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?
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
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.
“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.
Friday, June 28, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
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!
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!
Saturday, May 11, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, April 19, 2013
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.
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.
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