Meeting of Cultures

It's summer in Johannesburg, typically Spring was plus minus 4 hours long, and then we were catapulted into summer. On Wednesday afternoon I attended a meeting with a gentleman who lived in Japan for 3 years. And I literary hang onto his every word, and story. How relationships are formed, how business is conducted, how amazing this society functions. He himself a Zulu, loved it, but had a lot of adjustments to do when he returned home to South Africa. Later another gent joined us. He is the son of a Zulu father and a Nigerian Mother, was raised in Dar e Salaam. I was with a colleague who grew up with his German roots, firmly embedded in African Soil. Me - well I AM AN AFRICAN - white, Afrikaans, and although I live in Johannesburg, my "Boere" roots anchors me deep in the Free State.
Soon we started discussing the exodus of people to and from South Africa, politics and this wonderful, amazing, multicultural, diverse county - that is filled with opportunities. Soon stories of the struggle were told, stories I have never heard of, stories of the hero's of our Nation, stories of the 1995 World Cup, stories of Madiba, of Oliver Tambo, of Beyer Naude. AND then, for the first time in my life I heard a concept - being a Son and Daughter of South Africa, vs just being a citizen.

Citizens, I was told, have a ID book, a local address, a passport - but they only live here, almost as if they are just waiting for something better, just passing through. BUT a Son and a Daughter are passionate about their "family" - the land, the people, the culture, the growth, the pains of transition, the joy of seeing how people are transformed, how the country grows up from being a newborn in 1994 to the teenager it is now.

And my heart swelled, and my emotions rose, and I realised that this is the reason why I am not interested the least in leaving my homeland, my African Sky, my heimat, its because I am a daughter of this land, with my heart sold out to the journey we are on.

Late at night, lying in bed, I reveled in the feeling of enrichment that still glowed in my heart. How color, culture, belief, age, gender made no difference. How today we became neighbors just by being able to tell our own stories - with no fear of judgment - and listen to wonderful rich stories - with no preconceived ideas, and how this bound our hearts together.

The freshness of holiday

What a glorious day this is. The sky reflects the brilliant color of the blue blue ocean. The only breeze we can feel today is the warm bergwind, that brought with it nice warm weather - in the middle of winter, tomorrow it will rain, the locals say.
I am parked in a family restaurant - they have nice large table on which I can pack out all my books, the laptop and other paraphernalia. Mom, Karen and the kids are roaming the mall, and I am studying. Every now and again, Mom appears, sips from my water, stashes a parcel under the table, - then leaves again - a true hunter-gatherer.
I have a beautiful view of the bay, every now and again, I lift my head just to remember that I am at the coast - and not in my study.
Years ago on my first round at varsity, I once took my books to the coast - less diligent than today, the books never got a whiff of fresh sea breeze, never came out of my bag. This round is different. I have been up early in the morning, late at night, I have not been into the nice quaint beach shops, or bought anything to remind me of a few days at the coast, I have been studying. Well I suppose if you mount a wild horse best you hold on for dear life, and ride it till it tires - or be deposited by the wayside.
I am so excited about this breath of fresh air that has been blown into my life. I had coffee with my dear friend Cobie last week, we were together in high school, and are very good friends these days. I could not wait to tell her that I had enrolled to study law - she just quietly smiled and said she new I would one day fulfill my destiny and come to my senses.
I found the prospect of registering daunting, but have to raise my hat to Kovsies, they are as superb as they were when I studied the first time. Very efficient, and supportive, and helpful.
Today reminds me that God must have had so much fun when He made colors yellow,blue, red, green,orange, bright with life and love and energy, looking out at the beach I am filled with owe at how beautiful He created earth, how beautiful our country is, how blessed I am to be able to be on holiday, to be at the beach, to spend time with my family, to just chill.

There is a hole in my heart

What would I do to be in Manica today, to sit on the camping chair (the one Short keeps in his store room for me - the one he brings when he sees me down in the machessa) with my backpack filled with 'n flask of coffee, milk, sugar, maybe a rusk that my dear friend Colette baked, with a stack of books - that I seldom touch, with my camera that I use only on the odd occasion, what would I do to be there NOW. Today it feels like I am prepared for the 12 hour plus trip to Manica, for the long rows at the borders, for the silly things the police do when they pull you over to complain about your dirty car, or the AF-RO-DAWID ( in South Africa we call this a affidavit) we need to give the driver permission to drive in Zimbabwe (this is different to the expected driver license). Today I am willing to wash the Gallo's soccer clothers after soccer practice - with my hands, if I could only have one peaceful morning in the machessa. I miss my friend Zambito, I miss Violet, I miss Mr Man, I miss - so many faces, the smells of the market, a pao with butro and freshly bought tomatoes, en lettuce, and abagat. Yes I even miss the noice - that never seized.
I think a piece of my heart has been ripped out, the edges scored - impossible to heal. This feeling reminds me to keep my heart open to love, to keep giving. Without these memories and experiences, I would be so much poorer.

