What's Next?

            If I had a Cadbury bar each time someone asked me that question (if only), I would be one fat, happy girl.

            To answer the question, I will be moving back to Seattle and getting involved in the community while hiking and dancing as much as possible along the way. Still working on the job aspect, it’s a bit tough when you were, you know, halfway around the world.

            Along the way I’ll also be making a few pit stops: in Scotland to walk across it (see last blog post), DC for a week with my best friend (next blog post), Seattle for my roommate’s wedding (I’m baking the wedding cake!), California for family time, and then road tripping back up to Seattle.  This blog will continue on if you’re still up for the ride!

            Phew. Sometimes I get tired just thinking about it. Oh, and don’t forget the three heavy pieces of luggage getting tugged along in wake...while on crutches. I sure won’t be able to.

            Thank you for being with me on this journey! Your support is so appreciated as I now know just how important the love of a community is. None of us can make it alone and from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  This beautiful year has sadly come to an end and in the months to come I’ll be needing that support more than ever in transitioning back to life in the US.

            But, as we all know, every ending is just a beginning in disguise.

            And, oh, this journey is far from over.

Mission: Accomplished!

You know you’re having a good day when your least favorite part of it is walking down a butterfly-and-sunlight strewn trail. Granted, it’s also mile 75 in four days and your body is staging a coup de tat to replace you with a hopefully less adventure-inclined counterpart.

While toward the end it might have gotten a bit questionable, WE DID IT!!!!!!! 4 days, 77 miles coast to coast, moonlight over Loch Ness, going a bit nuts, being grateful for ferns, story time, lots of pictures, miles of too-gorgeous trail, too much medi tape, some elephant ears, and a pair of crutches later...MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Maybe a little worse for wear, but definitely intact upon arrival in Inverness! I definitely couldn’t have made it alone, Blake and I carried each other through (sometimes literally) to the very end of the line. Unfortunately, on the train ride back my ankles decided to make good on their threat of revolt and officially went on strike. After walking off the train my left ankle completely gave out with the other not far behind. Thankfully, health care is FREE in Scotland and twenty minutes at the hospital, a host of pain meds, and a pair of crutches later I was diagnosed with some pretty angry tendons that will soon (hopefully) heal themselves.

It’s a strange feeling, making a dream come true. Surreal, still reeling when my brain wraps my head around the fact that we LITERALLY WALKED ACROSS A COUNTRY. I couldn’t have done it alone, that’s for sure. The one thing I do know is that this is only the beginning. Where to next? Who knows. But big things are definitely on the horizon.

Pictures tell this story better than I ever could:

Day 1: All strapped up and ready to go! If only we knew what was coming....

Break time on the canal

Hitting the trail by Loch Lochy

Loch Oich, almost too gorgeous to be real

Medical tape--the key to happiness on long hikes. Pretty sure it was what kept my feet together.

Mile 36: Already ready for the loony bin

Trail overlook Loch Ness

That moment when you stop in your tracks because the scene you're looking at couldn't possibly be real.

Day 5: I'm a gimp! SO WORTH IT.

So You Want To Walk Across Scotland?

Tomorrow I will start walking Scotland coast to coast. Yup, you read that right and no, I’m not crazy. Mulalo, my South African best friend, has endearingly called me “mpengo” (“crazy person” in Venda) since the day I suggested climbing Devil’s Peak four months ago. (finally got him to climb it with me last week, who’s the crazy one now??) While walking across a country may sound a bit crazy, there’s a story behind it.

As some of you may know, I have synovitus in my right knee from a bad dancing injury five years ago. My friend flipped me incorrectly and instead of landing on my feet my knee was slammed, with momentum, into the floor. Ouch. The swelling was so bad it was too painful to wear pants for a couple of weeks and there was talk of a cartilage tear in my knee joint. But without a conclusive answer, I refused to get surgery.

