Mpumalanga
Well, I’ve been here about two weeks…about two weeks of some of the most diverse experiences and people mixed with some of the most heartbreaking and fascinating dynamics of any country I’ve been to. I’ve seen poverty before, and I’ve seen hopelessness, and I’ve seen twisted philosophies and their effects generations after. But, I’ve never faced desperation like it is here.
After spending an ideallic week on a game farm and training with my team of 7 people, I had seen the beautiful creation of God…numerous drives back and forth in the camp left me with numerous citings of giraffe, ostrich, kudu, wart hogs, you name it. It was like a live action Lion King movie…and we weren’t in a zoo. Living under thatched roofs and interacting with the farm staff’s children was peaceful, but it was a stark contrast to the rest of Africa
Now we find ourselves in Hazeyview, a small town on the edge of Kruger National Park
Hazeyview has it’s nice first world mall and grocery store, nicely done-up bungalows available for lodgers, and extreme poverty on the outskirts. Our daily experiences have been visiting schools and doing presentations and interacting with an orphan ministry that is the vision of one white pastor who finally decided to do something about the issues here. Everyday when we come back to our posh little vacation home, which we are blessed to have, I think of how easy and how hard it is to really affect this community for change. And a good deal of the time I feel the legacy of this place overwhelms me…one of pain and oppression.
My prayer these days is that God will supernaturally empower the Church to turn their faces to these issues…and the children who go on like zombies without hope.
*The GPS on Me * I’ll be in Hazeyview until February 28th when we’ll go 8+ hours south to Kosi Bay on the coast and work there for a couple weeks. Then another 8 hours back up to the middle of the Mpumalanga
I Can’t See Their Souls
One of the most difficult things about being here is interacting with children. I’ve seen 2 groups, the ones who don’t have much, but who have somehow found reason to smile. And then there are the ones who seem too far gone – like little zombies who vaguely resemble humans.
We have been helping out a local orphan ministry but walking through rural shanty towns doing inventory on living conditions of the orphans who come to the center. It’s unbelievable. The worst part of it all is when I bend down to a child’s level to look in their eyes and they turn their face to the ground. Or they stare straight past me.
When you hear the stats on what these children have gone through, you wonder how they are still alive…rape, starvation, abandonment, abuse. They have been stripped of dignity, of hope, of love. I’m so sick of stats. I’m so sick of hopeless stats that scream it’s too late. I want to see hope lived out. And the thought that keeps going through my mind is how most of this exists because some random people group came in and oppressed another. I hate it. Jesus help.
Apartheid is Dead
I was in the grocery store today and I’m pretty sure I was the only white girl. Apartheid is gone J.
“It’s Fun” (282, 348, 366)
I do not consider myself an adventure seeker in the extreme sports way. I don’t feel the need to bungy-jump or raft down treacherous rivers, or any of that sort of thing. But I did step out on a limb today (no pun intended) and zip lined off a mountain. If that’s not enough, then add class 3 white-water rafting to the list. With the encouragement of my team, I partook of these activities. I stepped WAY out of character and followed our guide Philemon into the large yellow raft. I saw a python, a crocodile, and we avoided the mythical hippos beneath the murky waters.
We came, we saw, I peed my pants.
Recent Comments