Craving Grace

The Heart of the Matter is the Matter of the Heart

2011-11-22T21:04:00.001+02:00

Over the weekend, I found myself reading through my old blog posts.I started from the beginning; reliving the rollercoaster of emotions that tookplace during my time in Africa. Remembering the fear, hope, anxiety, joy, andanger that consumer my life for 12 amazing months. The emotions consumed me andbrought me back to the dusty roads of Masoyi, South Africa. I don’t fullyunderstand why my current path has kept me from the continent I love so muchover the past three and a half years. Though I still have hope and have neverwavered in the knowledge that the relationships that were shaped during that timecontinue to live on.

As I was reading through my many posts, I had forgotten the sheernumber of experiences that had taken place during my journey. I caught myselfoff guard reading through all of the stories, trials, and events took place inthose 12 months; experiences that shook me to the core and experiences mostpeople will never understand. With world AIDS day coming up on December 1^st,I thought I would share a few of my old blog’s from my time in Africa; beginningwith an eventful week in May 2008.

Hello friends,

Last week had been a week that flew by and yet a week thatwas full of events you can't imagine. There are times when I will find myselfthinking, “Well, there aren't too many more off the wall experiences for me togo through in this little part of rural South Africa.” Then, a week like lastweek comes along and shows me how naive I really am.

After receiving some sobering news on Monday morning, Iheaded off to K2, a care center, to see some of my students. After heading backto the car, I noticed a girl from a program I work with walking up with afriend. She was in obvious pain and was walking very slowly. I put my armaround her as she started to weep. I tried to rush through my mind what shouldbe done. I drove her to the clinic and had a female friend meet me there tohelp with the situation. After some initial testing, the clinic said we shouldtake her to the hospital. Now, I have been to clinics in different parts ofSouth Africa and they are nothing to write home about. However, when we enteredthe emergency room at the government hospital in Nelspruit, the conditions werejust crazy; people everywhere siting in chairs and lying on gurneys. Some ofthe people sitting in chairs had IV's in their arms with the bag of fluidsbalanced on their heads. After some time, a large number of people involved ina traffic accident arrived. I saw an ambulance chasing lawyer coming to see thepeople just as often as the doctors.

After some initial testing on the young girl, we waited forfour hours with no results. As we waited I received a text message from afriend who said his wife saw me in the hospital. He was upstairs in ward tenand had been there all night. He had very serious kidney stones and was lyingin a small bed with paint peeling off the walls and small bugs running alonghis face at night. After we visited him, I went down and waited for news on thegirl in emergency. We had been told she had been admitted, however there was nobed available for her. She was told she would have to spend the night in theE.R. on a bed with no blanket or food. I had to drive to a friend’s house toget a blanket for her. After some time talking with the doctor’s with someother friends, they released her. After two days, she was still very sick and wetook her back to the clinic. Diagnosis; Pregnant; grade 11, 18 years old, needsHIV test.

Later in the week I was driving with a couple of my femalestudents. They were talking is SiSwati which I know bits and pieces of. Throughouttheir conversation I heard the name of another girl that I work with and theword "pregnant." Grade 10, 16 years old, needs HIV test.

Another one of our youth, who is HIV positive, was also foundto be pregnant this week; 16 years old.

Three girls in one week found to be pregnant; all three Iknow. Two of the girls I know fairly well and work very closely with the other.It was a very tough few days.

On Friday, at a weekly meeting, I asked for prayers for theyoung girls in Masoyi and broke down. I would ask that you continue to pray forthe young girls in Masoyi and the women on this continent.

As we drove back from the meeting, I noticed an old womenand man walking down the road. The man could barely stand and the woman withhim was struggling to keep him up. It was pension day in the community and itis required that this man be physically present to pick up his check. He livesa very long distance from the pension office. We stopped and drove them home.As we were driving, a woman I work with asked them some questions about theirsituation. The women explained that they were brother and sister and that shewas helping her brother (who has some mental disabilities) get his check. Thewomen explained that she was in her 50's and HIV positive. She was extremelydisciplined with her treatment and looked healthy. She explained she was takingcare of four of her grandchildren (all orphans); two of which were youngmothers, and one was noticeably pregnant. After the week I had, I would usuallyhave become so much more worn down and angry at the situation. However,something came over me and I felt a sense of hope. I felt our paths weresupposed to cross that day.

The family can now be registered with Masoyi Home BasedCare. Volunteers can start to care for these orphans and the young mother’scoordinator has said she will do an assessment of the young mom. It was the GoodSamaritan right in front of me. We had the choice to pass or to stop. Irealized if we are willing to take time, to show compassion, opportunity canbegin to grow.

That night I spent the night in the community with one of myStudents (you can see pic's from this stay on the right). We had great talks about his life; when his mother passed away, whenhis uncle was beaten and robbed, and how he had just met his 16 year old half-sistera month ago. I met his amazing grandmother, full sister, Aunt, and cousins whohe lives with. They were so gracious and so welcoming. You could get a sense oftheir loneliness as they were so grateful to have a guest enter their home. Webroke boundaries that night as his grandmother said (through translation)"thank you for not showing racism. I can see that you really lovepeople."

Even with all of the difficult experiences, there are still amazingthings being done here; we just have to be willing to open our eyes and be apart of it.

And the Award Goes to...

2011-11-01T21:45:00.000+02:00

Last Friday night, I headed to my parent’s house for myweekly visit. After a delicious meal of taco goodness, the rents and I sat downto watch the news. We tuned in to watch a story on the Governor General handingout numerous medals of bravery to honor ordinary Canadians who had putthemselves at risk of injury or death in an attempt to help someone in need. This(as the news often does) fueled a debate in the living room.

“Dad” I asked, “would you accept an award for helpingsomeone in need?”

“I don’t think I would” he responded. “I don’t think Ishould be given recognition for something I’m supposed to do, to help someone.”

Of course, this response raises another intellectual query.Are we supposed to help someone? Is it our responsibility? (For those of youwho know me and/or have read this blog, I think you know my obvious answer tothose questions).

Then my mom said, “of course I would hope I would helpsomeone in a situation where they were in danger and in need of support. But, let’ssay someone was in trouble in deep water; of which I have a great fear. To behonest, I don’t know what I would do. Would I be paralyzed by fear?”

“Well, I hope you wouldn’t be judged for not helping in asituation like that, where your capabilities couldn’t warrant helping theperson” my dad responded. “But for someone who could help, who did have theability to assist that person, why should they receive a medal? Why should theyreceive recognition when they thought they could/should help?” he added.

“Well, I can’timagine these people are acting in such a way to receive a medal orrecognition” my mom responded. “People often just react in the moment. So, ifsomeone thought a person deserved recognition for their bravery, why shouldn’tthey accept the award? Especially if they acted when no one else did? I think Iwould accept it” she stated.

After listening to the debate, my first thought was this:

“Well, I think thatby awarding people for acts of compassion or kindness, we are telling societythat these actions are ‘extraordinary.’ That helping someone in need is notnormal. I think that’s the wrong message to send; the idea that it’s only‘special’ people that do these acts. When frankly, we are all capable andshould all be willing to step up to the plate when people are in danger or in needof support.”

But, then again, perhaps these awards demonstrate to societythat we can also change; that if ordinary people are capable of such actions,perhaps I am too. I agree people’s stories need to be told. I get inspired bypeoples sacrifices; by their willingness to go beyond places I have gone. But dothese awards cause people to act?

An interesting debate to say the least. Do we award acts ofcompassion, or ‘bravery?’ Or, should society realize that helping peopleshouldn’t be looked at like a choice? That awarding people for those actscreates a sense that compassion isn’t a part of humanities framework. What are your thoughts?

Patience: A Virtue to Passion

2011-10-19T04:25:00.002+02:00

I was surfing the big news outlets as I do every morning; BBC News, CNN, CBC, Globe & Mail, Huffington Post, etc. Of course it’s all the same; most of it crap I don’t care about. Headlines about Herman Cane and his pizza empire, new iphone released (ok, I care about that one a little bit), and how Michelle Obama likes to shop. I find it can often take a concerted effort to uncover stories of true meaning; stories that demand compassion; especially if these stories are no longer in the “spotlight.” I’m sure this isn’t news to any of you (no pun intended). The media is quick to move from one story to the next. They need to stay competitive with the other news agencies. They need to grab our attention with the next big scoop. Again, we are all well aware of the news cycle. For example, remember the protest in Syria? Some (certainly not all) media outlets report that 3000 people have died in the protests since they began. Oh, how about that famine in East Africa? Well, took some effort but I found an article from yesterday saying that 750,000 people, many of them children, are still facing a death sentence. Earthquake? Haiti? Ring a bell? And, as many of you know, the HIV/AIDS crisis in sub-Saharan Africa is something close to my heart. Thirty-five hundred people died of AIDS related illnesses in Sub-Saharan Africa yesterday; today; tomorrow…

We know these stories. We are all impacted and have some degree of compassion toward them in some way or another; whether it is just simply listening to the story on the radio, donating to a certain cause, or actually participating on the ground to support one of these initiatives. But, for most of us (myself included) we get inspired to act, participate, engage in the story, but like the media, our curiosity and concern quickly fades and is sparked once again by the next “big thing”. Many people may blame the media for inducing this psychological indifference. However, I would argue that the way the media operates is a product of human instability. Perhaps the media has taken advantage of this human shortcoming, but it’s ultimately our choice to continue to fight for a cause or injustice or to move on to the next hot thing. And frankly, I feel we are doing ourselves a major disservice by not giving more time to something that has given us that initial spark of curiosity or fervour. I truly believe our passion lies in those moments but we don’t give ourselves enough time to develop them.

People are always saying in one way or another, “find your passion, and live it out.” I personally believe in this statement, but people don’t allow things to grow and mature within them long enough to discern their true passion. I wonder if we have passed over our true “calling” because of this. Our search will be a never ending road if we believe a continual expanse of excitement will be the secret that opens the door to our life purpose. Of course we need to have emotions of joy and happiness to show us our passion is real, but don’t confuse that initial rush or excitement with those deeper healthy sentiments.

If we really gave ourselves a chance to fight through the urge to move onto the next story, I feel our sense of calling or purpose would reveal itself and be bigger and brighter than the next “big thing” ever could.

And, perhaps the media will shine the spotlight a little longer on stories that require compassion and will slowly shift the headlines from a story on what Tom Cruise had for breakfast, to a story that 15,000 children died today because they likely didn’t get breakfast.