A while back, I finally went to a knee specialist and was told it was synovitus, swelling in the knee joint. He said that it was a common problem for young, active women. Yup, sounds like me. The bad news was that there is nothing to help it. The good news was that it usually went away on its own after a few years.

The thought of it going away had me so excited I was crying as I left the hospital. Crazy thoughts started whirling around my head as to what I would do without the injury if only I could. Because it seems to have answers to most everything in life, I went straight to the bookstore. Within ten minutes I had a huge National Geographic World Atlas book spread across the reading table, country maps soon followed. I wanted to see it all, walk over mountains, hike til my legs fell off. Because, hey, I’d be able to without pain.

And so, the idea of walking across a country was hatched and tomorrow it will become a reality. Coast to coast, miles of countryside, mountain tops, trails beckoning. The magic moment of my knee healing itself hasn’t come yet, but no matter.

I’ve started dreaming and I refuse to stop now.



What would you do if there was nothing holding you back?

I Am Because We Are

It’s official, I’ve left Cape Town :(

This year has been beautiful, it’s been a challenge, it’s been a mess, it’s been bigger and simpler and deeper than I ever could have imagined.

I am not the same.

People have walked into my life that have left their mark in a ways that I can barely put into words. The simple yet deeply real response I have is “thank you.” Thank you for accepting a lost American into your homes and hearts, thank you for laughing with me through the cross-cultural snafus and terribly cooked meals, thank you for letting me be witness to your lives.

Grace has truly carried me through this year. The grace of others through the ups and downs of accompaniment, grace for myself allowing my heart to feel deeply every bump in the road.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s of the beauty of community. I could never have made it through this journey alone. It’s been an adventure in itself learning to rely so much on others. The real beauty came in discovering just how powerful the love of a community can be in making us wiser, stronger, more vulnerable, more loving than we could ever have been on our own.

South Africans have a word that captures the heart of this idea, Ubuntu—“I am because we are.” It speaks to the truth that our humanity is dependent upon others to share it with, that the health of any individual is dependent upon the health of the community and vice versa. Stepping into this community so many months ago I had no idea how radically I would change. The unconditional, welcoming love of my family and others has given me the confidence to become more than I was—stronger, passionate, more open, vulnerable, rooted, loving. I became more because the quiet (yet sometimes sassy, outspoken) Ubuntu love of my community believed that I could.

Goodbye for now, Cape Town. Thank you for welcoming me, shaking up my life, and changing it for the better.

To those I love—in California, DC, Seattle, and Cape Town—see you again soon.

Taste the Rainbow

After begging for pap and chakalaka for dinner last night I paused mid-cheer this morning upon discovering a fresh pack of rooti in the fridge. My, how things have changed. If you had asked me a year ago what chakalaka was I’d probably have given an answer similar to my dad’s:

“Dad! Guess what! I’m making chakalaka for dinner!”
“Chocolate for dinner? Isn’t that bad for you?”

Now, I can’t get enough of braai (barbeque), am in love with all things fish, and have learned just about all of the ways to cook butternut squash. My friend Mulalo laughed when he caught me licking the grease off my fingers from eating some incredible fried chicken with gravy, “Jen, are you sure you were ever vegetarian? I’m not sure I believe you.” From Monkey Gland sauce to lamb curry to rooti to Gatsbys—call me a convert, my heart is sold.

Of course, I’m also taking every opportunity to learn how to cook the fantastic cuisine of the Rainbow Nation. My host mom has been helping with that while she and my host dad have gracefully pretended to like all of the culinary experiments served along the way. Perhaps the best moment came after a surprise success of a meal complete with dessert. I’d never seen my host dad look so content and he rushed in to while I was cleaning up in the kitchen.

“Jen, very good, Jen. It’s okay for you to get married now. I give you permission.”


