The Bond’s hit the road again to celebrate Heritage Day and the annual flower explosion on the West Coast of South Africa. Timing for the flower event is a bit tricky as the best viewing changes from year to year and on cloudy days the flowers fold up. We flew to Cape Town after attending the 10th Anniversary of the Peace Corps in South Africa and the new volunteer’s swearing in ceremony in Pretoria. A great kick-off for the botanical tour of the West Coast was a stop at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens in Cape Town, a world heritage site. The garden starts low and extends up the side of Table Mountain with acres of protea, succulents, cycads, fynbos and wildflowers, all in bloom. What is your favorite protea? The tiny red pin cushions, the vibrant orange and yellow or the obscene pale pink King with large beetles consuming its pollen? The panorama of Cape Town unfolds as one strolls up the grand grey mountainside.
We headed for the West Coast with no plans or itinerary. However the stay provided a rich assortment of sights and entertainment. The West Coast of South Africa is scenic, unspoiled and lovely. It reminded me so much of the Central coast of California with huge stretches of sand dunes, wildflowers, wild bluffs, breakers and little development. I felt at home and at peace in our small cottage by the sea in the fishing village of Paternoster, named after the prayer said by all fishermen as they go to sea. Paternoster is a 2 hour drive north west from Cape Town along the coast, going through wetlands, very small villages and unspoiled beaches. Paternoster is composed of whitewashed cement houses with tin roofs that look directly out unto the bay and sand dunes. The beach is covered with white and black clam shells that break down into fine sand. Hot pink wildflowers with black centers provide gaudy decorations for the scrub growing in the dunes. The beautiful beach is perfect for long walks to look for right whales, and enjoy the surf and the interesting white rock formations in the bay. After being confused for a year by the sunsets on the east coast of Africa, the sun set over the ocean providing beautiful sunsets and a sense of familiarity for a homesick So Cal Gal.
Paternoster was a great base for exploring the Weskus (West Coast). The first day was spent seeing the miles and miles of wildflowers and beach at the West Coast National Park. Yellows, purples, pinks, whites and oranges in beautiful tapestries silhouetting the rolling hillsides and beach. The northwest corner of the park known as the Postberg is open only during flower season. The fields of flowers are accented by the huge breakers crashing against the rocks in this rugged area.
Sunday we stumbled on the Cultivara Festival in Paarl. This is a three day festival of the arts combined with a food and wine festival. (a great play on this wine production area and the arts). We missed the Messiah by University of Stellenbosch but were able to get tickets to see the Two Blondes, Beethoven to Abba. The two fair haired damsels played classical and popular hits on two matching grand pianos with a running commentary in Afrikaans. Great listening and great music! We headed over to the Food and Wine tent after the piano concert for some live jazz, west coast wine tasting, chicken curry and strawberries with wonderful thick cream that has no rival in the US. The whole town of Paarl is used as a venue for the festival; the piano concert was held in the auditorium of the police academy. Paarl is named for the rounded granite peaks that surround the city that in certain light look like pearls.
Heritage Day (Sept. 24) produced surprise entertainment in Darling (wildflower central) and a confirmation that one person can change the world for the better, albeit in a quirky way. Pieter-Dirk Uys holds stage in the Darling train station (Afrikaans Perron) as Evita se Perron with satire that helped bring down Aparthied. He has daily shows with his monologue about world politics and injustice, always peppered with plenty of humor. He is dressed in full formal drag and is convincing as the saucy aunt that tells it like it is. Some of his best quotes “Apartheid is the pigment of the imagination”, “Hypocrisy is the Vaseline of political intercourse” , “The Future is Certain, the Past is Unpredictable.”
The Cederburg Mountains loom and beckon to the north of Paternoster so our last day was spent driving to the Cederburg for a rugged drive through the peaks and a hike to view the San cave paintings. The dirt road traversed wild geologic formations to a high plain where the caves were found. The four km trail leads to 10 cave sites with painting of mythical people and animals. Amazingly they resembled the cave painting we viewed in the Drakensburg Mountains 1000 km distant. The viewing is like a treasure hunt- the stone walls are intimately examined until the forms take their shape. Many of the paintings have several figures superimposed on each other. Dates are between 200 and 3000 years old. The San people were killed with just a few survivors remaining and very little known about the ancient culture or the significance of the man-beast forms. However, it is great fun to explore the caves and hunt for the treasure.
