We Come in Bright Array

Choir has come to shape many of my experiences here in South Africa. Not only because I am furthering my interest in singing, but it has allowed me to meet many people that I potentially would never have met. For the first two weeks in December I found myself at a choir “camp.” No, it was not like the choir camp held at Green Lake Bible Camp with counselors for us to look up to and cabins to sleep in. However, it was much in the same that there were activities and games planned for us throughout each day (including a 5am wake-up call to do exercise, both physically and vocally) that helped prepare us for the upcoming ELCSAMO choir competition between the top choirs from each diocese of ELCSA. During the camp, I spent countless hours with individuals from the Turfloop Parish Youth Choir singing, dancing, talking, and hanging out getting to know one another further. Through this, I have made and developed some wonderful friendships.

As you may remember, I was in a choir competition last September where we placed first in five of the seven songs we sang. This gave us the golden ticket to the competition between each diocese in ELCSA, which was held here at the University of Limpopo at Turfloop on December 10 and 11. This is what we were “camping” out and preparing for. You may also remember from the last choir competition I was in, I had to borrow a black vest, black tie, black pants, and unfortunately due to the size of my foot could not borrow black shoes but was instead forced to wear my own brown shoes. Thanks to my mom and dad back at home, this time I had my own black pants and black tie and I was able to find a pair of black shoes here in Limpopo. That means I was missing a black vest. I couldn’t just have any black vest, as it needed to have the ELCSA Mphome Circuit badge on it. The one I had borrowed in Witbank was to be coming so I could use it again, however the individual arrived on the day of the competition empty handed, no vest for me to borrow. Here we go again, I thought. After asking several people if they knew where I could find one, it seemed as if I was out of luck and the white man that already stuck out, would be sticking out even more. Then, about twenty minutes before it was our turn to sing, one of the girls said she had one I could wear. Finally, I had the entire uniform.

Regardless of now “looking” the same as my fellow choristers, I was nervous to sing. Standing there on stage in an arena with nearly 4,000 people in attendance, I could feel my heart racing and my face turning red. The song, We Come in Bright Array, was about to begin. Moss, our choir conductor was ready. We began singing, but I couldn’t hear the words coming out of my mouth over the loud beating of my heart. Before I knew it, the song was over. I had done it, WE had done it. As we walked off the stage, we all looked at each other, knowing that we had performed very well. The song changed from “We Come” to “We Came” as we knew we had done our best, we sang the new lyrics back to our seats with excitement! My nerves were now calmed and I knew I would be just fine singing the rest of the weekend.

The following day, the competitions continued. On this day we sang our African pieces, meaning the lyrics were not in English. These songs proved to be much more difficult for me to learn and sing as they were not in a tongue that I knew or recognized, and some words included clicks and other such noises that I simply do not do. Nevertheless, I did my best to learn them and performed one of them, Molaetsa. Again, it went very well, but there were some very good choirs competing against us that also performed very well.

Once we were finished singing, we waited for the rest of the sections to perform their songs. We once again sat together as a choir. Between each song we would stand and sing a chorus that would spread throughout the hall, inviting the audience to stand and sing with us. It was a festive time. Then it was time for the results. As they came to each section we sang, we would quiet ourselves and concentrate, waiting for them to say, “First place with __ points, Northern Diocese!” And once again, we heard this even more than we expected, as we received first place in four of the five songs we entered with! We were ecstatic! We sang and danced throughout our seats, into the hallway, down the stairs, out the entrance, into the parking lot, and into the road where we sat our trophies down and proceeded to dance around them, paying little attention to the cars leaving the arena!

It felt great winning these trophies. It felt even better celebrating with my friends, seeing how happy each individual was for what we had accomplished together. Then one of the conductors from our choir called attention to me and explained how several other conductors and spectators had asked her if “the white man” would be singing the vernacular songs. She told them “Yes, of course, watch him when he goes on stage.” She continued to explain how happy and thankful she was when I opened my mouth so very wide on stage, singing every word of the African song. She was not the only person to comment on this. The day of and in the days following as I moved about campus, Turfloop, Masealama, and on the taxis, those in attendance at the competition had taken note that “the white man” sang every word of Molaetsa and would tell me how impressed they were.