Chakalaka (hey, maybe this can be your husband-catcher recipe too): 50 ml canola oil
30 g chopped fresh ginger
30 g chopped fresh garlic
20 g chopped chili peppers
200 g chopped onions
500 g tomatoes, roughly chopped
100 g green peppers, roughly chopped
100 g red peppers, roughly chopped
50 g leaves masala
200 g grated carrots
450 g baked beans, in tomato sauce
10 g fresh coriander

Directions:

1 Fry ginger, garlic, chillis, onions in the oil.
2 Add the leaf masala or curry powder of your choice.
3 Add the tomatoes and cook for 10 minutes.
4 Add peppers and carrots and cook for 10 minutes. Add baked beans and cook for 5 minutes.
5 Remove from heat and add coriander. Check seasoning. Serve with whatever you want, hot or cold.

I'm a Woman, Not a Piece of Meat

I should probably wait to start writing but I can’t help it, I’m angry. Today, walking down the street in broad daylight, an elderly man spanked me. Strike one, not a way to get on my good side. I spun around and said “No!” firmly and loudly to express that harassment is not okay. He winked at me with a cheeky little “I know you liked it” grin in response. Strike two. Good thing he didn’t hit strike three because I don’t think either of us would have liked the result.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been sexually harassed for the seditious act of walking down the street nor is it hardly a South Africa-specific problem. I’ve been stalked in Germany and Belgium, asked for three-somes from strangers in Swaziland, stalked by car in New York, felt up in taxis in South Africa, and held down and kissed against my will in Spain (twenty feet from waiting cab drivers, none of whom felt like helping). I’m sick of it. I’m utterly sick of swallowing it, walking on, and pretending like nothing happened.

I have a high sense of self worth and am confident in who I am, my accomplishments, and goals for the future. But nothing brings that down faster than having all that I worked so hard for ignored for the shell of a body I walk around in—to be grabbed, spanked, felt up by strangers like I am nothing more than an object. I weary of carrying pepper spray with me every time I head out the door. It’s small and light but the implications of why I need it are heavy.

There’s a shame attached to harassment that keeps us quiet, like somehow it was our fault. It kept me quiet, but it’s reached the point where I just can’t any more. Since I was young its been taught to me that covering up is an essential part of being safe—a rule I ardently stick to. I’m sick of this culture, of clothing or time of night putting blame on the girl when it was someone else who initiated the action of disrespect or violence. Please, someone, have the audacity to ask me if I was wearing a skimpy dress or shorts any of the times I’ve been harassed. We talk to our daughters about covering up, but how often do we talk to our sons about respect?

Maybe I’m crazy for dreaming of a world where women don’t have to walk alone with fear or where “It’s a dress, not a yes!” posters aren’t on third grade classroom walls. Until then, I’ll carry my pepper spray but I won’t stay silent any longer.

A Glimpse into Life in Bellville

I realized that since moving to Bellville I haven't shared yet where my time is spent. Here is a glimpse at the places and people in my life:

Bellville Youth Center
Officially titled House Erich Leistner, the Bellville Youth Center is a student hostel attached to the Bellville Lutheran Church. With a spacious meeting hall, they also host community outreach event and church functions. My pastor asked me to move to help with the center’s development in assisting the new director with administration, outreach, and event planning. It’s fun work and I get to stay at the hostel with the students.

We recently hosted a huge Mother’s Day Buffet and it was rewarding to get to see all of our hard work turn into a packed hall full of happy families and fantastic food. It was the first outreach/multi-church event and a wonderful way to bring together people from over five churches in the area. After the smash success of our Mother’s Day event we already have plans for a Father’s Day braai (barbeque), a Youth Day gathering, and a wonderful Women’s Day event planned for the upcoming months.

It’s wonderful to be a part of the church reaching out into the community and bringing people together outside of Sunday service. Living with the students has given me many new friendships as well through playing guitar, going to rugby matches, and watching South African soap operas together.


Women of Worth
Women of Worth is a women and children’s empowerment center in Bellville South. They are a multifaceted organization run by incredibly passionate women dedicated to make a real difference in their community.

