A Time to Grow

In case you haven’t guessed it by now, I suppose it’s time to let you know that my time here is changing me. My experiences are overwhelmingly meaningful, and I can feel myself shifting, growing, being shaped into the person I’m becoming. And, in fact, I have never felt more like myself than I do these days.

After class each Monday, we write and submit a journal entry reflecting on our experiences for my LSCE class. Last Friday, we spent a day in the local township, Kayamandi, where 35,000 people live in extreme poverty; it was the first time I had ever been to a township. We visited two women who run home stays there, and they showed us a bit more of their neighbourhood. The following Monday, we had a particularly beautiful day of class where we reflected on our experiences and continued to grow as a team and a family. I feel one of the best ways to express the ways I’m changing is to share some excerpts from my journal from that day:

As I look back to our day in Kayamandi, I am surprised to admit that my experience was just okay. It looked like the pictures you always see of townships, but for some reason it didn’t feel that new or different to me. Maybe it’s because I was less interested in the shacks than I was in playing with the group of adorable little boys that seemed to turn up every couple of minutes. It just felt natural to be preoccupied with them and give them all of my attention, to pick them up and spin them around, to laugh with them and hold their hands, even though I could not communicate with them using spoken language, even though they were dirty and their parents were nowhere in sight. As I write that last sentence, I realise what a testament it is to how much I’ve changed since I’ve been here. Before I came here, that never would have felt natural, or even okay. But now it feels comfortable, joyful, fulfilling, even perfect. I cannot think of anything I would rather be doing than loving those children. I picked up one little boy and tried to play with him, but he wasn’t really interested in playing. He didn’t really want to be put down, either; he just wanted to be held. And I was more than content just holding him, feeling his warmth and innocence as his weight relaxed into my side and his fingers wrapped around mine while we watched Liam and Gerrit play wildly with the other boys. His sweater was wet on the back and his nose was crusted with dry mucus and he was everything society says is gross or dangerous, and all I wanted to do was cuddle him, make him feel safe, give him a few minutes of being held, realising that I don’t know how often he may or may not receive that otherwise. It was a moment that I doubt I will soon forget...

In a theoretical sense, I can understand what [my classmates] meant when they said that we were invading these people’s homes, and I agree that the trip should be executed differently in the future. But I did not feel uncomfortable at all throughout the day. In fact, I felt incredibly comfortable, even at home, there amidst the dirt roads and the black people, standing out in my white skin. I’ve noticed that lately – that I almost feel more comfortable walking around the northern part of Bird Street or riding the metro, being one of the only white people in sight and receiving gazes of confusion and sometimes scepticism, than I do sitting in my nice, clean classrooms at Stellenbosch with lots of other white students who have never wondered where their next meal was coming from. I know that there is nothing wrong with being privileged, and I do not mean anything bad toward those students (I certainly enjoy my privilege on a regular basis), but I’ve started to feel more at home in less privileged situations and feel that I can connect more meaningfully with the people there. The people there are real, and I can find true, deep meaning in life there. I know that we must not romanticise poverty, and by no means do I intend to justify the fact that millions of people do not have access to basic human needs and are completely dehumanised by the people and institutions at play – that is despicable. But I am realising what Jesus is always telling us in the Bible: that the more we are detached from material possessions, the freer we are to become spiritually fulfilled. There is a certain joy in my learners at Lynedoch and in the people from the township who clap and sing hymns on the metro that I have not seen anywhere else in the world (certainly not in westernised societies where possessions have become our gods and are so easily taken from us, sending our carefully built worlds crashing down around our feet and leaving us always wanting and searching in vain), and I find myself wanting to be around that beauty more than anything else...

Class today was absolutely beautiful... I heard and participated in conversations, teasing, laughing, growing and bonding among siblings and basked in the beauty of that moment... People were real. They were honest. They weren’t afraid to allow their homesickness, pain, scars, uncertainties, tears, joy, excitement and praise to pour out for all to see. I know from my conversations with others that many of us are finding ourselves at a crossroads, reconsidering the things we thought to be true, the beliefs we thought we held, the plans we thought we had figured out for our lives. It’s a point of internal awakening for many of us. Perhaps it’s because we are in the environment I described earlier, where people are lacking in material possessions but filled with spiritual riches, and we are finding the beauty in that spiritual richness as well as a longing to achieve it for ourselves. The simplicity, peace and joy of life here is infectious. I feel so blessed to have such wonderful people with whom to share this experience...

Service learning, in the truest sense, creates experiential learning environments where knowledge is produced on the spot, not strictly taught out of books, and that kind of knowledge is the stuff that becomes most meaningful and that stays with us forever. I know that this class will stay with me forever...

After the past few weeks (and months) of growth both in and out of class, I feel confused, emotional, peacefully chaotic, fulfilled, changed, and most of all loved. I couldn’t be more blessed.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat, nor about your body, what you shall put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing... Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well.” – Luke 12: 22-23, 31

“Love one another with brotherly affection.” – Romans 12:10

peace and love