NEWS: HOME AND ABROAD

by Doug Roland

29 August, 2012

Pietermaritzburg, South Africa

The last three days have reminded me why we are here.  Things have happened that are unfortunately common and rarely get any media attention.  Here, they are daily, routine events. Back home the news is about a hurricane and the RNC convention in our hometown resulting in:  massive media coverage, blocked streets, cops everywhere, discreet visits to the shadier bars and clubs, parties, millions being spent by delegates, the obligatory volumes of hot air, balloons and confetti.    To me the contrast between those events and what follows is blinding.

Regular readers know that the centerpiece of our job is managing the field education program at the seminary.  It involves sending seminarians to a number of non-profits where they volunteer and, in the process, develop both practical ministerial skills and an appreciation of the communities that pervade this country.  Monday and Tuesday, we visited three of our field education partners where these tasks take place. 

Monday   Up a long, winding road at the edge of town we come to a project named "Walk in the Light."  It is a small beacon of hope to the mostly wretched township of Haniville.  Homes are made from whatever materials someone can afford.  Some are solid concrete, stuccoed and painted brightly.  Others are made from corrugated metal sheets. Still others are mud.  The water pipes in Haniville are broken. Tank trucks drive through the broken streets to fill the pales, buckets and jars that people bring. The ill, elder and lames have to rely on others to bring water to them.  In many houses electricity is non-existent or stolen.  

We joined the non-profit partner and three seminarians to visit a shut-in. The house sits up the steep rocky slope from dirt road.  It is made of mud,  stones, and a metal roof with major leaks. As we waited outside in the bright sunshine for the invitation to enter, we could see nothing in the small dark interior of the house. It looked more like a cave than a 21st century home. 

Soon after, the six of us filed in where we met Frank who was sitting on a sunken couch. Frank and his sister occupy the house though she was not there. The one room home was divided by a ragged sheet hung on a thin wire.  Frank spoke only in whispers and gestures.  He had suffered a recent stroke that affected his left side.  The visit had been pre-arranged and he looked at all of us.  After some discussion about his condition,  a seminarian and Cheri teamed up to bridge the language/cultural barrier in an effort to help him. They demonstrated some basics tips on how to restore movement in his left side by lifting his left leg, massaging his hands, manipulating his arm and the like.  Frank concentrated on these angels of mercy. His face, though frozen by paralysis, changed from fully neutral to a faint gleam of excitement in his glistening dark eyes.  He understood that he was being helped to restore his health, and that there was, after all, something he could do to help himself. It was a powerful example of bringing hope to a person in need.  Sure, he wasn't cured.  He might never be.  But he'll remember the day that perfect strangers came to him with good news.

A seminarian then prayed in Frank's language.  Another wanted to sing and we joined in.  Frank sat quietly but undoubtedly was singing in his heart.  

Tuesday.

We drove downtown to a another project named Tabitha House.  It's a large orphanage.  We were told that two of its staff members had died over the weekend from an outbreak of meningitis in a nearby, densely populated township.  42 residents also died. There may be more.  Some simple hygiene could have saved lives.  Nothing appeared in the press.

From there we made a short trip to Key Ministries.  It is a program for an estimated 3,000 refugees residing in Pietermaritzburg.  Key was founded by Pastor Sampson, a refugee from Burundi.  It is his passion to minister to this population.  He feeds himself and his family by making African shirts.  We are the proud owners of two of them.  There is a dribble of outside support. 

Two of our seminarians are stationed there daily to assist him. Others come later in the week. Key's office is but a few blocks from where many of the refugees live. 

South Africa is seen from many other countries on the continent as a wealthy country, a place where a person can build a new life and raise a family. They are hampered mostly by three issues  First, many of the bureaucracies in this country are heavy laden with rules, and staff who can't read them.  As a consequence, it can take several years to get a work permit, and that's if you are diligent.  Then there's the catch 22 - employers are reluctant to hire.  Xenophobia has not gone away and is embedded in the poor South African communities.  Hate groups intimidate anyone who wants to help the refugees.  Potential employers are reluctant to hire even a qualified and documented refugee.  We were shown a "hate" document threatening reprisal to any agency or employer who helps refugees.  It was e-mailed to Pastor Sampson and is a real concern.

The refugees have found "housing"  in dilapidated, formerly genteel, buildings.  We visited two families from the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo.)  At the first house we met a man, his wife and one of his 7 children.  The father had been a manager of a hospital back home. The family tries to survive by selling candy on the sidewalk. They stay in one room about 9'x9' , the size of a nice walk-in closet. They were very gracious and we enjoyed using the few French words we know.  It was a very nice time for us.  Soon we left and the family returned to the small dark room not knowing what the next day might bring. 

The other family consisted of an HIV+ mother of four whose husband died of AIDS while refusing ARV treatment.  The baby is about 3 weeks old.  There is fifth child of the father in the household, but via a different woman.  

Their apartment is reached from an alley, then an ascent of three floors on paint-spatters steps.  There were no lights and we heard no people.   At the top, we entered a crowded  passageway about 5 feet in width that acts as a kitchen:  one or two pots, a pan, a pan for water, a hot plate.  A few food items on the floor. The "apartment" was the remnant of a much larger room subdivided by a badly cut drywall.  There was a small bed and one double.  All this for about $350/month.  

The mother and baby were bundled on the double.  She did not speak.  So, Pastor Sampson told us her story, how the family fled from the DRC to South Africa for safety and their hope for better days.  As he spoke tears trickled down his face.  She was his first client, and he remains the only spiritual support she has.  For Pastor Sampson, she is a vital reminder that it always starts with one person. It sustains him in his struggling mission, the only one of its kind in the city.  

We, as a seminary, have loaned seminaries to assist him in whatever way they can by helping with administrative matters, document review and expanding the all-important visits to this immigrant population.   

Wednesday.

Last week, Thursday through Sunday, about 50 seminarians went north to minister to families and individuals in remote, rural places.  It's part of an annual program.  Seminarians stay in homes as available.    The time is spent in visiting homes of the needy, the aged, the sick.  Worship and healing services are conducted in the evenings.  Cheri and I did this the first year we were here.  While it was very strange to us, we are very glad we did it.

This morning, seminarians who had attended the event this year announced in chapel that, sometime during the last few days, his hostess from the weekend was found dead, having been raped and decapitated.  Her name was Andile.  

As I alluded above, there are few if any outcries when "small" things like these happen.  Judging from what we see on TV, mass outrage is reserved for the government, labor strikes and powerful political factions.  The rest is considered the norm.    

It is through these experiences that we challenge the seminarians to place them in biblical contexts, to exercise transformative techniques, to literally be Christ's hands and feet, and to speak the truth to injustice. 

As we enter our last few months here, we are compelled personally to ask what it all means and how do we reconcile this with to living back in our little paradise called Davis Islands.  Where would you start?