This is my last day in Africa. I began this online journal to both record and share my experiences here in South Africa. I hope I have provided a clear window into the lives of many persons living in the townships of South Africa. Although we were separated by several countries, long miles, and enormous seas I felt as though you were always with me. You not only read my journals, but you journeyed with me. You were my companion on our travels to Emmaus. You were with me when I entered homes, walked through the streets and mounted pulpits. Although our journey here has come to a close, there is always work to be done.

If by looking through this window you feel an urge to donate (clothing, books, school supplies, etc) to this church, I will more than willing to lead you in the right direction. Our gifts are not simply for self, but rather for giving. Simply send an email to my account (jcaldwellg@hotmail.com) and together we can create a plan of action. I am not using this last entry to beg for money, but rather to act as an advocate. If Jesus could feed a large crowd with a small lunch, imagine how Jesus could use your small gift (socks, pencils, notebooks, etc). We have the power to change someone's life, alter a world, and build God's Kingdom.

I pray that God will bless you with the zeal to serve, the understanding to accept those who are different, courage to embrace the excluded, the determination to work for change, and wisdom to know when to rest.

This journey has been a pleasure.
I'll see ya soon

This is my last weekend in Africa. I have been here a total of 12 weeks and its seems as though time has quickened its pace. I must now gather the sum of my conversations, observations, reflections, mistakes, accomplishments and place them in my suitcase along with the number of gifts I'm bringing home to the States. I'm sure I will be unpacking its contents for the remainder of my life. I have worked with former gangs members on character building, became a regular at the HIV support group, traveled with the church's performance group for two weeks, taught a bible study on Discipleship, helped build a home with students from Northern Ireland, visited orphanages, rehabilitation centers, and clinics, preached, counseled, performed several home visitations to persons living with HIV/AIDS, and assisted with the youth and young adults. There was never a dull moment.

One of my most memorable experiences occurred with the students from Northern Ireland. They were a group of approximately 30 students that had traveled to South Africa to build homes with Habitat for Humanity and wanted to visit JLZwane Church during their stay. My infamous colleague and I planned for the students to first tour the church and then visit the homes of 4 persons living with HIV/AIDS. We also asked the students to bring care packages into the homes that would consist of basic items such as bread, olive oil, blankets, socks, meat, oranges, milk, etc. When the day arrived, the students were split into four groups and we escorted the different groups into 4 separate homes. Although there was only 1 group assigned to each home, I was to lead each group into their respective home. We spent almost 30 minutes in each home asking questions and simply listening to the stories of persons living with HIV/AIDS. It was great to see the excitement and openess by these persons. With regards to the care packages, we were amazed at the impact of such small acts (or small lunches for those that have been regular readers). Although they were extremely grateful for the food, each woman showed a high appreciation for the socks and blankets. Each admitted that their condition often made them extremely cold and having thicker blankets and warm socks would make life a bit easier. Who would have thought? Socks and Blankets!

I wont go through an indept description of each visit, but I did want to share a comment made by one of the persons we visited. After several minutes of conversations and handing over "our lunches", she wrapped herself in her new blanket and left us with lasting closing remarks. Paraphrased: "I want to thank you students for coming to visit me today. Often when I think I'm alone and going through this by myself, I will always think of this day. I will think of the day that you thought of me and decided to sit with me. Your coming here today has reminded me that I am not alone. There are people who love and care for me. Even though you are going back to your homes, you have made a difference in my life today. So I thank you and I love you." I concluded with a prayer and she warmed each of us with a hug.

Those are the moments that have defined Africa for me. I have traveled and seen many beautiful sites. I have traveled to the top of Cape Town's famous mountains, spent time in museums, made my second home at the Water Front, visited the rural areas, lived in the midst of poverty, saw the prison that held Nelson Mandela and much more. But most importantly, I have seen God here. I have seen God not only in the church or represented by clerical collars, but in the streets, in homes, and in the dark faces of those persons living with HIV/AIDS. Im going to miss those faces.

I leave you with the scripture that has become a reminder of my calling as a Christian and my obligation as a human being.

34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

37"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' (Matthew 25:34-40)


Can u possibly imagine the difference We could make if we committed ourselves to "the least of these?"
Until next time...Which shall be our last

I am aware that I promised two more journal entries and those will appear shortly. However, there are certain experiences that cause me to write. You have journeyed with me as I probed my African identity, my calling as a minister, my mistakes as a human, and my growth as a life-learner. I could not leave without discussing what will probably be my last discovery. Through a conversation that forced me to reflect on my experience these past 11 weeks, I was reminded of a chapter in James Baldwin's novel Nobody Knows My Name; "The Discovery of What it Means to be an American."

As an "African" American, this classification implies there is something uniquely African about my lived experience in the United States. I dont deny being an American, but it hints to the idea that "something" African is infused within my experience. However, even though my national identity is introduced by this African adjective, the latter equally expresses there is also something uniquely American about this same lived experience. To some, this label as an African American does indeed signify a unique experience. To others, it gives evidence that I am not and can never stand as the ideal American.

As a 24 year old African American, I have always tried to become knowledgeable and recognize the history and accomplishments of Blacks in America and internationally. I fail to believe that Black individuals are the savages and criminals in which we are often depicted. I have often wondered, "What does it mean to be an African-American?" I find myself in Dubois' state of "double consciousness" trying to reconcile to seemingly different identities. Even in my self-questioning, I have never truly accepted being connected with a country's history known for racism, imperialism, colonialism, arrogance, Bush, etc. After all, these were acts committed by White Americans. My classification as an American did not include these atrocities. If you've ever thought the same, travel internationally. In my travels abroad, I am often reminded of the international community's disapproval of Americanism. I am often told of our ability to exude arrogrance, display narrow minds, and exhibit self-centered behavior. Regardless of my supposedly unique experience and darkened skin tone, I was still American. I could not hide behind this African adjective. To others, I presented the same atrocities in which I criticized.

On Tues night, I found myself conversing with a group of individuals from other countries and became the lone American attempting to defend our country. I first wondered if America would do the same for me. Throughout my defense, I thought about the friends I have that would never come to my neighborhood. Even in their fear of the other, to befriend me was their escape from the guilt of racism. I thought about the number of times I've been asked at parties by white strangers to show them how Black people dance. I could be easily trusted to lead a dance lesson, but a rarely a study group. I thought about the number of times Ive been told Black people complain to much. I thought about the instances when others were more interested in the size of my genitalia than my intellectual capabilities. I thought about the ignorant individual in undergrad that reminded me to thank Affirmative Action for my acceptance into Kalamazoo College. My mind traveled to Seminary when a group of colleagues complained that learning about God's providence in racism was a waste of their time and money. I was suddenly standing at the gas station in Farmington Hills late at night and saw the faces of 3 white men hanging their heads out of their car window yelling, "Black HOE!" How could I forget my basketball teammate insisting that black men smelled different. My recent memory reminded me of the Chinese-American female who hours earlier admitted her difficulty in justifying her nationality in the United States. "I am tired of being mistaken for a tourist in my own country", she complained. Even in the midst of these unpleasant memories, I was now the defender of my country; a verbal soldier of the red, white, and blue. I wondered if America would do the same for me.

I have never felt more American. America's history was my history. America's mistakes and triumphs became my own. I journeyed to Africa to learn more about the first classification as an "African" American, and yet I was given a window to discover what it means to be an American. Admitted with a sense of irony, for the first time in 24 years it was in the lobby of this hostel in the center of Cape Town where I felt like a true American.

Until next time...

