There are some things here that are so forgein, so alien to me. Like walls with barbed wire, or red dirt. But then, there are the things that are so oddly farmiliar, like Hannah Montana on the Disney channel, or "I Kissed a Girl" playing on the radio. I visited the major universtiy here yesterday. It was lovely, just beautiful. But there are things about this country that strumming strange tunes in me. Parts are so farmiliar, the college students and the people bustling about in the shopping centers. But there is something deeper, something not known, and not well understood by me. It lingers in the breezes, within the red soil, and on the faces of almost everyone you meet. It is an awareness of reality. An awareness of real pain, of real joy, of real suffering, and of real triumph.
I toured the Johannasberg court yesterday. It's a lovely building, but unlike our political buildings in Victoria, BC, with all their splendor and pristine setting, this building was set next to and old prision. I prison that cause measurless pain to thousands of people. A prison that shut Winnie Mandela, and Ghandi behind it's bars. And the court itself is built on the site of the previous court, the court that caused so much hardship and sent so many men and women to eat, sleep, and weep within a cement world.
The people of South Africa do not hide their past. They do not stoop their heads and sweep the tears under a rug. They are aware of the reality of it.
The walls of the courtroom are brick... old brick... the very same bricks that built the previous courthouse.
South Africa is using the suffering of her past, to create the triumph of her future.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Walls and heat
I'm in South Africa!
The trip over was a bit crazy, but thankfully I was able to get to my gate in the Seattle and the Heathrow airport without much trouble.
Stepping out from the customs desk and seeing Nadine, Shaun, and Nadine's friend was such a releif! I had make it, thank God!
My first experience of South Africa was a bit unusual. We drove right from the airport to the house, so I could pull on some pants, and then we were off to a prison tour. I'm afriad my image is skewed since I was in a police car on the way to a prison only an hour after getting off the plane!
The tour was amazing though, we went first to a youth prison, then a maximum security, and last to a medium security. At the youth one, we had three boys come and speak with us after we had a tour, and it was all very serious for me, until I saw a peacok walking a few feet away. I was very excited, but was able to hold myself together... until it jumped on the front of a truck, that was almost too much to bear, as it all seemed so everyday to everyone else standing around me. Then, out of nowhere a young man walked up and splashed an entire bucket of water on the bird, knocking it off the truck! Thankfully I was able to get my hand over my mouth before I burst out laughing!
When we went to the max. security prison, we had three men come and speak with us. One of them had a sentence of 735 years... 735!!! Their stories were touching and a bit hard to bear. Part of me wish very strongly that I could cry, but for some reason I don't cry over things like that anymore, it's as if hearing so many similar stories in the DTES has made me immune to really feeling it. It's too bad, I feel unhuman.
After the max. security, we went to the medium security where the inmates put of a play for us about prison life, and about the life leading to prison life. It was very moving, and very intense. I was astounded that the play was written and all set up by the inmates, and it hurt a bit to see such talent behind bars.
We were taking some grade 11;s on the tour, and a number of them cried during the play. It definitely impacted them a great deal.
So, that was my introduction to SA, and the rest of that day... I slept. On Friday, Nadine and I went with Shaun to Whitbank, a smaller town about an hours drive away, where Shaun anhd his band were doing a show at a retirment part of, get this, two nuns! It was a great deal of fun, and their band was just great! WE spent the night in a hotel there, and came back saturday morning... then i slept.... then we had a braai, which is pretty much the equivilent to a north american barbeque. So much fun, and it was wonderful to meet all my family here, a little surreal too!
Early sunday morning, Nadine and I were driven to Craig's, my mother's cousin and nadine's uncle's house. He took us to Bass Lake, which is infact a quarry, about 20 years old, that is full of water. It was such a nice day! Bass Lake is essentially the place where the Scuba Diving community of Jo-Berg goes when they can't trip the 600km to the coast. A really neat little spot, and I will be sure to put up pictures of it soon!
That essentially sums up what i have been doing so far! I am a little sick, so if you could pray for healing, that would be greatly appriciated! I'll try to write in a few days, and I am sure I will have many more adventures to tell you about!
The trip over was a bit crazy, but thankfully I was able to get to my gate in the Seattle and the Heathrow airport without much trouble.
Stepping out from the customs desk and seeing Nadine, Shaun, and Nadine's friend was such a releif! I had make it, thank God!