I am extremely grateful for the opportunity that I have been given through singing in the choir. I am still shocked when I think that it has been the most dynamic aspect of my time in South Africa. Unfortunately, this was the culmination of the competitions and there will not be another until after I depart next year. The friendships I have created through the choir will continue, and perhaps there is something else waiting for me to unexpectedly fall in love with…

The Real South African Experience

In America, we have a cultural focus revolving around the individual, and what they are doing. Everyone is always attempting to top the last story they heard. It is the classic “been there, done that” attitude or “anything you can do, I can do better.” Because of this concept, I had been formed to think I needed to prove myself and what I would be doing in South Africa for the year, how it will be different from everyone else who has been to South Africa. Before arriving in here, I knew that I would not have consistent electricity, be required to take “bucket” showers, and need to fetch water from a water tower. I thought that was cool, that I could define what I was going to be doing in AFRICA through these things. It would allow people to know just how “African” my experience was going to be, and they would look up to me for having to endure these disparities. Upon my arrival, I quickly jumped in to these activities, accepting them as part of my daily life. I would think to myself, “what an experience,” and “wait until I tell people back at home, they are going to be so proud!” Although I did not agree with these expectations from America, I succumbed to them by letting myself project those images to my family, friends, and supporters.

As I began meeting people in other villages and towns near Masealama, they would ask me about my stay in Masealama. Most of these conversations lead to talking about how different the weather is in Masealama, whether or not I eat pap (mealie meal), and/or fetching water. They are surprised that I fetch water, as they believe white men never do physical labor. Some told me a story of a white man who has a job as a garbage man. When the garbage truck comes by each week, all the children run to the street to watch lekgowa (the white man) pick up the trash. It was a spectacle to them because they only see their fellow black man doing work like this. I would tell them that fetching water isn’t that bad and that I actually enjoy doing it. They then tell me that I am getting the real South African experience through this. After hearing this idea a couple of times, it got me thinking about my experience here and how it is being shaped around fetching water. I began to realize that fetching water is much more than simply an experience. It is a way of life for the people of Masealama and many other places throughout the area.

Access to clean water is a basic human right and necessity, it is not a commodity. Thankfully, the water in Masealama from the water tower is safe to drink without needing to boil it first. Fetching water for a year is not that big of a deal for me, because after this year I will be able to go home and have instant clean water access at the flick of a switch. It is, on the other hand, a big deal for those in my community. They struggle every day just to have this clean water. Sometimes the tank is empty, the water pump is broken, or it is too hot/cold/rainy/windy/etc. to be able to fetch the water that day. Not to mention the fact that wheeling 75 liters of water is difficult for me, a 23 year-old male. It must be more difficult for the elders, the sick, the frail, etc. to fetch water each day. After this year, when I leave, they still have to deal with this issue.

Unfortunately for many other places throughout South Africa, Africa, and the world, Masealama doesn’t even have it that bad. There are many sites that do not even have a water pump to rely on. Instead they must use water from a river, stream, or lake. Often times these water sources are not safe enough to drink without boiling the water first. Some of these places exist very close to the village I live in. There are also places very close to me that have clean running water in their homes and buildings. I struggle with the concept that just 15 kilometers down the road, every home and building in the village of Turfloop has running water, yet even the village right next to Turfloop has to fetch their water from the pump. Why does this injustice exist?

As many of world leaders are meeting this week in Durban for the COP 17 event dealing with world climate change, I am realizing more and more how climate change can and will affect access to drinking water. With the effects of global warming continuing to increase, weather is going to be more variable. Due to these unpredictable weather patterns, increasing temperatures will cause more widespread and intense droughts, decreasing the amount of fresh water available. In areas where rainfall is recurrent, they will have more frequent and intense floods that will contaminate the fresh water. If nothing is done to counter act global warming, the issue of access to clean water is only going to get worse. This is an issue that needs to be addressed.

After attending the We Have Faith rally in Durban for COP 17 on Sunday November 27, my eyes were opened a bit more to the reality of global climate change. I then made my way back to Masealama in the days following the rally, thinking and contemplating this problem and how it is affecting me and the village I am a part of. Ironically, when I arrived back at home I found the water pump for the village was broken and had been for a couple of weeks. In order to get water we must now go to another water spout up the hill. The trick is, this water is not clean. Therefore we must boil the water before drinking it. For a village that is already struggling, it did not need this to further its distress. How does Masealama go about fixing the water pump? I am not sure who is even in charge of running it. Who will pay to have it fixed? As far as I know, access to the water tower is free to the residents.

