L-O-V-E, Love

July 11, 2013

L-O-V-E, Love

Those of us with iPhones have a little Notes app that came with our phones. I use that app every day to jot down things to remember for later. Well today, as I was lying in bed sick and (yes, apparently I’ve got the flu??? or just a really bad cough), I was looking through my notes and I found one with this quote:

“The kind of LOVE God created and demonstrated to us, is a costly one because it    involves          sacrifice and presence.”

I am not sure who said it or where I read it or when I added it as a note. The few months leading up to my departure for Africa, I would often jot down notes and things that inspired me or strengthened my peace about my choice to give up my life at home to mission around the world. I am guessing that that wonderful quote came during that time. It sure makes even more sense to me now as I am actually DOING that LOVE, God created. I am sacrificing my comforts, lifestyle, relationships and job to be fully present with people who need LOVE the most. When I read that quote in my Notes I knew it was meant to be that I stumbled across it now, this week, as I am feeling, experiencing and sharing LOVE in a different way...let me explain…

Every weekday either the sisters or one of us volunteers goes to the bread factory 15 down the road. The factory manager is a gracious man as he gives us the left over bread from the trucks. He has men waiting for us every day at 11:30 to unload the bread from their trucks and help us load the little bed of our truck with at least 12 crates. The manager knows the sister’s work for the children so he kindly supports our efforts in feeding them. This is something that I love (and have mentioned before) about the people of South Africa: their willingness to support those who love and care for their people.

On normal weekdays, we take the bread back to the schools for part of the children’s lunches and to pass out as they go home. But we have been out of school for winter break for 3 weeks. The sisters know that when the children are out of school, they probably aren’t getting fed.  The sisters are going to feed the children whether they are in school or not!!

 I got the pleasure of joining Sr. Theresa for this week’s daily bread runs. Once we got the bread we would take it to Finetown. Finetown is the worst slum neighborhood around. The living conditions and the crime out-do all the others. However, as our schools and programs only cater to the poorest of the poor, most of our school children come from this town. The kids knew we would come around lunch time so they would all gather outside of the cresh (our preschool in Finetown) and play games until we arrived with the bread. Once they saw us coming they would start shouting in their sweet little voices, “Seesta, seesta, borroto!!” They would line up single file behind our little truck, pushing and shoving each other to be at the front. It was no surprise to me because after all, they are starving and they will do whatever they have to for food even if that means tackling their best friend to the ground. We would hand one loaf out to each child. “Thank you, seesta, thank you” they would say.

This is love: taking time during your “vacation” and “off” days to drive 15 minutes to a bread factory to get bread to feed the starving children you teach, knowing that if you didn’t feed them, they wouldn’t get fed at all. The sisters are a living example and witness of God’s love, the sacrificing and present love that God demands of us.

But it gets even better!! Once we were done passing out loaves to the children, we would have some left over. We decided to drive up and down the streets of the local dump to give the bread to the people who were there digging in the trash. Since I was shotgun, I got the pleasure (not kidding, it was an absolute pleasure) of jumping in and out of the car handing out the bread to the starving, homeless people going through the rubbish at the dump. Watching their eyes light up as I, a complete stranger (a white one for that matter) who comes offering bread to them while they are in search of any spec of food they can find, was completely and utterly the best feeling I have every felt in my life. That’s love.

But, wait, it gets even BETTER than that!! We still had bread left after giving some away at the dump. Sr. Theresa and I thought, “where else could we go where children are starving and in need of the rest of this bread?” Easy answer: right up the road of course, or up the mountain I should say. Mountain View is the slum community that sits on a small mountain. This community sits on the side of the mountain and overlooks our primary school. I had always looked up at it while at the school but never knew how to get to it and neither did Sr. Theresa. We knew though that Mt. View children would need this bread as much as the ones in Finetown. So we went back to the nearby dump to ask the people there how to get up to Mt. View. Most of the people rummaging through the dump were from Mt. View so they could easily help us with directions.