Several skills-based classes are taught out of the center including comprehensive sewing, beading, fabric painting, mosaic, and handicrafts. It’s wonderful to spend time at the center and have women stop in to talk about how they are able to support themselves financially because of the skills they have learned at the center.

They also are aware of the needs of women in the area and serve as a resource base for women looking for counseling, support, or social services. Several personal development sessions are also held on the premises along with business classes to support women on their way to financial and emotional independence no matter their situation.

My favorite part of working with the WOW center is spending time with their after school program. They reach out to girls in local schools to provide positive role models and a safe environment for discussing women’s issues. We talk about healthy relationships, encourage dreams, and spend a lot of time laughing together.

It’s been inspiring walking with women so passionate about working for real change in their community. I truly look up to them and hope to live out their passion in my own life!

You Know You're In Cape Town If...

Lunch today was spectacular: a huge box of greasy, soggy chips (fries) doused in salt and vinegar from the fish n’ chips joint down the street. Soggy to the point of falling apart, classic Cape style. Soggy, nutritious (maybe), delicious. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I began to view chips as an adequate lunch choice but I’m pretty sure it comes from months of living in Cape Town where this is a classic norm. This realization got me thinking of other Cape quirks…

You know you’re in Cape Town if…
-your favorite fish n’ chips joint has a customer sink in the corner to rinse off the grease after eating your meal
-you orient yourself based off Table Mountain
-you live everyday in the shadow of Table Mountain but have absolutely no inclination of climbing it and consider the thought far too much exercise
-you’ve swum with a penguin
-you have no idea who Gatsby is or why he was Great but you adore the foot long everything-in-the-cupboard subs named after him
-you love curry and Cape Malay dishes but can’t stand spicy food
-chip rolls (a roll stuffed with French fries) are a normal meal
-braai (bbq) is standard for any and all events from church fundraisers to baby showers to Christmas (it’s absolutely FANTASTIC food, this is my favorite)
-pickled fish is the standard meal for all of Easter Weekend
-you don’t even bother with umbrellas because the South Easter wind has already destroyed your last two
-you’ve figured out “taxi-speak” and can effectively translate what they yell at your from their speeding vans. Ex: “MOWBRAY-COP!!!”=Cape Town, “BI-ELVUL!!!”=Bellville.

If most apply, you’re probably lucky enough to find yourself in Cape Town. The quirks and wonderful people are part of what make the city so loveable. Well, and least I’m smitten.

Little Worker Be

Sitting still has never been my forte. Playing, skipping, dancing, climbing mountains, meeting new people, walking in sunshine, and playing on the beach have always been much better alternatives. It’s a spirit of movement and moving forward and doing things that has come to define me and my outlook on life. As a kid my dad had a game he liked to call “Still” which consisted of him forcing me to sit down and be quiet when I got too rowdy. You can see where this is going. Struggling and yelling, the “game” lasted until I gave up and was actually quiet, giving some much-needed relief and peace for everyone else in the room. The sight must have been pretty amusing to the rest of the world but within my little six-year-old heart it felt like torture.

Coming to South Africa has in some ways felt like “Still” 2.0: lifestyle challenge. One of the main tenets of the Youth and Global Missions program I’m a part of is the saying “Be, not Do”. Hear it enough times at orientation and it begins to sound like an old do-be-do-be-do Motown jam that still doesn’t make any sense. Be? Not do? But doing has been a part of what defines me! I love to make things happen and pursue crazy dreams and am constantly on the move! Shifting my focus to being with my community rather than doing things for my community was a foreign concept.

On my third cup of tea already, hands covered in black paint from a fifth repainting of boxes, I gave up and took a good look around at the other six women in the room at the W.O.W. (Women of Wisdom) women’s center. All smiling, most laughing, relaxed, chatting, the smell over over-sugared coffee overpowering the room. And not a single one of them doing anything remotely “productive.” For a moment I was frustrated, but then a thought occurred to me. I’d kept myself busy for the past two hours but had I really done anything worthwhile?