As I begin to approach the last days of my postings, I wanted to offer a tribute to “Women in the Ministry”. I am not only referring to the ministry exhibited within the structured sanctuary, but the ministry women have provided within the family, on the streets, across the seas, and especially against injustices.

Yesterday in South Africa, we celebrated National Women's Day. This is an annual public holiday in South Africa that commemorates the national march of women that occurred in 1956. 20,000 women from all parts of South Africa staged a second march on the Union Buildings to petition against legislation that required African persons to carry the "pass", special identification documents which curtailed the black African's freedom of movement during the apartheid era. One flyer expressed the following thoughts:"Passes mean prison; passes mean broken homes; passes mean suffering and misery for every African family in our country; passes are just another way in which the Government makes slaves of the Africans; passes mean hunger and unemployment; passed are an insult..." The Prime Minister Strijdom, who had been notified of the women`s mission, was not there to receive them. In lieu of a meeting, the women left bundles of petitions containing more than 100,000 signatures at the Prime Minister`s door. Outside the Government building they stood silently for 30 minutes with their hands raised in the congressional salute. The women concluded their demonstration by singing freedom songs, including a new one composed especially for the occasion:

Wathint` abafazi, Strijdom!
Wathint` imbokodo uzo kufa!
Now you have touched the women, Strijdom!
You have struck a rock (You have dislodged a boulder!)
You will be crushed!


I was encouraged and uplifted by this demonstration. The women were marching not only for themselves, but for the rights of their husbands, children and entire family. They were marching for the recognition of black humanity. It also reminded me of the many sacrifices that women, especially black women, have made over the years for their families and for their nations. I am reminded of the many black women in the United States that have been involved in the struggle for equality such as Josephine Baker, Harriet Jacobs, Ida B. Wells, Zora Neale Hurston, Phillis Wheatley, Sojorner Truth, Maya Angelou, Lena Horne, Angela Davis, Toni Morrison, Madam C.J. Walker, Mary Church Terrel, Mary McLeod Bethune, Ella Baker..only to name a few. Yet when asked to recall the names of influential women in the battle against injustice the only names we seem to remember are those of Rosa Parks or Harriet Tubman. Still there are countless grandmothers, mother, sisters and aunts whose name will never be recorded in history for the sacrifices they have made for others.

Women have been the cornerstone of our society and our church. Without women, many of us would have perished years ago. Women have given many of us words of encouragement to lessons of discipline. Even the most soft-spoken women will use her lunch break to schedule an appointment to confront a school teacher that has mistreated their child. They have birthed us, raised us, loved us, scolded us, encouraged us, sacrificed for us, lived for us, and some have even given their lives for us. Women have marched on the steps of Washington, to the streets in Selma, and even on the sidewalks of South Africa. Their footprints can be seen throughout history and we are all products of their ministry. Yet even today, we deny women the opportunity to step into the pulpit. If their ministry was effective on the nations capitol, adequate for the home, sufficient against the pass laws, surely their voices should be heard within the church. Some often say that women can’t lead churches, yet in this statement they have not only limited the gifts of another human being, but limits God's church to brick and mortar.


I write because I want to encourage. If women can march in Africa, be hosed in America and face countless atrocities against the injustices of society it would uncivil, unjust and even against what I see as the gospel for me to silence their voice, ESPECIALLY IN THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH. So today and everyday, we say thanks. Thanks to women for their sacrifice and unprecented dedication. We recognize your accomplishments and even if they are not written within the history books, we shall all be living testimonies of your contributions.

In the words of Mary McLeod Bethune, "I leave you faith, I leave you hope, I leave you love."'



Until next time...

First, I must say that it feels good to converse again. I missed you all!
Secondly, thanks Denise for the favour.
Thirdly, (but certainly not least) Congrats to the Mr. and Mrs. James and Katie Fields on their recent marriage).

There has been a few interesting occurrences that have taken place since our last meeting. However, although the sermon was a few weeks prior, I did want to provide an update on the experience. Many of you gave me very encouraging words before and after my sermon. For that I am grateful. As I stated before, it was a blessing to stand in a pulpit in Africa and deliver a sermon. I wish I could locate my speech teacher Ms. Barlow and tell her that the time we spent trying to sound out syllables and tongue twisters to minimize my stuttering wasn’t totally in vain.

I have already decided that I am not going to attempt to provide an objective opinion on the sermon itself. I am extremely critical when analyzing sermons, especially my own. Also, I am not going list any comments or compliments that I received afterwards. Rather I want to share that I believe that the message of giving over one’s lunch to God was understood and received.

The most interesting portion of the experience was not only the location of the sermon, but the persons present. Aside from the congregants (South Africans), there was a group of Americans from Minnesota and approximately 30 students from Northern Ireland. This was by far the most diverse congregation I’ve had the opportunity to address.

When I was a high school student I felt God calling me into the ministry. I had several doubts, but the main factors were my age and my fear of speaking in front of others. As I sat at my kitchen table, I begin to imagine myself in a religious fairy-tale. Who hasn’t wished that one could find an answer one has been desperately seeking by opening up the Bible and reading a scripture that spoke directly to one's situation. Jokingly and with little expectations, as a sat at this kitchen table I expressed to God my fears, opened, and read the following scripture in the book of Jeremiah.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nation.”

“Ah, Sovereign Lord,” I said, “I don’t know how to speak; I am only a child.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a child.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you….’ ”

Some may say that this was a mere coincidence or mere luck. Others may claim it was God speaking. We could debate about this for hours. But regardless of why or how it has happened, I’ve been up and running every since (especially when he wants to send me Africa).

I leave Cape Town on the 29th of August. Therefore, this time we have spent sharing with each other will soon end. However, it has been a blessing to share these experiences with friends and family. I will write a few more entries to provide an update for the past few weeks,a tribute to women in the ministry, a summary highlighting various moments of this experience, a fund-raising opportunity, and questions for further theological study. I pray that this time of sharing has been as beneficial to you as it has been for me.

Until next time….

Hello everyone,

My name is Denise Fair and I am one of Jevon's friends. I just recently conversed with him on the telephone as of last night and he asked me to post this message to all of his readers because he is currently in an area where he does not have access to a computer. He knows that you all look forward to his posts and he did not want to worry you because of his recent inactivity.

Although this is not verbatim, here is a general summary of what he wanted me to tell you.

“The internet at my job has been down and I have recently located to another part of South Africa where it is extremely rural and where there are absolutely no computers, thus no way to stay in contact with my fellow readers.

Sorry I have not been able to let you know of my whereabouts and how things are going down here. But, all is well and I will return back to my job on August 5 and will continue my posts on August 8, so please check back soon.

Until next time…”

I must admit that sometimes when I take a second to reflect on where God has brought me in my life, I can only shake my head. I am not one of those persons that claims to have been in a burning building and God revealed Godself in the flames and told me to start preaching (havent you noticed a lot of preachers have stories like that). But Ive gone through my own struggles and trials throughout the years and when I think of where I've gone and the experiences I've had, I just shake my head sometimes. It has always been a dream for me to to plant my feet on African soil. As I stated in one of my first journals, this is indeed a dream coming true. However, I learned last week that I would have the opportunity to preach this upcoming weekend and actually conduct and plan the entire service one Sunday in August. I never had preaching in Africa as one of my aspirations, but I'll add that to my list of blessings when "my cup runneth over". Because we are thousands of miles apart, I thought i would post a brief outline of my sermon.