Riots and the Hunger for Community & Compassion

2011-06-18T00:50:00.003+02:00

As a Calgary Flames fan I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Vancouver Canucks get shut out in game 7 of the NHL Stanley Cup Finals on Wednesday night to the Boston Bruins. I was not looking forward to hearing “Vancouver Fan” gloat about their victory all summer long. After the game however, I was shocked to see riots erupting in Vancouver’s downtown streets. I was sure that the city would have learned its lesson after going through the same process in 1994 after the Canucks were defeated in a game 7 Stanley cup finals; this time to the New York Rangers. It didn’t even cross my mind as I watched Zdeno Chara, The Boston Bruins captain hoist the Stanley Cup over his head that outside the arena, destruction ensued. Why was this happening I thought? Frustration? Mounting pressure finally released? Was it a select few who were actually leading the charge when it came to looting, destruction and violence? Yes, I believe it was. However, what I couldn’t understand was the hundreds, if not thousands of people encouraging this behaviour; standing by and chanting for the destruction; rallying for the damage of property. What causes this many people to participate in something that seems so out of character in their everyday lives? I do understand that a large number of studies have been done to identify the cause of such behaviour and the psyche surrounding it. Perhaps what I am about to discuss has been researched, however I still think it’s important to examine.

Over the past few months, I have been looking into the idea of compassion (or lack thereof) in our society. As someone who works in non-profit work, I am surrounded by people working and volunteering daily for our community. But how do we get society as a whole involved in community on a grander scale? How do we engage the masses to lend support to causes they are passionate about? The more I thought about this, the more it came clear to me that I was thinking too much on a macro level. The following thought was brought to my attention at a conference I attended in March. “How do we expect people to engage in community activism if people aren’t willing to stop stepping over people they see sitting on the street as they walk to work every day?” This thought struck me. I live in a city, Calgary, which prides it’s self on being a “volunteer” city. I think there is a huge difference however between being a volunteer city and a compassionate city. In my opinion, Calgary, along with the rest of society lacks compassion. Of course many of us volunteer and support our community in a variety of ways which are extremely important endeavours; but for our society to truly progress, a culture of compassion and real community needs to emerge. The pressure to live for ourselves has compromised the idea of compassion. This pressure, to live for ourselves and to show others our importance and worth, has left compassion in the dust. As a 28 year old, I feel that weight on my shoulders. When I was 21/22 years old, society said it was acceptable to live for the cause and live for others. However, now that I am reaching the age of 30, society expects other things from me. It expects me to worry about my retirement, get a job, get the house, get the car, get, get, get. The rat race has run its course and, it has failed. It’s time for a new ideology to emerge.

I truly believe that my generation is hungry to be compassionate; hungry to live in community; hungry to be who our humanity intended us to be.

As I watched the riots in Vancouver, I watched a group of people’s hungry for that sense of community. It was great to see people coming together Wednesday night, however I think society is to blame for the actions of that community. What I saw was our societal thought process; that living for ourselves is what’s important and other peoples property and self-worth are of no significance. People may argue that this isn’t our culture or think that since volunteers came together and cleaned the streets and “took back the city,” this isn’t who we are. I see this act of volunteering just as I see someone volunteering at the homeless shelter once a year on Thanksgiving. I will not criticize these actions (I was extremely proud to see people come together in this way) what I will say however, is that it is not enough. It is only through the way we think that will change the way we act. It is the little everyday compassionate actions that I believe will start to change our mindset. There needs to be a shift in our ideology. We often burry that compassionate voice within us that so desperately wants to be heard. We don’t want be the one to go at it alone; to be the first one kneel down and have a conversation with that homeless person on my way to work. That’s not... “normal;” not what I’m expected to do.

After watching the riots in Vancouver, a colleague of mine noted the mob would encourage or on occasion, chant for destruction; perhaps the objective would be to see some window’s smashed. Eventually, one, two, or even a handful of people would then build up enough courage to leave the mob and attempt to break a window before once again blending into the crowd.

It’s time our community came together to rally around and chant for compassion; to inspire people to have the courage to leave the mob and step out and have that conversation with someone on the street asking for change. To help that elderly woman cross the street who is too afraid to ask for support. To intervene when a young person is being bullied. To stop and help that single mother whose grocery bags have split open. As we encourage this, I believe we will see more than a handful of people leaving the mob to support; and eventually, the mob will include everyone. For if we continue to believe compassion is something we do not something we are, the crowd of people chanting on the sideline for destruction and encouraging violence will continue to grow.

Compassion is a human trait; ignoring it is a societal one.

Honoured and Remebered

2010-12-01T20:54:00.002+02:00

In 2007, I went and spent a year in Africa serving for a non-profit organization fighting the widow and orphan crisis caused by HIV/AIDS. Below is a collection of blog entries describing one of many experiences.

One day in July, I went to go visit my good friends Divine and Emily. As many of you know, Divine is a 9 year old boy who I have been friends with since my first trip here two years ago. Emily is his Aunt who is a home based care nurse in the community I am working in.

As I walked in the door, I noticed that Divine had a visitor. He was a young boy who looked about 7 years old. Emily explained to me that he was a patient of hers. His parents have both passed away and he is living in a very small wooden shack of a house with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. He is HIV positive and has severe Tuberculosis. Emily decided to have the boy come to her house for a visit over the weekend to give him a break from his situation. As I introduced myself to him, I noticed how thin he was. I went to put my hand on his back and could feel only bone.

He also had a severe cough. I played with him and Divine for a few minutes and as I left I asked Emily how old he was. Emily told me he was thirteen. I couldn't believe it. Divine is 9 and is larger than him. Emily says that AIDS delay’s children’s development.

A couple weeks later, Emily and I were driving and she asked me if I remembered the boy that had stayed with her. I said of course and she explained to me that his condition was not good and that tests had revealed that his form of TB (tuberculosis) was drug resistant. She explained that he needed to be admitted to a special TB hospital, however he couldn't stay at the one near the community because he had previously stayed there for 7 months and couldn't be readmitted. He was needing to go to a hospital in Middleburg; two and a half hours from here. However, the grandmother and his family did not want this to happen because they didn't have transport money to visit him. Emily was hoping that at least the doctor could provide some things for him including oxygen to keep him comfortable if he had to stay home. It took a few times for Emily to say "keep him comfortable" before I knew what she meant. That's all that could be done was to keep him comfortable.

A week later, Emily told me that he had been placed in the TB hospital in our community. The Middleburg hospital needs there own results before he can be admitted. We are still hoping that he will be able to go there because they can try different treatments to see if any match his certain strain of TB. The results from the test take six weeks. So, he will be in the community TB hospital for the next six weeks where all they can do is keep him comfortable; he is the only child in the hospital. I asked Emily if he will make it six weeks. She responded by saying, "with his condition, only the Lord knows."

I went to go visit him with Emily and his Aunt. He was so happy to see us. We only stayed a little while but you could tell it made his day. You can also tell that his Aunt loves him very much. Before we left, his Aunt prayed for him. She sang her heart out and prayed with such desperation. She put everything into her prayer. You go the sense she knew she could do nothing else but pray. So, she was going to put her full effort into it.

After another visit, Emily wanted to pray for him. Again, that is all we have left. I went to put my hand on his upper arm and there was nothing there. I could put my thumb and my finger around his arm. I couldn't help but weep. I would be going to see him as much as possible.

After many visits, Nkosinathi passed away at approx. 3:45 am Sunday December 16^th, 2007. I was with him during that last 12 and a half hours of his life and was with him as he left us. I was in a very strange place and am still in denial that he is gone. Over the past five months I have been visiting every week or two and have helped transfer him to get his HIV/AIDS treatment at the local clinic. I keep thinking I will go visit him next week.

Through all of this, I am trying to find the justice in this. I came here to provide that. Where is the justice in a 13 year old boy dying an unbelievably painful death caused by a thing called AIDS and a thing called TB? Two things that were given to him; two things he did not find or ask for.

I have come to one conclusion. There is no justice in that. The funeral is on Saturday. After the funeral I was in rough shape. I didn't know if I could continue to live or work in Africa. At the funeral, his family was amazing. The family let me and Emily be a part of activities that are usually only done with family members. It was very special. At the end, after we had finished a meal, the boy’s grandmother and I had an amazing conversation. By the end, she had told me she considered me one of her son's because of the way that I had treated her grandson. I told her that I had a grandmother at home in Canada but I now considered her my grandmother in Africa. We both wept and gave each other an enormous hug. It was truly amazing how God was able to bring us together and find hope in one another. This young amazing, strong, resilant boy’s name was Nkosinathi. In English this translates to “God with us.” Today being world AIDS day, that’s where our hope comes from. God with us.

This story has obviously stuck with me to this day. I think about Nkosinathi often. Although I shared this story on my blog when it happened, since coming home from Africa I have shared this experience with only a few people. It was very difficult for me to do so. I also didn’t want Nkosinathi to become just another story or a tool to use to explain the devastation that AIDS is having in Africa. He deserved to be honoured to be remembered for the incredible young man that he was. There is obviously much more to this story which I haven’t shared in this post and would be more than willing to share it with anyone that is interested because what I have realized is that by introducing him to you, I am honouring him. The organization I have worked with says they want to reach 100,00 orphans, but we need to do it one by one. So today as we recognize world AIDS day, please remember that these are not stories, these are children and each one of them needs to honoured and remembered.

It's time we gave up a little piece of who we are, so that others can become who they are supposed to be

2010-05-31T19:47:00.001+02:00

So it’s 6 am as I begin this post on a Saturday morning. I have just woken up after having a very strange dream. Although strange, it was a dream that I think I needed to get down on paper as it was one of importance.

Now to start, the dream started off a little strange. As I was going to bed, I watched a TV show about the big cheese roll races in England. You know the ones; where men and woman hurl themselves down a steep cliff chasing after a wheel of cheese.

Well, in my dream I was in the Winter Olympic games and one of the sports was to run down a snow covered hill with a shovel in your hand (from what I recall, it was modeled after avalanche rescue people or something). Well, turns out I won gold! And in the dream I became extremely emotional and I ran around with such joy that I eventually fell to my knees and was weeping, praying and thanking God. I remember clearly thinking “I can now use what you have given me Father to show people who you were as Jesus.” As I was kneeling down, looking up and praying, I remember a large globe circling above my head.

Suddenly, the surroundings of the dream changed. I ended up in a basement with a microphone speaking to a group of people who were upstairs in the house; I think in reference to my Olympic win.

My speech went something like this. “I believe that we are all here for a reason. God has called us to care for one another” (a word throughout this speech that kept resonating was the word ‘sacrifice’). God has called us to sacrifice. Now I’m not saying that people aren’t currently making sacrifices in their lives; whether it be donating to certain organizations/foundations or volunteering from time to time. However I think we are being called to take that next step. To give up something that affects our lives every day; to give up something from our everyday lives. It’s time we gave up a little piece of who we are, so that others can become who they are supposed to be.”

The last line was what prompted me to wake up on a Saturday morning and put this on paper.