A smiling glance from Caroline, a quiet, joyful intern caught me. Chatting to a woman in the sewing skills class, their conversation had been going on in rapid Afrikaans for the last half hour. The mission of the WOW center is to “inspire women and give them the support to achieve their best potential.” Painting boxes for the upcoming market day—helpful, but not exactly inspiring. Being friendly and building relationships with women in the community no matter the socioeconomic differences, encouraging each other and listening deeply—now that’s what I would call inspiring. And worth much more than any little thing I could do for the organization.

Life Updates and Gratitude

Life has changed quite a bit since the last time I’ve written, time for an update!

At the beginning of last month my pastor here moved me to Bellville, a suburb about thirty minutes away. It’s still technically Cape Town (the city HUGE, the size of the entire peninsula) and is a bigger urban center than Athlone, where I’ve been living. Haven’t gotten a chance to explore much quite yet, but I have discovered the fantastic chicken place down the street which is enough for now. He has asked me to volunteer now for the Bellville Lutheran Youth Center to help with their program development. It’s fun work that I love doing, I get to organize community outreach, help plan events, and help develop the internal workings of the organization to make it more efficient.

Moving is never easy, and it was very sad leaving my family behind. In some ways it felt like starting all over again because it took a couple weeks before figuring out how to get around without getting lost. I am staying at the center’s youth hostel which is currently being used as student housing. In some ways it feels like being back in college but having people to hang out with all the time has been fun.

A few days a week I also go in to a women’s center nearby to volunteer. They’re a really neat organization and work to empower women in many ways, but primarily economically. Many skills-based and business classes are offered along with educational outreach about parenting and domestic violence. They also host afterschool programs for girls in the local community. The ladies are a feisty, dedicated bunch and it’s been fun spending time with them and hearing their stories.

Throughout all of the big changes I’ve been trying to focus on an outlook of gratitude rather than being overwhelmed by circumstances. Yes, I’m in a new place, starting over, and away from the families I’ve come to love but at the same time I’ve gained an opportunity to learn and connect with a new place. I’m grateful so far for the new friendships, opportunity to witness life at the women’s center, and to walk with the Bellville community for a little while.

It’s easy to be overwhelmed with life when things go out of our control, but living in gratitude reminds us just how fortunate we are no matter our circumstances. It’s a lesson I’m still learning and with grace trying to walk in more each day.

And while I’m sharing in gratitude, let me take a moment to say thank you to each of you following this blog. Thank you for listening, for your support, and for being part of the bigger story spreading God’s love in the world. Sometimes just simply listening is the biggest gift we can give.

God's World, Our Church

In the view off the height of the mountain, in the smile of Tameron learning to read, in the singing of hymns on Sunday, God is in each of these moments.

I don’t know where I got the idea that God is only in the church. Something about church being called the “House of God” and the beautiful, ethereal sanctuaries we build for Him makes it feel as if the only place He would want to live is in such places. Truthfully though, people didn’t give God a permanent “home” until Solomon came along and stationed his gorgeous temple in the solid ground of Israel’s soil. From there on, the rest is history.

But God is so much bigger than that. He is everywhere. He promises to be with us, through Jesus, “even unto the end of the age.” Wherever we go, He is there. The thought is at once comforting and huge. If God is with us everywhere, then in each moment we have the chance to grow closer to Him and embody the love that He wants most from us.

Living here in South Africa, it’s funny to find that some of my most meaningful “God moments” have happened outside of church services. Athlone Primary North, the school I’ve been helping at, is about as far from looking like a church as you can get. With baby blue walls, a class bell that sounds like a tornado warning, and hundreds of children running around there’s hardly a moment of peace for quiet reflection. There isn’t a meeting place or auditorium, no stained glass. And I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a church with dinosaur posters in the hallways.

