Getting Out of the Box Has Consequences

by Doug Roland

It started in a shack, a composite of old "borrowed" pieces of lumber, four walls of heavy roofing paper tacked onto a frame of narrow wood, a doorway for entry and light onto a dirt floor. The roof was held down by discarded tires. I judged the single room to be about 64 square feet filled mostly with a double bed where four people lived, three children and one grandmother/great aunt. This was my first trip to South Africa. I wanted to see a piece of the third world, but once I was there, I sort of didn't want to. Being in the presence of such poverty and understanding its reality through an old woman with no future shocks the senses and the soul. It was October, 2007, a mission trip with three others.

I suspect that many (make that most) people do not go to these places because of fear. Not just fear for their safety of but of taking the risk of doing things that may change their lives. It's all very understandable, wanting to be sure, living a predictable life. But there's a dark side to that. NHL Hockey coach John Tortrella told his Stanley Cup team that "safe is death." All of us need to keep stretching, reaching and learning. I shed my cocoon in that shack and stopped playing it safe. I would soon realize that there is hope out there.

My companions and I went to Eldorado Park, a colored township adjacent to Soweto. We did not know anyone there. At first, I thought maybe it was going to be more of the same - going to see how the poorest of the poor live. The experience included a little of that, but we soon learned there were people who refused to accept despair as a response. They believed unconditionally that God could make lives better, one person at a time. They called themselves Come Back Mission (CBM). Energized by their faith and their vision, they believe deeply that they can do great things. Faith and vision blended together is an agent of change. Something will happen though there is nothing easy about it.

We were taken to an informal settlement bearing the incongruous name of Heavenly Valley. It was neither heavenly nor a valley. The population consisted of mostly HIV people living in shipping containers. There were a few clothes lines, one water faucet and one virtually worthless toilet. Most adults remained out of sight. A rusty piece of metal, the frame of a shipping container, stood to one side of the village. One of the CBM founders said he hoped it would be used for computer training. To me it didn't register. Any project seemed hopeless. When I returned a year later the frame was a building acting as a pre-school, complete with teacher. I was a little surprised. It seemed like a good try, but could it last?

I was back there a week or two ago. The pre-school needed more room and a bigger container was obtained. There were of couple of "newer" containers. One is being used as a for a women's empowerment center, envisioned and designed by a friend from home who was on both trips. Today, she's a board member of CBM and an integral part in its operation.

There is a new spirit in the place called Heavenly Valley. I see it differently now. It has been transformed from a place of despair and defeat to a place of hope. Now, when I go there, I am greeted with smiles by some of the women who were around in 2007. It's enough to make you believe that hope is alive even in this little forgotten settlement. It may yet live up to its name.

I began to actually believe that CBM could envision and execute ways to improve the lives of those who had no hope previously. But my growing belief in possibilities of CBM was shaken the one day in 2010. I taken to a run down, badly damaged farm about 30 kilometers from Eldorado Park. Lately inhabited by makers and purveyors of illegal drugs, the place was a mess. The legalities of the ownership and former tenants was thorny. Undeterred, the Come Back team saw it as an ideal site for a wide variety of projects. I should not have doubted at all.

On Sunday, March 11, 2012, the Hadassah Centre for Women was opened at the farm. It is the only facility of its kind in the province of Gauteng, the home of Johannesburg. It has room for 12 women as a "safe house" during their journey to recovery from abuse of all kinds. The house has been restored.

Through generous donations from various South Africans, Germans, Americans and others, the funds were raised to buy the farm and rehabilitate the housing. In the final analysis, it is the limitless faith and irrepressible spirit of Come Back Mission that brought this into being. They are only just starting. Other visions for the farm are evolving. There is no let up.

So what are the implications for me, 500 kilomerters down the road trying to help train a new generation of ministers? CBM's successes have broad application. It opens the door for us at the seminary to carry a message that things can be done; that churches can look well beyond their walls, catch the fever and be infected with vision and change the country fundamentally. With faith and vision the possibilities are unlimited.

A seminarian wrote recently to the effect that "the church is busy doing things that churches do each week . . . . meanwhile people are dying." Maybe he'll apply the faith that led him into ministry and become a minister who takes the path to social justice, an exciting, threatening and joyful journey, turning the impossible into the possible.

A GAME CHANGER

by Cheri Roland

Greetings from this blogger to all you blogetts! I know it has been ages since you last heard from me. I guess I do not get inspired as often as my boyfriend does.