It is clear now that fetching water is much more than experience for me. I am struggling right alongside of those in my community. It is not something I should tell people in order to receive gratitude, but it is something that I can tell people in order to spread the awareness of this need throughout the world. I don’t like being told I am getting the real South African experience, not when there are many places in South Africa where this issue does not exist. To me, the real experience exists in understanding that it isn’t just an experience.

The Best Taxi Ride. Ever.

A couple of weeks ago I had spent the day in Turfloop at the university and grocery shopping. On my way to the spot I catch a taxi, a friend of mine greeted me and accompanied me to the taxi and helped carry some of my groceries. Once I reached the taxi, I greeted those already sitting in the taxi (the kombis don’t leave until all of the seats are filled). Nearly everyone quickly responded saying hello and asking me how I was doing, in Sepedi of course! As I had a several ags of groceries, the ladies in the front few rows helped me load them into the kombi and made room for me to sit next to them. They quickly began asking me questions. What is your name? Where are you from? Do you eat pap? What are you doing here?

Their questions eventually ceased as I answered them all. One lady then said, “I saw you at the funeral Saturday.” Next thing I knew, I was being bombarded by each person telling me where they have seen me before, church, funerals, playing soccer, riding the taxi, in the grocery store, at the clinic, working at the crèche, etc. I was astonished to hear how many places these ladies had seen me, especially since I did not recognize any of them. The ladies were excited to tell me all the places they had seen me, almost like they were bragging to the other women. It felt great knowing they were recognizing me, that although they did not know me personally, they still knew me.

One of the best things about the YAGM program is their focus on simply being in your site. We do not dwell on what each individual volunteer is doing, rather on having a presence in the community. Through this kombi experience, I have realized just how important it is to merely be here. I am having an effect on the community without needing to do anything specific.
Participating in local events and activities has proven to be a great way to be involved with the community.

For most of the taxi ride, the women continued asking me questions and talking with me, it was great. They really enjoyed it when I would speak the little Sepedi that I have learned. I felt like I was a child learning to walk and my parents were cheering me on, only I just met my parents! Then the taxi pulled over in front of another taxi. They said those going to Ga Mailula and Masealama need to get out and go to the other taxi. The ladies translated that for me and then helped me gather my bags, assisting me to the other kombi. When I entered this taxi, those inside were not as friendly to me. From what I understood, some of the girls were making fun of me. However, my newly made friends from the first taxi stood up for me and had a few words with those girls, their comments and giggles soon came to a halt! As each lady departed to the taxi along the way to Masealama, they told me, “goodbye friend, until next time.” When I reached home, I had a large smile across my face. That was the best taxi ride to date!

"Fall" Colors

It was just Halloween, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Not because nobody in Masealama nor Turfloop, nor probably the entire province of Limpopo for that matter, was dressed for the occasion. Instead, it did not feel like Halloween simply because of the landscape, rather than changing from colors of green to the beautiful earthy reds, oranges, yellows, and eventually to brown, the colors are shifting from brown to green. Some of the trees are starting to bud, producing beautiful purple flowers, and every kind of fruit you can imagine. The brown grasses are now green. People are planting their crops and tending to their fields. Nor did I see a single carved jack-o’-lantern! This is a very odd feeling for me. Hearing, knowing, that the leaves are changing back at home, Denver has received snow just days after having 80 degree weather, and the east coast having power shortages due to mass amounts of snow does not make sense to me. It’s hot out.

I know it is now November. I know that it should be fall. I know that it was just Halloween, Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and Christmas is coming. But it sure doesn’t feel like any of this is true. The only thing that feels like this is the case is seeing Christmas decorations up in the grocery stores. In fact, they put them up much earlier than in the states. I saw them decorating the Shoprite in Polokwane nearly a month ago! Provided they do not recognize Halloween or Thanksgiving as holidays here in South Africa, so their next holiday is Christmas, but nearly three months in advance? Come on. It has always bothered when stores in America dress up their aisles for the next holiday the day after the previous holiday concluded, but I guess it makes me feel a bit more at home here when they decorate for the coming Christmas early too.

The next few months are going to be a bit strange for me. I imagine the intensifying heat and lack of snow in November and December will be the hardest things for me to wrap my mind around. It’s not that I don’t understand that I am in the Southern Hemisphere and the weather is opposite of what is back at home, but my mind and body have come to expect these changes to occur. None the less, I believe it will be a good experience for me to have. It will be fun to see the different ways the people of Masealama celebrate the birth of Jesus. I am excited to be involved with their traditions and share with them a bit of my own. After all, I don’t think Christmas is about freezing your butt off or having snow on the ground, rather it is celebrating the birth of the Son of God, the greatest gift of them all. And last time I checked, Bethlehem doesn’t have snow in December either.

