Made in Vertmont

We are going through serious withdrawal from an addiction. 

 

The first stage was denial.  We avoided certain recipes and experimented with local cuisine.  The second stage was temptation.  We would wander the foreign grocery stores in search of our drug of choice.  We even stooped so low as to finger cheap forgeries, before finally turning away in disgust.  Of course I am talking about Maple Syrup.  Not syrup... or Golden syrup as it is called here, but pure, beautiful, flavorful, MAPLE syrup.  That sweet nectar of Vermont... 

 

When the pain became to great to bear, we took up weapons and money and set out into the wilds of Africa like a junkie in search of a fix.  This was the sad result:

I think the concept of “Vertmont” could be useful for my friends in the frozen northeast.  Kind of an alternative state of reality which bears a rough resemblance to the State they know and love, but is at the same time horribly wrong!

 

In this case, “Vertmont” maple syrup was as disappointing as could possibly be expected.  Canada is clearly shipping their “sloppy seconds” to parts of the world that don't know better.  The stuff was bland—extremely bland.  Then, it was watery and thin.  All in all, it was closer to mildly sweet, brown water than the delectable syrup that true Vermonters (and their transplanted cousins) know and love.  All this was even more frustrating because it was just close enough to the real thing that we remembered what we were missing. 

 

All in all our addiction remains unsatisfied.  When detox hits me in a couple of days, look for me in the forest gnawing on random trees that look like maples!

A Men's Retreat?

It's kind of exciting to start attending a brand new church and not know anybody.  It is the same adrenalin of starting at a new school, but with none of the insecurities and zits of being young.  Anne and I have been attending two churches, but we haven't necessarily made a strong connection yet.  We were so blessed in Vermont with a church that was really more of a family, that we have been missing those relationships. 

 (<---A Prayer Hut)

The problem is that I have been spoiled by a small church!  In Memorial Baptist, at least half of the families had been involved in the church for generations, so when a new “Flatlander” showed up (it is just as impossible for me to be considered a true “Vermonter” as a South African!) everybody noticed you and went out of their way to make you feel literally at home.  We love our new churches in Cape Town, but there are no sweet old couples bribing me with home-made cookies! 

It is easy to think about church with a false consumer mentality.  I know there have been times when I have wandered between churches like some kind of a shopping mall, and I don't want to wind up there again.  As a result, we have stopped waiting for someone to notice us and started getting involved!  Anne will have a few stories along these lines herself, but for me a big turning point was the Men's Retreat. 

 

Now when I signed up, I thought I had a fair idea of what I was in for.  In college, the Christian Fellowship would sponsor a men's retreat that involved driving my 4X4 Jeep through a stream to a tiny cabin with no running water or electricity.  There was much grunting, BBQ, and even a few naked runs down into the freezing pond.  All for Jesus...?  Seriously though, these retreats served as an excellent escape for a group of young bucks who felt dually confined by a pretentious academic postmodernism and a social life that revolved around drinking and cheap sex.  There had to be something more to fellowship in college, so we made it ourselves. 

 

It turns out that I had no idea what I was in for.  These South African guys know how to hold a retreat in style!  For starters, about sixty men took over an incredible farm in the middle of a perfect countryside.  This was no log cabin! 

There was still the necessary outdoor component (I have included some pictures from our hiking) and I was even dragged into a rugby game that definitely fulfilled the quota for grunting.  However, this was some group of civilized dudes.  I think the food is where I started to notice a difference.  An old Swiss guy had been selected as the kitchen-czar, and he ruled over the menu with an iron fist.  Speaking as the grill-master of my old college retreats, I was put to shame!  This guy not only produced genuine gourmet fare, he mobilized a clumsy group of investment bankers, teachers, and lawyers who had probably not cooked anything that didn't involve a microwave for the past decade.  By the end of the weekend, they were begging him to keep their involvement a secret, or their wives would suddenly have great expectations around the house!

 

Sure, there was quality teaching that was both intellectually stimulating and emotionally challenging, but the napkins folded into three dimensional shapes really took me by surprise!!

 

To be serious, I must say that I will never again allow my life to be too busy that I cannot spend some time alone outdoors.  Once a day we trekked with our journals up into the hills for a time of reflection and prayer.  I brought my camera on a few of these outings, and here are some of the pictures.  My prayers may be private, but it all just seemed so natural in a place of such beauty.  