This trip had no preplanned itinerary or must-do requirements. It may be that the Peace Corps experience has taught that serendipity can be the most rewarding experience in life. The flowers may have been a little late for best viewing but we had a ball! We look forward to a trip next week to Kruger National Park with our son Erik for game spotting. Keep you posted!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Transport Blues and Bodies
One might think it is depressing living and working in a hospital for AIDS. Actually one hears very little whining and a lot of laughter. And some of the incidences involving death are outrageously funny. So I apologize for the following stories from our lives. They are not meant to disrespect the dead, only to pass on the absurdity of life and death here in KwaZuluNatal.
The Zulu culture places great emphasis on respect for the death and burial rituals. Cremation does not seem to exist in our area; the dead are given decent funerals (which are very costly to the families), buried, mourned with families wearing black for a month and a stone laid on the grave in a formal ceremony. The AIDS epidemic has created a huge industry for dealing with the dead. Tombstone stores crop up in minimalls next to bakeries. Companies that deal in cement and construction supplies open up side businesses to manufacture the gravestones. Zulus that spend their lives riding in crowded 16 passenger taxis (often loaded with 19) finally are treated to a ride in a white Mercedes hearse for the final trip to their resting place if the family can afford the cost. If not they hire a driver and pickup truck with a small coffin sized trailer to transport their loved one to the burial ground.
Transport issues oversee the length of one’s life here in Zululand. From birth to death transport is always a problem. Critically ill patients are transferred from Mountain High Hospital to a better equipped public hospital in Vryheid when they need critical care. Some of the patients die down in the upgraded hospital. Thus the families have the problem of how to get the body back to this isolated rural mountain site when they have no car and limited financial means.
Three months ago a local family arranged to have a small pickup truck (with coffin trailer) bring back their dead relative to the valley 1000ft below Mountain High Hospital The dirt road from the paved road to the Hospital is tricky to navigate and bare rock in one area but the next section that goes from the Hospital over the mountain and down to the valley is tortuous in its steep slippery grade, rough rocks and potholes. The truck and small coffin sized trailer picked up the corpse in town and had no problem transversing the road to the hospital. However, the wheel got stuck in one of the potholes and it could not go down the mountain. The driver and helper tried to dig the truck free and in doing so the trailer came loose and flew down the mountain, hitting the driver, who was seriously injured and was the second casualty in that brigade. Irony was that he brought to Mountain High for first aid and then had to be transported down to the hospital in Vryheid for his injuries.
On Friday, I inquired whether a driver was going to town - the night duty nurses were urgently asking for flashlights (power was out on Thurs. night with no relief in sight). Toner for the printer had run out and the payroll needed to be printed. The driver was noncommittal in his answer as to whether he was in fact headed to town. He asked me to follow him to the hospital pickup truck and take a look. I headed over to the loading area by the gate and immediately understood his dilemma. A white coffin was parked at a 45 degree angle sticking up 2 feet over the tailgate in the back of the pickup. It was too long to fit into the bed of the truck. The driver stated that he had orders to go to Vryheid to pick up a corpse and return it back to our site. B The driver was agitated and did not want to buy flashlights or toner with the corpse tilted in the back of the truck. A suggestion that he run the business errands first and then pick up the body was not well received. A quick search was made of the laundry room and stores to find a plastic tarp to cover the white coffin, whose identity was plain and clear to any passersby. The driver was concerned that he might hit a bump and lose his cargo. Plenty of rope and a few words of encouragement were uttered for his task.
In many ways life here is very similar to life in the 1950’s when not everyone had a car and you were dependent on your neighbors and friends to help with transportation, shortages and family crises. Although local residents squabble among themselves they are quick to forgive and forget as tomorrow they will need each other for urgent needs.
The Zulu culture places great emphasis on respect for the death and burial rituals. Cremation does not seem to exist in our area; the dead are given decent funerals (which are very costly to the families), buried, mourned with families wearing black for a month and a stone laid on the grave in a formal ceremony. The AIDS epidemic has created a huge industry for dealing with the dead. Tombstone stores crop up in minimalls next to bakeries. Companies that deal in cement and construction supplies open up side businesses to manufacture the gravestones. Zulus that spend their lives riding in crowded 16 passenger taxis (often loaded with 19) finally are treated to a ride in a white Mercedes hearse for the final trip to their resting place if the family can afford the cost. If not they hire a driver and pickup truck with a small coffin sized trailer to transport their loved one to the burial ground.
