Feeling the Light

At a traffic light near Saqqara in Egypt, a boy approached our van with a pyramid of tangerines for sale.  Egyptian tangerines are the world’s best, very cheap, and the boy sure could use a sale. We waved him off – the year was 1997 and we have regretted it ever since.  There have been many times since then when we wish we could just go back and get it right this time.

We both were raised to be thrifty.  We had broadcast television until 2018.  Back in the 1980’s, we had a party-line telephone – in New York!  So, acting spontaneously to take advantage of opportunities required a major brain rewiring.  We have had to overcome our instincts and learn to get to yes faster, and avoid “non-buyer’s remorse.”

In our recent travels and in our life here in the US, we’re trying to be more intentional about the choices we make.  One of our “must do” activities on our South Africa trips is to visit a craft market in Khayelitsha, the second-largest township in the nation.  It’s in a very, very tough neighborhood. We buy some Christmas presents there – but it’s not only because we want to give hand-crafted products (which vary from the sublime to the… umm… sincere!).  It’s also because we know these crafters need the business, and we’re trying to get it right.  For them, this is tonight’s food on the table. It’s the same reason we visit some of the other markets in and around the Western Cape – you can pretty much tell who needs business. 

For a variety of reasons – thrift, health, timeliness – we cook and eat at home a lot.  But as we write this, we’re intentionally eating out more often.  Or, more correctly, we are doing carry out more often to support our local small restauranteurs who are struggling during the Covid-19 shut down. 

It’s not easy to “unlearn” good habits in support of a greater good. There are always glitches, but we realize that life is too short to have regrets over not acting on an opportunity to help. 

And life’s “undo” button doesn’t work.

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

We have a bookmark that says “Eat a bullfrog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” For the past 24 years we have been getting up early to do our daily run – our metaphorical bullfrog.

When we were working, this meant the alarm went off at 5 AM, and for a large part of the year, our running companions were the stars. The first part of our run was to the north, and the Big Dipper was a constant – sometimes looking like a dipper, but sometimes looking like a giant question mark in the sky (“Are you guys crazy being out here so early?”). Starting in the fall, the Orion constellation appeared, and for our south-bound return home, he often hovered right over our house.

 Even at 5 AM, we were rarely alone. There would be an occasional dog walker, but deer and fox were more frequent workout partners. The night-time insects would be our workout music, and during daylight saving time in the spring, the birds would start warming up with us. We knew fall was coming when we were up before the birds – and winter was here when we finished our run before the birds started.

Across those 24 years, we payed attention to details while running – the hum of the heat pumps; the streetlights that created pools of illumination, casting long thin shadows as you passed; neighbors with lots of outdoor lighting and neighbors with none. We learned who put out their holiday decorations early, who decorated for Halloween, and Easter. After a particularly bad summer storm, we learned who had whole-house generators or portable generators, and who were stuck with candles and flashlights.

On our trips to South Africa, we bring our running gear, only we indulge ourselves by sleeping in (till 6:15 AM.) Because it’s summer (January through March), the sky is light – and the star we get to watch is our sun, coming up over the Hottentott Mountains. There are more dog walkers out, including Julius Caesar, the dashing dachshund, and his companion human. And instead of deer and fox, we see guinea fowl – really great looking birds – who seem used to having people around.

We still pay attention to details – the folks who walk up the hill to their jobs, the smell of toast and coffee from the café, the man setting up his mini-market tent in the parking lot, the whirring sound of the exercise bikes coming through the open door at the local Curves (yes, even in South Africa!).

So, even during bullfrog time far away form home, you can be aware of your world and the simple wonders in it. And Orion is there with us, but at night, not in the morning . . . and he is upside down!

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

Please, after you read this, write a will.  Working with an attorney helps – it turns out that death is complicated.  But you also can do it yourself (with 2 witnesses and a notary), and there are many good internet resources to help you.  But, please, do it. Here’s why.

While we were in South Africa this year, I had a phone call from a US hospice organization (7 time zones away!).  My life-long friend, Barbara, was admitted to the hospital – tests revealed that she had arrived at stage 4 cancer and was going to need immediate hospice services.  I was an “emergency contact.”  I should mention that Barbara’s husband, who died about 12 years ago, did not have a will – and it took lots of effort and energy by Barbara to settle his estate, given their state’s intestacy laws.  I assumed that experience convinced Barb to have a will.  I was wrong.