I am using the miracle of "The Feeding of the Five Thousand" found in the gospel of John (6:1-15). If you've read my previous journals, then youre aware of the context in which I will be preaching. As a result, to not respond to these issues would be abandoning my responsibilities as a minister. Preaching to me has become more than a time to share "general" information about the gospel. Its more than just a time to flex my intellectual muscles (and they are about as slender as my physical body). I can't prepare this sermon without thinking about what Ive seen and heard. As Im writing my sermon,the computer screen not only holds black letters on a white background, but the images of those children at Golden Girls or the persons in the AIDS support group. How can I ignore them? Preaching can be a bold act for a number of reasons, but especially because it can force one to to deal with issues others normally wouldnt discuss in public. Yet if the church doesnt address these issues, its silence speaks volumes. I chose to use this text to encourage the members of this church that they have a lot to offer each other and to the community, despite their situation.


Retelling of the story
Jesus has been preaching for some time and is being followed by large crowds. Jesus surveyed the crowd and realized there was a need among the people (hunger). However, they checked their resources and concluded that they didnt have enough to meet the needs of the large crowds (Where would they get enough food to feed these large crowds). Yet there was one young boy in the crowd that was willing to hand over his lunch to Jesus. Naturally this would never be enough to meet the needs of large crowds, but...

Brief summary of Sermon:
The general structure of my sermon will be to first indicate similar needs within the community. If Jesus were to survey the crowds today, what would he see? (e.g. HIV/AIDS, children heading households, poverty, etc). I will provide personal examples of my own experiences within South Africa and within the United States. After I have proven that there is a definite need among this community and others, I will then proceed to provide an inventory of our resources. This will not be terrible difficult considering the context. Thus arises the question, "What can our small portion of resources contribute to such problems. As Andrew asked regarding the two fish and five loaves, "What are they among so many?" Hence my goal is to encourage the members of the congregation that their lives can be used as a "lad's lunch". Naturally this would never be enough to meet the needs of large crowds, but...They can be used as good starting points for Jesus. Yet we must be willing to hand over our "lunches" whenever Jesus asks.

Through many conversations I have had with members of the church and community, there are several persons living with HIV, too many children without parents, death is a norm, children heading households, deferred dreams, and the list continues. Using the words of Langston Hughes "Life for them (and for many others) ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor- Bare". Many of them may feel as though they lack the resources to be used by God. This if often a common feeling by most persons of faith. The point is not to focus on our inadequacies, but to hand over our "lunch" whenver Jesus needs it. We may not be able to sing like angels, preach like Paul, carry the strength of Samson, or possess the riches of Solomon. On the surface our contribution may seem ordinary. Maybe all we have is 2 small fish and 5 loaves.

I will then provide practical ways members of the congregation can hand over their lunches. God is one that has proven that God can use our 2 small fish and five barley loaves as a blessing to others. (I am very keen on explaining religious language and providing practical examples). It may be just common words to help encourage someone living with HIV/AIDS. It may be just cooking extra for the family next door where a child of 8 years old has become the main care taker of the home. Regardless of our situation, we have a lot to offer to God and to others. The miracle that occurred that day was only Jesus' ability to feed thousand with only few fish and 5 loaves, but their was one person that was willing to hand over their "lunch" as a starting point.

I shall let you know how it goes.

Until we talk again.............
Dont forget to bring your lunch.

I wanted to again thank those who have read my journals and also those that have provided me with words and prayers of encouragement.

These past several days have caused me to reflect a lot. Lord knows these experiences would have been great material for this journal. However, I must admit that I actually did not want to relive some of these experiences. I didnt want read my journal 5 years from now and keep reading entries filled with such despair and hopelessness. But if Im honest with myself, life around here often resolves around these experiences. Since last Thurs I have encountered the following:

- I met a women 28 years old with 3 children living with HIV. She also has a sister that has been hospitalized for the past 4 months also suffering from HIV. Her challenge revolved around home-care. When she falls ill and needs to be hospitalized (sometimes for several weeks), her children (11, 8, and 4) are left at home unattended. As a result, they dont attend school and the oldest is left to become the man of the house (cooking, cleaning, etc).
- I had dinner with a friend on Friday night and I asked her a typical question, "What are your dreams?" "Dreams", she said with confusion. "I dont have time to dream anymore. I just want to make enough money so my family and I are comfortable. During this same conversation, this woman also explained to me how she lost her father when she was young and the gentlemen she was dating for 4 years was killed in a car accident. There is not ONE day that goes by when i dont hear someone talk about death or someone's funeral.
- I was at a youth meeting and we were participating in a self-reflective exercise. We were acting out a scenario in which we were on a boat that was sinking and the "safety-boat" could only hold a limited amount of people. As a result, we were to go around the room and tell the other members of the group why we should be chosen to get on the "safety-boat". I was in a group of approximately 12 and at least 4 individuals gave the reason that if they were left behind on the sinking ship, their would be no one left in their household to work or take care of the younger children. But again, this was a YOUTH meeting! Some of them were kids themselves.
- Just when i thought I had seen it all. I found myself sitting in a room with a young girl 17 years old admitting that she was being physically abused by her aunts. Because BOTH her parents have passed away, she had been living with her aunt for several years. She then handed my colleague a letter she had written lamenting about how she wanted to committ suicide.

I could go into great detail with each of these stories. But i think i need a break from that for a few days and I think you do too. As a result, I wanted to take this time to respond to a comment because there has been one individual that has twice posed the questions “How do I cope with these experiences" and “Who ministers to me”. I think these are very important questions for us all and very appropriate for me to share.

First, I will admit that although I don’t depend solely on the words of others, it is rewarding to know the work that one is doing is appreciated. Over the years I have been so blessed to receive random emails or small notes from people who just wanted to say thanks. Most times I wouldn’t even agree that I did anything, but it does provide a sense of encouragement. I am aware that we don’t live to please others, but who can honestly say that hearing you’re appreciated doesn’t make a difference? And not everyone will always let us know by their words or actions and I think thats ok and very understandable. But every once in a while I'll recieve a small "thanks" that goes a long way. Again I don’t necessarily count on this nor do I depend on others to provide a reason for me to continue, but encouragement from others goes a long way.

Also I think balance is extremely important. For example, I have already spent a weekend in Cape town and have planned to do the same this upcoming. I’ve learned that taking time for myself is just as important as making time for others. If I'm not healthy or rested, it makes being there for others extremely difficult. You can stay at the church all day everyday if YOU want to (Lord knows I wont stop you). But as for Me, I need breaks! I need to rest, travel, and pick up a hobby or two. Even Jesus had to rest sometime.

Also, I’ve learned that coping doesn’t mean that I forget. It’s hard to forget those moments that have left deep impressions on my life. I will always recognize the different smells on my assigned floors as a chaplain working in Robert Wood Johnson Hospital. There was a distinct smell between the floor that dealt with cardiac problems and the Intensive care units. With my eyes closed, I could tell when the elevator stopped at 4T (cardiac unit). And I will never forget the rhythmic beeping of the monitors in the intense care unit either. I will never forget the face of the first dead body I saw in the morgue. I will always remember the faces of several of the members in the HIV/AIDS support group. And the faces of those children in Golden Girls has been implanted in my memory. There are some things that you just dont forget.

However, I will never forget the elderly woman that was on her way to surgery, but didn’t appear to have a care in the world. This woman began telling me that the doctors had given her 6 months to live 6 years ago! I entered the room to encourage her before her surgery, but she suddenly became my chaplain. Every Tuesday here I attend sessions at another church that teaches former gang members about character building and how one changes a particular lifestyle. I will always remember the excitement on the faces of those young men as we discussed the Prodigal Son. Or the same persons that I visit in their homes living with HIV or extreme poverty are the same persons I see in church praising God's name is if life was in abundance. There are some things you dont forget. It is easy to see despair, but challenging myself to see God in all situations encourages me immensely.

