December

People sometimes hurt in December. Lost loved ones are missed, the pressure is on to finish the semester of school, families struggle financially, loneliness becomes harder to ignore, cars get stuck in snow, and passports get held at borders and people don’t make it home for the holidays. Although department store Santa’s and eggnog market Christmas and it’s month as a time for cheer, it sometimes doesn’t happen.

This month so far has been a rough one for the community of Bhekulwandle, as another young life was taken on December 4^th, the day after Cebo Xulu’s funeral. A little 6-year-old boy, who had attended the Christmas party at the Seed of Hope earlier that day, was hit and killed by a car. It’s so sad to think of a little boy, who had just had a fun day with his friends, gotten a new toy, and had a bright pink popsicle in his tummy, could have it all taken away from him so quickly. That same weekend, the mother-in-law of one of the Simunye teachers past away suddenly. There’s so much loss in this community, and it’s heartbreaking. With AIDS, hate, accidents and poverty, people are dying every day in the Toti area, and loss begins to feel less like loss and like something much more ordinary. December is proving to bring much pain to Bhekulwandle this year, and it just proves that things are rough all over.

Sometimes I think that when I get home, nothing will seem like a problem to me. All of the things I used to worry about seem like trifles when I’m here. I have to read the back of Portia de Rossi’s autobiography, or PostSecret to remind myself that we have problems in North America too, just different ones.


Yesterday was Karen’s final going away party with the community and the staff from the center, and it was beautiful. Mum, Adam and I (Dad and Lauren are currently at the Women’s Softball Championships in Cape Town, lucky ducks!) went and helped set up as well as attended the party, and spent what was most likely our last afternoon at the Seed of Hope. The crowd Karen attracted was quite impressive, and the Simunye room was packed tight with people from the community, young and old. There was beautiful singing, and many stories and poems about Karen that were so touching I’m pretty sure I had goosebumps for the full 3 hours. Karen just really poured her entire heart into the community, a community that wasn’t even her own, and it was so awe-inspiring to see the effect it had on the people of Bhekulwandle. There were many tears of sadness shed over Karen’s leaving, but also so many tears brought on by thankfulness for the influence she had on people. One of the main things that Karen did was just being there for people. Karen was there for the sick with prayer, love and rides to the hospital, and she was there for the youth of the community by teaching them how to be leaders, how to believe in themselves, and how to set good examples for future generations. She gave all that she had, her time and her car and it made such a difference in the community and in people. It was amazing to see what an impact those things made on the people of the township, and I pray that she has inspired them to be there for each other and make a difference in Bhekulwandle as she has.
If I can apply the same loving spirit that Karen has when I get home, even in my home town, it could make a difference. Showing people that they are individuals of value and putting other people before myself is something I’ll strive to do more of, all because of Karen.

Something else that I noticed at the party was that Karen receives something out of her work that many (especially in North America) don’t, and that is seeing that your life is making a difference in the world. And yes, if you’re a believer in the butterfly effect, your life is changing the world in whatever small way it can, but you can’t see it. You could see Karen’s difference in the fresh-faced, confident, capable youth of her Live Out Loud program, and in the old gogos who are raising six children by themselves and had received Karen’s love and caring. As a result, Karen is so wealthy with love, friendship, and appreciation, and seeing that made me reassess what I really wanted from life. In my ‘Canadian Dream’ I had always dreamt of success. Be it a go-getting journalist, or an organized and talented film producer, I knew I wanted to do something that I enjoyed, and that would allow me to drive a cute car and shop at Anthropologie on a regular basis. Just another romantic idea about how fun and easy my life should be. And as much fun as having a downtown apartment, and iPhone, and a bi-weekly pedicure would be awesome, it’s not the kind of wealth that makes you feel like your existence has been beneficial for the world.

Being in South Africa, and even in reading some Hemingway, I’m starting to see the beauty in a life lived for others. I’ve seen through so many people that happiness isn’t based on the size of your house or the type of car you drive (although functioning cars would be nice… cars break down on a weekly basis down here). There’s something romantic about living with the essentials, being content with having all you need and decreasing the amount of things you want, and just loving people. Opening your home to people who need it, mentoring people, encouraging them and showing them their worth… It’s a lovely thought and however impossible it seems, someday someone will write a biography on Derek Liebenberg and you’ll see how it can be done.
This realization about spiritual wealth is making me wonder what I can do with my life in order to achieve it someday. I truly believe that writing can make a difference, as I can list off a couple dozen books, articles and poems that have changed my life. But change from behind a type writer is not as personal as one might like. Whatever I do, I will strive to let all that I do be done in love and try to give my time and my life to people who will benefit from it.

Thank you a million times, Karen for the difference you have made and have yet to make in so many lives. We wish you all the best and we love you!

Only 8 days until we’re home and I’m still torn. I love this country, and the people I’ve met here, and would stay here as long as I was useful if I could, but I can’t. There’s much for me to do in the ice and snow of the city that first stole my heart; there are people to love, things to create, stories to tell, classes to pass, changes to make, goals to meet, coffee dates to be had, things to be said, and experiences to have in my home town using the knowledge and perspective I’ve acquired on this trip. It’ll all be very exciting. Things will definitely be different when I get home, which will take some getting used to (who would have thought life back home would go on without me?), but I’m excited to see how things have changed, and to see how I’ve changed in relation to home while I’ve been away.

So we’re gonna live it up in our last week here, soak up the sun (please no more rain!), see some sights, and prepare ourselves for home.

xo

Lil ‘Lanna