tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51524480218482510202024-03-12T21:52:29.222-07:00Jen, Meet Cape TownJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-84670353505306602702013-07-31T19:34:00.000-07:002013-07-31T19:34:02.195-07:00What's Next?
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If I had a
Cadbury bar each time someone asked me that question (if only), I would be one
fat, happy girl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This blog will continue on if you’re still up
for the ride!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But, as we
all know, every ending is just a beginning in disguise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And, oh,
this journey is far from over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-37134292859955037112013-07-24T19:46:00.005-07:002013-07-24T19:46:59.257-07:00Mission: 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. <br />
<br />
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! <br />
<br />
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.
<br />
<br />
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.
<br />
<br />
Pictures tell this story better than I ever could:
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZ1R-_42i3wMSRGKzeaXyeCZFFZzAUUnHmF_QTyd9AYbEq_iIJqYqErGmCPDJpHVLzNrHroEaMgLt2-sI0xInBDtNWnbP6Duow2zQ-O3w7yUEM6oox_KvVyYnS9z_Q9DKcflDC9DuT6A/s1600/DSC_0664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZ1R-_42i3wMSRGKzeaXyeCZFFZzAUUnHmF_QTyd9AYbEq_iIJqYqErGmCPDJpHVLzNrHroEaMgLt2-sI0xInBDtNWnbP6Duow2zQ-O3w7yUEM6oox_KvVyYnS9z_Q9DKcflDC9DuT6A/s320/DSC_0664.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Day 1: All strapped up and ready to go! If only we knew what was coming....</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZM-CRegF6rCBe7eCbHiFD3k4upMap1Ha9MC-LHH9DIOq9fjUy6tO3-24Dp2sy0E0p6gnzwCtt3KJ6Ge3gVPM8XsQw8A0nHDCWTpa6x-QCE-uz45KWGFacXytUweHZI0u7TzPQVGOiyQ/s1600/DSC_0633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZM-CRegF6rCBe7eCbHiFD3k4upMap1Ha9MC-LHH9DIOq9fjUy6tO3-24Dp2sy0E0p6gnzwCtt3KJ6Ge3gVPM8XsQw8A0nHDCWTpa6x-QCE-uz45KWGFacXytUweHZI0u7TzPQVGOiyQ/s320/DSC_0633.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Break time on the canal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitting the trail by Loch Lochy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_gJbpLSGk7pGIhDQ5ioEsDssIk_rXYTOeKIZH1E1COG5epU1uJpq8sH3or7r_2XJjHH8aF0ET6wVdfJ4dnUAOx7mbudUvNHln1ghKiB6hEnd83Jf8ppqwX_7gHi0JbO1EZxO9incvwg/s1600/DSC_0742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_gJbpLSGk7pGIhDQ5ioEsDssIk_rXYTOeKIZH1E1COG5epU1uJpq8sH3or7r_2XJjHH8aF0ET6wVdfJ4dnUAOx7mbudUvNHln1ghKiB6hEnd83Jf8ppqwX_7gHi0JbO1EZxO9incvwg/s320/DSC_0742.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loch Oich, almost too gorgeous to be real</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medical tape--the key to happiness on long hikes. Pretty sure it was what kept my feet together.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 36: Already ready for the loony bin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-c4V45EKX-H-f4xvhf5OBduwD0_El-3o-dS3Hkap_A0onA73oUs_lrUIzRiwGz96RIRo2hl9bY-_DvHpu_9wJru_K6T7PXhYIqrwT3y8zXK2Y1zJtLvAv9lW6kBlQcc0lCyrxll0P40/s1600/DSC_0835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-c4V45EKX-H-f4xvhf5OBduwD0_El-3o-dS3Hkap_A0onA73oUs_lrUIzRiwGz96RIRo2hl9bY-_DvHpu_9wJru_K6T7PXhYIqrwT3y8zXK2Y1zJtLvAv9lW6kBlQcc0lCyrxll0P40/s320/DSC_0835.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail overlook Loch Ness</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyHMDFb3H11MpWypvo5fGukOFVSKNdxKTtNw1jOTqnZxXV-Mw6gktAADyPTm2ojYJJT4mAGU8mUUIYvb2hYTO34sv0rdtNJbKj8SJtQ02xyehdEpQ3nV1ARdaEbha8vLd8qAeiKLINYU/s1600/DSC_0860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyHMDFb3H11MpWypvo5fGukOFVSKNdxKTtNw1jOTqnZxXV-Mw6gktAADyPTm2ojYJJT4mAGU8mUUIYvb2hYTO34sv0rdtNJbKj8SJtQ02xyehdEpQ3nV1ARdaEbha8vLd8qAeiKLINYU/s320/DSC_0860.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That moment when you stop in your tracks because the scene you're looking at couldn't possibly be real.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MSrsFFRET2q6diaXZqFQwbLA7VCtI56AeDdVgdW1OYmb-iZuoZwAnukh1J3yyjL8EhzbkV9-XDN1OpN1MMBt3dLCrTB6qUgoM12f46ViFzb4L138wjHCHR39KF-Yn1eG4PQCPbwZepM/s1600/DSC_0864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MSrsFFRET2q6diaXZqFQwbLA7VCtI56AeDdVgdW1OYmb-iZuoZwAnukh1J3yyjL8EhzbkV9-XDN1OpN1MMBt3dLCrTB6qUgoM12f46ViFzb4L138wjHCHR39KF-Yn1eG4PQCPbwZepM/s320/DSC_0864.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 10px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 14px; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">Day 5: I'm a gimp! SO WORTH IT.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-90505401783376181052013-07-16T21:00:00.000-07:002013-07-16T21:00:06.719-07:00So 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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