Recently I have struggled to find my next step with God. As many of you know, due to unforeseen circumstances, I won’t be traveling to Africa in September as originally planned. This was disappointing news to say the least. I am staying positive but am still trying to figure out what to do now. What are your plans for me God? Perhaps the line at the end of my dream speech was God’s way of telling me what I can do for now and what God has always called us to do. To give up a little piece of who we are, so that other’s can become who they are supposed to be.

I’m still thinking on this dream, the speech, and the last line. So, if you have any thoughts or input, I would love to hear them!

The Above photo is a picture of my 91 year old Grandfather Frank Johns and my Cousin Ethan: This is Faith, Hope, and Love

2009-08-14T19:43:00.003+02:00

"It's like having a broken heart; seperated in two places"

2009-08-14T18:51:00.002+02:00

Hello everyone,
Sorry for the slight gap between posts. I am trying to stay on top of things. Since my last post, I had a great trip to Kelowna to see two of my favourite people in the universe; Dallas and Annie Davidson. I had a great time with my best friend Dallas as we talked, fished, played darts, drank Bud Light Lime, golfed, beat each other at UFC for XBOX, and played with his new puppy named Bryan.
It was a great break and a great time with friends. I have missed both Dallas and Annie a lot since they left for Kelowna, however I cherish the moments and great talks we have together. They are such amazing hosts and Annie is such a great cook! Thank you so much friends.
On another note, my dad seems to be doing fairly well these days. He seems his usual self and as always, seems to have figured out a system for his current situation. I think he looks like he has put on a few lbs. however the scale says otherwise. He and my mom are actually taking a few days and going to Jasper! My dad loves the mountains and was and is a huge hiker. I hope they both have time to rest and escape for a few days. Even though there is a ways to go and questions to be answered, we are so glad God has helped him get this far. Thank you for your continued prayers.
I am back at work and stuck in the office until September. I have been back for a week and a half but it feels like I have been here for a month. I think back to the episode of the Simpsons where Bart is watching the clock in class and the hands start ticking backwards. Although all of the kids out there will hate me for saying this; I can’t wait until September! I need to get back to giving presentations.
On another note, I have been looking in to the possibility of going back to school myself. I am looking at the idea of going back to do a two year teaching degree; perhaps in Kelowna?? I still have a lot of researching to do especially surrounding the validity of my applied under grad degree from Mount Royal College. Over the past year I have been trying to be patient with God and with Africa. If I felt right about the situation, had blessings from Hands at Work and felt led by God, I had been thinking of going back to Africa Summer 2010 for an approx. 2 years. Although I have been saving fairly diligently, I don’t know if I will have enough money by next year to head over there. I am also struggling with what I will be going over there with. What do I truly have to offer? Will an open heart and mind be enough over two years to allow me to be more of a blessing then a burden?
As many of you know, working with children is a passion of mine and I believe a God given gift. However, as it comes to teaching kids, I really don’t know enough about the techniques, the planning, and curricular development surrounding teaching. I am wondering if going back to school will provide me with tools I can use in Africa. I would love to support community teachers as they teach their amazing students. So once again, I am stuck in between. Do I pursue a life of committing to this cause that has transformed my life now and trust I have the tools already? Or do I look long term and go back to school to acquire more “tools?” If I do go back to school it may mean being away from Africa for two or three more years. This idea just tears at my heart and soul as I feel half of me is still there. I had a great talk with a friend yesterday who returned from Africa in January and she was discussing how she has been feeling since her return. She said “It’s like having a broken heart; separated in two places.” I think that is so beautiful and frames my story over the past few years so completely. I don’t usually ask for prayers, however I could use some help with direction and which path to take.
P.S. There is an album of photo's from my Sask. trip just beside this post.
Oh, also, I’m on the Twitter. www.twitter.com/danielwjohns
God Bless

Breaking the chains and keeping them off

2009-07-21T17:44:00.004+02:00

Well, I returned from Saskatchewan Sunday night after a fantastic trip away with family. I drove to Sask. Wednesday morning with my Uncle Dave to the cabin in Fort Qu’Appelle. We had a seven or eight hour drive ahead of us (Although, with the BMW we made good time). We picked up my Auntie Sue in Regina after she flew in from Vancouver and headed to the cabin. My Auntie Bard (Dave’s wife) met us at the cabin and we had a great night catching up.
The following evening, the rest of the crew came up including my cousins Nathan, Mike, and Janette. Mike’s girlfriend Ashley and Janette’s boyfriend Jordan also came up. So, we had nine people and two dogs sharing a two room cabin. Somehow, we made it work and we had a great time.
We were all blessed with the weather as it was nice and sunny and the mosquitoes were kept to a minimum for the most part. My first task at the cabin was to fish. My dad will tell you, that our family is cursed when it comes to fishing. We can’t catch a damn thing. However, I may have made some progress breaking that curse over the weekend. I was able to catch six walleye during my time there and we cooked them up; man were they delicious. My cousin Nathan and I fished a lot and it was really good to see him and hang out with him.
It was a true blessing to be with family and live cabin life last week. Although I was looking forward to the break, I have really had a hard time getting excited for anything over the past few months. I don’t know if it’s a lack of energy, being stuck in the 9-5 working thing, or just some other person issues, but it has been difficult for me to get up and get motivated about activities or events. However, this trip seemed to break me out of that. I was able to relax, and just think about my next golf shot, or my next cast on the fishing boat, or frying up pancakes on the open fire. I also slept like a rock!
Now, I know that is exactly what vacation is supposed to do, but it was the first time in a very long time where my brain was able to shut off, my heart and soul were able to relax, and my anxieties were lifted. I felt, well, happy. So, to everyone who I spent time with at the cabin, thanks!
Unfortunately, even being back for a day I can feel those old feelings and anxieties creeping back in. Hopefully I can figure out some strategies to keep those things out.
During the trip, Nathan, my Uncle Dave, and I went golfing in a small town called Indian Head. The town was beautiful. Nice big trees hanging over the streets, old houses on big lots with beautiful flowers were everywhere. I think I am becoming a guy who could find himself living that small town life. However, I do realize the winter months would be a different story. I am becoming a person who could live in a slower paced life and a tight community setting. Anyone else out there feel that way? I can send you the link to Indian Head’s website if you are interested? HaHa. I will try and post some pics from the trip shortly.

On another note, dad seems to have more energy these days. He thinks he gained one pound this week!! So, that’s good. Unfortunately, he may have another complication concerning his health. As soon as we receive more details I will let you know. I think he has another doctor’s appointment in the coming days. Thanks for the continued prayers.

It's time to get fat. FAT!

2009-07-13T17:52:00.004+02:00

Those of you who listen to the Jim Rome show should understand my extra "fat" reference in the title.

Well,
Dad has been out of the hospital for a while now which has been great. It’s good to see him at my parent’s house. He is still extremely thin and seems to be having a tough time putting on weight. It looks like he might have even lost another 1 or 2 lbs this week. His energy level also decreased a bit as the week went on which I think is very discouraging for him. He has always been a very disciplined guy when it comes to his health. He has been extremely disciplined in his recovery and when he doesn’t see too many positive results, I think it makes it that much more frustrating. Although, he keeps his head up and pushes forward and keeps trying to find new ways to fatten up! I’m really proud of him.
He saw his surgeon last week, and the Dr. said it would be a couple weeks before dad could feel his energy level going up. His body is using up all of his energy heeling and getting us to the fact that 2 and a half organs are missing. Plus, with no colon, his body isn’t able to absorb as much nutrients as before which makes things a bit tricky. So, hopefully we will see some improvements over the next couple weeks.
I am off to Saskatchewan on Wednesday. My dad’s brother Dave, (who I was in Zambia with for a short while last year) just flew into Calgary after a trip to Serbia. He and his family have a cabin north east of Regina so I am heading up there with him and some other family for a few days. It should be a good time as I haven’t seen my cousins in quite a while. We are driving there as well. Now, some of you might be feeling bad for me that I have to drive 7 or eight hours to Saskatchewan. However, my dad is letting us take his 20007 BMW 335i!!! He took me out for a practice run the other day. I was driving, and as we took the corner to go up Bow Trail, he flipped the transmission into sport mode and told me to gun it. I floored it and before I knew it, I was going WELL over 100 km/h. It was scary how quickly I was able to reach that speed. I think it should be a good ride out there. Although, should probably budget for a speeding ticket or two.

Dad is home...Again!

2009-06-30T00:26:00.002+02:00

Hi everyone,
Well, my dad is out of the hospital...Again! The blood clot seems to be under control and he is home. It’s still been a rough past few days. It’s amazing how much weight he has lost. Unfortunately, his system still isn’t absorbing food the way it should which also means that there isn’t any nutrients been absorbed. So, everything is just kind a flowing through him. He has been really weak because of it. For the most part, he has been stuck on the couch. There were a couple days where even talking was a struggle because of the energy it took. I did talk to him today and things seemed to be a bit better. The big thing he told me is that mentally he is in better shape today which is huge! He still has a lot of shots to take for blood thinners, etc.
So, it will be a long summer for him but we are so thankful for everything God has already brought him through. An enormous part of that has been the love and support from my mom. She hasn’t stopped supporting my dad since this whole thing started. She has been there in so many ways and I know she has been such a huge encouragement for my dad. She has even found time to listen to me and my problems!!
On another note, I am looking forward to the next few days. I am taking July 1st-July 5th off work and am excited for the break. I think I will play some golf and just hang out. So, if anyone out there wants to get together send me an email, Facebook message, or give me a call! The patio is calling!
Anyone have any thoughts on the new Alexisonfire album?
DJ

back in the hospital

2009-06-22T18:01:00.002+02:00

Well,
the trip home was a short one for my dad. On Thursday, he became very sick and he was up all night vomiting. Early Friday morning my mom rushed him to the emergency room where they immediately admitted him. He was extremely dehydrated and his blood sugar level was dangerously high; around 30 (a normal level is about 7). After getting hooked up to the IV and getting some rest he was feeling much better. They believe this likely happened because there was a blockage in his system caused by some scar tissue. They decided to keep him overnight on Friday for observation. We had hoped he would be out on Saturday or Sunday, unfortunately that has not been the case. Through regular blood work they noticed his white blood cell count was too high, and was continually increasing. This is usually the sign of an infection. So, although they were very tentative to order another CT scan because he has had two fairly recently, they felt they had no choice. The CT scan discovered a blood clot near his liver. Initial indications suggested it was very serious. Thankfully, the doctor said late last night that it was only a partial clot, which is still serious, although it likely won't travel to the heart or brain which can cause serious damage and even death. So, he is on an anti-biotic and blood thinners and will likely be in the hospital until Wednesday. Dad is looking really low in energy and looks very sad. I'm also starting to feel very warn down from all of this and am getting frustrated.
As many of you know the one thing that breaks my heart in this world (as I'm sure it does yours), is the suffering. I know all of us have felt those hopeless emotions when we know someone we love is suffering. And it just plain sucks!
I really pray this is the last major hiccup in what looks like a long recovery.
Thanks for your continued messages and kind words everyone.
I let my dad know about each and everyone of you who have provided words of support and encouragement. He is so grateful, as am I.