Transport issues oversee the length of one’s life here in Zululand. From birth to death transport is always a problem. Critically ill patients are transferred from Mountain High Hospital to a better equipped public hospital in Vryheid when they need critical care. Some of the patients die down in the upgraded hospital. Thus the families have the problem of how to get the body back to this isolated rural mountain site when they have no car and limited financial means.
Three months ago a local family arranged to have a small pickup truck (with coffin trailer) bring back their dead relative to the valley 1000ft below Mountain High Hospital The dirt road from the paved road to the Hospital is tricky to navigate and bare rock in one area but the next section that goes from the Hospital over the mountain and down to the valley is tortuous in its steep slippery grade, rough rocks and potholes. The truck and small coffin sized trailer picked up the corpse in town and had no problem transversing the road to the hospital. However, the wheel got stuck in one of the potholes and it could not go down the mountain. The driver and helper tried to dig the truck free and in doing so the trailer came loose and flew down the mountain, hitting the driver, who was seriously injured and was the second casualty in that brigade. Irony was that he brought to Mountain High for first aid and then had to be transported down to the hospital in Vryheid for his injuries.
On Friday, I inquired whether a driver was going to town - the night duty nurses were urgently asking for flashlights (power was out on Thurs. night with no relief in sight). Toner for the printer had run out and the payroll needed to be printed. The driver was noncommittal in his answer as to whether he was in fact headed to town. He asked me to follow him to the hospital pickup truck and take a look. I headed over to the loading area by the gate and immediately understood his dilemma. A white coffin was parked at a 45 degree angle sticking up 2 feet over the tailgate in the back of the pickup. It was too long to fit into the bed of the truck. The driver stated that he had orders to go to Vryheid to pick up a corpse and return it back to our site. B The driver was agitated and did not want to buy flashlights or toner with the corpse tilted in the back of the truck. A suggestion that he run the business errands first and then pick up the body was not well received. A quick search was made of the laundry room and stores to find a plastic tarp to cover the white coffin, whose identity was plain and clear to any passersby. The driver was concerned that he might hit a bump and lose his cargo. Plenty of rope and a few words of encouragement were uttered for his task.
In many ways life here is very similar to life in the 1950’s when not everyone had a car and you were dependent on your neighbors and friends to help with transportation, shortages and family crises. Although local residents squabble among themselves they are quick to forgive and forget as tomorrow they will need each other for urgent needs.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Reed Dance
This weekend was the climax of Zulu cultural life in the 21st century with the Zulu King Goodwill holding the annual Reed Dance for Zulu Maidens in Southern Africa. This event has been going on for 23 years at his Kraal (ranch) close to Mountain High Hospital. Originally only 25-30 young girls danced with a bamboo pole in front of the king, showing their grace and beauty. He could select any of the maidens to be queens and they were locked into royalty for life. The King currently has 5 or 6 wives and does not seem to be actively interested in acquiring more, but one never knows. On Friday at work I teased my colleagues that if I did not show up on Monday, look for me at the Palace; maybe I got lucky!
What a surprise when we arrived at the Palace grounds and saw thousands of beautiful young girls milling around waiting for the events to begin. (Don’t worry Mountain High, I will be back at work on Monday morning-too much gorgeous competition from the young). They arrived by bus, taxi, private car and on foot from all over Southern Africa. (The King of Swaziland holds a similar event and now has 200 wives). Each girl makes her own costume out of beads, feathers, skins, Zulu fabric with the King’s face or whatever she and her friends cook up. Of course the costume does not require much material as it is bottoms only with a few beaded ornaments for the upper half. The girls are housed in huge tents for the two day event which had the atmosphere of the Rose Parade, beauty pageant, and revival meeting combined.
To see 5000 young girls begin marching in unison with their reeds held high singing a song of affirmation was truly a lifetime event. They danced in rows of 20 across waving their reeds as they became one entity that announced “We are Zulus and we are proud of our beautiful culture.” The parade continued for 2 hours as they swayed up the road to the palace and laid their reed at the king’s feet. They then danced down to the stadium where they danced again for the waiting crowd. Besides their bare chests they wore no shoes- the day was warm but their singing and swaying did not hesitate. At last all of the girls had finished their moment with the King and the program started.
