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.