DAD IS CANCER FREE!!!!!!

2009-06-17T17:14:00.002+02:00

Hi everyone,
I just received a call from my mom, and dad is doing great!!! His white blood cell count is normal, he is going home today, and the mass they removed from his pancreas was benign!!! Praise the Lord. He still has a long recovery ahead of him, however things look really good. let's just hope his diabetes stay's in check with only half a pancreas. But, so far so good!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!!
Love to all of you,
Dan
P.S. Oh, and I will be getting back into the blog thing again. Not just about my dad, but just updates on what's going on with me in my little part of the world. Thanks!

More energy, but still need some answers!

2009-06-16T17:29:00.002+02:00

Hey everyone,
Well, today is day nine and dad is still in the hospital. However, he is doing much better. His spirits are up and he has a lot more energy. They have removed all of the tubes from him (which added up to ten when we counted!!!) except for his I.V. They also removed all 39 staples from his incision which I think was a big relief for him. Yesterday, he went in for another CT scan because they noticed his white blood cell count was a little high. We don’t know if they found anything yet. Also, we have yet to hear back on the results from the mass on his pancreas. Although that is still nerve-wracking, it’s great to see him with more physical and spiritual energy. As soon as we hear anything new, I will give you an update!
Thanks again everyone for the prayers and thoughts!
Dan

Update on Dad

2009-06-12T17:30:00.001+02:00

Hi Everyone,
Sorry this update has taken so long. It’s been a crazy few days. My dad is doing so,so. After talking to the doctors on Tuesday, things went as well as they could. The initial surgery, the removal of the colon went well. Unfortunately, they had to remove about half of my dad’s pancreas to remove the mass growing on it. The doctor said this mass was the cause of his diabetes and we won’t know until next week if the mass in cancerous or not. We pray it is benign and that with only half a pancreas his diabetes won’t get worse. They also removed a benign mass from a lymph node while they were in there and they also had to remove his spleen that got nicked by the knife during the procedure. So, needless to say, a lot of unexpected work had to be done which is taking a toll on my dad. Unfortunately the pain for the first couple days was excruciating. They had placed my dad’s epidural to high on his spine so the medication wasn’t hitting the surgical area. Luckily yesterday was better pain wise and they were hoping to try a new pain drug today and take him off the epidural. Unfortunately, my dad’s spirits have been pretty low; something I have never seen much in my dad. Usually, he plan’s everything out and research’s everything related to medical issues he encounters. Unfortunately, we only found out about the mass on his pancreas and the extensive surgery the day before we went in. He really didn’t have time to process the whole thing and it has taken a lot longer and has been a lot more painful than he anticipated. He has been in bed for four straight days and he just looks very depressed and frustrated. So, that is my prayer request; that God will fill him with his spirit and give him strength and energy as he continues to fight. We also pray that the mass on his pancreas was benign.
Thanks again everyone. I have said it before, but you don’t know what it means to know all of you are with us.
Be blessed,
Love Dan

God is doing amazing things here; we just have to be willing to be a part of it

2008-05-20T08:26:00.006+02:00

Hello friends,
Last week had been a week that flew by and yet a week that was full of events you can't imagine. There are times when I will find my self thinking; well, there aren't to many more off the wall experiences for me to go through in this little part of rural South Africa. Then, a week like last week comes along and shows me how naive I really am.
After receiving some sobering news on Monday morning, I headed off to K2, one of our care center's to see some of my students. After heading back to the car, I noticed one of our youth girls walking up with a friend. She was in obvious pain and was walking very slowly. I went up to here and put my arm around her as she started to weep. I tried to rush through my mind what should be done. I drove her to the clinic and had a female friend, Jayme, meet me there to help with the situation. After some initial testing, the clinic said we should take her to the hospital. Now, I have been to clinics in different parts of South Africa and they are nothing to write home about. However, when we entered the emergency room at the government hospital in Nelspruit, the conditions where just crazy. People everywhere siting in chairs and lying on gurneys. Some of the people sitting in chairs had IV's in their arms with the bag of fluids balanced on their heads! After some time, a large number of people involved in a traffic accident arrived. I saw an ambulance chasing lawyer coming to see the people just as often as the doctors.
After some initial testing on the young girl, we waited for four hours with no results. As we waited I received a text message from a friend who said his wife saw me in the hospital. He was upstairs in ward ten and had been there all night. He had very serious kidney stones and was lying in a small bed with paint peeling off the walls and small bugs running along his face at night. After we visited him, I went down and waited for news on our youth in emergency. We had been told she had been admitted, however there was no bed available for her. She was told she would have to spend the night in the E.R. on a bed with no blanket or food. I had to drive to a friends house to get a blanket for her. After some time of talking to the doctor with Lynn and Jayme, they released her and was sent home with us. She was still very sick after two days and we took her back to the clinic. diagnosis; Pregnant; grade 11, 18 years old. Needs HIV test.
Later in the week I was driving with a couple of my students; girls. They were talking is Swati which i know bit's and pieces of. Through out their conversation I heard the name of another girl that I work with and the word "pregnant." Grade 10, 16 years old. Needs HIV test.
Another one of our youth, who is HIV positive was also found to be pregnant this week. 16 years old.
Three girls in one week found to be pregnant. All three I know, two of these girls I know fairly well, and work very closely with one of them. It was a very tough week.
On Friday, at Masoyi meeting, I asked for prayers for the young girls in Masoyi and broke down. I would ask that you continue to pray for the young girls in Masoyi and the women on this continent.
As we drove back from the meeting, I noticed an old women and man walking down the road. The man could barely stand and the women with him was struggling to keep him up. It was pension day in the community and it is required that this man be physically present to pick up his check. He lives a very long distance from the pension office. We stopped and drove them home. As we were driving, a women I work with asked them some questions about their situation. The women explained that they were brother and sister and that she was helping her brother (who has some mental disabilities) get his check. The women explained that she was in her 50's and HIV positive. She was very disciplined with her treatment and looked healthy. She explained she was taking care of four of her grandchildren; all orphans two of which where young mothers, and one we saw was noticeably pregnant. After the week I had, I would usually have become so much more worn down and angry at the situation. However, God was so present in this situation. He filled my heart with joy and showed my that he had put this man and women on the side of the road for our paths to cross. We can now register this family with Masoyi Home Based Care. We can start to have volunteers care for these orphans and our young mothers coordinator has said she will do an assessment of the young mothers! It was the good Samaritan right in front of me. We had the choice to pass or to stop and God showed us how if we are willing to take time, he can provide so much more opportunity.
That night I spent the night in the community with one of my Students, Mxolisi. We had great talks about his life; when his mother passed away, when his uncle was beaten and robbed, and how he had just met his 16 year old half sister a month ago. I met his amazing grandmother, full sister, Aunt, and cousins who he lives with. They were so gracious and so welcoming. You could get a sense of their loneliness as they were so grateful to have a guest enter their home. We broke boundaries that night as his grandmother said (through translation from Mxolisi) "thank you for not showing racism. I can see that you really love people." God is doing amazing things here; We just have to be willing to be a part of it.
I truly take for granted all of the experiences that happen in my life every week here. Although this week was filled with more events then usual, God continues to show up; I just need to open my eyes and ears to see it and hear it.

June 25th

2008-04-30T15:52:00.004+02:00

Well hello everyone,
I hope you are all keeping well. I don't know if anyone is reading this anymore after me lengthy intervals between posts. Just in case it has been a while for you, I am still in South Africa. However I now know when I will be returning home; June 25 I will land on Canadian soil. It is a mixture of emotions to say the least. I am nervous to come home and nervous to leave Africa behind. However, I am bound and determined to make future plans about my life based on what is right for me. I do not want Canada to sway me in one direction and Africa to sway me in another. I need to start making decisions based on what is right for me. In no way am I saying that my time in Africa was not the right decision. On the contrary, it was the best decision and it will be the year that will look back on the most I am sure. I know that Africa will always be apart of my future. In what way, for how long, and when I will return is still to be decided.
On another note I have meet with visitors over the past two months which I have yet to write about. During the first two weeks in March, I had the unbelievable blessing of having my parents enter into my African life. It was an awesome time. I have tried to express to them (and have failed miserably) how much it meant to me to have them here. As you all know my parent are freaking amazing and I love them very much. We had an amazing time traveling through the community meeting my friends and family in Masoyi. I think they really enjoyed their time. We then spent three night in the Kruger National Park and we were very blessed to see all of the Big 5 except for a leopard. We then travelled to Mozambique for an amazing time on the Beach's of Bazaruto island. We had a great time and had talks that I will take with me for the rest of my life.
The pictures of our time together is on the left hand side of my blog.
After my time with my parents (which flew by!) I headed up to Zambia. I had an amazing time with the team from my church which included many friends. I want to thank that team once again from allowing me to be a part of your time up there. How is your ipOd working Chels? I had great laughs with Chels, Stan, Dauna, Rich, Jeremy, Jayne, and many more. After three days with them, I travelled down to Lusaka, the capital of Zambia and spent 10 days with my amazing Uncle Dave. He works for Athletes in Action and they had a team in Zambia to train South East African employees who are interested in being apart of AIA. We had a great time and they gave me the opportunity to share with the guys on a program that we run here with Hands. We had a great time with the guys, going to the markets, and watching a wild soccer game! Memories I will hold onto for the rest of my life! I love ya Uncle Dave.
So, that was March and April (although a lot more has happened within work and I promise to update again soon for those of you who are still with me).
I love you all and thank you for your continued support!!!
P.S. I, along with my friends Marc and Jed built a hockey net out of pcp pipe and a mosiquito net. I think Don Cherry would be proud. You can see the pictures of us at www.heubner.blogspot.com

Quick Note from Zambia

2008-04-06T15:50:00.002+02:00

Hi Everyone,
Sorry my posts are lacking but haven't felt very inspired lately. I had a great time with my parents a few weeks back and I am now in Zambia. I had a great time seeing the WKC team for a couple days. I had a blast with them. I am now in Lusaka with my Uncle Dave and a Athletes in Action team. It has been a good time to get into another African country. I might head back to Ndola for a few days and hang out with Levy who runs the youth project in Masoyi. He is Zambian and might be coming here for a few days.
Just thought I would check-in on my birthday!
Hope you are all well,
Dan

As The Dude says, "Strikes and Gutters"

2008-01-24T11:42:00.000+02:00

hello,
I'm back. After a long stint of no posts, I am back again. A lot has transpired over the past month or so. After my last post (bit of a downer no doubt) I am still here. After Inkosinathi passed away I was in rough shape. I didn't know if I could continue to live or work in Africa. At the funeral, his family was amazing. The family let me and Emily be apart of activities that are usually only done with family members. It was very special. At the end, after we had finished a meal, Inkosinathi's grandmother and I had an amazing conversation. By the end, she had told me she considered me one of her son's because of the way that I had treated her grandson. I told her that I had a grandmother at home in Canada (love you grandma) but I now considered her my grandmother in Africa. We both wept and gave each other an enormous hug. It was truly amazing how God was able to bring us together and find hope in one another. I have grown an amazing relationship with Inkosathi's family. I even spent New Years eve with them at a huge gospel concert. I was truly the only white guy out of about 30,000 black Africans; truly an experience to remember.