I’ve started dreaming and I refuse to stop now.
<br><br>
<br><br>
What would you do if there was nothing holding you back?
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-66373879624296956442013-07-11T15:25:00.001-07:002013-07-11T15:25:50.935-07:00I Am Because We AreIt’s official, I’ve left Cape Town :( <br><br>
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. <br><br>
I am not the same. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
Goodbye for now, Cape Town. Thank you for welcoming me, shaking up my life, and changing it for the better. <br><br>
To those I love—in California, DC, Seattle, and Cape Town—see you again soon.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-74325822709536515282013-07-03T15:49:00.001-07:002013-07-03T15:49:14.907-07:00Taste the RainbowAfter 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: <br><br>
“Dad! Guess what! I’m making chakalaka for dinner!” <br>
“Chocolate for dinner? Isn’t that bad for you?”
<br><br>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.
<br><br>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.
<br><br> “Jen, very good, Jen. It’s okay for you to get married now. I give you permission.”
<br><br> <br>
Chakalaka (hey, maybe this can be your husband-catcher recipe too):
50 ml canola oil<br>
30 g chopped fresh ginger<br>
30 g chopped fresh garlic<br>
20 g chopped chili peppers<br>
200 g chopped onions<br>
500 g tomatoes, roughly chopped<br>
100 g green peppers, roughly chopped
<br>
100 g red peppers, roughly chopped
<br>
50 g leaves masala
<br>
200 g grated carrots
<br>
450 g baked beans, in tomato sauce
<br>
10 g fresh coriander
<br><br>
Directions:
<br><br>
1
Fry ginger, garlic, chillis, onions in the oil.
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2
Add the leaf masala or curry powder of your choice.
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3
Add the tomatoes and cook for 10 minutes.
<br>
4
Add peppers and carrots and cook for 10 minutes. Add baked beans and cook for 5 minutes.
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5
Remove from heat and add coriander. Check seasoning. Serve with whatever you want, hot or cold.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-44487889683606270552013-06-28T15:05:00.001-07:002013-06-28T15:05:00.795-07:00I'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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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? <br> <br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-36130931678078518142013-06-04T09:55:00.004-07:002013-06-04T09:55:58.078-07:00A Glimpse into Life in BellvilleI 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:
<br><br>
Bellville Youth Center
<br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br><br>
Women of Worth<br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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!
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-35853567162949088482013-05-11T05:29:00.001-07:002013-05-11T05:29:46.982-07:00You 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…
<br><br>
You know you’re in Cape Town if…
<br> -your favorite fish n’ chips joint has a customer sink in the corner to rinse off the grease after eating your meal
<br> -you orient yourself based off Table Mountain
<br> -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
<br> -you’ve swum with a penguin
<br> -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
<br> -you love curry and Cape Malay dishes but can’t stand spicy food
<br> -chip rolls (a roll stuffed with French fries) are a normal meal
<br> -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)
<br> -pickled fish is the standard meal for all of Easter Weekend
<br> -you don’t even bother with umbrellas because the South Easter wind has already destroyed your last two
<br> -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.
