sanibonani!

It's amazing all the ideas that have been floating around in my head about this continent. Africa is like this magical place in my imagination; a world of beauty and poverty; hope and helplessness; faith and despair. I've been dreaming about this place for quite some time.

I suppose it's those dreams that made my arrival seem both foreign and anti-climactic. Can it really be that South Africa is so much like my own home?

My first "African" experience was the last thing I could have anticipated. My arrival in Nelspruit, a mere 30 min drive from my soon to be new home, was exactly like any city I might have seen in my lifetime. Cars and shops and houses and people and normal life. Brooke and Jed, who came to fetch Kristal and I from the bus drop point, took us to a local mall for coffee before we headed home. I must say my surprise was total upon discovering I was having coffee in a place that looked exactly like the home I'd just left.

When we arrived at Hands Village, where I will be living for the next 6 months, I was again surprised to discover the comfort of my accommodation. Yes, running water (hot and cold), my own room, electricity in every room, a big kitchen, etc., etc. I'd be lying if I said I didn't go to bed with a lingering, What the hell am I doing here!?! bouncing off the inside of my brain.

But that was all before yesterday. Yesterday began with a small group meeting and like any belaboured "churchy" thing we exchanged names and pleasantries. Being the new person everyone was very nice, very Christian with me. My sentiments from the previous evening were still guiding my thoughts and so I was not expecting what came when one of the leaders asked what people had done over the holidays. But it was precisely then I discovered, I am not in Kansas anymore.

One couple had just returned (with Malaria) from a trip to Mozambique where they visited a Hands at Work center that served an enormous number of people, all starving as a result of too much rain way too late. During their stay they also visited a jail, perhaps 12x12 feet, which housed 120 men, none of whom had been fed in days. The inmates begged them to stay knowing their presence was the only chance for accountability to the guards, who were only depriving food to the inmates as they were starving themselves.

Another woman spoke of visiting her sister, a recent and illegal refugee from Zimbabwe. Her sister is living in some slum outside of Johannesburg where the whole family stands in a corner when it rains because the roof has so many holes. They must then use buckets to clear the house of the incredible amounts of water that pour in. This woman said she was learning from her sister how to be more thankful because somehow in the struggle, the sister is full of joy. (This was also the first person to pray for me in Africa.)

And that was before I got to visit Daantjie and Spelanyane. These are two communities in the mountains surrounding Hands Village (where I live). Thousands of people live in tiny shacks, some big shacks, littering the hills. We saw streets full of children in uniform walking home after school, every second one waving and calling umgulu! (white person) as we passed. Some, of course, were not wearing uniforms because they couldn't afford to go to school. We dropped off food to one of the community centers where a massive group of volunteers from the community where waiting to greet the kids after school and feed them a meal.

At the third place we visited, a huge group of the cutest kids I've ever seen gathered with the promise of new shoes. Unfortunately only 22 got shoes, the other 20 or so watched curiously and inched closer and closer to the action, all smiles and shyness.

This morning was already awesome as I got to teach one of the volunteers from the community how to use Excel (a program I first discovered an hour before teaching her!). While I was busy explaining how to make formulae, she was patiently teaching me to say Ngiyabonga - (thank-you - which turns out to be a surprisingly difficult word to pronounce). And today is hardly over! I get to visit another community, Kanyamazane, with more food parcels this afternoon.

I felt all day yesterday like at any moment I could burst into tears. Not sadness. Not joy. Just this overwhelming feeling like, Oh, so this is the face of Jesus! I got to hold Jesus on my lap yesterday. I got to see her giggle when I taught her to give me five. Buhle, beautiful. This little Jesus was at the community center called Thuthukani which means we are growing up. How fitting for little buhle, and for me. Thuthukani - we're both growing up.