I have also been back to work for a good 4 weeks. I had taken a crazy trip to the University of Limpopo with three of my students trying to get them registered. Two of the kids didn't have the requirements; however with some upgrading this year, one of the students, Gugu, did pass! However, because her marks were on two separate statements (her high school marks and her upgraded marks) the school would not recognize her eligibility!! We had left at 3:00 am to get to the school on time to write her acceptance test and I was not going down with out a fight! I spoke with close to a dozen school officials and climbed the bureaucratic ladder. I told one guy he would have to call security because I wasn't leaving his office until he helped us. He then put me in touch with the Dean of admissions. We even stayed the night in temporary housing they provided for students who had traveled long distances so I could speak to the dean. The housing was unbelievable; the dorms were horrific! They were dilapidated with holes in the walls and paint peeling off. One of my students Stanley and I stayed in a room together. When we returned from supper, we found an old woman in Stanley's bed and an old man in Mine!!! We had to find another room with a dim florescent light and two old cots with a grungy old mattress. The wash house had pipes missing and rusted toilets. It was crazy. After my long hard fight, including a trip to the Limpopo education department, we were told to go back to Mpumalanga (where we stay) to get the marks combined.
Since then, I have been to the Mpumalanga education department about 4 times. The man who does the combinations for matriculation does not seem to know the rules. After Laura and I showed him the work I had done and the rules I had found on the net and explained them to him, as of today, he is excepting Gugu's marks!!! The fight was long and exhausting but it has paid off. Gugu will now be eligible for university! Today was a good day. I guess it wouldn't be a fight if it wasn't long and exhausting. However, today I felt like we are starting to win the fight.

P.S. Below is a video of our new guard Dog up at the farm. Our farm was broken into just after Christmas and a few expensive things were taken. We are hoping this vicious beast will protect us.

Video and pics of Buhle (Beauty): The new vicious rottweiler guard dog

2008-01-24T09:18:00.000+02:00

Getting stuck in the Fence

My Angel

2007-12-18T16:35:00.000+02:00

I'm not sure how to start this blog post. I know it has been a while since I have written to you, and I am sorry. I have had things to say but haven't known how to say them. I was so keen when returning from a short vacation in Mozambique to fill you in. Tell you about the students who have been selected for Forward Education '08. Tell you about the 3000 metical (Mozambiquen currency, about $120 Canadian) bride I had to pay to stay out of jail. Tell you about the deep see fishing trip where I caught a couple bit King Mackerels. However, over the past 4 days, non of that has mattered. Before I continue, I would ask that you all read a previous post that I wrote back in September it was titled. "now is the time for a miracle." Please read it before you continue on with this post.
I just erased a paragraph that I had written because for now, I am still trying to process what has happened.
Inkosinathi passed away at approx. 3:45 am Sunday morning. I was with him during that last 12 and a half hours of his life and was with him as he left us. I am in a very strange place and am still in denial that he is gone. Over the past five months I have been visiting every week or two and have helped transfer him to get his HIV/AIDS treatment at the local clinic. I keep thinking I will go visit him next week.
Through all of this, I am trying to find the justice in this. I came here to provide that. Where is the justice in a 13 year old boy dying an unbelievably painful death caused by a thing called AIDS and a thing called TB? Two things that were given to him; two things he did not find or ask for.
I have come to one conclusion. There is no justice in that. And that frustrates the hell out of me.
The funeral is on Saturday. I ask that you pray for Emily, his family, and for me. It will be a very difficult day.
I am here to fight for the youth of this continent; I am here to fight for Inkosinathi. I lost the fight and failed him. I don't know if it is worth it anymore; any of this.
I do not want encouragement or your sympathy, I just want your prayers. More importantly I want you to think and pray for him and his family. They are who matter now.

In God's Hands

2007-11-18T10:55:00.000+02:00

I sit here at the farm with 11 applications and essays for the 2008 Forward Education class. I have room for eight of them. This process has been a very difficult one for me. Even the idea of picking youth in Masoyi to apply for this program was very difficult. I have so much power when it comes to the future of these youth. If I had let one more young mom apply to the program, would she have made it? Would she have gone on to university? Would she have been able to provide a brighter future for her and her child? These things race through my mind.
Today I sat and read all of the applications and essays of the youth who have applied for next years program. I made it through about half of them before the overwhelming feeling of pressure and sadness hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was in the middle of reading one of the applications where it describes relatives of the applicant. Mother deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Father deceased; cause of death HIV/AIDS. Both of them died with in a one month span of each other. The application fell out of my hand and I wept. I sat their talking to God. “Father I can’t do this. I need your help.”
How do I tell three of these youth that they will not be accepted into the program. How? All but one of the applicants has at least one parent who has passed away. The one who’s parent hasn’t passed has never met their father anyway.
Their essay’s were so powerful and so full of hope for the future. One wants to be a doctor; one a career councelor, a nurse, social workers, and an engineer. They all want what many of us from the west take for granted; an opportunity.
I hold to much power and it scares the shit out of me. I have the power of deciding who has an opportunity to escape a continuous cycle of poverty and distress that surrounds them.
I have to believe that God is making the decision with me to get through this. However, I think about the time I walk down the dusty streets of Masoyi five years from now and see one of the youth who did not make the program; walking out of his small house; the same house I had seen him walk out of five years earlier.
Father I can’t do this. I need your help.

Not Comin Home

2007-11-13T18:39:00.000+02:00

Friends and Family,
I lie here on my bed in my small room in a farm in the middle of rural South Africa. I have lied in this bed many nights thinking about when I would be coming home to see all of you and to get some renewed energy before coming back for a new session of Forward students in January. However, as I lie in my bed this time, thoughts of an African Christmas run through my mind.
After many conversations with my family I have decided to cancel my trip home. Many reasons on why I should come home and why I should stay have run through my mind literally on an hourly basis. Obviously the thoughts of coming home surround seeing me family and my friends; that is truly the only reason to come home. On the other hand is the reality of leaving Africa. This is not an easy task as those of you who have been here know. The realities of this place do not leave your mind when your plane lands back in the west. Personally the adjustment period for me back home is not a short one. I am a bitter man when I return and do not want to bring that bitterness back to all of you; Especially since my time at home is so short and my attitude usually takes longer then three weeks to adjust back home.
In addition, I do not want to say goodbye once again. When I said goodbye in July it was one of the hardest things I have had to do. It took me a good month and a half to adjust over here and I cannot do that again. I was very depressed during that time and cannot imagine going through that one more time. Even as I talked to my parents and the realization of me staying was forming, it was hard to say goodbye once again. It that was difficult, I cannot imagine another face to face goodbye.
At the time I had booked my flight, the thoughts of being home were consuming my mind. The thoughts of playing some hockey with the boys, going for a hike with my dad, seeing a concert with my sister, going for coffee with my mom, and spending Christmas celebrations and visiting all of you. I was thinking about this so much I almost forgot that wouldn’t last and I we be coming back here again.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Africa; it is my home. The difficulty is I have two families, two sets of friends, and two homes. This is my home for now and I need to be here to be healthy enough to come back to Canada when the time is right.
I miss all of you more then you will know. And although my parents keep telling me that they are fine because they are all together, I feel like I owe all of you an apology. I know that some of us have made plans and for that I apologize.
I can’t wait to see you in the spring and remember; you can always come visit me here!!!
I would love to hear from you!
Thanks for all of your continuous support and prayers,
Dan
P.S. I have posted an album of pics on facebook.

A Letter From D

2007-10-30T14:13:00.000+02:00

Dear Dan,
I am writing this letter to you about my experience in prison. I am attending church inside here and I hope that one day God will answer my prayers so that I can be out and fulfill my dream of finishing school.
As I had told you before, I do not know anything about this case and I mean it. My life in prison is hell and I am surviving by always praying to God. Sometimes I ask myself why me, and I don't understand. I sometimes cry because I feel that I have been neglected by people I love.
The way I respect people, I never steal or robbed anyone, and now I found myself in the wrong place with no future. I remember when police searched us. They never found nothing but they arrested me. I need your help my friend. I miss playing soccer with you.
Dan may you please buy me this things. 2L milk, rolls, biscuits, 1L juice, phonecard, 2 roll-on, and cool drink. I am also asking for your contact numbers for the phone. I am very delighted to have a friend like you. Sometimes I say God is great because you came in my life when I was just dying inside my heart. I love you man and I miss you.

Your friend,
D

Superman Dan: By Laura Pope

2007-10-08T17:17:00.000+02:00

Leaping out of the vehicle, he rushes towards the scene. He has worked hard all day doing budget work for an orphan education program. He could be heading home right now to rest. But it seems that his day’s work isn’t done yet. A man, bloodied and unconscious, lies on the side of the road. Laughter filters through the unconcerned crowd. He asks for the number of the police. He records the license plate of a car as it speeds away. He stands near the fallen man, making sure no one moves the body causing further injury. His voice is filled with concern and compassion. He wants to do the right thing, but isn’t quite sure what that is. Unlike the mob of people around, he is trying to help.

This incident is not just a true story, but also a metaphor for the way Superman Dan lives here in South Africa. He knows the things he sees every day are not just, good or right. He takes in the pain he sees, allows himself to be moved by compassion and makes a plan to improve that person’s life, even if only in the smallest way. While others stand by in confusion at the seemingly undefeatable curses of HIV and poverty, Dan looks at the individual and does everything and anything he can.

Dan hasn’t updated his blog recently, but I can assure you that it is not because he has nothing to write about. Every day he experiences things that break him a little more. But how can he explain how he enters a depressing Tuberculosis hospital every chance he gets so he can visit a young boy sick there? How can he bear to write about the young mother and child who have just been tested as HIV+ and are literally on death’s doorstep? How can he speak of visiting a teenager in prison and going to his court case the next day to make sure that he gets fair representation in a system filled with gaps and corruption? Superman Dan refuses to allow someone who needs love to go without. He makes every effort to show them they are not alone. Although he is busy running a program that is changing the future of youth who were never given a chance to be something, he finds time to put out other little fires on the side. He has entered the scene of the accident and won’t leave until the emergency is over.