I don’t suppose I’ll be attending any ugly sweater festivities this year…

The Water Fetcher

To integrate yourself into another culture isn’t as easy as one may think. Sure you can learn their language, support their sports teams, and wear clothing that resembles their own, but does doing this actually allow you to be a part of their culture? I don’t believe so. I can speak some Spanish, my favorite soccer team is FC Barcelona, and I wear some of the same clothing many Spaniards wear, but does that mean I am immersed in their culture? No, and this remains true for South Africa as it does all around the world. To integrate yourself into a culture you must live with the people, do what they do, walk in their shoes. Living in Masealama has given me many wonderful ways to dive into the region’s culture and become more of a local. The best ways I have found to do so are some of the littlest things I can do, but no matter how little the activity, they have proven their importance.
Living without running water in my home has not only given me a greater appreciation for having clean drinking water coming out of every tap in my home back in the States, the ability to take a shower without needing to use an urn to heat up only enough water to fill a small bucket to then pour over myself, or the ability to flush a toilet without requiring me to pour water into the toilet bowl to force the waste down, but it has also given me the opportunity to meet many people and have conversations with them that would not have occurred without this small inconvenience. Before coming to Masealama, I would complain if the water tasted funny, if there was no warm water left to shower with, or if I had to hold the toilet handle down in order to be sure it flushed properly. What I should have been thinking, is how thankful I am for having clean water to drink, water to shower with, and a toilet that flushes.
You may be wondering why this has caused me to meet more people or why I have been talking about the way I bathe or how I get rid of my bodily waste to others in my host community. I promise you, I have not had any conversations about either of those activities with the residents of Masealama. As a result of not having running water in my home, I must fetch water. In my house, I have a large water drum that holds perhaps 250 liters of water. To get the water into this drum, I must use a wheel barrel and a few plastic containers to collect the water from the “water tower.” When I fetch water, I walk to the water tower, and to give you perspective is between one and two city blocks away. Then, as long as there is water in the tank, I can begin filling my plastic containers with water from the taps. In order to regulate water consumption, the taps are only open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 6am to 6pm and then again Saturday mornings until noon. As many people want to fetch their water before the heat sets in for the day and to ensure the water doesn’t run out for them, they fetch their water early in the morning. I have made the mistake of attempting to fetch water in the afternoon, and have been left with an empty water drum for the next few days. So, I try to go in the mornings before heading to work at the crèche and this has given me the opportunity to meet many of the residents of Masealama that are out fetching water and/or walking around. Although the conversations at the water tower are rarely deep, simply my presence at the tower allows my credibility to increase as they see I struggle alongside of them to have clean water.
Due to not having personal access to a car, I have the opportunity to frequent the local taxis, or combis as they call them, from place to place. Now the taxis are different than what you would think of when envisioning those that crowd the streets of New York City. Instead, they are more like the old VW vans with some eighteen-odd windows in them. Sure, some of combis are nicer and newer than you might imagine based on that picture, but they are generally found in town, not in the more remote villages like Masealama. Again, just as people are surprised by the idea that I fetch water as they do, they are equally intrigued to see me riding in the taxis. Although normally white people in South Africa do not ride the taxis, I believe people are surprised for another, simpler, reason. That being they are not used to seeing a white man at all, for around Masealama and the surrounding villages there are no white people. To see me riding joyfully along in a taxi through their village, I would imagine would be a bit of a site to them.
As they are intrigued by me, many of the riders will chat with me and get to know me. After the general, “Hi, how are you doing?” and “what is your name and where are you from?” questions, they begin to ask what I am doing here and love hearing I will be her until next July. Since taxis are used by most commuters to get around the area, I see many different people each time. However, after just one month of being here, I am seeing many of the same faces and am eager to greet them. Through being seen riding the taxis that I will be more accepted into the culture, showing them that I am here to be with them and ride alongside of them.
Of course I do not always have in-depth conversations at the water tower, riding in the taxis, nor when children shout my name when they see me, but what each instance creates is an opportunity. The opportunity that the next time I see these people I will recognize and know them, allowing me to have more conversations with them. Thus, allowing our relationships to develop and grow. Walking with the people and being a part of the people is an important aspect to immersing oneself into a new culture. Integrating into a culture is not through learning their language, supporting their sports teams, nor dressing like them, rather through doing the little things every day that they do too.