Also, I don’t think I just have one person whom I depend on to “minister” to me. I honestly don’t have one person whom I turn to for everything. My “ministers” are often very situational. The people whom I know the best or known the longest are not always the best listeners or the most sympathetic. There are certain people I know that are gifted with compassion, some understanding, others with humor and the list continues. It just depends on what I need at the moment. And I often find these moments of ministry outside the church actually. I find myself being encouraged by the man at the bus station that was just released from prison, the Hindu patient at the hospital that was highly thankful someone came to visit him in the hospital, the elderly individuals that needs someone to listen to their life stories, the friend that identifies as agnostic but has a love for people that is unprecedented. God has used the most uncommon circumstances and unexpected people to minister to me.

Any difficult walk regardless of the distance or obstacles somehow seems shorter when there is someone walking beside us. The company doesnt have to be filled with conversation or a high level of entertainment, but just to know that someone has decided to journey with us can sometimes be enough to encourage us to continue walking. And i can not express with words how much i appreciate those that have walked with me. If you have time, take a few minutes just to think about those persons in your life that have walked with you. With that said, until we talk again........Blessings on your journey.

Upon reading the title, memories of a sitcom revolving around the lives of 4 elderly white women may have slipped into your mind. You may have thought about the grandmother who always had the best comebacks. Or maybe you thought about her daughter who seemed to be the only sane one out of the group. Or you may have thought about the one that seemed clueless even in her old age. And who could forget the one with the southern accent whose sex life seemed to increase with age.

Yesterday shattered my innocent notions of “Golden Girls”. What was previously a classic comedy show I only watched when nothing else was on was the name of an orphanage for underprivileged, mentally and physically challenged children.

As I walked unto the new “set” of Golden Girls, I was not greeted by any of the elderly women, but two children standing in the doorway attempting to make sounds as to say hello. (At least that’s what I was hoping.) I was then greeted by one of the directors of Golden Girls that offered to give myself and three others a tour around the set. Now let me see if I can take you across this new set. I shall do the best I can with a keyboard and letters, but taking a picture of something one does not wish to remember is pointless and even then you would just have to see it for yourselves.

As we walked into the main room I noticed on my immediate right a kid standing on the wall as though he had been waiting for someone for several hours. His face was void of expression. He just stood with his back pressed against the wall waiting. Then on the wall directly in front of me there was another kid whose face showed signs of mental and physical retardation. This young boy was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall rocking back and forth. And it seemed as though his legs were crossed twice. I know that’s not possible, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to stare. I forgot to mention that “twisted legs” had on one pink sock.

So as my eyes spanned the room, I felt someone trying to grab my hands. I looked down to see the face that belonged to these small hands, but my eyes stopped at the top of this child’s head. I am not a medical doctor, but the patches of green soars and matted flakes are not supposed to be on his head! I wanted to let go of the little kid's hands because I am afraid that whatever is on his head had settled on his small hands. But I’m supposed to be the minister in the room, so I don’t want to seem grossed out by this child. He/She (cant really tell at this point) takes me on its own little journey of our new set. We stopped several times so she (lets call her a girl for now) could eat whatever is on the floor. We only walked about 15 feet and she stopped about 4 times already. A worker on the “set” sees this young child tugging at my hands and freed me from my responsibility.

I began talking to the director of the set when another child grabbed my hand and wanted to show me something outside. She was not able to formulate her own words, but by the force of her pull, I knew I was being called to follow. We arrived outside and just stood for a second enjoying the view of the empty playground. My new friend then grabbed a black, plastic hose. Its only about 5 feet in length, but I’m no stranger to inventing games out of nothing. This is same man who as a young boy could make a star trek ship on the side of the house using nothing but a few sticks and rocks. Despite the scarcity in materials, we had warp speed, a teleporter, and a control room. This black hose would be piece of cake. My friend grabbed one end and experience told me I was supposed to grab the other. When she began to swing her arm, I already new what time it was! I’m not afraid to admit I’m still pretty good at jumping rope. So we began to swing and another adult that had accompanied us tried to jump in. No success. The rope and my partner were too short. Then one of her friends came to join us. He seemed afraid of the rope, so I lowered the rope and encouraged him to jump over. He jumped about an inch off the ground. His right foot cleared, but his left was tripped by our black hose. Then I dared my friend to try. At this point I had forgotten I was on the “set” of mentally and physically challenged children. She tried of course. Both feet were caught by the black hose. Her face almost hit the building. Game over. It was time to go back inside.

She grabbed my hand again and somehow, I felt like I needed a bath. Mom always told me to be nice and polite, but the smell was not right and no one around me looked like they had showered in months. And the same hand my friend invited me to hold was the same one she had in her mouth for several minutes. Good thing I had my hand sanitizer in my pocket.

I saw the director of the “set” and inquired about a few things. I was told there were usually 45 kids in the one area. Inner dialogue: “How can 45 kids fit here, when these 20 are crammed in this small space?” I was also told their schedule consisted of breakfast, a bath, “sitting around”, lunch, “sitting around”, supper, and “sitting around.” Inner dialogue again: "You have got to be kidding me. I know this isn’t NYSP camp, but they can’t call this “sitting around”. It’s not like they can chat or play spades by themselves. I stood in front of the right wall to get a clear picture of this “set”. I didn’t want to stand in the view of the boy who was still waiting on someone so I slightly moved to the side. (I would take those four old white ladies over this any day). So I looked across at another wall and there was another child “just sitting” in a wheel chair. I guess he’s taking full advantage of “sitting around” time. I then looked to the wall on my left and there were two more children in wheel chairs just “sitting around”.

Then I noticed two younger girls just “standing around”. Again I’m no medical doctor but the puss in and surrounding the sores on their faces were not normal. I’ve always wondered where those nasty pictures in the doctor’s office or random slide shows during science class come from; now I know.

I have studied these four walls very closely, but most of the action was in the center of the room. There were 15 kids “sitting around” on a small piece of green material. The first thing I noticed was that they all had huge permanent smiles on their faces. Experience again told me again that just because the corners of someone’s mouth are raised and their teeth show doesn’t mean it’s a smile. I had to remind myself, “This set is for the mentally challenged.” Two children sat on one edge of the green trying to chew on each other’s shirt. I hoped one of the 3 workers was going to stop them, but I guess I was expecting too much. (Maybe I was expecting the Golden Girls of old). Then I noticed one boy that was lying on his face. He had been in that position since I first came. He was either sleep, dead, or just “sitting around”. There were two wearing helmets, but I know I didn’t see any bikes outside. I know I’m a foreigner and I don’t speak any of the South African languages, but I had never heard this one before. They all seemed to be shouting at me in some broken language. (Some crazy church folk would probably say they were speaking in tongue).


My attention was turned away from the green square down to my feet. How cute. A little boy sitting on his bottom reaching for the sky (probably reaching for my hands, but Ill say whatever to convince myself not to touch any more hands). Did I have a sign on my forehead that said “Visitor"? I was not the only adult visitor present, but everyone seemed to want to hold on to My hands.


My attention was turned to the girl sitting on the other edge of the carpet. She too was sitting on her bottom, but her head must have weighed a ton or she must have been exhausted. She was just “sitting around” with her head hanging over her shoulders. I’ve done this several times during boring lectures, but she had it down packed. She was sitting up, but sound asleep. I watched in anticipation wondering if she was going to fall over, but nope..she had it down. (So I thought). As I looked at her sleeping position in amazement, green liquid shot out from her mouth onto her chest and into her lap. Inner thought, “What in the world is going on. Am I the only one in the room that just saw that?” But…her head still hadn’t moved from its position! Apparently I wasn’t the only one that saw this. One of the workers came to assist this young girl. She scooped her up from the floor, put the little girl into another room, and cleaned up the spot.