My first experience of South Africa was a bit unusual. We drove right from the airport to the house, so I could pull on some pants, and then we were off to a prison tour. I'm afriad my image is skewed since I was in a police car on the way to a prison only an hour after getting off the plane!
The tour was amazing though, we went first to a youth prison, then a maximum security, and last to a medium security. At the youth one, we had three boys come and speak with us after we had a tour, and it was all very serious for me, until I saw a peacok walking a few feet away. I was very excited, but was able to hold myself together... until it jumped on the front of a truck, that was almost too much to bear, as it all seemed so everyday to everyone else standing around me. Then, out of nowhere a young man walked up and splashed an entire bucket of water on the bird, knocking it off the truck! Thankfully I was able to get my hand over my mouth before I burst out laughing!
When we went to the max. security prison, we had three men come and speak with us. One of them had a sentence of 735 years... 735!!! Their stories were touching and a bit hard to bear. Part of me wish very strongly that I could cry, but for some reason I don't cry over things like that anymore, it's as if hearing so many similar stories in the DTES has made me immune to really feeling it. It's too bad, I feel unhuman.
After the max. security, we went to the medium security where the inmates put of a play for us about prison life, and about the life leading to prison life. It was very moving, and very intense. I was astounded that the play was written and all set up by the inmates, and it hurt a bit to see such talent behind bars.
We were taking some grade 11;s on the tour, and a number of them cried during the play. It definitely impacted them a great deal.
So, that was my introduction to SA, and the rest of that day... I slept. On Friday, Nadine and I went with Shaun to Whitbank, a smaller town about an hours drive away, where Shaun anhd his band were doing a show at a retirment part of, get this, two nuns! It was a great deal of fun, and their band was just great! WE spent the night in a hotel there, and came back saturday morning... then i slept.... then we had a braai, which is pretty much the equivilent to a north american barbeque. So much fun, and it was wonderful to meet all my family here, a little surreal too!
Early sunday morning, Nadine and I were driven to Craig's, my mother's cousin and nadine's uncle's house. He took us to Bass Lake, which is infact a quarry, about 20 years old, that is full of water. It was such a nice day! Bass Lake is essentially the place where the Scuba Diving community of Jo-Berg goes when they can't trip the 600km to the coast. A really neat little spot, and I will be sure to put up pictures of it soon!
That essentially sums up what i have been doing so far! I am a little sick, so if you could pray for healing, that would be greatly appriciated! I'll try to write in a few days, and I am sure I will have many more adventures to tell you about!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Dangerous Buisness.
“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” -- J.R.R. Tolkien
Packed my suitcases -- check
Get my ticket -- check
Get to Tacoma -- check
Cry as I say good-bye -- check
Actually realize that this is happening -- umm... working on that.
I'm in Tacoma, sitting with Libby, my aunt and uncle's beautiful red golden retriever. She's lovely, and we became fast friends.
Yesterday was a long day. I had a goodbye brunch, and left the house at about 12:30. After some last minute plan changes, it was decided that Nana and Papa would drive me down to the ferry, and Doug would pick me up on the other side and drive me to meet Ryan and Heather, and then we would all drive to Tacoma together. Which, is pretty much exactly what happened.
I don't understand how sitting all day can be so exhausting, but, yesterday was also a terribly emotional day, so I'll blame my tiredness on that. The emotions seem to be evening out again, thank goodness.
Yesterday morning (the morning of my departure) I awoke with a song playing in my mind. That isn't unusual with me, so I didn't take much notice of it. But when it wouldn't go away, I decided it was time for "drastic" measures: I'd actually have to sit down and listen to it, otherwise it would be there all day.
The odd part was, the song was called "The Call" by Regina Spector. I only knew the first few lines, and thats what was playing over and over in my head, (hence it was only slightly irritating). However, when I heard the entire song, it seemed very appropriate, which is why I thought I would share a link to it on youtube: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=oNsQewlFtEs
Well, that's it for my rather unexciting beginning of my trip. I'll try to upgrade my writing for the next blog entry, also.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Wrinkles and Time
When I was a little girl one of my favorite places in the world was my grandparents house. I loved everything about it; the smell when you walked in the door, the cream carpet in the living room, the brick fireplace upstairs and the stone fireplace downstairs. I loved that we always had tea when we went there, and I loved that the guest room had red carpet-- red carpet! I loved laying on my grandparent's bed and looking at all the trinkets and bits of jewelry and perfume on my grandmothers vanity, and I loved the cherry tree in the backyard.