Joseph in Prison

The Bible is a book with unique cultural relevance.  As I step into the bizarre world of a South African prison, I realize that the inmates I am going to visit have more in common with the harsh realities of the Old Testament than my middle-class white America.

 

Today was my second time going into the B5 Youth Centre at Pollsmoor while Andrew attended follow-up sessions for the Restorative Justice course in the men's prison.  The program I have been working with is a Bible study/life skills class taught by a fellow volunteer named Hillary.  Hillary's husband was involved in the Restorative Justice course that Andrew joined a few weeks ago, and we have become close friends. 

 

Stories are the best teacher, which is why the “life skills” component flows so naturally from the Bible stories.  Andrew would call it "Narrative Curriculum," but for anybody who has ever tried to entertain twenty teenage boys, it's just plain survival!  What would be the point of studying the Bible for these boys if it didn't have a practical connection to their lives?  To make the connection even closer, Hillary has started a series on people in the Bible who were in prison.  First up is Joseph.

 

As you can no doubt imagine (and probably some of you know firsthand!), there are plenty of challenges associated with leading a Bible class of 20-25 teenage boys who do not share your native language.  Added to that, there is very little consistency in attendance from week to week – the class is voluntary, of course, but even more important, the boys are awaiting trial.  That means that although some are in B5 for very long periods of time, others could be gone the next day.  Every week Hillary introduces herself at the beginning of the class, and if there is a multi-part story, the whole thing must be retold from the beginning.

 

Fortunately, there could hardly be a better topic than Joseph.  The story is real to these boys in ways that it never has been for me.  For instance, I never considered the culpability of Jacob before.  The boys in my discussion group understood the consequences of jealousy among brothers, and they were adamant that fathers should not show favoritism.  They have seen those situations end in bloodshed.  They have a cultural background that connects with the Bible better than anything I have experienced.  The harshness of the world many of them have lived in comes to the fore when we discussed the role of Reuben in trying to save Joseph from the other brothers.  When asked if they had ever tried to help someone and failed, one boy told of seeing his friend stabbed and going to help but having him die in his arms. 

I don't feel like the teacher here.  I may have been involved in bringing an interesting story into the drudgery of prison life, but in many ways Joseph was already here.  Maybe part of what makes the Bible so valuable is that in its pages we find parallels to all the moral complexity and pain of our own lives.  For a group of young men who literally feel "trapped" by their own experiences, this is a gift that I have had the privilege to share.  

 

Lion's Head

 (Lion's Head from the bottom of the trail)                              (Wildflowers...it's spring here!)

One of our favorite things so far about living in Cape Town is the hiking.  Living right next to Table Mountain, there are tons of hikes within a very short drive, and the views of the city, the ocean, the other mountains, etc. are amazing.  After some relatively inactive years in Vermont, we had quite a bit of work to do getting back into shape once we got here, but the gym time has paid off.  We go hiking almost every week now.

Today's hike was up Lion's Head, which is a relatively short trail with only a few difficult parts.  The trail winds completely around the mountain, so we had beautiful views in every direction.  The section where we were walking right above the coastline was incredible. 

On the way down we met a very loud group of over 100 school kids struggling to the top.  They all asked despairingly how far it was to the top, and one commented “You do this as a hobby???”

We could still hear their shrieking conversations when we got back to our car at the bottom.

B5 (or Anne in Prison, Part II)

It took me a few days to process my experience in the Restorative Justice class, but almost before I knew it I was presented with another opportunity to visit Pollsmoor.  A friend from church whose husband was a facilitator for the RJ course in Medium B that Andrew joined does a program for boys in B5, the juvenile facility, every Thursday.  She asked if I would like to join her, and in spite of myself I agreed.

 

I shouldn't say “in spite of myself” because I did want to go...I just wasn't excited for it yet.  As I mentioned earlier when I went to the Restorative Justice class, I didn't feel any fear.  Still, the amount of unease, uncertainty and feeling unsure of yourself is practically unmatched in any other context! 