<br><br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-76380101525037182862013-04-19T06:13:00.001-07:002013-04-19T06:13:19.458-07:00Little Worker BeSitting 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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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? <br><br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-69639340261486691132013-04-09T12:41:00.001-07:002013-04-09T12:41:28.846-07:00Life Updates and GratitudeLife has changed quite a bit since the last time I’ve written, time for an update! <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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. <br><br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-18625842815534615442013-03-31T07:51:00.001-07:002013-03-31T07:51:48.205-07:00God's World, Our ChurchIn 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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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.” <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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. <br> <br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-78193933221208380972013-02-13T00:59:00.001-08:002013-02-13T00:59:10.986-08:00Of 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!”
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-73281917620502971812013-02-13T00:58:00.001-08:002013-02-13T00:58:23.932-08:00A ConfessionIt’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.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-90598945200666219492013-01-26T04:47:00.000-08:002013-01-26T04:47:21.648-08:00Back to School!“Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”
<br><br><br>
Forgive the Shakespeare, I just saw A Midsummer Night's Dream on Monday and am still on a Shakespeare kick.
<br><br>
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? <br><br>
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.<br><br>
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.
<br><br> 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.
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-23161150978200651392013-01-26T04:44:00.001-08:002013-01-26T04:44:27.725-08:00A Second Look at UnemploymentWalking 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. <br><br>
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.
<br><br>
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. <br><br>
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.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-18424349101883297802013-01-14T03:36:00.001-08:002013-01-14T03:36:46.518-08:00Disturb Us, O LordA powerful prayer from South African priest and freedom fighter, Desmond Tutu: <br>
Disturb us, O Lord <br>
when we are too well-pleased with ourselves <br>
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little, <br>
because we sailed too close to the shore. <br><br>
Disturb us, O Lord <br>
when with the abundance of things we possess, <br>
we have lost our thirst for the water of life <br>
when, having fallen in love with time, <br>
we have ceased to dream of eternity <br>
and in our efforts to build a new earth, <br>
we have allowed our vision of Heaven to grow dim.<br><br>
Stir us, O Lord <br>
to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas <br>
where storms show Thy mastery, <br>
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars. <br> <br>
In the name of Him who pushed back the horizons of our hopes <br>
and invited the brave to follow. <br>
Amen
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-28235523678215156722012-12-26T15:53:00.001-08:002012-12-26T15:53:54.671-08:00Christmas South African Style
Christmas here turned out to be pretty similar to home—lots of food, lots of family, lots and lots of food. Just the meat included seafood, prawns, stuffed chicken, pineapple chicken, beef, leg of lamb, tongue. Ya, you read that right. My host mom asked me to carry over a closed container next door to the feast table, I open it and there’s a two-foot long tongue in all its glory innocently licking the pan. I nearly dropped the pan in surprise. <br><br>
I made all the deserts for the day which included pumpkin fritters, a couple of huge Christmas trifles, and my specialty peach cake. If you’re up for some pure joy in culinary form, here are a couple of the recipes for you. Enjoy!
<br><br>
Pumpkin Fritters <br>
-pumpkin, boiled and mashed (a pre-made can would probably work) <br>
-sugar<br>
-cinnamon (nutmeg might be a nice addition) <br>
-flour<br>
-eggs<br>
-baking powder<br>
<br><br>
1. Attempt to cut the pumpkin. Look cute until someone(my host dad) takes the knife away and cuts it all up for you. To cook pumpkin chunks, heat up pan with butter and oil, when hot put in rinsed/water soaked pumpkin pieces and cook til soft. Mash like there’s no tomorrow. <br>
2. When cool mix in a couple of eggs, a pinch of baking powder, cinnamon, and lots of sugar to taste. Add flour until it’s a thick batter consistency. <br>
3. Heat a pan on medium-low with oil. Drop in a few large spoon fulls at a time and let each side cook until firm. The middle will be soft and it will turn out thicker than a pancake. <br>
