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.