Six months ago today, a 747 landed at Cape Town International Airport, and one of the people who got off it was me. I cleared customs and walked out to the international arrivals lobby and straight into the welcoming hugs of about half the HOPE Africa staff and most of the Anhouse students. Of course, I can't claim that this huge reception was for me - they had all come because last year's YASCer, Holly, flew away on the same plane that I had just come in on, which was a happy coincidence. I can hardly believe that happened half a year ago! These have been the most challenging, inspiring, extraordinary six months of my life. This post is about six things that South Africa has taught me so far.
1. Adam was right.
I recall a conversation I had with my friend Adam a few weeks before I left Richmond. Adam spent more than a year in South Africa a while back, and he was really helpful as I was preparing to move here. But in this particular conversation, I was telling another of our friends about how excited I was to learn to speak Afrikaans. Adam said, "You're not going to learn any Afrikaans." I don't remember what I said in reply, but I'm pretty sure it was something along the lines of, "Shut up. Of course I'm going to learn Afrikaans!" Well, I owe you an apology, Adam, because you were right. In the past six months, I have learned a grand total of 10 phrases in Afrikaans. I had this vision in my head that, since I was going to be living in an Afrikaans-speaking community, I would obviously become fluid in the language. But that hasn't happened at all. Yes, Hawston is indeed an Afrikaans-speaking place, and there is even a little bit more of a language barrier than I originally anticipated. I assumed that everyone would speak at least some English, but several of my patients have known about as much English as I know Spanish, which is to say they mostly know food words. But I still haven't learned any Afrikaans, simply because when I am around, people make an effort to speak English for me, so it hasn't been necessary.
The is just one of many examples of how my preconceived notions of what South Africa would be like have been proved very wrong. In fact, I think my most glaringly incorrect preconceived idea was that South Africa could be defined as being one certain way. This is the most diverse country in the world! Within a 10 mile radius of where I live, you have Hawston, a poor colored Afrikaans-speaking community, Zwelihle, the black township where Xhosa is the main language and people are even poorer, and Onrus and Vermont, in which wealthy white people like to buy houses when they retire. And that's just one tiny little part of the Western Cape, which is the most affluent and developed province of the country! If I went to the Northern Cape or Eastern Cape or KZN, I would find places that are nothing like any of those parts of the Hawston/Hermanus area! So yeah, some of my preconceived ideas were right, and some were very wrong. But it all depends on exactly what and where we're talking about, because South Africa just can't be put in a box.
2. I don't have an emergency contact person.
If you're a runner, then you know that when you enter a race you have to put the name and phone number of an emergency contact person on the form. Every time I enter a race here, I get just a little bit sad. I don't have an emergency contact person! At home, my person would be my husband Jacob. Before Jacob, it was my mom. If neither of them is available, I could use my sister or my grandmother or any one of my close friends. But here? If I have a heart attack during a race, who could the paramedics really call for me?
I have some good friends here, but I will never be on level ground with any of them. I will always need them more than they need me. Everyone I know here has a family and friends they've known for longer than six months. I don't. I only have them. At first this was a little weird for me, but I've come to realize that it is actually quite normal, given the situation. That's just the nature of expat life! I think I feel it more than some of my YASC colleagues who are in places with other Americans around, because countrymen tend to kind of band together and become each other's go-to person. But there are no other Americans here. I'm the only one, and while that's given me a sort of novelty factor, it also means I'm always going to be a bit of an outsider. It's unfair of me to expect anything else. Please don't misunderstand me here. This no longer bothers me at all. It's just something I had to realize and go along with.
3. I will never understand cricket.
I say this at the risk of alienating one of my best friends here, but cricket is absolutely impossible. Forgive me, Dewald, for I know not how to appreciate your sports. But seriously, I do not understand this game at all, and it's not for lack of trying. It doesn't help that both teams wear the same color so you can't tell who you're rooting for, or that there are multiple forms of the game and it may last anywhere from about an hour to five days. Honestly this is the most incomprehensible sport ever invented. I am totally bewildered, and I give up.
The same applies to other things besides cricket. There are some cultural differences between me and the people whose country I live in. Sometimes these are subtle or funny, but sometimes they're kinda big things, like the meaning of 'urgent' in a medical situation or how one relates to one's work colleagues and superiors. At times I find the South African government health care system really confusing and counterintuitive. But in the end, these things are just differences of opinion, and as the outsider, it is my responsibility to function within the system I'm given. Just because my way is what I'm used to doesn't mean I'm right. It has been really good for me to learn to set aside that 'my way or the highway' attitude that I think all Americans are born with.