Over several weeks, there were many calls with Barbara (of course!), hospice, her neighbor (who heroically took on some caregiving), adult protective services, and one of Barb’s cousins.  The adult services people asked Barbara to designate medical and financial powers of attorney and to name an executor for her estate – i.e., to write a will.  For her own reasons, she refused.  Five weeks after getting that first call, Barbara passed away, finally reunited with her beloved husband. 

Barbara wished to be cremated, but because no one was legally responsible for her, her body was taken to the city morgue.  Three weeks later, it’s still there, waiting for the court to appoint an administrator for the estate, who can get the body released.

Immediately upon her death, her apartment was sealed.  No one can empty the refrigerator, do the last bits of laundry, and clean up.  No one is collecting her mail to pay bills, no one is stopping her Social Security and pension payments, no one is doing her 2019 income taxes.

The state’s intestacy laws provide that the estate goes to her homebound, 91-year old uncle.  When I mentioned this once to Barb – in an effort to motivate her to write a will – she just said, “no, that won’t happen.”  It will.  Fortunately, there are cousins willing to step into the fray and start untangling the knot that is her estate. Also, her 91-year old uncle has to get a boatload of forms notarized.  I expect it will take a couple of years to finalize the settlement, and the fees for the court-appointed administrator will chew up 40 – 50% of the estate. 

Barbara read voraciously, and was a regular at the local Public Library.  My guess is that she might have wanted to leave a gift to the library in her will, but that’s not going to happen.

In addition to her husband, Barbara’s other great love was animals – in particular, cats.  She regularly volunteered at the animal shelter, helping to socialize cats and working to find them happy “forever” homes.  I believe that she would have wanted to leave a gift to the shelter, but that’s not going to happen either.

If you have minor children and no will, upon your death, the courts will appoint a guardian, who may not be the person you would choose.  Not having a will can devastate your family and friends, and gives you no say over where your money and property go. 

Barbara was a dear soul, and those of us who knew her will miss her.  Now, please go write a will.

Authors: Jeanne and Randy – who have wills! – spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

Sometimes, only hindsight can show you how God nudged you into a better place. We were nudged this year in South Africa.

We planned to go to Cape Town in mid-to-late January and stay until late March, summertime! We also wanted our friends to visit.

Aaannnd the nudge. Our friends had plans to be elsewhere in March and needed time between our visit and their March commitments – who knew that a calendar would be an agent of the Holy Spirit? We did a quick shift and agreed to travel just after New Year’s – arriving earlier and leaving earlier.

This wasn’t logistically convenient. We had to  scramble to “de-Christmas” the house, get packed, clean out the refrigerator, arrange remote bill-paying, double-check the packing, arrange transportation from our home to the airport, over 2 hour’s drive away, and deal with the myriad other small details involved with spending months away from home.

We arrived in Cape Town on January 8. We settled in. Our friends came. We volunteered, shopped for 2020 Christmas presents, drove on the left side of the road, and ate lots of fresh fish. In early March, we reluctantly packed, returned the rental car, and flew home. Upon arriving home, we got an email from a South African friend saying the nation had its first case of coronavirus. Two weeks later, there were over 250 cases, and international travel from South Africa to Europe and the USA had stopped.

During our stay in South Africa, the news said there was no coronavirus in all of Africa for a long while as China, Iran, and then Europe struggled to contain the disease.   No one could have predicted the speed and magnitude of travel restrictions imposed just after we returned. The virus changed the world that fast. If we had stuck with our original timing, we would have been stranded, with no way to return to the USA.

Sometimes, luck is more than that. It’s a nudge from someone who knows what’s about to go down that says, “You really want to adjust your plans.”  We need to continually listen for the “still, small voice” and to be sensitive to the nudges that God provides us.  It isn’t easy, and it isn’t obvious, except in hindsight!

In these interesting times, what does it means to live in a community; what gives a place a sense of community?  “Communitarianism” (small self-governing communities) doesn’t fit.  Neither does the mathematical property of “Commutativity.”

We need a new word. We propose Communitivity (“Com-mune-e-tiv-ity”).

COMMUNITIVITY:       The amount to which a group of people (a community) acts to support one another, especially in times of societal stress (e.g., natural disasters, pandemics, social unrest, recession/depression). A high Communitivity rating indicates a large degree of social support.

I was reading a Facebook post (a rant, really) by an outspoken friend of mine who complained about people buying 12 loaves of bread and 20 pounds of meat in response to the Coronavirus outbreak. She said that in a few days you’ll have moldy bread and rotted meat, you’re out a chunk of change, and you kept someone who needed the food from getting any. Her anatomical description of the bread and meat hoarders was considered spot on by other commenters.