But there was also the bits of Africa. I perhaps did not love them as much as I was fascinated by them. The wrinkled face of an African man, dressed in a worn hat and coat. The picture made entirely out of butterfly wings of an African woman carrying her child. The artistric wooden carvings of African men and women.
The pieces of Africa were not particularly unusual things to find in the house of two South African immigrants, but they brushed against a string in me that had never been played, and I've been addicted to the hum it makes when you strike it ever since.
This, along with a few other things, is why I am packing my suitcases and flying across the Atlantic to go somewhere I have never been, to see people I have never met; it's because it is in me already.
But there was also the bits of Africa. I perhaps did not love them as much as I was fascinated by them. The wrinkled face of an African man, dressed in a worn hat and coat. The picture made entirely out of butterfly wings of an African woman carrying her child. The artistric wooden carvings of African men and women.
The pieces of Africa were not particularly unusual things to find in the house of two South African immigrants, but they brushed against a string in me that had never been played, and I've been addicted to the hum it makes when you strike it ever since.
This, along with a few other things, is why I am packing my suitcases and flying across the Atlantic to go somewhere I have never been, to see people I have never met; it's because it is in me already.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The thoughts that roll to and fro
I always pause right before I begin to write. As if the first sentance is most definitely the most important, the one that sets the mood for the rest of the written work. I suppose in some ways it does set the mood, however, in reality, I must also take into consideration that I can in fact press the left facing arrow and correct, change, or entirely obliterate that sentance later on, if I wish to. So, usually this nugget of information convinces me to begin writing, even if the first sentance is by all means wanting.
However, thats not the case with life. In life, I cannot trace back my steps and alter my actions--my decisions. (Now, at this point I could easily step into a rather depression prosession of how life is a card you only play one, or a coin you can only spend once, but that's really not the point I am trying to make... in fact I am not even sure if I have a point yet.) The issue here is that when faces with a cross roads, generally a person goes one way, or the other. They, if they are one of the lucky ones who in fact has a sign post, will pause for a moment to read the signs, then continue on in the direction that they believe will best suit them. I don't do that. I have an irritating habit of stopping at the cross road, reading the signs at least half a dozen times, and then sitting down rather frustrated and not budging until I am moved along by the wind or the ants... or another force overwhich I have no power. The problem is that I am not a terribly stupid girl. If I was, then I could convince myself that life will not keep going until I make my decision. However, I am at least smart enough to know that life will keep going, even if I stop. So, sitting at the cross road, watching people pausing and passing, some running, some stepping rather carfully, and others taking their sweet time to notice all the lovely things that grow on the side of the heavily beaten path.
Hmmm... if only there were a way I could make my own trail, wouldn't that be an adventure? And perhaps that is a problem of mine, I am still very much a child, with a grand lust for adventure. To stand atop of mountains, looking across an untamed world, or to look into the eyes-- the soul-- of danger without fear.
I want to write. I understand that in no way is this a way I could support myself. That it will probably always be a dream and nothing more... and I understand that. So, here I sit even now. Far too afraid to actually take a step in one direction or another.
However, thats not the case with life. In life, I cannot trace back my steps and alter my actions--my decisions. (Now, at this point I could easily step into a rather depression prosession of how life is a card you only play one, or a coin you can only spend once, but that's really not the point I am trying to make... in fact I am not even sure if I have a point yet.) The issue here is that when faces with a cross roads, generally a person goes one way, or the other. They, if they are one of the lucky ones who in fact has a sign post, will pause for a moment to read the signs, then continue on in the direction that they believe will best suit them. I don't do that. I have an irritating habit of stopping at the cross road, reading the signs at least half a dozen times, and then sitting down rather frustrated and not budging until I am moved along by the wind or the ants... or another force overwhich I have no power. The problem is that I am not a terribly stupid girl. If I was, then I could convince myself that life will not keep going until I make my decision. However, I am at least smart enough to know that life will keep going, even if I stop. So, sitting at the cross road, watching people pausing and passing, some running, some stepping rather carfully, and others taking their sweet time to notice all the lovely things that grow on the side of the heavily beaten path.