It has not been a quiet week in Pietermaritzburg, but our lives are getting back to normal after three weeks of popping back and forth from work to home to wait for detectives, police, workmen, or security folks. We’ve come to realize several silver linings to the robbery: Ross had A/C (“air con”) units installed in our dining/living space and bedroom (thick layers of red dust throughout the house, necessitating another round of spring cleaning); we are promised a security system; and it’s been quite an adventure.

Another adventure has been the transformation of the feel of this seminary by the welcome addition of 44 new seminarians, now constituting almost half of the student body. Our wildest dreams did not prepare us for the sheer delight of students who are more educated, literate, professional, and eager to participate fully in the offered opportunities for learning and formation. WOW!!! Personally, this has lightened our work load immeasurably. Instead of suffering overtime through many workbooks, puzzling over the meaning of each word and guessing the intent, our weekends are now our own. Our necessary emphasis on “developing the disciplines of adequate preparation and following instructions, and reading carefully for understanding before writing” still hold for the second and third years, but these new guys are burning it up! The attitude is a 180 degrees switch to the smile side. The first day of FEM we received three calls from a group of new seminarians hopelessly wandering through the unfamiliar countryside in search of their assigned agency, only to arrive at quitting time. The next day the driver of said van apologized to Doug for the mix-up and wondered if their group could go back on Thursday morning to make it up. My husband almost fell over. Instead of whining about being turned into slaves and no remuneration and ministers being too good to get their hands dirty, this new group’s reflections speak of the blessings of serving for Jesus in whatever capacity their agencies require. Have we died and gone to Heaven?

Our new class schedule, necessitated by more students and the proverbial transport problems, finds us having FEM visits on Monday afternoons and Tuesday and Thursday mornings. This affords Doug and me more opportunities to visit the seminarians while “on the job”. We’ve been able to hold talk back sessions with several groups. Particularly important were those following visits to White Cross Disabled Hope Centre, a very challenging and challenged orphanage for severely physically and mentally disabled children whose problems have been exacerbated by unconscionable abuse. (Just ask the HPUMC mission team who visited us last August.) The seminarians facing their own morbidity and mortality during exposure to old age home and Hospice clients struggle with unchained emotions; they grateful for the chance to voice their doubts and fears to “safe” foreigners not bound by traditional black cultural expectations.

My needed inspiration to send along these thoughts came from the reflections of one of these new seminarians. She is the only white woman in our first year class, and scored highest on the English proficiency and comprehension assessment during orientation. Did I mention how cute and personable she is? Her assignment to the psychiatric hospital had filled her with dread, and, then during her initial visit, this was exacerbated by the hospital staff’s admonition to never be alone with certain (horny) old men. The assigned scripture for her second visit was Philippians 2:4-5: “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.” Mind you, I had prepared the workbook for this current semester in October-November, focusing on discerning spiritual gifts in oneself and others using Biblical passages relating to the various gifts.

I am going to simply quote her so you may share in another seminary God thing. She wrote her scriptural reflection the day before her visit. “The biggest challenge is of course turning away from my interests to God’s. Often in ministry we want to use the [spiritual] gifts which best suit us, being loving with people who are easy to love and operating from a place of comfort. Town Hill Hospital is not a place of comfort. The challenge for me is to shine as Christ’s light even though I am uncomfortable and woefully ill-equipped. But Jesus was brave and He walked with God to do what had to be done. I must put my selfish desires of not wanting to go to one side and do this with a glad and willing heart. I pray Jesus would spark in me a desire to be brave and willing to engage with these men where they are at.”

She wrote after the visit, “Today Thobeko and I laughed and prayed with these men and there were some tears and some more prayers and laughter. There seemed to be a happy light spirit in the room, making for a very uplifting morning with God’s special people. After spending time with Doug and Cheri [in the Utsig E-F parking lot] after our visit, I realised there is perhaps more I can do if I step out of my comfort zone further. My pride sometimes get in the way of being able to let my guard down . This scripture reminds me today that humility is all important. Jesus was always authentic with people; so I pray God will help me to be as authentic and creative offering myself as a channel for His love. The ironic thing was what these men taught me about faith. My ability to learn as a teacher was enriched by my time with them. As I become less afraid of them, my faith is being strengthened immeasurable. Christ does indeed shine in the dark places when we can put our egos and fear to one side and allow Him free reign. “

This is but one example of why we were called here. What a privilege it is to be able to journey with these future transformers of church and nation.

