Christmas in a Southern summer

It’s now 2010, the year of the World Cup in South Africa. There are many promises of changes and newness. We are already stepping up efforts to address the crucial issues of human trafficking and homelessness in preparation for the big event.

But first, let me rewind a bit to update you on how the year ended on this side. December was hot and with classes closed for the holidays, I must admit I suffered from mild to extreme laziness. This seems to be a common malady at this time of year. Luckily there were two days off (Reconciliation Day and Christmas Day) and I had some over time saved up to accommodate my most lazy of days.

During that first week of December Robin and I temporarily moved into a flat down the street, house sitting for a couple friends of ours. It was refreshing to have our own space, though small. And the eighth floor offered a beautiful view of our city.

On Reconciliation Day I went with Mandla to his cousin’s birthday party in the township his family lives in, which is south of Soweto. It was a fun trip that started with a tense train ride. The train was completely packed. We almost didn’t find a place to sit. And I was the only white person on the whole, fifteen or so car train. I felt safe, but I later learned that Mandla had his head on a swivel the whole ride, watching out for any suspicious character who might be paying me too much attention.

In Jo-burg, we hopped into a taxi and after a long and peaceful ride, we arrived in Lenasia, a largely Indian township. We stopped by Mandla’s family’s home first. They rent a room in a small complex with a shared bathroom and outdoor water tap. They are awesome at utilizing space, managing to have areas for sleeping, cooking and chilling all in one room. We walked from there to the church where the party was hosted. I had never before been to a birthday party at which guests are handed programs upon entering. It was a sit-down occasion with speeches that sounded just like sermons. I truly enjoyed getting to spend some time with some of Mandla’s family and friends. Despite being the only white person around, I felt accepted and enjoyed some great conversations and stories. The time we spent in Lenasia felt like a retreat- so quiet and beautiful. We regretfully returned to Pretoria the following day.

That Sunday we sang Christmas carols by candlelight as the kick off for TLF’s Christmas in Park. What a beautiful way to the welcome the Christmas season! All week long we hosted a Christmas party from about nine in the morning to around one in the afternoon. It sounded like a lot of work to my still lazy self, but I soon found how worth-it it was. Pretoria, especially where we live in Central, is the kind of place that people aren’t from. If you live in Central, you’re probably from somewhere else and have found your way here for work or social services. Most people go home for the holidays, leaving the city quiet and the rest of us who can’t go home potentially feeling pretty lonely. So TLF puts on Christmas in the park every year as a gift for all those who are far from home over the holidays. The whole week was filled with games, music, conversations and new friends, all under the inviting shade of the trees in lovely Burgers Park. On Christmas Eve the finale included a gift give-away to all the children and a free meal provided by a local hotel. That night the international volunteers got together for Christmas Eve dinner. We had a magnificent vegetarian feast followed by Christmas carols and a gift exchange. Robin and I also had our own Christmas celebration the night before, after cooking dinner for our friend who lives at the nearby “old age home.” Christmas day I got up early grabbed a few of the cinnamon rolls Robin had baked and met up with Mandla and his brother to celebrate with their family back in Lenasia. We made full use of the yard outside their house for a braai as their beautiful mother cooked some delicious dishes. I made cinnamon rice as my contribution, which everyone loved. While the food was still cooking, we all gathered together to sing and dance. We formed a loose circle and people took turns leading songs, mostly in Zulu (thankfully I’d learned many of them already). The whole day was filled with laughter.

On Boxing Day Robin and the rest of the volunteers left for various excursions, most to Mozambique. From what I hear they had some great adventures. I stayed behind to work and save my money, but enjoyed a relaxing week. I spent New Years Eve walking about ten miles through the city and carrying furniture between Mandla’s old flat and where he’s staying now. Luckily it was only half a block away. We were too tired by evening to do much celebrating, though we did see fireworks from the window.

That first Saturday of the year I finally went to the salon to get my dreads fixed, which I’ve been considering doing for months. At the salon they washed my hair, twisted and beeswaxed it, then plaited it nicely on my head. I was told that after two weeks of not washing my hair and leaving it plaited, it would look beautiful. The experience itself was not as painful as I had imagined. But that evening I started getting a head ache. A couple days later when the headache had finally receded I started feeling stabbing pains all over my scalp. This eventually gave way to unbearable itchiness. After several sleepless nights, during which time I was also sick in bed, Robin finally helped me untie my hair. I was elated to have my hair free again, but angry once I found my dreads looking hardly any better than they had before. White people hair just requires different treatment. I’ll be doing my own dreads from now on.

The move back to Museums Park from the quiet little flat we’d been staying in was more of a shock than we expected. After a month of having our own space, we were suddenly back in a house that routinely had more than ten people trying to cook and eat separate meals at the same time. A couple days after our return Robin and I both decided it was finally time to move. We think we’ve found a place that could be our own flat in Museum Park. It would be great for when friends come to visit. We’re still working out the details, but hoping to be staying there by February.

Last weekend we had the sad opportunity to attend a funeral. One of the housemothers at the Potters House (shelter for women in crisis) had been sick the last couple years with blood cancer. She passed away at TLF’s Rivoningo hospice center on Christmas day. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to get to know Bongi and hear her story. She first got involved with TLF through the Potters House prison outreach. She was serving time after committing some car-jackings in Jo-burg. Once she was out of prison she came to live at the Potters House. She showed responsibility and was soon filling in for the housemother and within a few months was given a job there. Bongi truly turned her life around. She was a committed believer and a helpful and loving woman. Her funeral was a celebration of her life, though filled with tears. It was surprisingly like most funerals I’ve been to, except for the music. Even on the bus ride to the church, women were singing powerful, mournful songs full of life and soul. After the memorial we all climbed back into the bus for the graveside service. Once the coffin was lowered into the ground, all the men were called on to come and help bury the body, while the women continued to sing. At first I felt like it was just too much, too quickly to watch her body’s last home covered with earth. But it was also beautiful, as the community of people who loved her worked together to take back to dust the body she has inhabited.

The last couple weeks have been work as usual. I’ve finally shaken off the last remnants of my laziness, but am still struggling to get back into healthy exercise habits and my other daily routines.

Hopefully next time I’ll be writing from a new home, telling you about our new visual arts studio where I should be teaching painting by then. Keep us in your prayers. There are lots of decisions to be made for the future and I need guidance and open doors. I hope you all had a beautiful Christmas and a great start to this year.

Sala kahle (“Stay well”)