Hmmm... if only there were a way I could make my own trail, wouldn't that be an adventure? And perhaps that is a problem of mine, I am still very much a child, with a grand lust for adventure. To stand atop of mountains, looking across an untamed world, or to look into the eyes-- the soul-- of danger without fear.
I want to write. I understand that in no way is this a way I could support myself. That it will probably always be a dream and nothing more... and I understand that. So, here I sit even now. Far too afraid to actually take a step in one direction or another.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Temptations to NOT stay put.
I am rather restless these days. I spend a great deal of time looking up ticket prices... most places cost between 800 and 1500 USD to go to. I can do that, but the problem is... will I? I know very well that school is a definite option. Part of me even thinks it is the one I SHOULD be choosing... but alas, the world is so big and exciting, so full of adventures just waiting to be had. And then I feel guilty. Are these not words of a rather selfish heart, seeking after selfish ambitions? I really wish my desires where the same as those of the Lord, that my passion was for souls. Maybe it is and I am just not aware of it... I don't know.
The greatest problem at this point is that I want something to support myself while I am away from Canada. Which means I must go to school. Darn it. It always comes back to me going to school, doesn't it? It's not that school is bad, I mean, I truly think I will enjoy it a great deal. It's just... commiting to that long in a program that scares me.
The greatest problem at this point is that I want something to support myself while I am away from Canada. Which means I must go to school. Darn it. It always comes back to me going to school, doesn't it? It's not that school is bad, I mean, I truly think I will enjoy it a great deal. It's just... commiting to that long in a program that scares me.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Dealing with my Girlishness.
I'm not one for flowers or chocolates, valentines day or romance novels... at least, I try not to be. The truth is, I am in fact very much like every other 18 year old girl... and I hate it.
I hate that I love Titanic, and Roman Holiday.
I hate that my heart actually beats a little faster when I think of a certain fellow.
I hate that I check my hair in windows sometimes.
I hate that I really do desire a relationship.
I hate that I want to an epic love story, just like every other girl.
I hate that knowing a guy is thinking about me makes me blush.
I hate that having others know I am thinking about a fellow makes me blush.
I hate that I still get crushes on lads I hardly know at all.
I hate that I am vulnerable.
However...
I don't necessarily hate being a girl... it's just the accessories I am not crazy about.
I hate that I love Titanic, and Roman Holiday.
I hate that my heart actually beats a little faster when I think of a certain fellow.
I hate that I check my hair in windows sometimes.
I hate that I really do desire a relationship.
I hate that I want to an epic love story, just like every other girl.
I hate that knowing a guy is thinking about me makes me blush.
I hate that having others know I am thinking about a fellow makes me blush.
I hate that I still get crushes on lads I hardly know at all.
I hate that I am vulnerable.
However...
I don't necessarily hate being a girl... it's just the accessories I am not crazy about.
Things are rather complicated.
I'm not entirely sure when everything began to be so complicated. Perhaps it has always been this way, and I have just been unaware, or perhaps as people grow up, their lives become more and more complex.
I'm just tired of dull aches in my stomach, and tired of wanting to slap myself as I watch myself do the most ridiculous things. I just... do badly want to get out of here. I don't know where I want to go. I just want to be somewhere else. I suppose you could say I am running. I am aware that I am running, I am just unsure what it is that I am running from. Like I said, rather complicated. I want to live, and just live fully. I don't seem to even sip at life, let alone guzzle it down. Ah well... I am sure this too will pass.
I'm just tired of dull aches in my stomach, and tired of wanting to slap myself as I watch myself do the most ridiculous things. I just... do badly want to get out of here. I don't know where I want to go. I just want to be somewhere else. I suppose you could say I am running. I am aware that I am running, I am just unsure what it is that I am running from. Like I said, rather complicated. I want to live, and just live fully. I don't seem to even sip at life, let alone guzzle it down. Ah well... I am sure this too will pass.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
And so it begins... or ends?
A month ago I had just gotten back to Vancouver after Christmas break. And now here I am, back in the same town I went to highschool in. Not exactly what I had planned when picturing what I would do with my life after graduation. Yet, here I am. So, at this point I am trying very hard to find the ordinary extraordinary, and am drinking a lot of tea.
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