A Thread of Faith

2007-09-11T11:40:00.000+02:00

Now is the time for darkness.
The time for despair.
The time that I truly care.
Not for Him, but for them.
For they keep fighting,
Keep trying to survive
But each one hit’s a wall;
A wall not one of them
has been able to conquer.

Free will can only go so far
Before wrong be the victor.
For when the moment occurs
When the positive ideas of free will
Are destroyed and over run by
The negative, He must intervene.
That time has come,
So where is he?

The only thing that keep’s me holding on
to the Little faith that remains is the
thought that He is unable to stop this.
For if that is not reality then I had none.
Because he’s thirteen; that smile was all for not.
Yet I will fight despite Him.
For although He will not humble himself to
take responsibilities for the detrimental
outcomes of his creation, I will.
Because he’s thirteen and
he deserves more then He will give him.

Now is the Time for a Miracle

2007-09-02T11:58:00.000+02:00

About 4 weeks ago, I went to go visit with my good friends Divine and Emily. As many of you know, Divine is a 9 year old boy who I have been friends with since my first trip here two years ago. Emily is his Aunt who is a home based care nurse in the community I am working in.
As I walked in the door, I noticed that Divine had a visitor. He was a young boy who looked about 7 years old. Emily explained to me that he was a patient of hers. His parents have both passed away and he is living in a very small wooded shack of a house with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. He is HIV positive and has severe Tuberculosis. Emily decided to have the boy come to her house for a visit over the weekend to give him a break from his situation. As I introduced my self to him, I noticed how thin he was. I went to put my hand on his back and could feel only bone.
He also had a severe cough. I played with him and Divine for a few minutes and as I left I asked Emily how old he was. Emily told me he was thirteen. I couldn't believe it. Divine is 9 and is larger then him. Emily says that AIDS delay’s children’s development.
A couple weeks ago, Emily and I were driving and she asked me if I remembered the boy that had stayed with her. I said of course and she explained to me that his condition was not good and that tests had revealed that his form of TB (tuberculosis) was drug resistant. She explained that he needed to be admitted to a special TB hospital, however he couldn't stay at the one near the community because he had previously stayed there for 7 months and couldn't be readmitted. He was needing to go to a hospital in Middleburg; two and a half hours from here. However, the grandmother and his family did not want this to happen because they didn't have transport money to visit him. Emily was hoping that at least the doctor could provide some things for him including oxygen to keep him comfortable if he had to stay home. It took a few times for Emily to say "keep him comfortable" before I knew what she meant. That's all that could be done was to keep him comfortable.
Last week, Emily told me that he had been placed in the TB hospital in our community. The Middleburg hospital needs there own results before he can be admitted. We are still hoping that he will be able to go there because they can try different treatments to see if any match his certain strain of TB. The results from the test take six weeks. So, he will be in the community TB hospital for the next six weeks where all they can do is keep him comfortable; he is the only child in the hospital. I asked Emily if he will make it six weeks. She responded by saying, "with his condition, only the Lord knows."
I went to go visit him a couple days ago with Emily and his Aunt. He was so happy to see us. We only stayed a little while but you could tell it made his day. You can also tell that his Aunt loves him very much. Before we left, his Aunt prayed for him. She sang her heart out and prayed with such desperation. She put everything into her prayer. You go the sense she knew she could do nothing else but pray. So, she was going to put her full effort into it.
God and I are not on good terms now and my faith is definitely not strong. However, as she prayed, all I could say in my mind was "Now is the time for a miracle" over and over. Before we left, he leaned over and said something to me in siSwati, his native language. The aunt explained he was asking me if I would come back. Of course I would.
I went back with Emily to see him yesterday. He seemed a bit better and again as soon as he saw us he smiled. We brought him a few small toys, some crayons, pencils, sticks, and coloring books. It was like Christmas day for him. The smile never left his face; he was so thankful. But as you look at his amazing smile, you can also see his throat struggling for air. Emily said that is not a good sign. His little heart is having to work so hard for him to breath. But, at that moment he was happy and that's all that mattered.
Emily wanted to pray for him. Again, that is all we have left. I went to put my hand on his upper arm and there was nothing there. I could put my thumb and my finger around his arm. I couldn't help but weep. I will be going to see him as much as possible.
His name is Nkosinathi which translates to ‘God with us.’
God be with us.

The Pressures of Change

2007-09-02T09:13:00.000+02:00

Hello everyone,
first, my apologies for the gap between posts. I will try and write more frequently even if it's just a little note. First, I have heard the amazing church news! I'm so glad that Westside has found their new senior pastor. From what I hear, he's a great guy. I'm even more excited that my good friend Jeremy Duncan will be staying on to continue to run Unedited Spirituality and share teaching with Chris!! Glad everything has worked out.
As for Africa, it has been a busy past couple weeks. The students are studying very hard at the moment as they prepare for their upgrading tests at the beginning of October. These tests are extremely important because they need to increase their grades to be considered for university and college. Unfortunately, it seems that the stress of this process may be too much for some. One of our students, Fortunate has been seriously ill for the past week and a half. She has been vomiting and unable to hold any food down. We have taken her the clinic twice this month and once to the nearest town to see a specialist. At this point, the nurses and Doctors can't find anything physically wrong. She is feeling better as of yesterday and the current diagnosis is that the illness is psychological. The nurse who has been working with her believes that stress is behind it. I think we forget the pressure that these students are under. Not only are they studying (or are supposed to be studying) everyday, but they also have the added stress of the coming year. Fortunate has applied, and will hopefully be accepted to a university such as the University of Jo'burg. This means that she will be leaving her community behind. A community she has lived in her entire life. A community where her entire support network is and the only community she has ever known. This is an enormous shift for her. New friends, new culture, new routines, new everything. We are looking at getting her a counselor to start to process some of her feelings around her transition.

The Community Stay

2007-08-19T12:47:00.000+02:00

I sit here watching an amazing seventeen year old boy focus as he draws a picture for an advertising project for his english class. This is day two of my community stay. I have enjoyed every minute of it; well, except for the fact that I forgot my toothbrush.
I have been lucky enough to have been placed in the home belonging to my friend B. Not 10 minutes will pass P in front of the house without me marveling at how this 17 year old boy has become an adult so quickly.
This Journey began on Monday afternoon. I am warmly greeted by B. We enter his home and he graciously shows me around and shows me where I will sleep. I have been to the house before so I know what to expect; however I am still a bit taken a back every time I visit. It’s a one room brick house; must be 45 ft X 15 ft. Only a card board divider that B has made separates the kitchen/living area from the bedroom.

B in the bedroom : B entering the house/kitchen
I notice quickly that B has rearranged the two beds he and his two brother’s share. I am sure it was for be benefit and just like the other times I have been to the house, it’s extremely neat and tidy.
In the kitchen, a jug for water that we use for drinking and washing which we collect from a tap down the road. There are also two old chairs and a broken stool with a small table. On a small table in the corner are two pots on a very old stove top with one workable burner that B made from old parts. Next to the small table top stove is a kettle used to boil water for cooking and bathing and a small amount of food; oil, tea,

sugar, and half a bag of Mili Maze (the staple food here). Under the table is an old card board box filled with a few dishes; that’s it. If I hadn’t walked in the door with a big box of food for my visit, I wonder what they would have eaten.
As I take a look around, I can tell that something lese is on B’s mind. He then tell me “I have soccer practice, do you want to come with me”? I say yes and we start to walk to the field. On the way, we pass the house of on of the youth leaders who I helped teach better choices with last year. She now has a six month old beautiful baby boy; she is 16. As we continue walking, I get some odd looks from the all black community. When we arrive at the field I see it’s just a patch of partially removed dirt. B explains that the field was in the middle of being constructed for a school just down the road. I can tell from the length of the grass that it has been a long time since any work had been done on it.
I decide to watch the practice from a branch of a big dead tree on the edge of the field. As I sit there, watching the practice, a young girl notices me. She is on her way back to her wooden shack of a home. I smile; she smiles back and then she just stands there watching me. She talks back and forth with her family members of in the distance at her house but she just stands there watching for about five minutes. She then starts walking back but not before throwing a few more glances in my direction.
A few more boys from the team show up including one of the guys from the Forward Education after school program named Never. He tells me that I should come down and play. I do, and as I start to play I realize that practice is just keep away. There are two teams, but again, the flied is not finished. So, we just play keep away. We play until the sun goes down and then walk home.
When we arrive, me meet up with P, B’s younger brother. As many of you know, the youngest brother M is still at the initiation camp. After quickly changing, B starts cleaning the pots using a small brush while P is outside cleaning a few dishes. We then have a visitor; Patrick who lives next door with one of the guys on the Hands at Work construction team. Patrick gets up every morning at 4:30 am to catch the bus to White River, the nearest town, to do a construction job.
Patrick’s roommate from Hands at work is away because his father has passed away. Patrick will be staying with us because he is afraid to stay by himself at night because of the frequency of break-ins.

From Left: me, B, P, and patrick : Eating pap and cabage stew
We then go through the box of food. Obviously we will be eating pap (mili-maze), but we will also cook something to go with it. Pap is very dense like a very thick poorag so people usually eat it with a small amount of stew. You take the pap in your hand, put it in the stew, and then eat it with your hands.
Obviously, B knew how to make the pap, however the combination of the four men in the room where stuck on how to make a good stew. We were able to combine our talents and come up with a recipe containing soya mince with gravy, some vegetables, and a small can of fish. All things considered, it was fairly tasty. I sat on the floor while the others sat on the three chairs.
B and I have become fairly close, so after supper he was very keen to show me all of the pictures and certificates he has collected over the years including his fathers I.D. card. B’s mother ran off on the boys when they were very small. Their father raised them until he died in 2002. As we were looking at the I.D. card, B told me a bit about his story. While his father was very sick, B would wake up at 4:00 am everyday before school to do the house chores. he would then go to school and have to come home part way through the day to check on his father’s condition before walking back to school; B was 11. As mentioned previously, B’s father died when he was 12 and he has been raising his brother ever since in this small one room house where the kitchen/living area is separated from the bed room by a card board divider which B made.

After supper, it’s time for exercise. B has made his own bench press. He has taken a metal rod and put each end in a bucket full of cement to harden; it’s fairly heavy. We both do some weight lifting African style before going to bed. As I sleep in the double bed with P, Patrick on the floor, and B in the single bed, we talk about Canada, South Africa and their differences and similarities. B asks question after question about Canada; he is so keen to know what it’s like.
As I lye in bed, I start to understand the realities of this place. As mentioned, Patrick stays with us because he is too afraid to stay alone. B explains that thieves will cut the electricity lines to large

portions of the community so they are not seen. They will then break into peoples stands (homes) while they sleep. These break-ins often end up in violence. B explains that if people in the community find the thieves, they will beat them to death. They don’t bother to call the police and even if they do come, the community will force them away threatening to beat them as well.
B’s home has been broken into a couple times while he was out and just this past week he noticed someone took money from his place. I feel much better knowing we have locked the windows and put B’s bench press up against the thin wooden door.
I don’t get much sleep that night as P seems to think I am his teddy bear. Also, the dozens of stray dogs and chickens bark and chirp all night. However, I have survived my first night in the community.

