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Shea Freese, J.J. Wicke, and Jerad Morey served as GJVs with the Uniting Christian Students’ Association (UCSA) in Stellenbosch, South Africa. The GJV program is open to young adults ages 18-25 who are interested in exploring the links between faith and justice, by partnering with people of faith around the world who are working for change in their community. Shea, J.J., and Jerad volunteered with 9 South Africans in a variety of capacities, while learning about issues such as HIV/AIDS, racism, and economic justice. Below are some of their reflections written during their time in South Africa.
"Accompanying Mission Work in South Africa"
By Shea Freese
When asked what I first learned as a missionary to South Africa my immediate response is that "mission work" cannot be stereotyped. From day one the three of us on the South Africa Global Justice Volunteer team have been bombarded with the unexpected—our living conditions aren’t harsh as we envisioned them to be, our work is not too overwhelming or physically demanding, and though language is sometimes an issue, we can always find someone who speaks English. The pleasing conditions are proof that mission work can and should be done in every part of the world—from the slums of Inner City America to tourist town like Stellenbosch, South Africa, and throughout the villages of every third-world country. Yes, everyone shall experience the love and blessings of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
While serving as a GJV in Stellenbosch, South Africa, I’ve participated in various forms of volunteer work. One of the most touching experiences I’ve had thus far took place last month at Missionaries of Charity. Missionaries of Charity is a home/care center for men, women, and children who are very sick and have no families or no finances to aid in their care. There are children who are paralyzed from illness and men and women whose bodies are slowly deteriorating due to various diseases—many as a result of AIDS.
The team was volunteering as we do every other Friday and some of the females were designated to bathing the residents. As an older woman stood naked and cold, humbly exposed, her delicate body was washed that was covered in sores. She began scratching wounds, causing them to seep open. They tried to communicate with her (despite the language barrier) to let her know they were trying to help, but she began to cry. Her body was sore from the wounds and washing caused an even greater pain. Her body was too delicate to sustain even the light pressure from washing. The women knew they must continue washing so they could then apply medication but the woman didn’t seem to understand. Seeing this older woman cry like a frightened child nearly brought me to tears as well. I was overwhelmed with the reality of her situation—one that is similar to that of many residents in Missionaries of Charity. Though it wasn’t confirmed, we were able to draw the likely conclusion that the woman was suffering from AIDS. Taking that into perspective increased the pain of the situation—she will never fully heal. She, like far too many other South Africans, is dying a slow and painful death.
HIV/AIDS is only one of the hardships facing the people of South Africa. Though there is still much to be done, many are working to win the fight against AIDS, poverty, unemployment, crime, and many post-apartheid struggles. Still, there are others who seem to have accepted the realities. It is my responsibility as God’s servant to speak out against the problems and help those with whom I interact to cope with and combat the difficulties they face. Doing so isn’t always a simple task. The realities can become so overwhelming that a bright future seems out of reach. However, as a Christian I recognize the possibility of a healed nation and I pray God has used and continues to use me in that manner while serving as a GJV in South Africa.
"To Live Out What was Once Just a Commercial"
By Jerimey "J.J." Wicke
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While time has past here in South Africa, the UCSA [Uniting Christian Student Association, an Affiliate of the World Student Christian Federation] team has visited five different rural settlements or townships. . .We have gone into these various slums in different parts of South Africa and done programs with the kids and adults of the communities. Usually we would stay there for a couple of hours and do kids games and just talk with the residents to get a perspective on the place and to pray with them. I could feel for these people living in the conditions, but not really know what it was like living like that day in and day out. Recently on July 16, 2003 Jared, Shea, [two other GJVs] and I were actually given an opportunity to go live with one of the teammates in the township of Kayamandi in the Western Cape for a couple of days. This particular township is right outside the town of Stellenbosch to which we reside.
No one could give an exact number to the amount of people cramped up in the township, but one person said there was about 1500 students in the Kayamandi High School last year, this could be broken up to be about a 60:1 student to teacher ratio. In this jammed pack place, everyone knows everyone. There is a lot of family for a person to turn to if they need something or for help.
While here in Kayamandi I got to live in a shack. A real shack, with a tin roof and boards thrown together to keep the place standing. It wasn’t easy to sleep at night when rain was hitting the roof. At least I didn’t get wet though. There is no running water in the shacks. The way to get water is to take a bucket down to the central water location and fill it up to return to your house. To heat the water, you will use a much used coffee kettle and then pour it into a tub. I had to wash up while standing in the middle of a room. Then to use the restroom I went outside in urine smelling hole . . .