P.S. I’m so bummed. Here I am, dressed in my “township clothes” – closed-toe shoes, huge official SMMS golf shirt, ball cap complete with lion scratches, new camera at the ready, sun block slathered on, beaded earrings from Ethembeni – ready to go with the gang to Mpophomeni Township. And it seems that we are so efficient this year seeing six groups off to their appointed rounds that I missed my van! Ach shame.

BURGLED - THE EPILOGUE

by Doug Roland

One of the policemen suggested that we make a list of the items missing and take them to three pawn shops. Around here, that means wondering in to areas and places not frequented by anyone we know. They had interesting names like "Cash Converters ", "Cash Crusaders" and "24/7". The folks behind the desks were very nice and seemed to be familiar with the "list" routine. They were, however, a little baffled by the meaning of Garmin and Kindle.

Three hours after I dropped off one of the lists, the manager called asking me to describe the Kindles. When I did, he asked how fast could I get there because he had them. We were there within 10 minutes and brought them home. And we had a description of the "guy" as about 5', very muscular, black, with a yellowish t-shirt and denim pants. To date, these are the only things recovered.

I called a Garmin dealer. To my surprise, I had saved the serial number. Now any Garmin dealer in the world who handles that Garmin can keep it as a hot item. Nothing yet.

Next was the insurance man. Since we do not own the house, we insured some, but not all, the personal items as a rider to our car insurance. Items to be insured had to be specified. So, we received the limits, less deductible, for the Garmin and the camera. Though this was better than a poke in the eye, the real damage arose when we went to buy new stuff.

The boom box and camera were not a big deal since they come directly from either Japan or China. But anything purchased in the U.S. is very difficult to replace. We bought new backpacks but they are not nearly the same quality. If we had to replace the Kindles, the price would be at least doubled and probably more. For example, a friend of ours here priced a basic Kindle at a "Wal-Mart" type store. In dollars, it was about $330.00. The basic one sells in the U.S. for just under $100.00. Fortunately, we were able to buy the same binoculars we had before at a reduced price.

The new tennis shoes were a good deal - about the same as in the U.S.

A couple of days after the theft, a police investigator came over and basically wrote down the same information we had given the first responders, but on a new form. Later on, I went to the police station to obtain a copy of the police report. I was able to talk with the Capt. in charge. I advised him that the investigator had come but nothing from the fingerprint team. He said he had told them he was not happy that they had not been there. As I left, he said they would be there the next day. I also told him about the description given by the pawn shop manager on the off-chance someone might interview him.

About 4-5 days later, I got a call from a police officer about whether anyone had come to the house for fingerprints. I said they had not. He asked when the break-in happened and I told him about two weeks earlier. "Too much time has passed now to do prints!!" he said in disgust, as though it was our fault. I informed him that we had been told at least 4 times that the print crew would be there soon. He feigned surprise and said someone would call back in 10-15 minutes. That was last week. We've continue to preserve four finger prints on the wall. The cops were good at the beginning not in the end. The fingerprint guys might have been imaginary.

The whole affair was not without irony. The "old" Garmin was quite difficult to use, even with the instruction book that he left behind. The Kindles were in more or less good condition. I turned on one of them and the letters on the screen were at maximum size, suggesting that he had played around with it and probably realized it didn't play music or contain any porn. (Maybe he missed that book by D.H. Lawrence.) In short, he saw no quick market value in something that only contained words. Believe me, this is not a book culture. The other Kindle did not work at all. I was unable to get it to accept a charge. So I advised Amazon, and they replaced it. Of course, it was shipped to the Tampa address. So another month delay.

A few days later, I stumbled onto another bit of post-theft damage. I check our credit cards online every month. I had changed my Amazon password so that no one could buy stuff. Still, there were two charges, $50 and $100 in favor of "Amazon Local", whatever that is. Our good fortune is that Chase Bank has a toll free out-of-country line. I spoke with the representative who then got the Amazon Local person on the line. Wireless Kindles communicate directly and exclusively with Amazon. Ours have Tampa advertising on them for all sorts of goods and services. It seems that our enterprising thief hit some buttons and ordered a new car windshield ($100) and tinting ($50). There was a link to the service provider and it turned out to be a shop at the intersection of I-275 and Dale Mabry. I doubt that our not-so-literate thief had any idea. The charges were removed. The Chase guy and the Amazon lady both appreciated the humor. And so did I.