This place was not for me! I can handle a lot of stuff, but not this. I’ve seen persons as they have taken their last breath, but this was far worse. Disabled children just sitting around in this small area everyday with deplorable sanitary conditions, little supervision, and open sores was just too much. I could not watch this any longer. As I tried to force myself to stay, I had no idea what infections or disease had gone untreated. The two girls whose sores you will probably see in your next science class was enough proof. As I told the driver that I could not take another minute of this, he agreed. As we were leaving, the little boy that was previously at my feet, reaching for the sky was now at the front door sitting on his bottom again. He tried to move out of the way by scooting across the floor. Now I took a course on child development and am aware that some children do learn to scoot instead of crawling, but again this was not your average set of Golden Girls. The little boy didn’t have use of his legs, so scooting was his only method of reaching the guy that had “Visitor” written across his forehead. So we left the through the doors and I immediately dug through the pockets of my jacket to get my hand sanitizer.

We all left Golden Girls in complete silence. My thoughts of Golden Girls would no longer be filled images of Rose, Blanch, Dorothy, or even Sophia. Golden Girls was the name of the only place in 24 years I had entered, but could not bare to stay. It became the set where the days and episodes of the mentally and physically challenged children ran together. “Sitting around” was the same on Monday was it was on Saturday. I’m guessing for many there would be no happy endings. They could not just walk away from the set if they were unhappy. Their scripts were already written. Too me, this was an episode I would never forget. But to the director, the workers, and the many children this was probably just another day at Golden Girls.


"And Jesus wept" John 11:35

First, I must apologize for the number of grammatical errors I have made during these past months. I did however warn potential readers in my very first entry that I was terrible at proofreading. So in my apology there is a slight "But at least i gave you a pre-warning." With that said, there is not much that happened over the weekend. However, you may remember that during one of my entries last week I described an experience in which i visited a woman in her home living with HIV. If you recall, we went to the house to encourage her in her fight with HIV and to also attend the Support Group on Tues. Well guess who I saw on Sunday up and about? Yep, this same woman had enough strength to get out of bed and make it to service. It was a blessing to see! Even in the most desolate situations, God is still working.

This is a busy week coming up. I am scheduled to visit an orphanage, a prison, and a gang center. And I am also going to post my thoughts on how and why I think God is present during times of suffering. This theological theme has been difficult for me to understand and I dont claim to have a complete handle on it, but i thought it would be good to write these thoughts down.

I have been studying the gospels for the past few weeks and I came across a scripture that has continued to hold my attention. Its a common scripture that Im sure many of us have read.

Enjoy......
Jesus Anointed by a Sinful Woman
36Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. 37When a woman who had lived a SINFUL life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, 38and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
39When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

40Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me, teacher," he said.

41"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii,[a] and the other fifty. 42Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"

43Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."
"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

44Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. 46You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

48Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

49The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

50Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace." (Luke 7:36-50)



Until we meet again.......

As we arrived at the house, I said to myself, "Again i have no idea what Im doing or what Im going to say to this woman!"

My comments arose due to the situation I knew I was about to enter. I had been informed the previous day that a gentleman at the church wanted me to escort him to the house of a woman he knew living with HIV. He wanted to try to encourage her to attend the support group on Tues. I agreed to go. Hence my internal dialogue as we pulled up to the house the following day. THe group consisted of myself, the other gentleman, and another colleague (the one that is fond of putting me to work).

As we entered the house, there were about 5 adults and 3 children squeezed into a small living room (about the size of a really small dorm room). One woman was doing hair, the children looked like they were playing a game they had just invited and the other adults were looking at them wondering what game the children were playing. We walked past this room and entered a bedroom, where a woman looked as though she had been laying there for sometime. We introduced ourselves and she began telling us her story. As she began to talk, tears began to fill her eyes and empty themselves along her brown face. As she was talking, from under the covers arose a small baby. The first thing that came to mind was, "Had the baby also contraced HIV from the mother." (We found out later the baby was HIV negative.) I wont go into every detail, but she did agree that she wanted to start attending the support groups and try to make it to services on Sunday. When she was asked about her needs, she simply named basic things most people take for granted. All she really needed was food. Food to keep her strength and food for her baby. She didnt ask for a lot, just something to put in her stomach. After about an hour, we talked, prayed and left. But we agreed that if we didnt see her on Sunday or at the group on Tuesday, we would return to check on her.

I want to thank all those that have responded in some form or fashion to my journal responses. Even if you havent responded, thanks for taking time to read my thoughts. I did want to take a moment to answer a specific question posed after one of my entries. The comment was:

"I wonder...maybe you can speak to this a bit. My host brother in Kenya told me (during one of our many convo's about Kenyan culture and people) that AIDS is a punishment for fornication. It is a cultural belief (in most tribes in Kenya) that AIDS/HIV is retribution for sin. This results in the formulation of policies and laws that outlaw treatment or enforce abstinence only programs. It also fosters discrimination within communities against persons suffering from the disease. I was just wonder if you can tell where culture is playing into how SA is handling their AIDS epidemic. That's all for now. Take care. Hope all is well


Well that is very interesting. I think the culture here is somewhat different. There are those persons that I think promote the disease as a punishment,but on a whole there are several commercials and billboards that promote the use of condoms and safe sex. The government doesnt seem to limit itself with funding only abstinence only programs.

But I think the misconception people make is that pre-marital sex is not the only way people get AIDS/HIV! Many young people now have gotten the disease from their parents either through child birth or breast feeding. And usually in areas where there is no adequate health care, it can often be passed by blood or needle contamination. And these persons may get married one day, give it to their mates, have kids and the cycle continues. People rarely get tested for the disease and often times when they do its too late. Although i think much of the disease is spread through outside or pre-marital sex, I think this goes to show the demonization and the stereotypes people place on people living with HIV/AIDS. When we encounter people living with the disease our mentality should not be, this is a person being punished by God. I dont see how a government would not fund these programs when MILLIONS of persons are dying. And until you see the grave sites, it doesnt become real. Theologically i think its irresponsible to outlaw treatment and only fund abstinence programs. The spread and affects of it are so complicated and multi-layered that I think in many cases "retribution for sin" is a simply an excuse. IF THIS WAS THE CASE, WE WOULD ALL BE INFECTED WITH IT RIGHT NOW!

If we are using the language of sin and fornication, then I am led to follow this train of thought theologically. Of course Jesus never had to deal with this, but in looking at his life and the way he treated the outcast and the sick is helpful in today's context. We often want to look for a "Christian" answer without putting the "Christ" into the equation. So lets put him into the scenario. As I look over the life of Jesus there are many things i find to be very startling and somewhat revolutionary. Yet in terms of healing one thing i find very interesting is that whenver Jesus approaches someone or is sought after due to a death or illness, to my knowledge Jesus NEVER asked how these individuals became sick. He never asked how they died or became a leper, paralytic, demon-possessed, etc. Even he was surrounded by a culture that believed ones physical infirmities was the result of a spiritual shortcoming or retribution for breaking some form of Jewish law. Yet we find this individual crossing boundaries healing those that others wouldnt even allow to enter into the city gates. And yet, he never asked how, he just healed. He was simply there. I am not suggesting that Jesus does not care about behavior or does not except us to live certain lifestyles. But if Jesus waited to heal or comfort only the righteous, he would have never healed a single sole. If Jesus was alive today I imagine he would probably be watching us arm ourselves with stones ready to aim and fire at those we consider outcasts. He would probably be the only one in the crowd that would challenge us to look at yourselves before we start casting our stones. If he were alive today, we would probably be looking for Jesus among the healthy, when he would be sitting and caring for the sick.