The minister preached, the politicians spoke; the educators ranted and then King Goodwill took the podium. The speeches were empowerment messages for the girls. Stay AIDS FREE for life! Abstinence is Cool-Its Ok to Wait! So instead of this amazing gathering being a bacchanalian tribute to polygamy and the King’s powers, it has become a means of asserting and affirming the young girls. Every girl was viewed as a Zulu princess, possessing the intellect and self-esteem to become a respected member of the Zulu society. The speeches probably grew long for the girls and many were there for the fun of the day and the traditional dressing, but the collective power of so many sisters making a stand to develop their potential and stay AIDS free must make a big impact.
The logistics for the event were remarkable. The Kings Kraal is 20 miles from any town so transport had to be arranged for the girls, the families of the girls, the matrons that looked after and coached the girls on the dance and behavior required. As we sat waiting for the program to start, trucks arrived with 7 brown velvet wing chairs and 10 carved seats for the royal family. King Goodwill arrived attired in leopard skin and feathers as were the males in his entourage. He was educated at Oxford but speaks in simple Zulu with the message that the Zulu nation should be celebrated and that AIDS must be eliminated. After the speeches the girls danced again. A poignant moment was the dance by three of the King’s current wives in their elegant white brocade attire.
I was thrilled to be a witness to such an exciting, beautiful day. I was also encouraged as an individual actively involved in dealing with AIDS patients that the Zulu King has seized a cultural event to get the AIDS message out and put it into the hearts of these very young girls. His message was that each young girl should have a plan to stay AIDS FREE for life. The South African government provides financial support for the Zulu King but they are getting a great spokesman for the AIDS health messages as well as a classy statesman who sure knows how to put on a party! Sad that there were so few tourists in attendance as it was a unique view into this special place and the commitment that community leaders are making to combat AIDS in South Africa.
What a surprise when we arrived at the Palace grounds and saw thousands of beautiful young girls milling around waiting for the events to begin. (Don’t worry Mountain High, I will be back at work on Monday morning-too much gorgeous competition from the young). They arrived by bus, taxi, private car and on foot from all over Southern Africa. (The King of Swaziland holds a similar event and now has 200 wives). Each girl makes her own costume out of beads, feathers, skins, Zulu fabric with the King’s face or whatever she and her friends cook up. Of course the costume does not require much material as it is bottoms only with a few beaded ornaments for the upper half. The girls are housed in huge tents for the two day event which had the atmosphere of the Rose Parade, beauty pageant, and revival meeting combined.
To see 5000 young girls begin marching in unison with their reeds held high singing a song of affirmation was truly a lifetime event. They danced in rows of 20 across waving their reeds as they became one entity that announced “We are Zulus and we are proud of our beautiful culture.” The parade continued for 2 hours as they swayed up the road to the palace and laid their reed at the king’s feet. They then danced down to the stadium where they danced again for the waiting crowd. Besides their bare chests they wore no shoes- the day was warm but their singing and swaying did not hesitate. At last all of the girls had finished their moment with the King and the program started.
The minister preached, the politicians spoke; the educators ranted and then King Goodwill took the podium. The speeches were empowerment messages for the girls. Stay AIDS FREE for life! Abstinence is Cool-Its Ok to Wait! So instead of this amazing gathering being a bacchanalian tribute to polygamy and the King’s powers, it has become a means of asserting and affirming the young girls. Every girl was viewed as a Zulu princess, possessing the intellect and self-esteem to become a respected member of the Zulu society. The speeches probably grew long for the girls and many were there for the fun of the day and the traditional dressing, but the collective power of so many sisters making a stand to develop their potential and stay AIDS free must make a big impact.
The logistics for the event were remarkable. The Kings Kraal is 20 miles from any town so transport had to be arranged for the girls, the families of the girls, the matrons that looked after and coached the girls on the dance and behavior required. As we sat waiting for the program to start, trucks arrived with 7 brown velvet wing chairs and 10 carved seats for the royal family. King Goodwill arrived attired in leopard skin and feathers as were the males in his entourage. He was educated at Oxford but speaks in simple Zulu with the message that the Zulu nation should be celebrated and that AIDS must be eliminated. After the speeches the girls danced again. A poignant moment was the dance by three of the King’s current wives in their elegant white brocade attire.