This is not right

2007-08-19T12:42:00.000+02:00

We are all such selfish greedy people. I think until we walk in the shoes of those we are called to support and hurt as they hurt, we will not care for them to the fullest extent of our capabilities. Although it was for a very short time, I have suffered as B suffers; I have experienced the problems that B encounters everyday.
On my last day in the community, I could feel his desperation. He is so worried about his brother and wants him to return home safely. While I was out that day, the leader of the camp told B that it was going to cost 800 Rand (about $120) for his brother’s camp stay. B receives R1000 a month in child grants from the government. He said he must pay it. I then ask him how he will pay for food. He responds by saying, “I don’t know.”
We decide to go to the bank machine to see if his uncle has given him the grant money for the month; he has not. As we stand their talking about the situation, we don’t grad his card out of the machine right away and the ATM sucks it back in; gone. B has hit rock bottom.
He says “I try and solve one problem, and another problem happens.”
Later that night after our meal, B is washing up and out of the blue he says to me, “sometimes I wish all me problems would disappear.” I respond by saying, “A lot of people wish their problems would disappear. You just have adult problems that a seventeen year old boy should not be dealing with.” He responds with a simple, “ya.”
As I was in the middle of this situation and looking back at the experience, I keep thinking over and over in my mind “this is not right;” it’s that simple. This should not be happening and this is not right.
M is now back home safely. One of the youth leaders went with B to pay the leader of the camp and convinced him to reduce the price to R350. I was able to ask people up at the farm where I stay to donate money for the camp fee and I was able to raise the full amount. B has also received the money from his uncle (although his uncle keeps some every month) and he has also received a new bank card. I saw B today and he was so happy and relieved. For now, his problems have been solved. However, there will undoubtedly be more problems that will occur and more problems that a 17 year old boy should not have to solve.

Dave, Jimmy, & Racism

2007-08-11T22:30:00.000+02:00

The last week has been a bit of a mess. A lot has transpired over the last little while. As many of you now know, Lynn and Jayme Chotowetz (the founders of Forward Education) are back in Calgary. They have decided to come home early to work out some personal things and to start to think about what lies next for them in terms of Africa and the coming years.
Needless to say, this has rushed my transition into Forward Education. It was a busy week as I learned about the budget and our financial situation which is a bit intimidating. Thankfully, Laura Pope from Calgary, and an American women named Lindsay have been working with me. With out them, especially Laura, I would me in deep trouble. I am truly thankful that she has decided to stay and help me run this program. We are currently in the midst of filling out university and college applications for the students. It’s a very busy time, however an exciting one because we will soon find out how the students hard work has paid off. I do feel bad for Lynn and Jayme right now because they are having to leave at a time when the fruits of their labor will soon me known. This is the time they have worked so hard to be a part of.
On a lighter note, I, along with a friend from Connecticut, Dave, rented a car and drove to Johannesburg to go see Jimmy Eat World play. It was a good day but the concert was not very entertaining. It was a full day concert event and for some reason Jimmy Eat World didn’t headline the show and they only had a 45 minute set. Plus, the South African crowd was lame. They just kinda stood there and watched. One guy got upset with someone who was jumping around and getting into it; it was weird. Plus, at the merch counter, the guy was writing receipts for people. What the hell is up with that?
One interesting part of the day happened while Dave and I were in the beer gardens. I asked someone for a lighter and as I did, a white Afrikaner noticed my North American accent. We started having a conversation and I quickly noticed he was a bit drunk. He then noticed I hadn’t received a free foam hand that they gave at the gate of the concert. He said that I could have his. I responded by saying “thanks, I guess am experiencing South Africa’s generosity. He responded by saying “Ya, well I have to be generous because you won’t experience it very much because of all the black’s that we have here.” I have heard from other people about the blatant racism that they have listened to from some Afrikaners but this is the first time I had really heard it so unconcealed. You are just shocked. You can’t believe that someone you have just met would be that bold. I wanted to punch the guy in the face but quickly changed my mind when I realized that Dave and I were slightly out numbered. The political structure of Apartheid may have been abolished but it’s going to take a few decades before the ideological construct is dismantled because it is still alive and well.
Sorry this blog post isn’t very interesting, however on Monday I will be living in the community of Masoyi for five days. It is now a requirement that Hands at Work staff spend a week in the community living with in a child headed house hold to get the full experience of what life is like of the orphans that we work with. I have been lucky enough to have been placed with M and B from my previous blog posts. I think M will still be at the initiation camp, however I will still be with B and his other younger brother P. I am sure I will have more interesting stories from that experience.
Finally, for those of you have been sending me messages and emails, Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to hear from all of you. Internet access has been a bit of a pain this week, but I will try and write to you all as soon as I am back from my community stay.
I miss you all and hope you are well.

Equality Through Chucks

2007-08-11T20:45:00.000+02:00

We took this picture a few weeks back. This is one of the Forward Education students, Stanley. During a break in class one time, I noticed Stanley wearing a pare of white Chuck's. I then noticed I was wearing a pair of black one's. I said to Stanley "Hey we are ending racism through our shoes." He said "ya man, black and white coming together." We are changing the world one pair of Chuck's at a time.

M Part 2

2007-08-02T15:59:00.001+02:00

The next afternoon, I picked up B and we drove to the hospital. On the way, the conversation was minimal. I don’t think either of us knew what to expect. As we got out of the car at the hospital, B asked me, “what do I ask, where do I go?” I was once again reminded that I was with a 16 year old. He was still a boy himself and was still learning simplistic adult experiences.
We eventually figured out where to go and we walked through a couple of children’s wards before finding M. As I walked through the children’s ward, I experienced very dark feelings: a sense of fear and of disparity. There have only been a couple occasions when this certain intensity has happened to me in Africa, and this was one of them. All of the children were so tiny, and some were crying. The hospital is dirty and run down. Old paint, worn beds and a dirty floor. By one of the sinks next to the children’s bed I noticed a large cockroach-shaped bug crawling in the sink.
As we walked along, B signaled that he saw M. And there he was: asleep in his hospital attire, in his small bed, nothing else. I couldn’t help but imagine the boredom and loneliness he must have gone through over the past five days. B gently woke him and when he saw his older brother’s tears, started streaming from M’s eyes. I tried to comfort him by rubbing his back and telling him that we were here to take care of him and that we were going to keep him safe. Later M told B that he was getting very afraid that no one would come for him because other parents and relatives had come to see the other children.
B and I decided that we would go talk to the nurse about the situation. We informed her about the situation and that B was his older brother and was the only one that should take M home. B did not want M to go back to the camp and M did not want to return either. M was very afraid because the man from the camp said he was going to come back to see him. B and I then decided to go get M some food and something to keep him busy.
When we returned, M seemed in better spirits and was even more excited as we showed him the coloring and puzzle books we had got him. As we started taking items out of the bag, other children noticed this and started to surround M. He was making friends very quickly. B and I then decided that we would come back the next morning to hopefully talk with the doctor. M needed surgery and we wanted to find out when this would take place and when he would be discharged.
The next day, I along with B, and two others: Carly, a women from Australia, and Jabulila, a Masoyi resident and child care volunteer, went to visit Maxwell. On the ride up, B informed me that his uncle and a leader of the camp stopped by his house to inform him that M needed to return to the camp when he was out of the hospital. I could tell B was very upset by this.
When we got their, M seemed better. But, after a short discussion, M told us he was very afraid because the man from the camp was supposed to return that day. M became very upset and started to cry. This affected B and I could see he was struggling with the situation of seeing his little brother in such fear and pain. I then put my arm around him and we both started to weep. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I cannot imagine what these two boys have dealt with over the past four years alone and parentless. For B to cry, I knew the situation was bad.
B had to go to school, so it was decided that Jabulila and I would stay incase the man from the camp decided to stop in for a visit.
At this point, I had a chance to observe the other children. Next to M, on the left, was a young boy with two swollen black eyes and a contusion in his head. How does that happen? On the other side was the cutest little girl (must have been two) with a huge burn on her arm.
I would guess half, if not more, of the children in this ward were burn victims. As I thought why this was, it hit me. It was another strange but tragic result of AIDS. These children had to make fire and use paraffin to cook and keep warm. Their parents were gone and couldn’t do this for them, so the children are forced to grow up too quickly and are not taught how to develop these skills safely. Concerning AIDS, we are all infected or affected.
As Jab’s and I waited, two other ladies from Hands at work came: Ma Flo, the director of Masoyi Home Based Care, and Enercy, a youth director at one of the day orphanages.
Miraculously, after only a few minutes, a group of doctors came in and I was able to ask about M. They said that he would be discharged that day! The doctors had to wait until the wound had healed over before they could perform surgery. So, unfortunately he would have to return at a later date.
We would also have to take M back the hospital on Monday to deal with a chronic eye problem he has had since we was young.
M and a couple other children who were also being discharged became so excited and bounced around the room. We then left leaving M behind. He would have to be picked up later in the afternoon because he had no clothing.
When we got back, Ma Flo called B about the situation and also phoned B’s uncle. Ma Flo decided that the next step was up to the family. Unfortunately, as mentioned, the uncle wanted M to return to them camp. However, Ma Flo was right - this was a family issue. Although I was nervous and wanted to lend support, it was not my place. It is just such a travesty. B is his brother’s care giver. His uncle rarely visits the boys and I felt this was B’s decision. Unfortunately, he is only 16 years old.
Ma Flo and Jabulila then left to go pick up B and his uncle. They were then going to talk about the situation and go get M to bring him home.
For now, he is at home and he is safe. It was decided that M will not return to the camp until after the surgery. At this point, it is unknown how long he will have to go to the camp: could be a day, a week, or possibly longer. The hospital has put me and Jab’s in charge of M’s wellbeing during this time so I will keep you up to date.
Please pray for B and his two brothers.
This is not a story; it is life, it is reality. Please remember that. This is one of the millions of realities across sub-Saharan Africa and they all involve real people.
We are either infected or affected. I encourage all of you who read this to remember that YOU are affected by this.

P.S. I just received word about an hour ago that the people from the camp came and took M back to the camp yesterday. He will likely have to be there for a week. Please keep him in your thoughts.