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The Kayamandi Choir (Photo: Shea Freese) |
There are somewhere around 50 churches in Kayamandi. Most consist of a shack with about 40 chairs for the adults and the kids would stay on the floor. They didn’t even know who I was, but in Afrikaans they said, "It was a blessing I was there," is what the teammate I went with translated for me. Some of the churches have choirs that perform in contests around the area. I have had the privilege to see one of the choirs twice. Even though I don’t know what they are singing, it is a blessing and I can feel God in the presence.
AIDS is high in this community . . . [and] more and more babies [are] born, which eventually gets more and more kids on the already crowded streets. There is a community center where free pool, ping pong, and different little games such as dominoes. They also offer programs on AIDS and pamphlets on subjects such as employment and education. But this is just one place, they need more to give these kids somewhere to play besides the streets, where one kid got hit by a truck and died, the day that I was there.
It was quite an experience to be able to live in the township a couple of days. The memories I have will stick with me, as I realize what it is like to live a commercial that I used to watch on TV myself. The people of the township have hope, which brings hope to my eyes as well.
"To you, this is a spot. To me, it is my home."
By Jerad Morey
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Jerad Morey volunteers with
children at Lindelani |
As we Global Justice Volunteers prepared to go to Nicaragua, Brazil, and South Africa, we watched a movie about street children in Brazil for training. It had production value and other Hollywood accoutrements, including tragic music at appropriate scenes. My chief criticism of the video as a training tool was that "real life doesn't have a soundtrack;" people living through certain situations don't let movie makers or audiences with other backgrounds and different values tell them how to feel--they deal with their tragedies and move on.
South Africa has had many tragedies to deal with in the lingering legacy of apartheid. One apartheid government law, the Group Areas Act, forced whites, mixed-race coloureds" and Indians, and full African-descent blacks into separate living areas. The desirability of your land got worse as your skin color darkened. Blacks were forced from homes and farms into townships, often hillside shacks built on non-arable soil. One of the great tragedies in these still-racially-homogenous townships is poverty and unemployment. Reading and hearing about South Africa's 40% unemployment in the general population and even worse statistics in the townships, I half-expected pitiful chords to play when I entered my first one.
Dhlameni township, outside the dying former coal-mining town of Dundee in South Africa's KwaZulu-Natal province, stood out from other townships in its poverty. Where the people of Kayamandi, near our home in Stellenbosch, had electricity, Dhlameni didn't. While blacks in Mbekweni, another township near our home, had access to running water, Dhlameni didn't. While shacks in Khayelitsha, an area outside Cape Town, were made from metal and cut wood, those in Dhlameini were formed with logs and sun-dried earth. Our mixed-race team of volunteers from South Africa, Zimbabwe, and America drove in under the auspices of a local charity organizaiton, Mahyeno Mission, and many were shocked at the conditions in which we found the area. There were children with distended bellies and rust-colored hair indicative of malnuitrition, dirt was everywhere, as was the smell of urine. "They have so little, and we so much," my Afrikaner teammate Frances would later say through tears.
Yet nobody in Dhlameni was sitting in their front yard playing an African version of "Man of Constant Sorrow." Because they weren't overwhelmed by their circumstances, I felt that I shouldn't be, either. Pity is a very patronizing emotion, and I wanted to respect their dignity as I walked through the township and met its residents. In fact, I know Americans who would pay to live in an earthen house in a rural area.
I said as much to Mvume, a Dhlameni resident who wore a green Mickey Mouse t-shirt over brown sweatpants, and his eyes beneath his stocking cap grew wide with indignation. "How can you say that, coming from America? Here we have no water, no electricity. I pack my coal every day so I do not freeze to death at night. Ten years ago I stood in line for hours to vote for a real house, for a better life, and still the government tells my family 'just wait, just wait.' I have no hope now, and I realize I will die here, in this shack. Do you say that I am lucky? To you, this is a spot. To me, it is my home."
Surprisingly, Mvume was still open to conversation. We talked about politics, South Africa's bloodless transition from apartheid government to democracy in 1994, and what little difference the transition seems to have made in the rural townships. But I left Dhlameni remembering Mvume's dark, indignant eyes and hearing "You're so Vain" in my head.
As mission volunteers we try to be "Jesus to the World," and that's good. But Mvume told it like it is. I have tried to "act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God" [Micah 6:8] here; however, in the end, for me, Dhlameni, indeed South Africa, will have been a spot. But to Jesus it is home.
If the Hollywood cameras ever go there, I pray that the movie soundtrack includes "Surely the Presence of the Lord is in this Place."