White Snow

What a special day today is, IT'S SNOWING !!! I was awakened this morning by my dear friend Ann and her kids, shouting that their lawn was covered in snow. My house unfortunately lies to low, I thus had no snow. BUT today 43 years ago, it snowed - 6inches, Mom was in labor with me, Dad was stuck in Excelsior and due to the heavy snow, could not reach the hospital to find out if I had arrived or not. My parents still have movie footage of this special day - Dad climed into the church bell tower, and with his camera scanned the town, covered in this blanket of snow. I told my father that when I come home again, I want us to go through all the old movies.

Tom tagged me, so here goes,
I LOVE Jesus, because
1. God - choose me - to love me, to save me, to challenge me to bear fruit, to LIVE
2. Jesus really really loved small children
3. Jesus knew God's heart
4. Jesus really loved His Father
5. He made winter and snow and cold weather, and summer and sun, and autumn and the most beautiful colors, and spring and flowers and laughter, and joy, and He fills ME - little me - with His JOY.

And today, this special day HE gave me, I KNOW that He is with me, loves me, never leaves me alone, blesses me, have grace with me, AND HE CALLS ME HIS BELOVED.

Girlfriends

Sunday, the first day of the week, was the last day of a few disastrous days for me. I completely lost my temper with 2 service providers due to really bad customer service, but in such a non-me-way that I thought I was going to have a heart attack, got stuck in a security village as the gate code given to me was incorrect – this left me in tears for a good few minutes, had a disagreement (not argument) with a dear friend, and and and, the list is really long.

Yesterday, after our Sunday morning service – the celebration of a new baby dedicated to God, I retreated to my cave. With the firm decision to stay here until I felt better, I retreated, and closed the door to the world.

BUT I lost reckoning with 2 dear dear friends. They quietly found their way into my cave, scarified their peaceful Sunday, and loaded with a good chick-flick, schwarmas, a foot spa, bright pink nail gel, and hearts filled with love, they sat with me – with no intentional speech to make me feel better, without cheap advice, no secondhand stories of how their day was worse than mine. They were just with me. We laughed, we cried (I cried), we shared fantasy stories. They calmed the storm in my soul, reminded me of God’s love for me, reminded me of my puzzle piece – the role that I play in our community, they prayed for me, and then left me feeling less angry, less sad, and cared for.

They reminded me of how our lives are enhanced, how our colors are brighter in relationships, and how much I love them. They reminded me that we are community for one another, and that we have the chance to show Jesus to one another.

Picking up the pieces

Its just been too long. And I’m not quite sure how to pick up the pieces. I could tell you that I got busy living life, too busy to think out loud or blogg or write or share my thoughts. I could tell you that I got tied up in myself – and made a really small parcel. More interestingly –maybe- I could tell you of all the places I visited London, Paris, St Gallen, San Antonio, Nice, Rome, Vienna, Frankfurt, Johannesburg, Manica Mozambique and Zimbabwe, but that I scarcely had time to visit me, or of all the grand hotels where I stayed, and how lonely I was there, my only thought to get home.

But what I want to tell you is that I stopped the bus and got off. I got out the boat. REALLY - I took time out. I gave up the security of a steady and very well paying job, in which I suppose I was really good, and loved by all, where my main purpose was to MAKE MONEY, quick and fast and lots of it. To gain market share, and grow the business, and find new ways of making more money even quicker. I packed up my house and put my life into a suitcase or two, a few books my iPod and laptop, and went north.

I took a year Sabbatical. Setting time aside to focus on God. Time to detox, time to recharge, rediscover, reconnect to God, myself and my dreams. I learned about people, and relationships, different cultures, and languages, I ate different food. I read. I daydreamed. Sometimes I just sat, and stared at the mountain. Sometimes I slept, and forgot about the future. But most of the time I was confronted with God, and He confronted me with myself and how I chose to live life up to now.

Coming back home was really tough. I felt out of joint. It felt as if I had been walking barefoot for a very long time, developed calluses on my feet, and now my old shoes just did not sit as comfortable as before. And I liked it to be reminded that I have changed. I want to take all the new ideas and the old one’s that has been engraved in to my heart and LIVE THEM. Make them part of my every waking breathing moment. I did not go into the wilderness to just come back and slip back into the comfort of my previous life. I got given a second chance and how I badly wanted to live the second round different.

I heard God say that I am His beloved, and this gives me courage. This gives me the platform to live on. God blessed me with companions and a community to journey with and within.

Picking up the pieces proved difficult. I cannot share my every thought much as I would want to. I lost a few pieces – since I was too lazy to write of it down. So now the pot resembles the Clay pots we stick together at Kleipot Community Church, full of holes – to let the Light shine through. I realize that I am a really really broken vessel, without many of my previous pieces, but I have discovered that I do carry a precious message. And I want to live life, with my holes, and vulnerabilities, and inadequacies, and missing pieces.

Effe skrikkerig, ‘n bietjie huiwerig, maar nooit bang nie.