 

The staff and volunteers of Hope Prison Ministry meet for devotions and prayer each morning before dispersing to the offices or the different prisons.  Hope is a fairly large organization, about 300 volunteers, so pretty much any day of the week individuals or groups are going into the different facilities to lead Bible studies, teach life skills classes, do follow-up from previous RJ courses, meet for individual counseling with inmates, etc.  It is encouraging to look around and see how many others are making this work a priority, and to meet such humble, strong and faithful servants of God.

 

B5 looked and felt more like a prison to me than Medium B, but mostly because I walked through cell blocks and the prison yard on my way in rather than just hallways.  What was most surprising, though, was how young the boys were.  They range in age from about 14 to 19, and in some ways they have experienced far more in life than their counterparts in an American high school, but in other ways they seem even younger.  From what I have been told, there used to be a lot of tough kids in B5 who were already heavily involved in gangs, but at least the ones who came to our program were not hardened yet.  Their emotions were not too far below the surface, and they craved activity, attention and love.  I don't know yet if I will start coming to B5 regularly, but either way I know that I need God to give me more love for these boys, and others who are broken and outcast.

Hermanus

This weekend Humphrey and Sonia, our gracious hosts from the Rotary club here, invited us to their vacation home in Hermanus, a seaside town on the southern coast about an hour and a half's drive from Cape Town.  The water there is technically part of the Atlantic Ocean, but it behaves more like the Indian Ocean in terms of currents, waves, temperature, etc.  Spring is a good time for seeing whales there, and we saw several every time we looked out.  They were too far away for good pictures, unfortunately, but we got beautiful views of the beaches and coastline in both directions, some from on top of one of the mountains overlooking Hermanus.

 

On day two, we decided to hike one of these mountains.  We started by climbing a utility trail up to the contour path, but then couldn't find the trail to the top from there.  So with Andrew taking the lead, we just started going up.  A few of the scrambles were hairy, especially since we were climbing on loose rocks and shallow vegetation (some with thorns!) for part of the time.  We weren't able to find a safe climb all the way to the top, but it was a fun adventure and the views made it well worthwhile.

   

36 Hours With Hope

That was the headline from the story that was written about our Restorative Justice program.  The reporter was an observer all week, and she won an award for her portrayal.  I would give you a copy of her article except that it was in Afrikaans!  The experience was intense.  I had never been involved in anything quite like it.  I described the outline of the program in my last post, but here are a few reflections.  I really still need to process it all, but here is the beginning. 

 

The week was a powerful blend of heartbreak and hope.  On the one hand, it was disturbing to be sitting at a table with two rapists and a few armed robbers, but on the other it was encouraging that they were willing to speak openly about their guilt.  The few times when a man did make excuses for his crime, other prisoners were quick to hold him to account.  Nobody listens to prisoners, so even the fact that we were there became a humanizing influence.  We sat at tables with tablecloths and shared a meal together.  The men were open with their stories because they knew we respected them as individuals. 

 

The transition is definitely a slow one.  After we showed the prisoners some graphic pictures from a crime scene, there was a discussion about how all different kinds of crime can lead to great pain.  One man experienced a “break-through” when he realized it does not make sense to mutilate a body after you have killed it.  He was proud of himself!  Many prisoners have lived such a traumatizing life that they have lost the moral vocabulary to assess their actions.  The necessary psychological defenses they have built against the abuse in their own lives have led them to a very dark place.  While it is striking how much work remains to be done in prison, amazing transformation is possible.  We had several prisoners who realized that there would be no chance of healing unless they were honest about their crime to their families.  The “Family Reconciliation Service” we held on Saturday gave them a chance to do it!

 

I initially was on the course only as an observer, but as I built a rapport with the prisoners and the volunteers from Hope Prison Ministry, they made me a table facilitator.  The prisoners were fascinated with my studies, and I was quickly dubbed the “American Criminologist.”  I started something of a stir when I described a prisoner I had worked with in the States.  He had “back-slid” because of unconfessed sin in his life, and the gist of my story was that “what you keep, you also carry.”  I didn't think much of it at the time, but prisoners quickly began quoting it and arguing over it.  There is such an obsession with secret crime in this place, that I guess I hit a raw nerve.  They liked me enough that they asked me to run one of their follow-up sessions on forgiveness. 

 

Stay tuned for more thoughts on Restorative Justice!