Do You Sing?

Throughout my life, one of the most common questions asked by people that I have just met is, “Do you sing?” After I chuckle to myself, I quickly tell them, “No, I do not.” “But you have such a wonderful voice,” they often respond. I then explain that they do not want to hear me sing as it is not so wonderful! Obviously in church, there are many songs and hymns that are sung and I enjoy joining in with the congregation and band. Singing songs is a contributing factor to a worship service in the States. This is also a major part of bible camp as you are constantly singing songs throughout the various activities there. Now, understanding that I do not sing in the U.S. unless I am in church or working at camp, you should know I had zero intention of singing outside of church services here in South Africa either. In fact during our week of orientation in Pietermaritzburg, I specifically remember saying to the group that I will not be joining a choir.

I arrived in Masealama on September 6. On September 7 I was introduced to my friend Moss, who is a professor at the University of Limpopo in Turfloop and one of the conductors of the Turfloop Church Youth Choir. On September 8 I joined Moss and his choir for practice, and fell in love with it! The following day, I was invited to join the Youth Group of Masealama at church. I was unaware what activities they would be doing. Regardless I quickly accepted the invitation to join them. Singing, of course, is what occurred at Youth Group. So there I was not even finished with my first week in my host community and I had already joined two choirs. The words, “I will not be joining a choir” reverberated throughout my head for the rest of the day.

I had already realized how important music was to the South African culture simply by attending church services by seeing and listening to the congregation singing powerfully throughout the services. What I did not realize was how it continued into each event and people’s daily lives. I had the pleasure to attend a conference at the University where the choir had nothing to do with the conference, but was invited to sing a few songs. While singing, many people in the audience stood, sang along, danced, chanted, and clapped. The energy prevalent in the room was amazing, I found myself getting into the songs even though I could not understand their language. The same was true at the graduation ceremony that I attended at the University. At one point when the choir was singing, every single graduate stood up and began to dance and sing along. Singing here in South Africa is simply part of their lives, everyone sings and they sing everywhere.

I soon found myself planning my schedule around attending choir practice. I had also joined the Masealama soccer team and their practice happens to overlap with the Turfloop choir practice, but I would skip every other day to go sing. That is correct, I was skipping something I love, to go do something I have never wanted to do before. There must be something more to it than just singing, right? Sure, the people are wonderful, incredibly inviting, and fun to be around, not to mention all around my age and therefore a great way to meet peers, but what I found was much deeper than that. When I walk into practice I have a smile on my face and when I leave, an even bigger smile. I am happy when I am there. Not that I am unhappy other places, but there I have a great time and I feel comfortable.

During the second choir practice I attended in Turfloop, I was informed of an upcoming choir competition in a town, five or six hours drive away, Witbank. Moss said I must come along with them! This excited me. At first, I assumed I would not be able to learn the songs in time and that I would simply be there to support the choir and to cheer them on. However, at the very next practice, several choir members were wondering if I would be accompanying them to Witbank and singing with them. They all encouraged me to sing with them rather than just watch. So, I began to try my best to learn the songs and diligently attend practice. Although, the choir practices every day, it was difficult for me to always have a ride home lined up as the taxis no longer run after 6:00pm. After attending just five practices in a little over two weeks, I was waking up at 3:30 in the morning to board a bus headed to Witbank. Was I nervous, yes, for some of the songs I had only sang through once!

There is another twist to the story, but an entertaining one at that. The choir has a uniform they wear. What is it you ask? Well black shoes, black pants, white shirt, black tie, and black vest. What dress clothes did Taylor bring with him to South Africa? Brown, brown, and more brown, zero black. Moss assured me this would not be a problem at all as he would find me some black shoes and pants as long as I had a white shirt. Then I could borrow a vest and tie from somebody else. Well, Saturday happened to be a holiday so the shops were all closed and Moss was unable to get shoes and pants for me as he was unaware of the holiday. After all, who has a holiday on a Saturday? Yet again, he assured me I would be just fine. Upon arrival in Witbank, I had no idea what I would be wearing, but I knew the worst that could happen is I would be in the audience cheering the choir on. But then, Moss told me to go over to a car where I would find black pants and a vest I could wear. He said he could not find anyone with spare black shoes as my feet are much larger than most South Africans. The only shoes I had brought along were brown. As if I did not stick out enough as the only white person in the area, I now was wearing all black with brown shoes, what a site for sore eyes!