M Part 1

2007-07-31T09:04:00.001+02:00

Sorry for the big gap between post's; it has been a long couple weeks

I just spent the last week in the children’s ward at the Temba Hospital. On Tuesday, I went to the Lula care center (a day orphanage for young children). In the afternoon, I, along with the other Forward Education staff run an after school study program for high school youth. One of the youth who has attended is a 16 year old named B. I got to know B last year. He was one of the youth leaders who taught the better choices program (a programmed aimed at helping youth make better choices; specifically surrounding HIV/AIDS transmission). B is a double orphan meaning both his parents are dead (most likely the result of AIDS). Since the age of 12, B has run a child headed house hold for his two brothers. This means that for the past 4 years, B and his two younger brothers have lived in their small brick house by themselves. And, B runs the house and is the primary care giver for his brothers. Remember, he has had this role since he was 12 and is currently only 16 years old.
As B and I were talking at the after school program, I asked him how is week went. He said it had gone well…..then a pause and he said “well, it went kind of good and kind of bad.” I asked him why it was bad. He responded by telling me his 11 year old brother M, the youngest, had been taken to an initiation camp and had been in the hospital since last Friday.
In some Southern African cultures, there has been a tradition were young boys and girls are taking through an initiation camp. These camps are designed to transform the kids into adulthood. Many different rituals and traditions take place. The biggest tradition that takes place in the boy’s camp is circumcision.
Back in the day, I believe these camps were a good thing and had a lot of positives. Back then, the children would go with children that they knew and would go through the camp with adults from their village. There was a sense of tradition and community that would take place. Times have changed and today these camps are extremely dangerous and have drawn countless controversy throughout South Africa. Please note that the information I am sharing comes only from conversations from people in the community and from stories. Therefore, not all of the information may be accurate. However, it is really all we have to go on.
Today, the camps are a business. Children are pressured to attend these camps and are sometimes even taken from their homes. Not much is known about what takes place at these camps because the men who run them warn the children that if they speak about the secrets of what takes place they will become mentally disturbed somehow. I know a couple of youth who have attended the camps and they are very fearful about telling me about what takes place. What we do know, or what is speculated, is that these children are exposed to all sorts of so-called tradition medications. They are also underfeed and the child to adult ration is ridiculously low. The children are taken to the wilderness for a period of time, usually one to three months (it is the same time every year and it just so happens to fall right in the middle of the school year so the children miss a huge amount of classes). It is also rumored and fairly widely thought that the children are involved in various sexual acts. Remember, M is 11 years old. Again, these camps are a business. One of the volunteers here, a woman who has become a friend of mine, told me the story of when here son went to the camp. She remembered seeing the leaders of the local camp waking up too her house. She said she fell to her knees because she knew he had gone to the camp. The leaders of the camp informed her that she must provide a blanket for her son and pay them one chicken and 80 kg of Mealimaze (the staple food in rural South Africa) as an entry fee for her son. When the camp was finished, she must pay them the same amount for them to release her son. The disturbing thing is that the children do not see any of this food. The men stock up so they have enough food to eat and sustain them for the year.
The biggest traditional aspect of the camp is circumcision. Males in this part of Africa are not seen as men until they have been circumcised. I know a couple of males who had yet to be circumcised and they were chastised by their community. The problem with the circumcisions that are done at the camp is that in many cases the men running the camp do not know how to perform the procedure appropriately and safely. Many times the same tools and instruments are used on all of the children and it is frequent mode of HIV/AIDS transmission.
So, that kinda sums up the initiation camp. Now back to the story.
B informed me that M had been taken to the camp last Friday. The leaders of the camp performed the circumcision procedure that day. Unfortunately, the bastards did not do it properly and M was horrifically damaged by the procedure. The leaders of the camp took him to the local clinic. The clinic then transported M to the hospital by ambulance. Again, this happened on Friday and I was talking to B on Tuesday. That means this 11 year old boy had been at the hospital by himself with no visitors for 5 days. B told me he wanted a ride to the hospital to see M. I told him I would definitely drive him. We made a plan to leave the next day to go see his brother.
I will write part two of the story, the most important part, in a couple days. Sorry to keep you hanging.

The Grave With the Green Bowl

2007-07-15T13:29:00.000+02:00

Hello once again.
it has been a good few days. I am now in a coffee shop using wireless Internet in a large mall similar to that of Marketmall. I have said this many times before, and I'm sure I will say it again; this country is one of contradictions. I feel like I am at home in Calgary. However, when I leave I will drive for 25 minutes and be in a community of 250,000 black South Africans who are living in Poverty; in a lot of cases, extreme poverty.
Lynn and Jayme Chotowetz, the founders of Forward Education have just left for a holiday with some family and won't be back until mid August. Therefore, I, along with another Calgarian, Laura Pope, are running the show. Now the work begins. I am really excited to start this and get deep into the work. Laura is also leaving for Swaziland on Monday for a week so I will be running a lot of stuff on my own. This week will be interesting.
On Friday, I drove one of our students, Stanley, around the community to visit some other youth. We were going to inform them of a church service in Nelspruit (the nearest city) that we wanted them to attend that would also include a brie (bbq). As Stanley and I were walking away from the last visit, Stanley loosely informed my that the girl we had visited may not be able to attend because someone in her family had passed away and the funeral was on Saturday. I was a bit taken a back because there was sense from our visit that anything was wrong. Stanley said he would probably attend to show some support to the girl's family.
The next morning, Stanley and I got up early to go to the funeral. As it turned out, three more of our students wanted to attend as well. We were all running a little late, and as we were driving down the dirt road, the funeral procession past us. I quickly turned around and followed the cars to the cemetery. A bus full of people was also in front of us. When we arrived at the cemetery, everyone started singing. Everyone gathered around the grave site as the casket was lowered into the plot. The pastor said some prayers and everyone continued singing. I then thought it was time to go, however, everyone stayed as men started to fill in the grave. This took about 20 minutes and everyone stayed and continued to sing until this was complete. A couple men then put cinder blocks around the dirt to enclose the grave as an older women used some branches to sweep up the left over dirt. The pastor and women from the church then sung a song as they all dances around the grave site. Then, someone put a tree branch in the grave site. Stanley said that it was most likely a branch from the deceased favorite tree. People were then given the opportunity to speak about the person who had passed. To end, someone put a large green wash based and a cup into the top of the plot. Stanley had explained that those were belongings of the deceased. A final prayer was said, and then everyone left. People then went back to the families home for a meal, however we did not stay.
Later that evening I was chatting with Carolyn Snyman who said that her first African funeral lasted 11 hours; luckily I can hopefully ease my self into that experience.
As the youth and I drove away I asked on of the youth, Gugu, who had passed. She said it was the girls uncle and he was probably fairly old (what ever old means). I then thought about the lack of emotion displayed at the funeral and wondered why I had not noticed very many displays of grieving. As we were driving up the dusty road, I looked ahead and noticed another funeral taking place. It then hit me; death so prevalent here that I think it has almost become a Saturday event. Death is always around these people and perhaps, emotion has lost some meaning.
However, I will never forget the grave with the green bowl.

A Divine Transition

2007-07-10T23:16:00.000+02:00

Well,
by now you must have assumed that I have arrived here safely. It has been a tough few days and I am still fairly home sick. It was a strange trip over here. I felt little excitement, anticipation, or wonder. I think this place has become normal to me which has made this trip that much harder; the days are very long.
My only saving grace has been reconnecting with the people. One person in particular; a young nine year old boy from Zimbabwe named Divine. I first met Divine two years ago when I first came to Africa. The first day I arrived in South Africa I met Divine and was surprised to find out it was his first day in South Africa as well. Divine had just been brought to South Africa by his Aunt Emily from Zimbabwe. Through our time together, we both became close and discovered this new country.

Last year when I returned to South Africa our friendship was even closer. However, Divine was very shy when we initially connected. Emily says he is always very shy when people return to greet him. When I arrived on Friday, Emily informed me that Divine had been counting down the days until I arrived and he had wanted to wait by the gate of our compound all day until I came. When I first saw Emily I gave her a big hug and before I knew it, I felt to small hands tapping me on the back I turned around and there was my friend Divine who quickly gave me a big hug. I was so amazed because I know what a shy little guy he is. We have been hanging out a lot over the past few days and through this time of darkness he has been my small amount of light.
He won't let go of my hand; and I will not let go of his.

At this point, if for no other reason, I am here for him

The Beginning of the End

2007-07-05T15:44:00.000+02:00

This may officially be the worst day of my life. 8:22 pm July 4th, 2007. Sitting in one of the comfy chairs in terminal D at the Calgary Airport where I can see people outside of the security area through the glass. I can’t help but look back to see where my family has gone. Every two minutes I catch myself looking back to see if they have waited for me; Waiting for me to bail out of this so called “adventure.” “This may have been the worst decision of my life;” A common statement that I can’t erase from my mind. At least the conversations have ended. I am so tired; tired of talking, of conversing about this trip; this…….thing. It has become its own entity. And through this transition, the purpose of “this thing” has become lost. I get so distracted that I don’t see my own faults for what they are. My faults surrounding this mission are selfish. This trip has become about me; and I hate that. “Forward education” has become words. Why does the purpose, the grace, the love, and the passion for what’s those words mean become completely ignored.
Selfishness has become a tool that has enabled me to ignore God through this time. God has becoming nothing through this process. I am so frustrated, scared, upset, and angry that I have selfishly decided that God is the root of these issues. Therefore, I feel he won’t be there to help me through these anxieties. It’s time to end the selfishness; it’s time to come to God. Now is the time for action; now is the time for God to work through me. I keep telling people that I am so upset because I am uprooting my life. What I need to understand is that I’m not uprooting it; I’m just putting it on hold. No. Wait……… that doesn’t make sense either. This trip is my life; I’m just transitioning to another part of it. And yet, I’m still so scared. That emotion will be here for a while. The tears are still coming.
To conclude, I want to let you know that you will all become familiar with the lyrics of a man by the name of Dallas Green; A musician who I can’t stop listening too. As a few of my friends are aware, one of his lines has captured my feelings about this trip perfectly and I continue to bring it up time and time again in a variety of situations.

“Behind this emotion is a sensible heart”

As my writing’s of this journey continue, there will undoubtedly be many stories full of anger, hate, and frustration. Please remember Mr. Green’s words throughout those moments.
They have just announced the first few rows to board the plane. Here we go……………………

Welcome to Craving Grace!

2007-06-14T04:03:00.000+02:00

Hello everyone,
welcome to Craving Grace! I created this site to post the adventure of my journey. Specifically, this coming year I will be travelling to Masoyi South Africa to volunteer with an NGO named Hands @ Work in Africa. I will be working with high school Orphan's in a program called Forward Education. the goal of the program is to try and enroll these youth in to low level university and college courses. As might be assumed, the level of education in rural South Africa is, for lack of a better word, terrible. I will be working to try and help these youth increase their academic and social skills to prepare them for college and university life.
Thanks for checking this out and obviously more info and stories will be coming.
Dan