Despite all that, God’s love is everywhere inside. If you’ve ever worked with kids, you know that it’s not always easy to show patience and love to them unconditionally, especially when they’re en masse. Put a class of 37 eight and nine year olds together and you’ve got a recipe for chaos. Talk about walking the talk and the challenge of putting God’s love into action. At first it was exhausting giving them the kind of unconditional love that Jesus set the example for us to walk in. But like any muscle, the heart gets stronger with use.

One little girl in particular, Tameron, really gave Ms. Tshivhase and I a hard time. She was loud, wandered the classroom like it was her playground, and had the annoying habit of hitting the kid next to her with her ruler. As if we didn’t have enough crying kids on a daily basis. To be able to give more attention to the rest of the class, Ms. Tshivhase asked me to take Tameron on as my personal project in tutoring and helping her behave. The first time she came to the back of the class to work with me, her frizzy pigtail braids bouncing as she skipped, all I could think was, “here comes trouble.”

It only took a couple of reading sessions with her to break the ice. After reading each word she would snap her head up to look at me with a “did I do that right?” stare. Genuine encouragement became easier to give each time I worked with her and pretty soon, we both looked forward to time together. Getting over my initial prejudices to show her love not only let me experience the joy of showing God’s love in the world but also did wonders to Tameron’s behavior issues. After a couple of weeks she became one of the most dedicated students in the class and even became the week’s Class Captain for good behavior.

On Valentine’s Day a purple, heart-shaped cut out ended up on my desk with “b my valentin?” scrawled messily across it in crayon. Somewhere between “here comes trouble” and that day, God’s love had come between and created something beautiful. For me it was a moment in which God’s love was made tangible, a reminder that we can encounter Him everyday in the most unexpected of places.

Just as God created the world, loves everyone in it, and is everywhere on it, so are we called to show His love wherever we go. Inside and outside of the church, experiencing the love of God can happen in very real ways wherever we find ourselves.

Of Flower Bonnets and Freedom Fighters

Wind ruffles the peach flower petals in Jenny’s Sunday Best bonnet while elderly Mrs. Matthews sniffles at the breeze. Buttered hot dog rolls and immaculately sliced watermelon are passed across the picnic table with polite offers of soft drinks. The three older women swap recipes for egg salad as the shade tree’s leaves rustle softly overhead. It’s a perfect 28°C on a lazy Thursday afternoon and somehow I’ve found myself in the midst of retired, feisty freedom fighters. It’d been months since the initial invitation and plans had finally fallen together to spend an afternoon together. Vivian rolled up in her white sedan that had seen better days and cheerfully told me that some of her friends would be joining us as well. By the time Jenny and Mrs. Matthews had squeezed into the car in all their flowery-bonnet-hatted glory, I had quite resigned myself to the idea of a quiet afternoon out with the Golden Girls. But somewhere between the hard-boiled eggs and puff pastries stories slowly slipped into conversation... “We hid several of them at the Youth Center, right in plain sight! Disguised as visiting volunteers, they were.” “I only went to prison for a little while because they kept confusing me with another lady, sent her to prison instead. Poor girl. They didn’t need proof, just wanted to scare people into being quiet.” “The police knew me by then but thankfully we got away without any raids, they’d have for sure done us in.” Jenny slyly drops me a wink across and for a moment the strong willed and zealous younger woman shines through. She’s no longer past sixty, but young and passionate and willing to do whatever it takes to fight for what is right. Yet the ordinariness of the three women around me feels like a piece of hope. If they could change their world, why not us? Apartheid was ended when everyday people got involved and started standing up against injustice. They had families, careers, homes to lose yet still they did what they knew was right for themselves and their nation. They were inspired by injustice, stood their ground, fought, won, and still managed to make it to glorious retirements full of picnics and friendships and flowery bonnets. It makes me wonder, how much could our world be changed if each of us found something worth standing up for—and actually did something about it? Speeding down side streets on the way home, Vivian looks sidelong at me and laughs deeply. Getting caught is no worry. “They can’t scare me with prison, I’ve already been there!”

