New Xhosa wives…
...are my new heroes! And that's the truth...He sure knew what He was doing, makin me an American bride in a pretty white dress that I choose to my liking and with a respect for my husband that was echoed in me just as much.
I spent an afternoon laughing over "cool drink" (coke) with two of my Xhosa lady friends. One sat pretty in her long skirt and black duke wrapped elegantly around her head...the other in her pants-that she would never trade for a skirt and certainly not for a husband.
The makoti (African new bride) started "I must wear this black duke until December-after we have been married 3 months I can wear whatever color I choose". Only to be echoed by my fried Thula rubbing her short, nearly shaved head, "shhhhho-no way-I like my short hair...I never want to wear a duke." They went back and forth like this for an hour-and I wished I could have gotten it on tape.
"Shea, my wedding was not a happy day" ...she wore a towel over her clothes and around her waist. She had a blanket draped over her shoulders and spent her day staring at the ground. Her parents were not aloud to come. Her wedding day was spent cooking for her new husband's entire family, ALONE...waiting on each and every one of them until every dish was clean...alone. "I cried on that day. My husbands whole family was there telling me what to do...do this, do that...they stared at me the whole day, and it wasn't kind."
Much attention goes into tying her duke in a certain way...over and over again, until it's just right. She shared the humiliation that came with being a brand new bride; not being able to look anyone in the eye...head down wherever she went. She was only allowed to speak in a low voice and wouldn't be caught raising her voice on ANY occasion-even to greet her friend across the road. She must move slow-"even if I see a taxi is coming and I see I'm gonna miss it-NO-move sloooow like this...even if I see there is a rain coming-NO! I mustn't rush, I mustn't rush." New wives must wear a scarf around their waste to show respect for their ancestors. Although, for her, I think it's more about respecting her in-law's, who respect the ancestors. At first she had to have her entire foot covered and wear closed toe shoes...but after a while, when her husband's father and mother said it was alright, she could wear shoes of her own choice. She must wear a long sleeved button up shirt AND a jersey (sweater)...until her husband's father and mother give her their permission. Only then can she wear a button-up shirt that must come to her elbow. She must obey her husband's father and mother-catering to their every need...no matter where she is, no matter what she is doing, all must come to a hault when they call on her by the new name THEY chose for her-because her in law's do choose an entirely new first name for her. *And by the way, they "call on her" by sending one of their grandchildren or other young relatives to "send her a message" and the message is "my grandfather is calling for you". She must cook for them, clean for them, do their laundry (by hand-I might add), do their ironing, make their tea...
And then there's la bola...the wage a man pays for his wife. It can be a dollar amount or a number of cows-her price tag.
She had no explanation for why is must be this way, only that it must. To a girl that's plagued by questions, espeically the question why, I couldn't help but feel offended...violated on her behalf. As for me, I've never been more thankful to be American made.
The beautiful part of the story, and there is always a beautiful part...she ended by saying, "I would do it all over again to be my husband's bride."
WOW
Photog
Here are some pics from our last week of action. 
Hair Salon
Our new home part 1
Our new home part 2
Now this is some big spinach!
puffy clouds
wrestling through
I sat down to play 'Draft,' or what we would call Checkers in the States with a fellow named Al (name changed for confidentiality) today. The rain was pouring down which was a beautiful thing since Keiskammahoek hadn't had rain in such a long time. In fact, the whole of the Eastern Cape is in a water crisis due to the lack of rain. Everything has been bone dry for a long time.
Before I sat down to play the game with him, I was praying for God to lead me to the right person. The person who would be a light in their village. When I got to the group of guys who were crowded around it was awkward as always. No one really paid much attention to me, so I tried to strike up some conversation. That didn't go so well since most of them didn't speak English very well. So I just stood there. A cold day with rain in SA is really bad because it is hard to escape the cold. I can't imagine what it must feel like to actually live a life like the people of Keiskammahoek live.
After I stood there for what seemed like 2 hours (really more like 15 minutes) in the awkwardness of no one paying much attention to me, the group of guys asked me if I knew how to play. I explained that I did know how to play and I don't think they believed me one hundred percent.
So, I sat down with Al to play Draft. Move after move it was silent...unless I made a good move then he would exclaim, "yuh!" After I won the first two games we began talking. I began asking him where he was from and he began telling me the heart breaking story of his life. He is 39 years old with three kids. He lives with his grandmother because he hasn't had work in a long time and this is the first month he has been employed at Siyakholwa, so the pay cycle hasn't paid him yet. He went on to tell me that his wife died 3 years ago in a car crash and that he was living with HIV. Today he didn't have any food for lunch. He explained how hard his life was...and I didn't question that! He explained that in the Xhosa culture, parents don't take care of their children. They take care of themselves. Or at least that's what his parents did. They didn't pay for him to go to high school, so he had to quit school after 8th grade. He lives with his grandmother who also has 4 other kids she's taking care of. Nine people in one home or hut. All living off of the grandmother's pension....a mere 1080 Rand per month. That is equal to about $120 per month.
