, Doug and Flat Stanley and I, hustled to be at the main building by 4:50, forgetting to bring the ticket for the game drive. Doug hurried back to our hut and returned, huffing and puffing, before hopping into the canvas topped, open air bush vehicle. We had a thrilling quiet, slow bumping ride around this huge reserve for three hours, seeing animals we thought only lived at Busch Gardens or the zoo. (Check out the photos at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2067458&id=1011247864&l=ab592b44dd ) BUT, when we stopped mid-way for tea and biscuits- only proper, don’t you know - Flat Stanley was NOWHERE to be found! Oh horrors of horrors! What kind of grandparents can loose thelaminated child lovingly entrusted to their care???
This really weighed on us, as you can imagine. Our game drive mates were upset, too. Upon our return to camp, we scoured every path, vehicle, trash bin, and nook and cranny in our hut. We quickly informed the authorities. Word spread through the compound like wildfire, but that’s another story. Everyone was on the lookout for little flat American boy, notable since we were the only Americans there.
Dejected and heartsick, we sat on our deck to mourn our loss. Absentmindedly looking up, I thought I saw a flash of blue and yellow in the trees. I consulted our bird recognition page. It didn’t show that particular combination...
Then we heard them. The monkeys! The surrounding trees were full of them. And they were absolutely laughing at us! We looked at each other. Incredible! The nerve of them!!
In retrospect, what could be more exciting for Flat Stanley than swinging through the trees with his own troop of marauding pals, every branch a new vista, a new adventure? I guess it is a happy ending, after all.

Life in PMB by Doug Roland

First haircut outside the US. I went on a Friday afternoon - the place was packed and we had things to do. Went back at the 7:30am opening next morning, only to have to join a queue. Didn't last. Was given a nice haircut by a gay Indian.

Meat. We learned a valuable lesson this week. Meat in the supermarkets is overpriced. By luck, we were told about a place named Oscar's at the edge of town. Marvelous meat at about half the price.

Other food. Much of the food is quite good, especially the vegetables. We miss good peanut butter and real orange juice. South Africans as a rule do not brew coffee. They are addicted to instant. But they love french fries. Also bread. Seminarians pile their lunch plates with bread thus explaining their general state of being overweight.

U.S. Citizens. We are learning to use our citizenship to our advantage. White people are a minority. It doesn't take a census to tell you that. But an American white person is an oddity. This tends to get us in some doors perhaps out of curiosity. (I've only been asked for money once, aside from a few roadside beggars.)

Parking. There are car guards everywhere there is public parking. They help point you to a open space and they hang around. When you return, they help you back out of your spot (the lots are small). We pay them about 70 cents. It pays to ask their names and establish a relationship. It's money well spent in a country where car jacking is a way of life.

Safety. If you don't act stupid, remain alert and think about where you are going, it's pretty safe here.

AIDS. The population of SA has one of, if not the highest, percentages of HIV in Africa. There was a really dismal turnout at a local effort to get everyone tested - for free. Amazing how few of our seminarians went. Meanwhile, the disease marches on.

TV. The seminary has generously provided us a TV. Would that anything worth watching was on it. The best shows are Oprah re-runs, a Julia Roberts retrospective that lasted several Saturday nights and the occasional Bond movie. Fear Factor and Gossip Girl have started to look good. Otherwise,we are relegated to programs in Zulu and Afrikaans, really terrible "soaps", and World Wrestling something or other.

Wildlife. Everyone thinks there is of lots of wildlife in Africa. We were here three weeks before we saw a monkey running across the road in a rural area. The next day we saw a small pack of them at the edge of town. Last week, we went to a nature preserve and saw a pair of Elan, a beautiful deer-like animal with long, gently curling antlers. A couple of weeks ago, we were hiking with a guide in some beautiful mountains north of here. We asked him if there were snakes around. Much of the vegetation was bush grass. He replied that not this time of year (winter) but will be later. Common snakes on the trail are wrinkle snake, puff adder and spitting cobra. Ok, then.

Keys. This is a nation of keys - keys for nearly every room. The back door requires 2 keys, the garage 5 or 6. These aren't those little one inch stubs, but are proper English keys - long, elegant and timeless. Then there are the office keys - one to get in the building, one into the office and three for the desk, file cabinet and cabinet cabinet. I keep thinking I must be losing weight when it's really the weight of the keys pulling my pants down.

Gin. Tangueray is surprisingly rare. This is my third trip to South Africa and the first time I saw any was a couple of weeks ago. South African descendants of the British (who, after all, made the stuff) somehow failed to retain the taste for fine gin.

Electronic banking. On the spot EFT (using a debit card) is very prompt and confirmed on your computer or cell phone within minutes. Also can pay bills on the website. It is, however, much like walking a tightrope - one little bump of the wrong key and you end up in telephone hell. Alternatively, you could go into a branch. Tip: take a book. You will be there awhile.