A Confession

It’s true. I, Jen Jepsen, the pre-South Africa vegetarian (1.5 years!), reluctantly admit that I have rediscovered my love of barbeque. And hotdogs. And fish ‘n chips. And real hamburgers.

Back to School!

“Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”


Forgive the Shakespeare, I just saw A Midsummer Night's Dream on Monday and am still on a Shakespeare kick.

School’s back in session! The kids were more than excited to get their break back in December and it’s sad for all of us to say goodbye to the summer holidays. Overall, I feel pretty darn lucky to get TWO summer breaks in one year. Sounds almost too good to be true, eh?

The last class started out the year in their old classroom which meant getting TONS of hugs from the kids I grew to love over three long months working hard and playing hard with them. When the newest bunch came in there was a weird feeling of “I’m going to love these children soon.” At that point I couldn’t even pronounce all their names (give Sibusiso, Umulo Kiara, Luqmaan, and Kuhle a try) and they were already getting pretty riley with first-day jitters.

By now it’s the third week of school and we’ve already started with the reading assessments and funny songs. Already I’m getting hugs and excited “Jen!”s when I come to the classroom. Handing out all the stickers in class and play with them at breaks has that side effect, it isn’t hard to win kids’ affection.

Here’s a picture of the teacher I work with, Mrs. Tshivhase! She’s a truly inspiring, strong woman single handedly raising her own family of four girls. Working with her has been a true inspiration in the dedication she shows to her students inside and outside of the classroom. Mrs. Tshivhase is a phenomenal teacher and already has me half convinced to become a teacher myself. This photo was taken by me for a book about South African teachers.

A Second Look at Unemployment

Walking laps around the house for no reason, watching an entire 3 seasons of a TV show, resorting to watching terribly made (yet terribly entertaining) Bollywood movies…. With December summer holidays came a LOT of free time, almost more than I felt like I knew what to do with. In sitting around the house, having little money to go anywhere, going through all the stages of not know what to do with myself set in. I’m “employed” but mandatorily on break during school holiday.

In getting frustrated with all the free time, it got me to thinking about what it is like to be unemployed and to have that much time free on a regular basis. Feeling ready and able to help but having nowhere to go was frustrating. Going through that on a small, temporary scale, it’s hard to even imagine the depth of frustration in having a family to feed/being properly educated/having ambition and simply not being able to get a job.

Unemployment is a rising issue, especially with the economic downturn of the last few years, but it never became personal until coming here. The rates are staggering, reaching almost 80% in some areas. Cape Town hovers between 25-40% which is better but still crushing when you think of its scale. The youth without jobs too often find themselves in trouble which is partly why my neighborhood isn’t safe. Without other means of getting money gangsterism thrives in Cape Flats and feeds off the drug use happening in lower income areas.

The perceptions too often of the “laziness” of people in other countries is also tied up with unemployment. Yes, it’s true that a large percentage of people here don’t have jobs. Yes, they do often sit at home because of that or find themselves sitting in the streets for lack of better things to do. But it’s sobering to realize that it’s not cultural “laziness” but a lack of a place to go and work. It has nothing with lack of desire to work. Hearing the stories of people wanting to work but stuck in unemployment brings a whole new face to the issue.

Disturb Us, O Lord

A powerful prayer from South African priest and freedom fighter, Desmond Tutu:
Disturb us, O Lord
when we are too well-pleased with ourselves
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little,
because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, O Lord
when with the abundance of things we possess,
we have lost our thirst for the water of life
when, having fallen in love with time,
we have ceased to dream of eternity
and in our efforts to build a new earth,
we have allowed our vision of Heaven to grow dim.

Stir us, O Lord
to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas
where storms show Thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.

In the name of Him who pushed back the horizons of our hopes
and invited the brave to follow.
Amen