A Guitar

The boys I meet in B5 take pleasure in simple things.

I'm not talking about life coach philosophy here. They are not “downsizing” their lives – rather, the things I would consider “simple” and beneath my enjoyment are often luxuries for them.

Consider this example. One of the most surprising things about working in B5 has been watching the boys color. Yes, color, as in using crayons or markers to fill in picture sheets with Bible verses on them. The kind of activity you would normally use with kids no older than 7. Don't get me wrong and think that this is a reflection on their mental capabilities. These boys are smart despite the fact that many have had little or no formal education. The key word here is opportunities. Coloring sheets might not seem like much of a creative outlet to most people, but in an environment so devoid of creativity in every area we take for granted (décor, clothing, food, hobbies, even time management), any opportunity is a good one.

This tendency plays out in another area of my involvement in B5: music. When I was making plans to come to Cape Town, I realized right away that I could not bring any of my instruments without paying a small fortune in either extra baggage fees or shipping, and another small fortune in insurance against potential damages for either of those two options! I decided to wait until I arrived and see if I could borrow or rent an instrument instead. I have managed to get a violin so far that should serve me well, and just today a fellow prison volunteer brought in a guitar I can use.

I don't think this guitar will “serve me well”. For starters, it's missing a string! That can be remedied, of course, but what can't change is that it's a classical guitar -- very different from what I normally play (wider and thicker neck, nylon strings, etc.). It's something for now, but I'm definitely going to look for something else.

The boys love it, though. To them, it just makes music – something they don't experience very often. I can also let them hold it and play it without worrying about damage! Having someone care enough to bring an instrument into prison and play for them means so much, whether it has the proper number of strings or not. If I find a better guitar in the coming weeks, will they even notice the difference?

Anniversary Part One

Today we celebrated one year of marriage!

But wait, some of you will say.  Haven't you been married three years?  Right you are.  But after some discussion of how to mark the day, we decided to have a little more fun than usual.  Instead of just doing one special event, why not have one activity or gift for each year we're celebrating?  This could get increasingly difficult and expensive as the years progress, so some gifts will be very small, but we like the idea of continuing the celebration beyond the actual anniversary day.

Today's event was a small one – walking to a nearby restaurant for breakfast.  We saw some beautiful flowers along the way (can you believe these grow wild here?), and a less beautiful but equally compelling pile of discarded, melted rubber tubes (Andrew loves taking pictures of strange textures). 

The meal was good.  The “Shrek Juice” (vegetable smoothie) was not, but it had to be attempted.

Table Mountain

We have settled into a nice routine of hiking once a week here, and we are loving it.  We have both moderately enjoyed hiking in the past but never pursued it regularly enough to get into good shape with it.  Now that one of the most beautiful mountains in the world is in our backyard and we have pretty relaxed schedules, there's no excuse!

Our first trip up Table Mountain was with Trevor, the Rotary coordinator for Ambassadorial Scholarships.  He was an excellent guide, taking us up some rock pitches off the normal trail that gave the hike a bit more challenge.  We felt proud when we came across this sign pointing down the trail we had just climbed!

 

Enjoy the views...

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.