After all the jokes were made about my outfit and people stopped staring at me, it was time sing. Regardless of my outfit, I was not going to let that affect me or my singing. It was soon time for the male choir to sing their first song, Soldiers’ Chorus. I love this song, it is fun to sing! After a short break, the entire chorus sang a Western song, We Come in Bright Array, and an African song, Molaetsa. We also had a solo, double quartet, and two other songs that members of the choir sang in the competition, but I was not a part of them. Being in the audience was one of my favorite parts of the competition, for the audience once again really got into the singing and dancing. Between each song, while the next choir came on stage, one person in the audience would start to sing a song and those in attendance would begin singing along and dancing too. In between songs, they sang more songs… did I mention how much South Africans love to sing?

While waiting to hear the results of the competition, the choir sat together in the balcony of the auditorium. We started several songs and chants that brought the audience to their feet. It was extremely entertaining and enjoyable to be a part of this experience. Then the results were in. As the outcomes of each section were awarded, we sat on the edge of our seats hoping we did well. Out of the 7 songs we competed with, we were awarded 1^st place with 5 of them! You can only imagine how excited we were. Now, the real singing, chanting, and dancing began as we celebrated our victories all the way through the streets of Witbank back to our bus!

Singing has become a major aspect of my time here in South Africa. Although it is something I never would have imagined to play such a role in my life here, I am very pleased that it has. Not only do I enjoy singing the songs, but the community that I have become a part of as a result is wonderful. I have met many people through singing and look forward to furthering these relationships throughout the year both in and outside of the choir.

Warm Hearts, Friendly Attitudes

It has been two weeks that I have been living, exploring, and enjoying my host community of Masealama. I have had some great experiences and met several amazing people. Through these experiences there are numerous individuals that are incredibly welcoming to me. Walking through the village, I am greeted by each person saying, “thobela.” They all want to know how I am doing and what they can help me with. One might think that they are only doing this because I am foreign or new to the area, however each person is inviting to all the people in the village. It is wonderful how hospitable everyone is.

Every individual I have interacted with wants to be a mentor for me. They all want to show me around the village, or how to take a taxi into Turfloop or town (Polokwane). I am and have been invited to several different events, from soccer matches to singing with the church choir to weddings and funerals. No matter the event, their intentions are to show me the way their customs and culture and how they are prevalent in the event. They are excited to show me their way of life, and I am excited to learn.

One of the most difficult things for me has been getting used to their language. Thankfully, everyone wants me to learn Sebedi, so they are constantly teaching me how to say certain things. Unfortunately, it is complicated and I can only say a few things as of now. But soon, I will know and understand, or so the locals tell me. My favorite word so far is “sho,” as it is slang for “I am fine.” I enjoy this because all the children at the crèche I work at continually say it to me, and then give me their thumb (kind of like a high-five, which I of course have taught them). As soon as one child says it, there are ten more running over to me saying it and giving me their thumb. I cannot help but to smile.

What I have found intriguing with this idea of mentorship, is it does not matter who the person is, what their occupation is, how old they are, or whether they can or not afford to show me around or invite me in. I have had people, young and old, male and female, employed and unemployed, available and busy; all wanting to take me around, invite me into their homes, and to cook for me. They also want to visit me at my home in Masealama, to hang out with me, get to know me, and teach me more about themselves.

I have now attended four different church services at four different sites in South Africa. At each one, I am greeted by several people, all shaking my hand and inviting me in. They all help interpret the service for me since most or all of it occurs in Zulu or Sebedi. They share their hymnals so I can sing along. At some point in each service, I have been brought upfront and introduced to the entire congregation. They “shine” me (a sign of respect) and clap for me as if I am doing something exceptional and great. They make me feel extremely welcome.

If there is one thing I have learned in my first few weeks in South Africa, it is that all the people I have interacted with have warm hearts and friendly attitudes. All are very welcoming to me and to all individuals. There is a real sense of community and love for one another. The saying, “make yourself feel at home” is not necessary, for the community members have already made me feel at home.