This will be a small history lesson on one of the holiday's in South Africa. Last friday was a holiday called Youth Day. It was celebrated to commerate those youth that had died and also took a stand against the apartheid government that wanted all the major subjects within the schools system to be taught in Afrikaan (language spoken by most white people). One can see this would pose as a major problem for many Black children that did not know the language and would be forced to learn in a second languange (also the language of their oppressors)...So i thought that I would take this time to provide a breif history of the holiday and a very susinct history of the affects of apartheid. It will place many of my stories within a certain context. And i didnt know much about this stuff either before I came.....So here goes:

YOUTH DAY
On 16 June 1976, school children protested over the imposition of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in township schools. By the end of that fateful day 566 children were dead.Students from three schools — Belle Higher Primary, Phefeni Junior Secondary, and Morris Isaacson High — planned to march from their schools to the Orlando Stadium. When they got to Matsike High (now Orlando High), police intervened and ordered the children to disperse. They started singing Nkosi Sikelel and before they could be dispersed, police opened fire.
There are conflicting accounts of who gave the first command to shoot, but soon children were turning and running in all directions, leaving some children lying wounded on the road. These protests continued in many other cities in South Africa with black students attempting to march against injustice, yet being dispersed by the use of guns and tear gas.




APARTHEID
Apartheid, which literally means "apartness" in Afrikaans, was a system of racial segregation that was enforced in South Africa from 1948 to 1991 (its practices began long before this date). Under apartheid, people were legally classified into a racial group - the main ones being White, Black, Indian and Coloured - and were geographically, and forcibly, separated from each other on the basis of the legal classification. In practice, this prevented non-white people — even if actually resident in white South Africa — from having a vote or influence, restricting their rights to faraway homelands which they may never have visited. Education, medical care, and other public services were sometimes claimed to be separate but equal, but those available to non-white people were in fact vastly inferior.

- Non-whites were not allowed to run businesses or professional practices in those areas designated as 'white South Africa' without a permit. They were supposed to move to the black homelands and set up businesses and practices there.
- Transport and civil facilities were segregated.
- Blacks were excluded from living or working in white areas, unless they had a pass. Only blacks with "Section 10" rights (those who had migrated to the cities before World War II) were excluded from this provision. Whites required passes in black areas.
- A pass was only issued to a black person with approved work. Spouses and children had to be left behind in non-white areas. Many white households employed blacks as domestic workers, who were allowed to live on the premises— often in small rooms external to the family home.
A pass was issued for one magisterial district confining the holder to that area only.
Being without a valid pass made a person subject to immediate arrest and summary trial, often followed by deportation to the person's homeland. Police vans roamed the "white" areas to round up the "illegal" blacks.
- Black areas rarely had plumbing or electricity.
- Hospitals and ambulances were segregated: the white hospitals were generally of a very good standard with well-educated staff and ample funds while black hospitals were understaffed and underfunded.
- In the 1970s each black child's education cost the state only a tenth of each white child's. Higher education was provided in separate universities and colleges after 1959.
- Trains and buses were segregated. Black buses, known as "green" buses because they had a green marker on the front windscreen, stopped at black bus stops and white buses at white ones.
- Public beaches were racially segregated, with the best ones reserved for whites[2]. Public swimming pools and libraries were also segregated. There were few black pools or libraries.
- Sex and marriage between the races was prohibited.
- Cinemas in white areas were not allowed to admit blacks. Most restaurants and hotels in white areas were not allowed to admit blacks, unless the government had given prior permission.
- Black Africans were prohibited from attending "white" churches under the Churches Native Laws Amendment Act (1957). This was never rigidly enforced, and churches were one of the few places races could mix without the interference of the law.
- Although trade unions for black and "coloured" (mixed race) workers had existed since the early 20th century, it was not until the 1980s reforms that trade unions for black workers were recognised by the government. The minimum yearly taxable income for blacks was 360 Rand (30 Rand a month), while the white threshold was much higher, at 750 Rand (62.5 Rand per month).
- Apartheid pervaded South African culture, as well as the law. The perception of non-white South Africans as second-class citizens was reinforced in many media, and the lack of opportunities for the races to mix in a social setting entrenched social distance between people.

I could go on and on...but doesnt this sound like Jim Crow to you! Needless to say although apartheid has ended (only about 12 years ago), its legacy has continued. Its interesting to talk to the people and hear their stories about living during apartheid. I hope this helps. Again this is only a BRIEF history of apartheid. I hope you will be motivated to learn about the rest.

Part of my job here is simply observing and getting to know people. I am surprised that even after only a few weeks, much of my learning has come from just paying attention. Last Friday was an interesting day. I was looking forward to my weekend in Cape Town and the day was moving quite slow. I was asked by Felix (a gentleman that attends the support group on Tues.) to walk with him to a nearby school. I agreed. "We wont be too long", he promised. As we arrived to the school, he introduced me to two teachers sitting in an empty classroom. They both became estatic to learn I was from the United States. They invited me to sit down. And they had a ton of questions! Upon hearing my experiences about South Africa, one of the gentleman wanted to share his story about his time in America. When i asked him what was the first thing he noticed about America, can you guess what he said....................?

The very first thing he said about our beloved country was, "I noticed that your country is till very segregated in terms of race. I was only there for a short time and it was easy to notice race is till an issue in your country." Of course i agreed. Then he began telling me while growing up, his heroes were all Black Americans. He admitted that many of his friends including himself looked up to Black Americans. He said that during the struggles during apartheid, they were often moved and motivated by the accomplishments of American Blacks. He looked at me and with sincerity said, "Yes we admire the accomplishments many Blacks in America have been able to achieve. Even through racism, you have been able to achieve a great deal." Then he raised an interesting point. Although he was highly encouraged by the number of Black American entertainers or athletes that had "made it", he wanted to know if there were any Black intellectuals, mathematicians, scientist, historians,etc in America. He admitted that its easy to know about Black entainers, but our country never showed Black individuals that had "made it" in the world of Academia. You can imagine this sparked a great deal of conversation.

I have noticed there is indeed a sense of solidarity found within the struggles of American racism and South African racism. The Civil RIghts struggle and the accomplishments of Black Americans were not just for those living in Americans, but for struggling persons around the globe. Their is something about suffering that brings people together, especially Black people. And as African American, I am challenged with not only knowing about the ills that affect my own community, but also having a global perspective.

Which leads me to my next point....Many Black Americans call Africa the Motherland, but how many of us actually now about Africa? How many of us have actually read literature by an African author. How many of us will continue to label this place as the origins of our birth, yet remain ignorant of the problems and achievements of the "Motherland". This is not to say all of should become experts knowing the history of every country in Africa. But if we hold true to the belief that we are Americans with African decent, lets challenge ourselves to become knowledgable about both cultural identifications. Pick one country, one book, or watch one movie and challenge yourself to put that into your reprotoire. Read up on apartheid in South Africa or the massacre in Rawanda, etc.

As Black Americans, we need to have a more global perspective. And going to Canada or Cancun, doesnt count!! Aside from the problems we continue to face in America, many Black persons around the world have found hope and encouragement in our achievements. Our influence in music, art, literature, economics, athletics, and liberation are reaching many areas around the globe, especially "The Motherland". Our achievements as Black people have the ability to stand as a beacon of light for my other persons fighting the same struggles. If others have taken in interest in our culture, especially our struggles and achievements, we should give Black persons around the globe(especially in the Motherland) that same respect. So again, use your gifts wisely. Some young person in some distant land (or maybe next door) could possibly be finding hope to carrying on through just another day because you decided not to give up.