I was thrilled to be a witness to such an exciting, beautiful day. I was also encouraged as an individual actively involved in dealing with AIDS patients that the Zulu King has seized a cultural event to get the AIDS message out and put it into the hearts of these very young girls. His message was that each young girl should have a plan to stay AIDS FREE for life. The South African government provides financial support for the Zulu King but they are getting a great spokesman for the AIDS health messages as well as a classy statesman who sure knows how to put on a party! Sad that there were so few tourists in attendance as it was a unique view into this special place and the commitment that community leaders are making to combat AIDS in South Africa.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
The Call
This week was an affirmation of our Peace Corps Service but also a lesson in our limitations and weaknesses. Last weekend as stocks of fabrics grew thin for the occupational therapy program for patients at an AIDS hospital, I purchased many new fabrics in our shopping town. Monday is the sewing day for the Jabule group (occupational therapy) where the fabrics are chosen by the luck of the draw, patterns assembled and the fabrics cut to meet the requests of the patients. (hat, scarf, long or short skirt, t-shirt, pegs bag, cushion). The men meet from 9:30am to 10:30; the women then arrive till around 12:15 when lunch is served. I display the fabrics on the benches in the chapel, help them lay out the patterns on the fabrics and cut them on the floor to meet the customer’s request.
On Monday the men did not arrive at 9:30 am as they were late in receiving their medications. By 10 am they started to trickle in and took their time looking at the available handcraft project possibilities. Around 10:15am the women gathered at the windows of the chapel to see what the Jabule experience had to offer for Sewing Monday. (I had earlier told them that the Women’s group would start at 10:30am.) Promptly at 10:30 ten women entered the Chapel and in agitated, aggressive voices wanted to start their program and extricate the men. Fortunately, the Zulu volunteer assistant for the program was able to tell them to come back in 10 minutes when the men’s' requests for projects were fulfilled.
Ten minutes later the women showed up again at the door, this time greatly agitated and chanting in Zulu. I could not understand the words but clearly got the sentiment. One woman finally yelled in English “Women First!” I was floored by this rancorous response to the handcrafts project as each day and each week every person’ s request for craft supplies was handled by a picking a number and attention to their request. The women were slotted in the 10:30 hour because they receive their drugs at 9:30am and are not available until midmorning. I asked them for “Uxolo” (Peace) as this is the only Zulu word I know for harmony. Then I quickly asked the Zulu volunteer to tell them that peace must resume or we would close up for the day. He muttered something to the women and the handcrafts program finally began.
This was a cultural misunderstanding that I do not fully understand. Were the women truly agitated or were they just teasing me because the week before I suggested during the pizza cooking session that the women be served first. They women in Africa bear a tremendous burden as you often see them with the baby wrapped in a towel on their back and water or wood on their heads. They are generally submissive to demands from men which may be part of the gender issues causing the AIDS epidemic. I asked the male volunteer assistant why the women were agitated and he answered “Angawz” (I don’t know).
So with this rocky start for the week I thought about my place and purpose in South Africa. I began to understand the patient’s impatience to start the Jabule program and their promised handcrafts and sewing projects. What if an American was sent to an isolated rural hospital with limited recreation opportunities? Or were the female patients just having a good joke?
This brought to mind the reason why we are here in South Africa. Our service has many ups and downs but even in the deepest downs there is a conviction that we are needed here. Last weekend I received a request to explain the “Call of God” from some boys in my church in Palos Verdes. The following summarizes my experience with the “Call”:
In the early 60’s President John F. Kennedy started the Peace Corps with the caveat, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country”. As a little girl I was interested in the Peace Corps as the media was full of information about this new government program. I was not able to join until I finished college, worked for the Calif. Health Dept, raised two sons and retired but I kept Peace Corps Service in the back of my mind as a future possibility and followed the progress of the organization.
God’s call has come to me throughout my life as a whisper in my ear and a steady voice that says “You should do this” whenever an opportunity for service has come along. The call has a persistence coupled with open doors that enable the service to happen.
My interest in international mission service was piqued by hearing stories from missionaries as a young girl, the opportunity to travel, love of adventure, and the mission program at St. Peters by the Sea Presbyterian Church. When retirement came early, I sought a way of using the free time and my skills to help others. Christian service is the opportunity to use the creativity and imagination that one possesses for blessing and pleasure to give meaning to life.
The process of applying and being accepted to the Peace Corps was a challenge that took two years. Some of their requirements were medical, dental, financial and legal clearances as well as interviews and recommendations. At one point an obstacle was their requirement that my wisdom teeth be removed and an oral surgeon refusing to take them out due to risk. Other difficulties were getting rid or storing all of our belongings including our vehicles, renting our house, finding a place for our son to live, and arranging for management of our finances. We also had to say goodbye to our family, friends and neighbors for two years. However, the tasks were not too onerous and God provided steady wisdom, guidance and peace of mind through the process by that quiet voice.