4. De-grease with paper towels carefully. When cool dip in cinnamon sugar.
5. Gluttonously eat all of them before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away.
<br><br>
Christmas Trifle<br>
-sponge cake<br>
-sherry<br>
-several jello flavors<br>
-custard<br>
-whipped cream<br>
-fruit
<br><br>
1. Prepare about three flavors(the more colors the better) of jell-o and set in the freezer. <br>
2. In a large serving bowl (glass looks best) layer sponge cake until the bottom is fully covered. <br>
3. Pour sherry on top until the cake is just about soaked on all sides.
4. Put a layer of fruit on top, canned fruit cocktail works well. <br>
5. Take jell-o out of the freezer. It should be thick without being solid having not set yet. Pour in color layers over the fruit. <br>
6. Layer custard then whipped cream, completely covering the pan. <br>
7. Decorate as desired. Cherries on top are the traditional decoration.
<br><br>
I haven’t had measuring cups since coming here so bear with me and make your own judgments. They’re both delicious so enjoy :)
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-7348828241163095662012-12-26T15:50:00.000-08:002012-12-26T15:50:53.172-08:00Some Long Awaited PicturesHere's a view into what my life here looks like :)
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Ready? 1, 2, 3 AWWWWW. All the kids got dressed up for the school concert. It was adorable chaos.
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I made all the flower face masks and they loved showing them off.
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When all of us volunteers got together for the retreat we went hiking in the Drakensberg mountains. This is where they originally wanted to film Lord of the Rings.
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Look! We climbed Table Mountain! This is taken from the top after our hike with Cape Town in the background.
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For Christmas the 8 year old next door, Tshialidzi, and I made hot pink, fairy dust sprinkled cookies. Things got a little messy along the way.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-75498505827360490672012-12-21T12:12:00.001-08:002012-12-21T12:12:01.332-08:00Dreaming of a White Christmas
It’s a scorching 34°, the sun is shining, summer is just heating up…perfect timing to take out the snowflake-covered Christmas decorations. Wait, what? Snowflakes? Snowmen? Picturesque cottages all nestled in snow and pine trees? With all this heat I doubt even a snow cone would last very long. <br><br>
All I can say is I feel incredibly sorry for the poor man in a fur-lined Santa suit as I’m sweating in my shorts. He deserves and a raise and an ice cream cone. <br><br>
When I came halfway around the world I guess I expected things to be a lot more different. Don’t get me wrong, South Africa is incredibly unique and vibrant in its diverse cultures, long history, breath taking landscapes, and mix of languages. But no matter how far away it is, Westernization still plays a huge role in modern culture here. It can be seen in the music on the radio (the same I blasted this summer around CA), the hair extensions that look like smooth European hair, face bleach creams, and, yes, even the visions of Christmas. Pictures of snow and pine trees for the holiday sure didn’t originate here, that’s for sure. Oh, and I still haven’t heard anything about Kwanza. <br><br>
While as Westerners we may not have planned for our culture to be broadcast around the world that doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening. There are always gains to be had from learning about other cultures, but what about when it is one-sided? We rarely see African movies/music/stories/photos (other than those of hungry children and safari animals). What is lost in the process? <br><br>
There’s no way change what’s happening but we can make it more even—to take the effort to listen to what’s happening around the world, hear their stories, learn from their experiences. <br><br>
Maybe it’s our turn to return the favor and simply pay attention.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-90714187629958404702012-12-21T12:11:00.001-08:002012-12-21T12:11:36.988-08:00Time in the WildernessNothing quite screams “camp” like a simple cabin put out in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. Add in a group of high schoolers, a bunch of unhealthy food, Bible studies, rocks to climb, baboon warnings, and some firewood and you’re good to go. <br><br>
A couple of weeks ago I had the chance to help run my church’s high school Confirmation Camp out in the mountains for the weekend. Shane, a pastor-in-training from a nearby town, and I coordinated the whole endeavor and it went of surprisingly well. We even got to see wildlife! I saw plenty of it in the form of sleepy high schoolers at wake up time, but we also caught a glimpse of a huge baboon family while driving on the way out. I’m pretty sure this is the one and only time in my life I’ve had to seriously factor baboons into an event I’m planning. They can be quite the troublemakers and we weren’t sure if they’d be feisty enough to ruin our bonfire plans. <br><br>