Traffic. Traffic lights are called robots . . . .really. "Turn right at the next robot." You get used to it. Most drivers are reasonably courteous and the traffic here is not bad, though I haven't been on the right side of the road lately. Taxi drivers seem to think that anarchy has set in. No rules. Just right.

The grocery. Not a lot of difference here except at the checkout. The bags are called packets, and there is a charge for them. So we usually recycle ours. Our closest store is about 5 minutes away.

The car. Our Toyota is just about right. Four seats, nice size trunk (boot in SA). The title to it is four pages long and still doesn't say much of anything. I may have this wrong, but I was told it comes with insurance even though there is no policy to prove that. I need to dig a little deeper on that one.

Staff Retreat. It is written in the code of South Africa that any meeting lasting beyond 10:30 am shall include tea. Same thing in the afternoon at about 3:30pm. During our recent retreat at a conference center up in the hills around the city, there were chocolate chip chocolate muffins in the morning and chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven in the afternoon. At each break, we were interrupted by a monkey that paid a visit via an open window and helped himself to the sugar bowl, carrying away several packets for his tribe.

If you've wondered, this is how we are doing. It's a blast!!

A Letter Home

by Cheri Roland

6/9/10

Dearest Family and Friends,

I pray this finds you all well and happy and enjoying your summer. Greetings to you from the beautiful Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary, officially opened Sept.4/5. My heart is full to bursting. We are so blessed and privileged to be here during this historic time for Methodism round the world.

As you can imagine, life around here has been hectic and exciting in preparation for the opening. Thank God both Saturday’s and Sunday’s celebrations came off smoothly. By all appearances the programs flowed effortlessly, thanks to Dr. Peter Storey (responsible for our being here at SMMS) and his meticulous attention to a thousand details. Of course, he didn’t do it alone, and now our staff is breathing a collective sigh of relief. The weather was a big unknown. I’m quite uncomfortable bothering the Lord about the weather; but, in this case (and hurricanes)… The lawn of the amphitheater was already a marsh (due to a major landscaping faux pax) and would have swallowed the chairs WHOLE if it had rained. There IS a God So, no rain, but it was hot-HOT-HOT!, even for a Florida girl. All the courtyard table umbrellas were pressed into service to prevent congregational heat stroke. Yet the poor officiates seated in front were unprotected from that sun at its most obnoxious angle. In the country for two short days and still reeling from jet lag, Dr. Greg Jones, our American VIP from Duke University, never caught the shadow afforded by the 4 ton wooden chapel doors. He was directly blasted for 2 ½ hours! And he still had miles to go before he slept.

The seminarians processed both days in proper straight rows as if they had done so a thousand times, a much different picture than at Friday’s rehearsal. Our week long coaching and singing rehearsals had paid off. The whole group was fabulous, leading the hymns and liturgy like pros. Even Dr. Storey was impressed. They sang their big hearts out, whistling and clapping and jivin’. Even the congregation was jumping. We sang in English, Zulu, Xhosa, and Afrikaans. The Lord really got an earful! I know He still has a big smile on His face. And so do we.

Following the Saturday opening program, the seminarians served as docents for the different areas and buildings on campus. I was on duty in the grassy area behind the canteen/commercial wing, beside the chapel, to explain the production garden section of the Life Garden. Doesn’t look like much now, but we have BIG PLANS for beauteous vegetables, fruit, and climbing tomatoes and passion fruit and grapes and cucumbers to adorn the iron fence border. The large compost bin will be in the corner, with fruit trees along the back. We will learn about door frame and tire gardens and crop rotation and uses of different fertilizer and vermiculite as alternative soil base and I’m so excited to get this going! All we need now is a heavy duty tiller to cut through this shale.

Doug and I are making steady headway on our field experience interviews. With the help of Garmin (I named him GG) - thank you, Samie and Nat and Clara - we are becoming confident navigating around the greater PMB area. It’s very interesting meeting the angels here already being Christ’s hands and feet to the poorest of the poor and the sickest of the sick. Our goal, God willing, is to expose our students to real life situations, preparing them to become servant leaders.

This “servant” concept/word has a very negative connotation for the blacks because of Apartheid (“the Struggle” here). In the black church tradition the pastors must oversee perhaps 20 separate churches (societies) and may only visit a given church once every few months. These pastors are revered and held up on a pedestal by their congregations, never to be found in the midst of their flock getting their hands dirty. SMMS’s radical mission is “Forming Transforming Leaders for Church and Nation”. So we have been tasked with providing encounters that will effect transforming “surgery” on the hearts of these student pastors, crucial if they are to usher in a new age within the church. It is no coincidence that this new seminary is covered in scripture - on the doors, on the thresholds, on the walls - all with the theme of servanthood. The breathtaking chapel is christened “Christ the Servant”.