4. You've got to ask for what you want.
I learned a lot of life lessons from James Dick, the director of the Washington and Lee Outing Club. I learned them despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that James had this habit of spouting off some really deep and profound piece of wisdom in the middle of a very normal conversation about something completely mundane like ice cream. Anyway, one of my favorite 'Jamesisms' is that you have to ask for what you want. (James also taught me other things like how to safely and respectfully enjoy the wilderness, and he introduced me to my husband. Good man.)
When you go on a year long mission to another country by yourself, you are forced to rely on God because your normal support system just isn't available. Since I have been in South Africa, I have found myself asking God for things that I want, even when they aren't things that are normal 'prayer material'. For example, I have asked God 'oh please let the internet work well tonight' or 'help me to find a shop that sells a super warm blanket'. And guess what? Every time I have asked for something like this, God has given me what I needed. He may have also given me what I needed if I hadn't asked, but what I'm saying is that I've learned it's OK to talk to God about whatever is on my mind, even if it isn't particularly profound.
Same thing goes for asking other people for what you want. For some reason people, and I would argue women in particular, are bad at just coming out and asking for what they want. We expect others to magically know what we need and give it to us, but that isn't fair. If you don't ask for what you want, how is someone else supposed to know that you want it? When I first got here, I was uncomfortable asking for what I really wanted, which was company. I guess it made me feel too vulnerable. But once I remembered James's wisdom, I started asking, and no one has let me down yet. Maybe it's just because I am surrounded by awesome people who allow me to take over their TV to watch the Olympics, are willing to meet me for dinner when I'm feeling a bit lonely, will run with me when I want a jog and don't want to go alone. But seriously. Try asking the people around you for what you really want from them. Try praying about everything, big or small. Just try it and see what happens.
5. Miracles happen.
I often hear people ask about miracles. The Bible is full of them. So where are our modern miracles? As a nurse, it is my privilege to witness miracles all the time.
The war on AIDS is over. We've won. Antiretroviral drugs work. HIV is no longer a death sentence. It is a chronic condition that is manageable, like diabetes. The war on AIDS is now a war on the stereotypes and prejudice that people with HIV suffer under. But medically? We've got this covered, guys. And that is every bit as miraculous as the parting of the Red Sea.
Here at the care centre, I get a front row seat to see some pretty miraculous healing. We have a patient right now who will be discharged at the end of the week. When she came to us in December, she was so weak that she was bed bound, so confused that she didn't know what city she was in. This same patient will walk out of here on Friday completely healthy. That's a miracle, and it's quite typical of the type of work my colleagues do every day. I'll say it again: it is my privilege to witness these things.
6. I'm helping to build the Cathedral.
We had a guest preacher At St. Peter's in Hermanus a few weeks ago. He is a retired priest from England, and he gave a really exceptional sermon about what Church is (I use the capital C because I mean Church, the house of God on Earth, not church like a building or a denomination). He based his definition of Church on a sculpture by Rodin called the Cathedral, which depicts two right hands touching. He talked about how this is a powerful metaphor for the Church, in that these two hands belong to two different people (obviously, since they're both right hands). Church is about reaching out to someone else with a loving touch, a healing touch, a comforting touch. The Church will walk beside you, even in the darkest, scariest, most painful times of your life.
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| Rodin's Cathedral |
My day to day work in South Africa is a bit different from what the other YASCers are doing in their placements. I am working in what is essentially a secular nursing role. I have very little to do with the Anglican church here, other than I go to one on Sundays. At first, that bothered me a little bit. After all, I'm a missionary, so shouldn't I be doing something a little more... churchy? Over the past six months, I've come to realize that my work at the Overstrand Care Centre is actually part of the central mission of the Church. Every day I am directly involved in healing. Even when I'm writing a report in the office, I'm doing that so Martin won't have to and he can rather spend more of his time with our patients. So in every way I am working towards the healing of God's people. Yes, it's physical healing I'm talking about, but that too is what the Church does. Check the gospels. Christ Himself spent quite a bit of His time on earth healing physical bodies. So my nursing work is definitely worthy of the title 'mission'.
There is another point I need to make here, and this is something that has become abundantly clear to me during the past six months. There is nothing at all special about me. I'm still a new nurse, I've never worked in hospice or rehab before, and I certainly don't understand the ins and outs of the South African health care system. Somebody else could do this job a lot better than me. But this is so NOT about me. Maybe I'm not the most qualified person for this job, but I'm the one who is here, and if I don't do it, who will? I promise you that God is using me as a channel of His healing, even though I am lacking in knowledge and I get frustrated when things aren't done the way I'd like. God is using my far from perfect, very ordinary self to do some amazing work for His people here in Hawston. And that is totally awesome.
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