It was humbling though to be part of such an incredible experience for the kids. As city slickers few had spent time (or wanted to) so far away in nature. There were a couple of teens committed to turning their lives around after being in gangs too and to watch them experience swimming in a river for the first time was great. One made it from shore to water in ten seconds flat and began yelling “I’m a fish! I’m a fish!” as soon as he started sinking to the bottom, gleefully smiling all the while. <br><br>
Beyond all that though, the time away from everyday life was a reminder of how much God speaks through the wilderness. It’s an opportunity to be quiet and simply listen that doesn’t get to happen often in our busy lives. On the final day Shane and I sent them out to the wilderness to pray after the final Bible study. <br><br>
It’s funny, I spent the whole weekend surrounded by towering mountains, a gorgeous river, and the quiet of star-filled skies. But the most beautiful thing I saw all weekend was watching one of the reforming gang members sitting with his Bible on a nearby rock query and looking up to heaven.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-64510703480100380852012-12-06T14:54:00.001-08:002012-12-06T14:54:47.504-08:00Many Sides to the StoryHappy Thanksgiving!!! Better late than never, right? Sorry, with our volunteer retreat I haven’t had much access to internet recently. Hopefully you all enjoyed your holiday with family and lots of pie! (lots and lots of pie)<br><br>
For Thanksgiving all of the volunteers and I met up in Pietermaritzburg to make our own turkey dinner and process what we’ve learned so far. But of course, it’s South Africa and not everything’s available that you’d normally expect at the table. We improvised with Brazilian turkeys and butternut squash pie but it all turned out AMAZING. <br><br>
Even better was the chance to catch up with all the other volunteers. As we’re spread out all over the country each of us has the privilege of witnessing a completely unique side of South Africa. In a country so diverse in its backgrounds, languages, and cultures there’s no end to what can be learned. Between the lot of us we’re learning Afrikaans, Sesotho, Tswana, Xhosa, and Zulu—enough to start our own language school when we get back haha. And that’s not even half of the languages here! <br><br>
Hearing stories from the rural areas, crèches (preschools), homeless shelters, urban cities, black communities, rich, AIDS home visit nurses, white farmers, after school programs, mosques, poor, coloured neighborhoods, Indian communities, and traditional songs has been an incredible reminder that no story has only one side. It’s too easy to generalize about people and places based on the basic information we hear. But it’s never just as easy as that. The generalizations and labels rob complexities in identity and oftentimes hide the truth beneath the surface. <br><br>
There’s power in the other sides to the story. It’s a celebration of diversity, of the many ways to be express our humanity through culture. To me, it’s a testament also to how much there is to learn in the world. When we ignore other ways of life we miss out on the beauty and wisdom they have to offer. <br><br>
Coming into the retreat, I was most excited about getting a chance to relax a bit and eat a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner. But hearing the many other sides to the story that is South Africa from other volunteers proved far more interesting and worthwhile than any amount of pie. )<br><br>)<br><br>
If you’re interested in TED Talks, there’s an especially interesting one from a Nigerian female author title something along the lines of “The Other Story.” It’s definitely worth checking out (along with all the other fantastic TED talks out there).
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-86042950989887478842012-12-06T14:53:00.002-08:002012-12-06T14:53:28.220-08:00A Picture’s Worth A Thousand Words…which is why I write so much—to make up for the lack of pictures. As a photographer, it hurts a little to not be able to share shots of the kids I work with, my host family, and the beautiful city of Cape Town. However, internet is incredibly expensive and I pay by the amount of Megabytes I use. That’s meant no YouTube, no web surfing, no video Skype, and very little Facebook for the past four months. Tragic, really, for a Gen X but not so hard after awhile. <br> <br>
But there is a bright side! My program director has a link to Flickr account with pictures if you’re interested. Check out the program blog at : www.yagmsa.wordpress.com. The Flickr account link should be on the right hand side if you scroll down a bit. <br><br>
Enjoy!