My response to her started with “Amen Sister,” then offered 3 Rules to consider during these times.

1. Stop panicking
2. We’re all in this together, so look out for each other, and
3. Take the initiative on Rule #2.

I don’t claim any credit for this; it was inspired by another friend in our neighborhood who took the initiative to visit an elderly neighbor. Debbie Sue took the grocery list and loaded her up. Debbie Sue ended her email message with “Let me know if anyone needs ANYTHING!” That’s a high level of Communitivity.

We all should be looking for ways to increase Communitivity among our friends and neighbors (remember Rule #3). What can you do to help out, or just stay in touch with those who may need a little extra assistance? What initiatives can you take to increase our Communitivity? We really are all in this together. Hoarding bread and meat (or hand sanitizer) doesn’t work.

The potential silver lining here is that when life returns to “normal,” we can still work to maintain a high Communitivity rating. Neighborhoods, cities, and entire societies benefit with higher Communitivity. And when the next element of societal stress arrives, we’re ready!

Lastly, a new definition needs units of measure so that increases and decreases can be quantified. For Communitivity, We propose the unit of the Debbie. Debbie Sue’s actions quantify to one Debbie. How many Debbies can you earn?

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

Travel lets (and sometimes makes) you try out new things – if you have the courage.  South Africa has a lot of coastline.  There’s a lot of fishing, which means there’s a lot of fish in the markets, and a lot of fish on the  restaurant menus.  But we’re not talking trout, tilapia, salmon, and the other “usual” fish.

South African markets and menus list angel fish, kobeljou (pronounced “kobble-joo”) yellow tail, snoek, red roman, white roman, hake, cape salmon (not a salmon! It’s Geelbek, whatever that is), silverfish, kingklip, and the ever-popular if not attractively named stubnose.  But with a spirit of adventure (the courage thing mentioned earlier) you enjoy something you’ve never heard of.

Of course, that’s just the fish.  On land, there’s also ostrich (very lean!), eland, kudu, and springbok.  Adventure and courage!

In the plant world, there are fewer adventures in the Western Cape, but they’re still delicious.  You can get fresh figs are available by the kilo for $4 – (about $1.80 per pound!).

The South African pineapples – these are smaller than their Hawaiian and Central American cousins.  And much sweeter – much, much, much sweeter.  Part of the sweetness is probably the variety of pineapple, but another part of it is that produce here is shipped to markets when it is ripe.  There’s no “let it sit out on the counter for a week” going on here!

There are the melons that look like cantaloupe – NOT.  One of the first ‘lopes we cut into was green, more like a honeydew.  A bit of a surprise, but delicious nonetheless.  And then there were the ones that were sold as “orange melons.”  Also delicious. Funny, African bananas aren’t as tasty as the Central American types – guess you can’t win ‘em all.

The takeaway is: be willing to try new things.  Kudu?  Super! Ostrich? Not my favorite. Any fish? Hey, what fish doesn’t taste good with lots of fresh lemon and a bottle of South African Sauvignon Blanc?

What is true for food is true for so many things in life.  With a sense of adventure and a bit of courage, try out new things. Let them surprise you.  Not everything will be a hit, but as Wayne Gretzky said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” Say Bon Appetit to life’s adventures.

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

We were walking at the Helderberg Nature Preserve and came upon this sign that is both helpful and unhelpful at the same time (by the way, there are cobras and puff adders in this Preserve!). Whatever the choice, it’s correct — you get where you’re going. Wouldn’t it be great if life were this way? When faced with a big choice, you know that you’re going to make the right (or left) one.

Alas, life is not like that. So, what do you do? You do the best you can.

When I’m considering a potential project, or listening to someone describe their goals, I think about three things:

1. What’s the outcome you are looking for?
2. How are you going to get it?
3. What makes you think your approach will work?

Again, if only life were so simple that these answers were set before beginning. Often, we may know what we want, but are unsure how to go about accomplishing it. Or you have to try something that hasn’t been done before, so you don’t know whether this way will work at all.

Sometimes things change while in progress.  A lot of life is iteration. You do so much, then take a look at it and make adjustments – like recipes that always add “season to taste” at the end as a kind of all-inclusive final step. The fancy business word is “agile.” From time to time, you have to stop the work in progress and evaluate whether the goal is still the same. If not, you make adjustments and then keep going until the next reevaluation point.