This is Africa

After departing Sioux Falls nearly 3 weeks ago commencing my journey in South Africa for the coming year, I will soon be able to unpack all of my bags and lay claim to my new home. It has been quite the journey to get here. First, spending a week in Chicago getting ‘orientated’ with 49 other YAGM volunteers who have been sent out all over the world. In that week we had several seminars discussing a variety of subjects including interfaith discourse, cross cultural issues, world of 100 experiment, and typology of personality through an enneagram of personality test. Many of the issues and ideas brought up in these discussions and seminars were furthered in small group discussions and at the dinner tables. It, however, was not all work. We did play. Having this time in Chicago was a great opportunity to see the sites and enjoy one another’s company through watching the air show from the beach, dining at a local African restaurant, laying under ‘the bean,’ rooting for the home team at Wrigley Field, and playing soccer and volleyball at the beach. The week in Chicago was great for building community with all of the YAGM volunteers and creating friendships sure to last but it was also a perfect stepping stone as we ventured around the world.

The eleven other South African volunteers and I left Chicago on Wednesday August 24. After thirty-eight and a half hours of flights and layovers, we finally made it to Durban, South Africa! It was quite the journey. As soon as I could see the ground of South Africa from my seat on the plane, I could not believe that I was actually here. I kept thinking to myself, “Is this really South Africa? Am I really here!?!” We quickly (but actually rather slowly due to some glitches with our bags) gathered our luggage and loaded up the van awaiting our arrival to transport us to our home or the next ten days in Pietermaritzburg. While we were driving I continued to wonder if this was really Africa as it is not what you might think of when one thinks of Africa. There were cars everywhere, nice buildings, paved roads, and pizza. Now at the end of this leg in my journey, I still find myself questioning if I am really here, but I know the answer is simply, “This is Africa.”

In the last week or so, the twelve members of M.U.D. 4 (the fourth group of Ministry Upstream and Downwind as we are so called) have had the opportunity to continue developing a sense of community together through many activities such as attending church for hourS at a time (don’t worry, the services seem to go by faster than the one hour services back in the States), play soccer, engage in several discussions on “what we are doing here,” cooking and sharing meals together, experiencing a traditional Zulu cultural village, and hiking in areas abundant with zebra, giraffe, wildebeest, bucks, and monkeys. Again, these days together have been wonderful for each one of us. They have opened our eyes to many things we have never seen or experienced. I still cannot fathom to think I am here and what is to come. Which brings me back to my original thoughts of, “Am I really here?” I keep hearing and seeing throughout my short time here, “This is Africa.” People use it for a variety of reasons, but I feel it speaks directly to me in the sense that, yes I am here.

This morning, I began the final leg of my journey to Masealama. I, along with three other M.U.D. 4 volunteers, took a bus to Johannesburg. In the morning I will take another bus to Polokwane where my host mother will be picking me up to take me the rest of the way. I am looking forward to this and the moment I can finally say, “I am here, and this is Africa.”

Namaste Every Day

I love serving others, no matter how big or small the service is. Each day it is important to continue living a life of service. Serving others can be done through week long mission trips or serving dinners at a homeless shelter but can also be as simple as opening a door, picking up trash, greeting someone with a smile, or lending a helping hand to a neighbor. This next year I am embarking on a big way of serving others by traveling half way around the world to foreign land, Masealama, South Africa. As I say this, I wonder if this really is a big way of serving people? Sure I am going to be gone for an entire year and will be representing something much bigger than myself, the Evangelical Church in America, my home church, and all of those who have and continue to support me, but will I not continue doing the things I do every day here? It is important to continue doing the little things that are a part of my daily life. Therefore, no matter how big this adventure is, it breaks down into doing little things every day, in a big way. This way of life is important because Jesus was a servant, serving everyone, the last, the lost, the least, the little, and the lifeless, every day. Jesus is who I attempt to model my life after, for He is the greatest servant of all.

A few years ago I read The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne. At one point in Shane’s life he called Mother Teresa on the phone and asked if he could serve alongside of her. While working in Calcutta, India with the lepers, Shane kept hearing the word, “Namaste.” He asked one of the lepers why they kept saying this word to him, the leper explained that namaste means, “I honor the Holy One who lives in you.” They saw Jesus in him. This amazed me. In my service, whether it is today, yesterday, tomorrow, or six months from now while in South Africa, I hope the people around me see Jesus in me and working through me, through the little things I do every day.

Please join me on this not so every day, every day journey. I may not know what is to come, but He does and that I am content with.