Tomorrow is our staff retreat to plan for next year, Jan. 2011. Doug has put together a power point presentation, complete with African hues and border designs, highlighting our proposed concepts and contacts thus far. We are eager to get everyone’s reaction so we know how to proceed. After this past weekend’s celebrations, we feel confirmed in our choice of the overall theme for the field experience as being “Preparing Servant Ministers”. “Servanthood” was the word on every speaker’s lips.

It’s late and we have a day pregnant with opportunities awaiting us. Please know we send our love and misses out to you all!

Blessings,

Cheri and Doug

TOWN HILL

by Doug Roland

It's one of those times that our resolve is tested, when we are called to live out what we say we believe. The extended strike by public workers has hit South Africa with predictable results. When bad things happen, usually the most vulnerable, the poor, the ill, the young, bear a disproportionate burden. When that happens, what is the role of a seminary whose reason for being is the training and developing of preachers for sure, but also a new generation of transformational leaders?

Across town from the seminary is Town Hill, a specialized psychiatric hospital situated at the top of a long hill. The centerpiece is a beautiful Victorian building of red brick with exquisite grillwork adorning it. The serene landscape belies the suffering that is occurring behind the bars. In a parking area just in front of the entrance is a car with four tires slashed, portions of a bumper ripped off and a fracture that destroyed half the front windshield. It sits there as a witness to misdirected anger. The damage was caused by a striker. The car belonged to a hospital staff member who ignored the strike to care for patients rather than barricade the front gate. There are about 18 housing units at Town Hill. There were four staff members to care for them.

On Monday evening, August 25, the seminary president announced the cancellation of classes for Tuesday to go en masse to the hospital and volunteer. A bus was scheduled to transport the seminarians at 8am. They were to serve until 4pm. As well, he asked for volunteers to leave almost immediately because the evenings were the crisis times - feeding and getting into bed. The president's reasons for our involvement were based on crystal clear scripture that commands Christians to serve the forgotten, the vulnerable, even the outcasts in the world.

It turned out that we really were not needed Monday evening. Tuesday was a different story. Hospital management, such that it was, expressed the needs as cleaning, removal of a week's accumulated garbage, providing company for neglected patients and doing long overdue laundry even though no one could find the key to the laundry room. A few seminarians used their own cars to load up the laundry into them and drove to the seminary apartments to use the household machines there. Now, three days later, the laundry is still not done. Some people worked through the night .

We soon learned that there were serious patient needs that were not being met. One of the wards, Impala, houses the women. There is nothing gentle on the inside. Hard, dark concrete floors, plain walls, and everything accented by bars and locks. The metal doors close with an unsettling finality. The women living there - about 25 or so, had been left on their own for 2-3 days. These are not people capable of self-direction. The events in that ward typify to a great extent what can be done when needs are so dire.

Early in the day, word spread that one young teenager in Impala had become uncontrollable. Her screams could be heard throughout the campus. Two seminarians and Cheri went in not really knowing the situation and established an uneasy calm. Later in the afternoon, I went in mostly to see if Cheri was ok and ended up staying. We served dinner to the patients then cleaned up. There weren't even any towels to dry the dishes but we managed nonetheless. However, the troubled girl from the afternoon threw another fit because she claimed we had not fed her. In the hollow atmosphere in that building, she was a one person speaker system. Eventually she was taken to isolation by the nurse and one of the four staff people.

When things calmed, three women came together to the kitchen area to thank us for coming and providing new faces. A few started to sing and dance. We joined with them. There were smiles and laughter and lots of hugs all around.

There were heros that day. Several seminarians did jobs they never envisioned. Soon-to-be ministers collected garbage, mopped floors, handled laundry in unspeakable condition and kept company with elderly folk who appreciated anyone. One seminarian in particular, Jill, a former nurse, took control on her own of managing the effort, assuring that everyone have a task. She has gone back each of the next four days.

The entire property is enclosed by a large metal fence with a security team at the only gate. As we were leaving around 6:30pm, there was an intense dispute at the gate between the strikers and some of our seminarians who were returning to serve a few more hours. The strikers were actually people who lived on the grounds, and they were intimidating the volunteers. Police were called but none showed, at least not while we were there. Eventually, the strikers agreed to let leave our people alone for two hours.

Wednesday the seminary president met with the strikers and negotiated a temporary peace which has held the rest of the week.

The laundry still isn't completely finished. The patients' condition has been improved though only temporarily.

Why do all this, extending ourselves into the unfamiliar territory of mentally ill people unable to care for themselves? Why go when danger is a possibility? It's that unavoidable scripture mentioned above. I'll be honest - not everyone answered the call. Some shied away.