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-40177103167972062042012-11-13T12:43:00.003-08:002012-11-13T12:43:52.772-08:00Listening DeeplyHeerlikste Jesus, sterke Wereldheerser, koning op die hemeltroon, lof, dank en ere aan U, o Here, my hart se vreug mi siel se kroon…. <br><br>
You catch that? No? Me either. While I’m in the process of learning Afrikaans, everyday conversation is still way beyond me. <br><br>
In case you were wondering, that was the first verse of the hymn “Beautiful Savior.” PLU people, I think of you every time we sing it in church! On that note (pun very intended), all of our church services are almost completely in Afrikaans. At first I was a little frustrated with the fact because it meant I had no idea what was going on for a good deal of the service. I have to take cues from everyone around me about when to stand up, sit down, sing, or when something else happens. Having no access to what was going on was tough until I began to listen to the messages behind the words. <br><br>
Unplanned harmonies ring throughout the crowded chapel as people from all different walks of life come together to create one beautiful song of worship. I may not understand what the words mean but just listening to the sound of so many voices coming together as one speaks volumes about how God can bring people together in peace. The joy on people’s faces as they sing and greet one another speaks more than their words could say. <br><br>
In some ways the language barrier has been a blessing.—it is forcing me to think with my heart instead of my head for once. Without the easiness of communication through language I have to listen deeply to intent rather than content to understand. Yet in slowing down enough to do so I feel like I am looking at church and life in a way I never have before: in paying attention to the very real joy and peace and community that church is meant to be all about.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-59358388100508695522012-11-13T12:43:00.001-08:002012-11-13T12:43:20.637-08:00Why So Blue?Here’s a little snippet from my day I can’t help but share: <br>
<br>
“Jen! Jen!” Nadine calls while running to the back of the room. Joshua and I pause in the middle of a math problem explanation as she arrives. <br>
“I’m trying to work with Joshua now, what is it?” <br>
She grins mischievously. <br>
“Uzrie’s drinking ink!” <br>
Skeptical, I look over to Uzrie. The guilty smirk says it all. <br>
“Uzrie, come here please.” <br>
He shuffles over, hiding his hands behind his back. <br>
“Uzrie, are you drinking ink?” <br>
He shakes his head, lips tight together. <br>
“Smile for me please.” <br>
Sheepishly, he smiles, revealing a set of beautifully shaded bright blue teeth. <br>
“Look!” he sticks his tongue out proudly, “my tongue’s blue too!”
<br><br>
I’ll personally give you ten bucks if you could see all that and not laugh. I spent the rest of the day breaking out in giggles to myself when he smiled at me with his still-blue teeth. When I was in third grade I distinctly remember the boys daring each other to eat glue. Boys will be boys, no matter where you’re from I guess. Haha. Laughter in dealing with daily mini-disasters is one of my favorite things about working with kids. There are few things laughter can’t fix, even a set of fluorescent blue teeth.
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152448021848251020.post-1667297394868999682012-11-08T12:13:00.001-08:002012-11-08T12:13:28.775-08:00The Gift of Dependence Barbed wire around the play grounds, spiked fences in front of every house. The picture of an average street with all its barred windows and barbed wire belies the warm hospitality inside each home. With all of its extremes in wealth, education levels, and privilege, Cape Town isn’t always the safest place to be in. Since coming here I’ve learned a new set of rules for everyday life: <br> <br>
1. Always be home before dark <br>
2. Don’t use your cellphone in public (thieves will mug you for the sim card) <br>
3. While driving, keep all bags at your feet (to prevent people breaking the windows to steal a purse aka a “smash and grab”) <br>
4. Don’t go anywhere alone: <br> <br>
I never realized what a privilege safety was until I could no longer take it for granted. When’s the last time you felt the need to check behind you every few minutes while walking to the mall or had to consider the time of nightfall into your plans? : <br> <br>
Adjustment wasn’t easy. I value my independence so much that being kept inside for safety’s sake was incredibly frustrating. Not being able to go places alone was also a huge blow. I’m the girl who travelled through 7 countries alone and hiked up 12 mountains in a day on my own. Independence is a huge part of what makes me me. <br><br>
It took about a month before I became comfortable with asking for help. As Americans, we’re taught to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and look out for number one. Asking for help is something we dislike doing. It’s uncomfortable for us to say that we need someone else. <br><br>
While I grew up with this mindset, I never knew on what I was missing out on in the beauty of saying I can’t make it on my own. But in being forced to ask for help I was given incredible opportunities to connect with people here in ways that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. In asking for car rides we are given a unique chance to talk deeper than just in passing. When friends walk with me to get groceries they share their stories of their pasts and memories of the neighborhoods we walk though. Carpooling to school every morning has introduced me to my next door neighbor’s family and made me an adopted member from seeing them so often. : <br>: <br>
Dependence is a gift I never thought I’d value. In all reality, it was a Lesson I Never Wanted to Learn. Now, I treasure the relationships and conversations that dependence on my community has created. Through dependence, I’m learning how to truly live out Ubuntu, the South African philosophy of “I am because we are.”
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14378879507372646323noreply@blogger.com0