Burgled at MidDay

by Doug Roland

I've been the victim of a break-in twice, the last time was in 1969. So every 43 years +/- isn't bad. Still, Just as in 1969, you feel violated.

Monday was the first day back in class. Our first group went off to Field Education. Only a few minutes later we went home to change clothes and found that several things we used, enjoyed and cared for were missing.

Cheri noticed a broken security bar. As we looked around, we could tell that something we all fear had happened. A sickening feeling surrounded us.

The thefts were similar in some ways - an emphasis on technology and jewelry. In 1969, it was my first TV, a Zenith table model, black and white, and my college fraternity pin. Monday, it was a hand held Garmin, a camera, two new Kindle Touch readers, a boom box, Flip video camera, new Nikon binoculars, and two very good backpacks. Finally, he (we think he was alone) swiped both of our tennis shoes, each about ready to fall apart. The drawers had been searched for jewelry but Cheri brought very little to begin with. One thing he missed was a very fine cross an necklace I bought for her on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. We can be thankful for that. They also didn't seem to bother with the kitchen and a very nice and expensive set of knives was overlooked.

The cops came quickly, two were rapid response officers, two more were investigators. We had a case number within an hour. Two more came today. We are told that the fingerprint guys would come soon. They were very professional.

It's just stuff, you tell yourself, but you don't really believe it. You say you can forgive the robber, but would you? It's difficult not just because he messed with our stuff but also because it is an affront to us as social beings, a tiny slit in the fabric that holds us together. It's one of the original ten sins. That doesn't mean we should not forgive him. So, let's say we do forgive him wherever he is, that doesn't prevent us from grieving for a loss. In fact the two are often connected - forgiveness and grief.

I can live without worn out tennis shoes. But the other things are important. That TV was my first purchase with my first paycheck as a teacher. The pin was a reminder that I served as president of a large fraternity at Indiana. As to the recent theft, our son, Nat, expressed it well.

"The burglars got just about all of your "tools" for enjoyment of life outside of work."

He and our daughter-in-law had just given us the Kindles for Christmas. We've been reading a lot, and I can see so much better. I just spotted a species of eagle we had not seen before, using the binoculars. The Garmin was a gift from them in 2010 to help us get around in a strange land. It saved us many times. We had just used our backpacks the day before for a wonderful hike to see cave drawings from the ancient San people. Fortunately, I had loaded all the photographs on to the computer. We can be thankful for that.

We had just moved in before going home for Christmas. We knew there was no alarm system and was riskier than the first house. As well, our insurance was based, in part, on the security of the first house and not the second. I had forgotten to advise them of the address change, so I do not expect to get much from the insurance company.

I can of course happen anywhere, any time, but it's never easy. It leaves us a little empty.

ACT TWO

by Doug Roland

As we prepared for our return to South Africa after the long holiday, I felt a sense of unease. It was different than, but probably influenced by, a very nasty cold. During the 25 hours sitting in cars and airplanes, I couldn't figure out whether I was saddened by leaving home, indifferent to returning or just plain sick. Clarity was waiting in the inbox, waiting for us to get to accessible wi-fi.

Cheri's college roommate, Carolyn, moved to Australia in the early 70's and made her life there. She knows us well and has shared with us her experiences in returning "home" to Ohio from time to time. She too had felt a certain discomfort. Her e-mail summarized it well:

"Being an ‘expat’ you end up not really belonging anywhere. Everyone in Tampa would be doing much the same things they were doing when you left 18 months ago, talking about things that happened as if you had been there and you were – in spirit- but your reality was 100+ seminarians and colleagues on the other side of the world."

We had been detached from our homeland for a year and a half. Lives carry on without us. While we were showered with greetings, hugs, questions, and generous help during our stay, the stubborn fact is that "home" was actually back in South Africa. It is the place where we now live, where we labor in the fields, play, laugh and sleep. You simply cannot live in two places at once.

Before we left home in 2010, people told us and we told ourselves that with modern technology, e-mail, Facebook, Skype and other marvels, could keep us up to date. They do, but that doesn't change the reality. It's not the same as being in the room together. It's a "virtual home" but it's not where you live.