Jesus said "What you do for the least of these, you do to me." He also said we would be persecuted for our beliefs. He said that and lots of other things. He never said anything would be easy.

If you want meet Jesus, or even if you are just curious, go to Town Hill.

Just a Bowl of Jello Rice Krispies

By Cheri Roland

It’s not Shadrac, Meshack, and Abednigo hanging out in the fiery furnace. Life is more like being poured into the bowl with Snap, Crackle, and Pop when the milk hits, a cacophony of new experiences rolled in serendipity.

It started popping last week. In a thumbnail sketch:

Saturday – The Capital Climb up one of the surrounding hills (mountains to us flat-landers) with hundreds of runners, walkers, and us stragglers. We did make it the 8 km to the top before Doug’s little heart arrhythmia kicked in and we caught a ride back down. Better safe than heroic.

Sun. – Church in the AM, then our first opportunity to cook together (our hobby) plus the proverbial house cleaning. (It is extremely dusty here because of the controlled burns.)

Monday – A regular day at SMMS , then entertaining a seminary prof and his wife for dinner before their move to England the next day.

Tuesday – Learned, after a three hour meeting in the AM, that we would be hosting Peter Storey, the face of the Methodist Church in Southern Africa, for the night. (Thank God, literally, that we had addressed the condition of our house on Sunday.) This meeting was with all staff initially, then continued with Sox, the Dean of Studies at SMMS, and Ross, the President. We finally got down to the nitty gritty of our assigned task: designing and implementing the field experience program for the seminarians, an awesome task. We are to start by visiting the five superintendent ministers of the greater PMB area to get acquainted with all church projects addressing the most urgent social crises. Also we will visit community agencies, hospitals, prison, hospices, etc. to scope out possibilities for field work. Then we will evaluate the opportunities, group them into themes for the 6 semesters of the seminarian’s training, meshing their class schedules, transportation availabilities, needs of the organizations vs. those of the students, creating agreements and evaluation tools and procedures, and Viola! We’ll have SOUP! Doug keeps assuring me that since we are starting from scratch, we can’t screw up too badly.

We had a lovely time with Peter that eve, after a Communion service and trip to the grocery, even convincing him to join us in a few rounds of Bananagrams.

Wednesday – A four hour staff meeting concerning upcoming visitors, and activities surrounding the official opening of the seminary. In two weeks, SMMS will throw a traditional African pre-opening fling to which the PBM community is invited. That Friday a bull will be slaughtered by what I call “the cow whisperer” –this man makes the cow know that he will be offed the next day after he makes a certain noise to open the channel for communication with the ancestors. (This ceremony is only for guys, but it is happening in the midst of National Women’s Month. What’s up with that?) The next day will be filled with feasting on the cow, traditional dancing and singing, and praise singers (“professionals” who would perform poetic songs for the king of the tribe, but now for The King in this celebration). It’s gonna be a blast!

Then for the weekend of Sept. 4 – 5, Peter Storey walked us through the grand ceremony announcing to all that Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary has become a reality. This promises to be pomp and circumstance, with luncheons, processions, dedications, singing, culminating with a community colloquium headed by Rev. Samanga Kumalo from SMMS (who has preached at our church) and Dr. Greg Jones, Duke University. I can’t wait! Stay tuned for photos.

On Wed. afternoon, Doug and I with another staff member gave two important visitors “the campus tour”, seeing areas of this place I’d not been before… Ross had instructed us to act as if we knew what we were talking about. It’s amazing how many titbits of info we had actually gleaned from hanging out around here.

After work I walked up to the sports park across from the Seminary, my first solo venture. I “chatted up” a young gal who was doing laps on one of the cricket fields. Cathryn is a psychologist whose father was a Methodist minister, turned psychiatrist, living in Joburg. He will be visiting Friday and we hope to give him “the tour”! Cath will call me today to set up our meeting. But as we were planning this, I noticed it had gotten dark. I knew Doug would get worried, so I asked her to drive me home, just around the corner. (Dark and out walking = stupid.) So she did, and popped in, wrote down her phone number, and now we have new friends! To top that off, while I was out walking, our next door neighbors dropped by with a flowering plant to welcome us. (In this land of a thousand gates and locks, I find that extraordinary.)

Thursday - Today I’ve scheduled a working lunch with Dr. Wendy Dougmore (what a great name!), my medical consultant, to discuss S.A.nursing protocols, thereby preventing my landing in jail.

This Saturday we’ve been invited to watch rugby with a big group at someone’s home. We have been instructed to wear green (Springboks). If any black (New Zealand) is noted, we will be sent packing.

Estimates of my clinic supplies are in. I hope to get them this week so I can open with office hours on Mon. Woo Hoo!

So, as you can tell, we are having the time of our lives!