And a lot of the time, the decision you make is correct at the time you make it, but then “something happens,” and you don’t get the results you expected.  Our first mortgage had an adjustable rate, and as our luck had it, rates only went down for the next 10 years (this was in 1984 – when interest rates were double-digit!).  We looked like financial geniuses!  But if rates had gone back up. . . . well, not so genius!

That was our experience this year with the Anglican Diocese of False Bay. We arrived unsure of what help we could provide. After some iteration, we have two projects; one is a computerized staff index, and the other is a Diocese property inventory – the South African Parliament is debating a Constitutional change that would allow expropriation without compensation for some specific types of land, and the Diocese needs to get a handle on what they have and how it’s titled.

In the end, it’s about making good decisions based on good data. Data can become information, information develops into knowledge, and knowledge turns into wisdom. And with wisdom, we can make the right (or left) choices.  So if you knew there was a cobra on the right path, you’d take the left path, which would be the right decision!

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

“Craft Market” sounds so quaint and rustic, where you pick up some farm-fresh produce or handmade goods. In South Africa, “Craft Market” means food – lots of it. We’ve been to several markets here, and the vast majority of the vendors are food vendors. These aren’t snacks; we’re talking full meals. Big steaks, burgers at ½ kilogram (1.1 lbs.!), what passes for a burrito as big as a football.

One favorite is Mac ‘n Cheese balls – one flavored with Truffled Mushroom! (There’s a bacon flavor too. We saw a sign that said the chemical element symbol for bacon is Mm.). Lastly, there’s the dish that can only be described as a giant pile of stuff cooked on a griddle, about half a basketball in volume, served on a sheet of cardboard.

The menu includes Cape Malay (Malaysians were imported as slaves in the very early days of Cape Town), Lebanese, Turkish, and something called Kooxs. There’s a made-to-order donut shop. Your donuts are cooked as you watch, then dressed with chocolate sauce, sprinkles, whatever, right then. There are 1 kilogram steaks and the ever-popular biltong (kudu? eland? springbock anyone?). Other cooks have propane powered griddles as big as five feet across, cooking rice, stews, and paella. Very carnivore friendly, for the most part.

If you’re thirsty, the market has beer, wine, and at one place, coconuts that were chopped open for you on the spot. We saw only one pastry shop, with cakes, breads, and a chocolate orange cheesecake slice that looked so heavy you’d need both hands to pick it up.

The other thing you notice at a market is that the clientele is overwhelmingly white, in a nation that’s 92% black (we’re in the Western Cape). This speaks to who has disposable income, who has a car, and who has leisure time for market meals. I’ll bet other people are hungry too.

Last week in the grocery store, the woman behind us has two 5-kilo bags of maize. That may have been all the meals for her family till the end of the month.

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

When we left off, load shedding had just begun – and so had the service!

Rev. Rachel preached in Xhosa, with a scattering of English for the visitors (bless her!). She is really amazing, fluent in at least 3 languages. We need to work on that as we continue our work here.

After her sermon, Rev. Rachel calls up one of the visitors – Sindiwe Magona – to share her story. At 23, as a single mom with 3 kids, she decided that she didn’t want her daughters to be cleaning women nor her son to be a gardener. So, she got her teaching credentials and made sure her children got their education. She is a teacher, civil servant, novelist, poet, playwright, and women’s activist. She was awarded the Order of Ikhamanga in Bronze for her literary and humanitarian contributions and for using her pen as a weapon for women’s issues, the plight of children, and the fight against apartheid and racism. And at the tender age of 76, she is now studying for a doctorate. Wow.

As the offertory is sung, people get up and make their way to the front to put their offerings in a bowl held by one of the red-cassocked children and overseen by one of the purple-vested men. More singing ensues.

Now it’s time for Holy Communion. If you know the Anglican service, you know the general structure – The Great Thanksgiving, the blessing over the bread and wine, and calling forth the Holy Spirit. And there was the incense – lots of it (apparently the Holy Spirit descends in a very dense cloud!). At one point, the smoke was so thick clouds were rolling out the door and we could barely see the priests or the altar – and we were in the middle of the church! Ten-year old boys take their jobs very seriously.

After Communion (and more singing), it’s time to introduce more visitors – although it’s hard to top Ms. Magona! We are called forward (and the congregation broke into song) to share about our experiences about our visits to the Western Cape. Our carpool group came forward to present a check for R40,000 (about $2600) to the church building fund. They related how another church had helped them with a donation of R100,000 when they were rebuilding – the donors had encouraged them to pay it forward when they were able. In 2019, they gave Eluvukweni the first installment of R60,000. And then they encouraged Eluvukweni to pay it forward in the future. More singing ensued.