In the prior post, the temptation to "slip back into the culture" was something I recognized, but failed to see that the recognition confirmed that we live in South Africa and not in our homeland.

There is a real and compelling difference between home and living. The theme of getting back home is found everywhere, from E.T. to Thomas Wolfe ("You Can't Go Home Again") to the old spiritual, "Goin' Home." We yearn for "home" but not necessarily where we live.

Doing what we do (leaving home to live and serve elsewhere) shakes off dust gathered for decades and exposes us to a possible life-change. Now we don't get to have a "do-over" in life, but we have accumulated a body of knowledge and skills over the years. These are our kit-bags. We all have them. Our testimony is that these little bags can be used both to help others and to reshape and/or renew our own lives. It's the not-so-simple decision to "bite the bullet", or, in a spiritual context, say, "Here I am Lord. Use me." The rest will take care of itself.

This is where we are as we enter the second half of our journey. If I peek at the future to the day we return and re-establish our home, I wonder what it will be like to live again with the intensity of the fast-paced life of our homeland. I'll speculate and say that we'll be fine. We will be "home" again, but we will be changed. Our kit-bags will be spilling over. There may be something new for us then.

In the meantime, it's on to Act Two.

Back Home: Same and Yet Different

by Doug Roland

From about 1000 feet altitude to landing, it was the light that reminded me I was home. The big, bold and consuming South African sun is dramatic, but the sun of Florida is a more crisp, playful light. It bounces off the glass of the city's buildings, attaches to the vehicles on the road, and rests in fields, homes and farmlands. 17 months without that light gave me a better appreciation for it, a nice welcome home.

This is new - coming home from living in a foreign land. My thoughts are random and I can't sum them up yet.

Last year, I wrote about the impossibility of having a meaningful Christmas without the presence of family. We were welcomed at the airport by our son, taken promptly his home and reacquainted ourselves with our granddaughter, Clara. In the afternoon we went to our church to pick-up our borrowed car and saw a few of our dearest friends.

On our first full day, I was dragged to choir practice without a voice that can sing. Though that is frustrating, there was comfort in listening to familiar chatter of musicians, sudden stops in the middle of a piece followed by the obligatory corrections from the director.

The next day we were invaded by our siblings and friends from around the country. Reunions broke out daily. Cheri's sisters. newly minteded great Aunties, made their presence felt as usual. Ten of us revisited vacations we had shared in Provence and other places. Though the memories of many things and events fade, others are as vivid as a Chagall stained glass backlighted by the southern French sun. These are indelible experience that we will share the rest of our lives.

It has, indeed, been busy, this visit home. Visits to our respective work places. We make multiple church appearances. We've given presentations to two adult sunday school classes, and are on deck to answer some questions at three consecutive worship services this Sunday. This is followed by a gathering of South Africa travelers in the evening. Invitations abound. In the queue are 6-7 dinner invitations to manage and a couple of weeks when we are elevated to "full-time" grandparents. It's a balancing act. We need to rest and we need the engagement.

The fine folks of Hyde Park United Methodist have surrounded us with great warmth and love.Without them we would not have gone to South Africa, nor could we return.

I learned that lots of people are actually reading this blog.

Driving around town, we've seen differences. On the one hand, there were several marquee shops that are now closed. Some restaurants have closed but others have flourished and some are nearly impossible to get into. Construction vehicles are scant, but the traffic is about the same.

From time to time, I find myself slipping back into the dominant culture until I realize that this only makes it more difficult to keep the momentum we've built in South Africa. We need to maintain an attitude of excitement to leave our home with the same awe that led us there in 2010. It's a fine balance. At the moment I look forward to both going and coming back. The question is whether it is sustainable for the next three weeks.

The summation of reuniting with friends, relatives and being back in our hometown reminds us of who we are and how we have been changed by our South African experience. It has, for now, helped us to renew our commitment to return to serve at the seminary. It took a long time for us to be effective in a foreign culture. We have another year + to put that to good use so that when we come back home for good, we can rest in the knowledge that we did the best we can to help develop leaders to transform the church and the nation of South Africa. God is extravagant in his grace and it is not to be turned down. But please, Lord, can I have a little more sleep?

Cheri and I wish you all a blessed Christmas. May its meaning be at the center of everything you do for therein lies the full measure of His light. The light illuminates a straight highway that leads to a life of adventure where everything changes. What a bargain!!