The doubts we had about joining the Peace Corps or completing the service are better defined as concerns that we are up to the task, we can stay healthy and we can help South Africa. When the water or electricity does not work or we have no transportation it is easy to think of America and the comfortable life in Palos Verdes. However, God has given us a sense that we are in the right place and doing meaningful work. We trust him every day to give us the courage and strength to fulfill that day’s service and a positive spirit of love for the Zulu people.
On Monday the men did not arrive at 9:30 am as they were late in receiving their medications. By 10 am they started to trickle in and took their time looking at the available handcraft project possibilities. Around 10:15am the women gathered at the windows of the chapel to see what the Jabule experience had to offer for Sewing Monday. (I had earlier told them that the Women’s group would start at 10:30am.) Promptly at 10:30 ten women entered the Chapel and in agitated, aggressive voices wanted to start their program and extricate the men. Fortunately, the Zulu volunteer assistant for the program was able to tell them to come back in 10 minutes when the men’s' requests for projects were fulfilled.
Ten minutes later the women showed up again at the door, this time greatly agitated and chanting in Zulu. I could not understand the words but clearly got the sentiment. One woman finally yelled in English “Women First!” I was floored by this rancorous response to the handcrafts project as each day and each week every person’ s request for craft supplies was handled by a picking a number and attention to their request. The women were slotted in the 10:30 hour because they receive their drugs at 9:30am and are not available until midmorning. I asked them for “Uxolo” (Peace) as this is the only Zulu word I know for harmony. Then I quickly asked the Zulu volunteer to tell them that peace must resume or we would close up for the day. He muttered something to the women and the handcrafts program finally began.
This was a cultural misunderstanding that I do not fully understand. Were the women truly agitated or were they just teasing me because the week before I suggested during the pizza cooking session that the women be served first. They women in Africa bear a tremendous burden as you often see them with the baby wrapped in a towel on their back and water or wood on their heads. They are generally submissive to demands from men which may be part of the gender issues causing the AIDS epidemic. I asked the male volunteer assistant why the women were agitated and he answered “Angawz” (I don’t know).
So with this rocky start for the week I thought about my place and purpose in South Africa. I began to understand the patient’s impatience to start the Jabule program and their promised handcrafts and sewing projects. What if an American was sent to an isolated rural hospital with limited recreation opportunities? Or were the female patients just having a good joke?
This brought to mind the reason why we are here in South Africa. Our service has many ups and downs but even in the deepest downs there is a conviction that we are needed here. Last weekend I received a request to explain the “Call of God” from some boys in my church in Palos Verdes. The following summarizes my experience with the “Call”:
In the early 60’s President John F. Kennedy started the Peace Corps with the caveat, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country”. As a little girl I was interested in the Peace Corps as the media was full of information about this new government program. I was not able to join until I finished college, worked for the Calif. Health Dept, raised two sons and retired but I kept Peace Corps Service in the back of my mind as a future possibility and followed the progress of the organization.
God’s call has come to me throughout my life as a whisper in my ear and a steady voice that says “You should do this” whenever an opportunity for service has come along. The call has a persistence coupled with open doors that enable the service to happen.
My interest in international mission service was piqued by hearing stories from missionaries as a young girl, the opportunity to travel, love of adventure, and the mission program at St. Peters by the Sea Presbyterian Church. When retirement came early, I sought a way of using the free time and my skills to help others. Christian service is the opportunity to use the creativity and imagination that one possesses for blessing and pleasure to give meaning to life.
The process of applying and being accepted to the Peace Corps was a challenge that took two years. Some of their requirements were medical, dental, financial and legal clearances as well as interviews and recommendations. At one point an obstacle was their requirement that my wisdom teeth be removed and an oral surgeon refusing to take them out due to risk. Other difficulties were getting rid or storing all of our belongings including our vehicles, renting our house, finding a place for our son to live, and arranging for management of our finances. We also had to say goodbye to our family, friends and neighbors for two years. However, the tasks were not too onerous and God provided steady wisdom, guidance and peace of mind through the process by that quiet voice.
The doubts we had about joining the Peace Corps or completing the service are better defined as concerns that we are up to the task, we can stay healthy and we can help South Africa. When the water or electricity does not work or we have no transportation it is easy to think of America and the comfortable life in Palos Verdes. However, God has given us a sense that we are in the right place and doing meaningful work. We trust him every day to give us the courage and strength to fulfill that day’s service and a positive spirit of love for the Zulu people.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