As a young minister, I am still learning to be confident in a pastoral role. Somehow Im still shocked when people ask me to pray or perform some ministerial duty. (As though Im somehow caught by surprise). And I still get butterflies in my stomach whenever I have to speak in front of others. Whether i am preaching or reading ONE line of scripture, Im often a nervous wreck. Although most people say they dont notice it, I can definately feel it! But this day was a step in the right direction.

I walked around the neighborhood with one of my colleagues and little did I know, she was bound to put me to work. The first house we visited had a huge tent leading over the entrance of the house. Yes a tent. Im told that usually when there are tents over a house that means someone had died and the people inside are still in the mourning stages. So as we entered I was introduced to the family(most didnt speak english too well) and we all began talking and carrying on small conversation. THen as we were about to leave my colleague suggested that I should pray for the family before we left. Everyone in the house agreed. Again, somehow i was caught off guard by this. I had never met this woman that died. I didnt know the family and they didnt speak English too well. (They can understand most though, just not speaking it). So as Ive learned during my duration as working as a hospital chaplain, praying during these sensitive moments must be taken with care (not to say that all prayers shouldnt). But people are extremely fragile during like moments. So the first thing i did was ask the correct pronunciation of the women's name. The last thing i wanted to do was butcher her name during the prayer. After I prayed, I thanked them for allowing me to share in that moment with them and we were off to the next house.

Then my colleague wanted to stop at another women's home. All she told me was that her daughter was very sick. So im thinking that maybe she has a bad cold or something similar. So we go into the house and we are told that the daugther had went to the clinic. So my colleague again suggested that I pray before we leave. So all the family was invited into the room to join in the prayer. So again i made sure i knew the correct pronunciation of the woman's name. But again, i didnt know what illness she was struggling with, let alone the status of her health. So as we were finished, the mother rose to her feet and hugged me for several minutes and just thanked me for coming. I was bit confused at this point I must admit, but hey.....So as we were leaving my colleague tells me that the daughter has entered the last phase in her fight with AIDS. She was doing fine but her health decreased immensely within the past couple of weeks. I was somewhat taken aback because i would have handled praying for this women's health very differently. However, I was also glad that my prayer was not based on God healing this woman and curing her of her disease. At times, I must say that I am not comfortable praying in front of a family asking God for a miracle when death is imminent. I think sometimes giving people false hope does not help them with the inevitable. This may sound somewhat heartless and as though I am questioning GOd's ability to perform miracles. I do believe miracles still occur and God has done some amazing things that science just cant answer, but death is very real and it does happen. And their are sometimes when it is imminent and although its tough we are challenged to deal with it. I dont think my role as a minister during like situations is to always pray for God to step in make everything better. Sometimes as "wounded" healers, we (not just ministers) are called to just sit with people and help them through their tough times. We arent always called to move people's mountains, but maybe encourage them along the climb.

Then later on that night, i was supposed to observe a women's bible study. Needless to say, the leader didnt show and there were three women that had walked to Bible Study and didnt look like they were going to leave until somebody showed up with a lesson! Most people in this area dont have cars, so walking is very popular means of transportation. So can u guess what happen. Yes my colleague again suggested that I run the Bible Study in the leader's absence. I had not prepared anything nor was I positive they would understand everything I was saying. But it turned out alright. I think we were all blessed.

If I wasnt completely comfortable in my ministerial role before today, it was a step in the right direction. I firmly believe that if God waited until we were finished products before God began to use us, we would never get anything done. As young adults and even older adults, it ok to unsure sometimes. Its begin unsure, yet facing situations and stepping out on faith anyhow when ministry sometimes happens. So even if we havent got everything right and are still trying to crawl our way through, we will learn how to walk eventually.

Tues night here at the Church I attended a drama/play that is designed to teach teenagers and children about AIDS/HIV. This groups performs every Tues and travels across South Africa and even into various parts of the United Stated. The content of the skits were quite interesting. The message and dialogue was very direct. They did not shy away from using slang words used for the male and female genitals. Unlike many churches in the United States, the focus was more on protection rather than abstinence. The scenario's centered more around instances when the disease was spread because lack of protection and not simply because of the absence of abstinence. As a minister and budding theologian (everyone is a theologian in some aspects i think), I am lead to ponder what method is appropriate for the church in reponse to HIV/AIDS. Some say that condoms only encourage the act of sex. However others say preaching abstinence without proper use of protection is irresponsible, especially when a quarter of your population is dying. Some says its better to protect the soul than the body. Yet others say its hard to get people into the church when they are dying before they get there. What shall we do church?

This past Tuesday I went to another support group for persons living with AIDS/HIV. Unlike my first experience, these were all adults. There were about 60 persons that were present and the topic of the meeting was the different forms of discrimination that these persons faced when others find out of their infection. I wont go into details considering this was a support group, but I will say that for many, they had become outcasts by the families, jobs, and friends. As I looked around the room, I was amazed at what I saw. There were a variety of persons each telling a different story. They were of all different ages and economic backgrounds. Some looked as though they were just coming from work. Others looked as though they havent been to work in quite sometime. A few looked like grandparents, while others looked like college students. Of all these persons, not a sinle one looked sick. Some were filled with laughter, while others expressed different forms of anger. There were several that were eager to express their stories, while many just sat in silence. Yet part of my responsibility here is to provide an open ear to those who want to share their stories on a one to one encounter. I shall keep you upadated on those. However please keep in mind that I take my responsibilites as a Minister seriously and confidentiality is important. I will share generalities, but there may not be many specifics. I did however want to share a poem written by one of the members that he was willing to share with public eyes. He simply wanted me and others to hear his story. Enjoy...


AIDS

As
In the
Days of
Sodom

As one grows he changes-
In the days of our forefathers everything was there
Daily this and that happens
So is it today – Today is Like Sodom.

Today people are hungry
Hungry for what can make them alive
Alive, yes alive you can be when fit.
Fitness can make you survive.

Survival can make you somebody
Somebody can be me or you
You do things on your own
Only you can do it.

It can sometimes be beautiful
Full of goodness and sadness
Never can you be alone
Alone to start the day.

Daily I sin but forgiven
Forgiven when asked for forgiveness.
But why can I not be forgiven due to ignorance?
AIDS is regarded as sin today.

Where does it come from?
From man nowhere else.
Yes we are dying of it (as it is said so)
For the Lord said because of sin we are going to die.

Sinners do not understand why they do
Sin is wrong – by thought, speech, and deeds
Yes, I do it because I want or need it
Sometimes it is done by me, you or him
So what went wrong – not to be corrected

It is said you die of AIDS
No it is because of opportunistic infections
Like pneumonia, meningitis and alike
Because nothing you can do on your own
They feed and wash you
Days go until you die.


Yes I am going to die, but not of AIDS
For it is no death sentence, but a wake up call
It can be of T.B., cancer or car crash – Not of AIDS
When weak you need strength for food
What can you eat when there is no food?

There is treatment for HIV and AIDS, but no cure
It is said prevention is better than cure.
Is that so? You ask that question.
Yes, stop AIDS by preventing it.
But how?