Then it was time for individuals to give their thanks for the week. Six people came forward to share their stories, in Xhosa, including one woman from the Mothers’ Union who grabbed Ms. Magona and brought her up front – it turns out that Ms. Magona had been her teacher in primary school – talk about a legacy! Each thankful one made a thank-offering to the church. And we sang.

Next the Church Warden (at least we think he was the Church Warden) came forward to announce the funds received in the collection and from the thank-offerings and to talk about upcoming meetings and services. And the lights come on – the 2-hour load shedding is over and we’re not done yet! And yes, there was more (and more) singing.

The recessional hymn is announced – it’s to the tune used for Guide me O Thou Great Jehovah (Cwm Rhondda for those who know hymn tunes) – now we know the notes that go with the Xhosa words! It was a fitting ending to our smoky experience.

And yes, we will be going back there in 2021! I might even learn a few words of Xhosa by then!

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.

It’s easier to sing in Xhosa than you might think. But I’m ahead of myself.

In 2016, we visited the Crossroads township with Rev. Rachel Mash. Rev. Rachel has been very involved in starting churches, preschools, and schools (those preschoolers have to attend school somewhere!) during her ministry. Among our stops was Eluvukweni Anglican Church (“Resurrection” in Xhosa, and “Xhosa” is pronounced ‘click’-Osa)  

This church is a one-story, rectangle about 40’ x 120’, with cement walls, and a sloped corrugated steel roof.  On special days (e.g., Easter, Christmas) they can have upwards of 600 worshippers, about 25% of them would fit in the building.

This year, Rev. Rachel invited us to a service there. I confess this was definitely out of my comfort zone, but we screwed up our courage and said yes.

At the carpool site, we waited for another group running a bit late, but no worries because “Church starts when the people get there.” Rev. Rachel handed us a hymnal, which we realized was in Xhosa. Her over-the-shoulder comment was “just read it as if it’s Spanish.”

We took our seats in the middle of the church and soon the congregational singing started (OMG! can they sing!). All acapella. In purposeful but random harmony (and lots of lovely bass). Accompanied by drumming on pews, bongo drums, and what can only be called an air pillow held in one hand and clapped with the other.

The Mothers Union, in black skirts, white blouses, purple jackets, and plush caps, sits in the left front. The Girls Brigade are scattered around, wearing (you guessed it) black skirts, white blouses, purple sailor-collar scarves and berets.  The Mizeki Men’s Guild – dressed in black suits, black shirts, black ties, and purple vests – are helping people find seats. For a township with corrugated steel shacks for homes, they truly wore their Sunday best.

The processional hymn is announced, everyone rises, a singer sings the first line of the hymn, then you join in – church has started. Young boys and girls in red cassocks are acolytes. There’s a 10-year old boy with censer (hmmm, a 10-year old swinging something flaming from a chain that puts out a lot of smoke – what could possibly go wrong?). And then there are a couple dozen other servers in various capacities. Good thing there are a lot of verses.

And Rev. Rachel was right – singing in Xhosa is a lot like singing in Spanish. Xhosa is printed phonetically, so you can pronounce the word even if you have no idea what it means. The words are stretched out across the notes so you actually have time to pronounce them (some you recognize like Yesu and Yerusaleme). As for the tune, with all the harmony going on, it’s hard to hit a wrong note! Plus, you don’t just sing – you sway, you dip, sometimes you clap – you get your whole body involved.

For some hymns, they broke out cowbells and drumsticks, and even whistles. Those songs were more enthusiastic (Greek: enthousiastikos, ‘possessed by a god’) and often meant getting up and moving around the church. After the verses are over, they just keep going, singing. . . . something. Eventually, there’s a signal – people sit, finish the verse, and quiet down. All this in a 40’ x 120’ space.

Of course, reading Xhosa for the Nicene Creed and the prayers was a whole other thing – by the time you pronounced “Hai in-ywe-ba yo-ma-me-la u-ku-vu-ma o-ko,” they were 2 lines ahead of you.

The Bible readings were in Xhosa; the Psalm was chanted in Xhosa (good luck with that!). But the Gospel (including incense! Rolling clouds of it!) was in English. Then, right on cue, the lights went out – it was the 10 AM load shedding!

End of Episode 1!

Authors: Jeanne and Randy spend some of their time in South Africa helping the Anglican and Methodist churches with their work on ECD centers, youth programs, and other priority projects for church staff.