Sr. Theresa and I followed the dirt path leading up the Mountain toward the shacks. At bottom of the dirt road is a large water tank. This tank and others around the community like it are open at the top so it can collect rain water. This is the people’s only water source. It hasn’t rained since I’ve been here. You can only imagine how low the tanks are. As we are about to start driving up the mountain, I see two small children (they later told me they are 5 and 6 years old), one dragging a large jug and there other pushing a wheelbarrow with a large jug inside of it, up the mountain. Really, though, they weren’t moving at all. They would take a step and then sit. Take a step and then sit. The sun was blazing and they looked defeated and they were only a few yards from the water tank. I made sister stop the car and I hopped out. I first was going to offer them some bread when I realized what they were doing. They were filling those jugs up with water and carrying them to their shack at the top of the mountain. They hardly understood my English when I asked them what they were doing, but it didn’t matter because it was obvious what they were doing. I lifted one of the jugs and my arm about ripped out of socket. I couldn’t even life it with one hand. How in the world were these 5 year olds going to get it up the mountain? Not sure, but they were making a valiant effort. They looked sad and tired and dirty and they definitely didn’t have the strength to drag those jugs up the mountain. It’s like they were sent to fetch water and given a wheelbarrow as if it were to help?? I told sister to keep going up and that I’d meet her in a few minutes at the top. I grabbed the jugs and put them both in to the wheelbarrow and began to push. I thought my back was going to give out. I was slipping on the rocks and dirt on the ground and the wheelbarrow was moving at a snail’s pace. But that didn’t matter. The fact that those two children were not killing themselves and enduring the child abuse that their mother inflicted on them is what gave me the strength to make it up the mountain. The children guided me to their house and I stopped outside of their shack (about ready to pass out). A few adults were standing around outside. They looked at me like I was from space, like I had appeared from thin air. I gave the kids a hug and looked at the adults with a smile (although I should’ve screamed CHILD ABUSE at them instead) but I didn’t because of peace. When you’re sharing love, God gives you a sense of peace that puts you at ease. It’s a type of peace that makes anger and frustration easily subside. I think this is why I didn’t let my thoughts on this injustice come hurdling out, as they normally would.

Now the best part has come!!!! Before our bread run on Wednesday (my wheelbarrow adventure happened Monday), I went with Sister Giovanna to see the twins and their brother at their new home! These are the “little angels on earth” from a few posts ago. Since they were taken from their shack and their parents, they stayed only a week with us and were then arranged to live with their aunt in Orange Farm, a small up-scale squatter neighborhood. It started as an informal, squatter settlement but I say up-scale because the people living there started replacing their shacks with mud or brick houses. They still have dirt roads but they are nicely kept. Some homes have grass yards but most don’t. Either way, this community environment is a world of difference then the Finetown shack community that the children came from.

The children were given to their aunt as she is the next suitable family member to take care of the children. When we arrived the aunt was very welcoming. She had a sweet and comforting smile. Her house was very small but it seemed well kept. We talked to her for a bit until the twins came walking in from outside. They second I saw them I couldn’t help but to cry. I had missed their faces and smiles and laughter. I had thought about them every day since they stayed with us. I grabbed Sebongile and hugged her and kissed her chubby little face. She had gotten chubbier then before which is good. She looked like she has been eating well. Bongiwe looked a bit chubbier as well. Both of them had haircuts and were holding their hats in their hands as if they were told to take them off when we got their so we could see their new do’s! The love I have for these little girls is unreal. I have worked with many children and have loved each and every one. But these two little girls are different. I have a love for them that I can’t even explain. Just holding them while they eat, because there was a time when they hardly ate at all, makes me cry. When I’m with them all I want to do it hug and kiss them and talk to them and tickle their fat little bellies.

They weren’t the same though. They weren’t as happy today as they were when we left them a few weeks ago. They hardly smiled this time and they didn’t even try and talk to each other or me. We had taught them how to say bye bye to us before, but this time they wouldn’t do it for me. I was sad to see them this way because they were always laughing and giggling and smiling when they lived with us. Sandile smiled often when I talked to him. He is always quite though. He has been through a lot in his short 8 years. I would imagine he’s got a lot on his mind.

The social worker told me that I could have the girls stay with me one weekend. Maybe that will turn into one week. I told sister G that I’d keep those three at my house with me until I left in January. I wanted to make that my mission. But I know that’s easier said than done. I just know what hell they have gone through I want to wipe that all away. I want to make sure that never happens to them ever again. I want to love them the way they should be loved. I just hope and pray that their aunt has good intentions and they she keep them fed and clean and most importantly, loved.

Done. I sum up my week of love and another realization that has unfolded for me…

Through the smiles and laughter of the children, through the excruciating stories that are their lives, God reminds me every day that I have one purpose, in South Africa and in life, and that is to LOVE. Being here, in their element and out of my own, I realize just how much love I have to give and how it comes pouring out like a waterfall these days.