A.B.C
Abstain from sex when not ready
Be faithful to your partner
And have one sexual partner.
Condomise when sexually active
(When married for sex is good for married partners)

Always protect yourself when helping someone with blood
(wear gloves)
For blood carries this virus
Be careful then
I was told six years back
That I have this virus

AIDS IS REAL AND HIV CAN BE PREVENTED

I have arrived in South Africa safe and sound. My plane landed on Sat morning and its now monday afternoon. I had to write my first impression down before they eluded my memory. First, when i got off the plane and looked around I could not believe that I was in Africa. I had dream of going to Africa since i was a little boy. Yet to be able to grab hold of this dream at 24 is truly a blessing. Growing up I never imagined that I would have the chance to travel to Spain, Germany, Italy, Czech Republic, France, Argentina, Bahamas (strictly for pure fun of course), and now Africa. These skinny little legs have been blessed to travel around the world.

Sunday was an eye opening experience. Growing up in an African-American church, I am attuned, participate, and highly appreciate the traditional worship styles of my culture. I have read in several history books that many of these styles that began during slavery has its origins in Africa. It wasnt until I saw it with my own eyes did this become real. I am not stating that all Christians services in Africa are conducted in a similar fashion, but for me this church made history very real. They didnt use a single instrument throughout the entire service. They simple used their voices. And everyone in the entire church lifted up their voices. It was better than any choir I have ever heard. And while they were singing, they did this little dance that looked like a two step with an African twist. They were not afraid to sing and nor dance. Their was one song that apparently begin to touch this older lady. She was sitting on the end and when she started singing (the service was not in English) it was like she said to herself, "O that is my song!!!" She couldnt move fast, but she made her way into the aisle and started doing her lil two step. I could tell that it wasnt about a show, but it was simply apart of who they were as Black African Christians in this given context. It was who they were.

Also, I have a level of poverty here unfamiliar to me. The church is located in a township where most of the homes have been built out of scrap metal, cardboard and whatever else they can find to keep the elements out. If you ever seen Bad Boys when they are driving the hummer through those homes thats exactly what it looks like.

And lastly this HIV/AIDS pandemic is real. I heard on the radio that although 25% of the population was perceived to have the disease, it was predicted that in less that 5 years almost 50% would contract this deadly virus. There is a not enough room in the cemetaries to accommodate these new and foreseen deaths. There is new phenomenon emerging within families given that because most victims are between the ages of 16-48 )roughly many homes were now being run by grandparents or younger children. Yes younger children! I attended a meeting for a support group today for young children whose parents died of AIDS. There were a set of sisters in the room that admitted that because their mom was sick, they now had to take care of her and go to school. As a result, the two sisters would alternate in days who would go to school and who would take care of mom (who dying of AIDS). There were several of like stories by Im sure you get the point. This leads to extreme levels of unemployment. If youre sick, you cant work. If you cant work its hard to send your children to school. If you cant work, you dont any money for medical bills nor money for transportation to the hospital. Yet if you can get treatment, you will health will continue to deteriorate. Its a continuous cycle.

Which leads me to say that church (here and universal) has a lot of work to do. God's dwelling place is not simply within the four walls of the church, but with these people and like person who suffer at unprecedented levels. If your looking for GOd to only be in the Church, you may be missing the mark. Look on the streets, in the Hospitals, on your job, in prisons, schools, shelters, or any place where somone is hurting (which is just about anywhere). Our call to follow Christ is not simply obedience, but to get into the world and do something for somebody else. So use your gifts wisely and use them often. Someone is counting on you to do so.


Until next time........

Although I am still writing this within the walls of Princeton Seminary on American soul, I am trying to begin my journey to South Africa now. For those of you who dont know, I am currently a second year student at Princeton Theological Seminary and I have one more year remaining to complete my Master's. As part of our program, we are required to have 2 internships. Hence, this summer I will be traveling to South Africa to work at a church in Guguletu. Its about 30 minutes away from Cape Town. I will be given various responsibilities such as preaching, teaching, pastoral counseling, (and who knows whatever else...). Due to the AIDS/HIV crises in Africa, I will also be working with and in a community that is highly effected by this disease. When I first decided to go to South Africa, I really didnt what to expect and I still dont. However, God has always provided me with several unique experiences to grow an individual, as a minister and broaden my understanding of God. While there, I am going to pay attention to several things and this is in no order of importance.

1. I want to pay attention and be attuned to how AIDS/HIV affects a community and a family. This epidemic is often associated either with homosexuals or in this case an African problem. However, this is now highly effecting the African American community. Over 50 percent of new cases of HIV/AIDS are African American women. This is an issue that no longer needs to be ignored, nor swept under the rug. As a minister and as an African American, I feel i have a responsibiliity to learn more about this issue to adequately address it. Its hard to bring people to the church when they are dying right in front of our eyes.

2. I am also going to play close attention to Christianity in an African context. Growing up, I also had the notion that the way i worship and the way I imagine God was THE absolute truth. As I got older and have experienced other cultures and different denominations, I am learning to broaden my understanding of God. For instance, growing up in the city of Detroit, attending an all black church, being raised in a middle-working class home, and matriculating in institution of higher education has effected the way in which I understand God and how I approach scripture. American Christianity (I think) has become highly influenced by capitalism, slavery, sexism, etc. Our history as Americans, especially black Americans has directly affected how we worship and understand God. Our image of God was not reacted in a vaccuum. Not to discount our experiences, but American Christianity does not represent World Christianity. I would encourage other individivuals to acknowledge and bring their experiences when attempting to develop relationsihp with God, but I also think that God is bigger than our racial, national, and class, gender, and denominational experiences. Again this is not to discount our experiences. With this said, I am interested to not only see the after effects of Apartheid politically and socially, but also as it relates to ones understanding of God. Does the church still address these issues? Similar to slavery, wouldnt the way one viewed God be altered when the one attempting to bring Christ into your life was or resembled the one that oppressed you? What if the one that told you to give your life to Christ was the same person that denied your humanity? Was if this was the same person that looked at you as a mere object? To some this up, I am just interested to see Christianity within the context of South Africa.


I will also post the books I am current reading:

1. Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane
-this is a great autobiography of a Black South African tennis player that grew up during Apartheid. To put this quote into its contexts, the speaker is about 7 years old and the pass to which he refers was a mandatory pass that all black residents living in this city had to carry at all times or else risk imprisonment.

http://www.un.org/av/photo/subjects/images/155572.jpg


"My father's repeated arrests gave me insight into the likely nature of my own future. As a black boy, the odds were heavily stacks against my establishing a normal, stable family when I came of age, for the minute I left boyhood and became a man, I, too, would be required to possess the odious pass, which had to be in order at al time. And the chances of it being in order at all times were nil, for I knew that, as with my father, the authorities would always find something wrong with my pass.
Knowing that, my heart sank, and I began to wonder whether life -black life- was really worth living. But what other life was there to live?"

2. Beyond the Miracle: Inside the New South Africa by Allister Sparks

My first post will be simple, but quiet informative. To all those that will be reading this, I must warn you that my spelling is terrible and i foresee several grammatical mistakes in my future blogs. However, I wanted to record my experiences in Africa not only for myself, but others also. I am also really bad at keeping journals. As a result, I probably wont update this on a regular basis. Just check back periodically and who knows, by God's grace I might actually discpline myself to writing about my experienes.


My itinerary is as follows:
June 1st, Depart Phildephia at 6:00pm
Arrive in Frankfurt, Germany 7:55am

June 2nd, Depart Frankfurt 5:20pm
Arrive in Cape Town, South Africa 5:00am

August 29th, Depart Cape Town 7:00pm
Arrive in London 6:20am

August 30th, Depart London 7:55am
Arrive in Washington DC 11:12am

Depart Washington DC 12:27pm
Arrive in Philadephia 1:26pm