Al beat me on the last 2 games of Draft that we played. I didn't mind too much...even though I'm pretty competitive. I left the conversation with no words. I had just sat there with my jaw on the floor and tried to sympathize with him. I didn't even know how to end it. What was I supposed to say? "Accept Christ into your life and everything will be better..." I didn't think that would work. I don't even think that's what Jesus would want me to say.
At the end of the interaction, he invited me to come back and to play Draft again with him next week. I will do that. I will go and play Draft and listen to him talk. I will pray for God to work a real miracle in his life. This sounds harsh, but Westerners have messed things up for a long time in Africa. We've come and created dependence. We've come....we've gave....we leave...whatever we've given goes with us. That's what I'm told, and that's what I've seen and experienced in my time living here. But in that moment, I wanted to give him everything I own. Any of the food in my cupboards he could have!
The problem is it starts with a little food today, maybe a little food again next week, and then the dependency seed has been sewn instead of another type of seed. The type of seed that could turn his whole world...his whole community upside down. But then there is the side of me that says, "What about giving him some real bread?" Some bread that would fill his stomach and then he would see how much I care about him.
In the end, I know in my heart of hearts that if he had a relationship with Christ he would have hope. He would have eternal hope in a hopeless situation. I know he could be the one who could invoke change in his community. The beautiful part of the whole thing is that he does have a job. The beautiful part of Siyakholwa is that they provide jobs for guys like Al. That's why they are here and that is their calling. We are here to do something different. To help him and others like him make the difference in their community that they want to see. Once these leaders are in place, then the humanitarian aid can flow through them as African leaders.
Tonight, I'm praying for my next interaction with Al. I'm praying that God will go before me and create an openness within his heart. Siyakholwa is here to help him eat, feed his family, and create jobs for guys like him. I am here to help him help his community.
another day for photos
Here are some of the photos from our week in Keiskammahoek! We have felt a real peace about being here so far. For some reason we feel more settled now than we have in our whole time in Africa. We thank you for the prayers! We can definitely feel God in this place and we're excited for what He is about to do here!
TIA or Beverly Hillbillies?
The rats have become our furry friends
The outside of one of the 3 little shops we have to choose from
Our idea of closet space has been radically altered for the time being
Meeting time with Nosipiwe and Stone
A cresh for kids where a Discovery Group is being started
Stone mentors a mama
A beautiful sky over the valley today
A guy on the beach practicing for a fishing competition for stingray...wow!
not always clear…in fact, mostly cloudy
Today I'm driving down the 1.5 km strip of main road in Keiskammahoek and I see a very common sight to see in rural areas of South Africa on the first Monday of the month. Pension Day!!!
This is the day when everyone gets paid their pension. Everyone stands in a line at an ATM that has at least 100 people in it waiting to collect their Rands for the month. I can't remember the exact amount but it is somewhere around R1500 (approx $200) that most live off of for one month. Most times, this money is used for everyone in the home. It can be anywhere from 4-15 people living off of this amount.
It made me so thankful for development projects like Siyakholwa (Brian and Jeri's development project we're partnering with.) Brian and Jeri moved to this valley 12-13 years ago and started this project out of the need for food, work, and development in the Keiskammahoek area.
I was on my way to take some ladies to a field far out and let them cut the rose geranium plant for Siyakholwa to make their essential oil. While they were cutting, I decided that I wasn't going to just sit and wait for them; I was going to go try to strike up a conversation with them and connect with them.
I prayed as I was walking across the field, "Lord, I don't know what to say...please say something through me. Please help me to not be awkward." (Somehow when you pray things like this, you don't realize how selfish the prayer is until you see it written.)
As it goes, they didn't have much interest in me. In fact, the lady I tried to talk to barely even murmured a word to me. The other lady could tell it was getting really awkward for me so she said a couple words and I eventually had nothing to say so I turned around and walked back to the truck.
Sometimes I feel like "Lord, why did you bring me all the way to Keiskammahoek? Hopefully it wasn't just so I could stand in a field and feel awkward." I know that sounds dramatic, but I've had many moments like this in our time in SA.
Later on in the day, we met with a girl we've been mentoring, Nosipiwe. She works for Siyakholwa. It was amazing to find out from her what she had been up to. She had been working with a school in the area mentoring one of the teachers. The teacher wants to start some Discovery Groups with the students and Nosipiwe has been meeting with her. They've also began to plan a fundraiser in the area to help with the students needs. It was incredible to hear Nosipiwe start to come to some of her own conclusions about what is going on and say "we need to start meeting as leaders of these groups."
The main goal of Shea and I living in Keiskammahoek for the next few months is to establish a leadership team in the area that meets regularly. We want them to be able to discuss best practices and encourage one another. Nosipiwe understands the importance of that and it was amazing to hear her come to that conclusion on her own!
Sometimes I wonder "Lord, why did you bring me all the way to South Africa?" Days like today I know why...to let me know that he wants to use me if I'll let him. He doesn't need me. But, He will use me if I'm willing to get out of my own way. To enter the awkward moments and wonder why.
Faith enough to cast into the sea
We've made the move to Keiskammahoek (aka QoboQobo) and I'm left understanding why we are here. Knowing what we came to do and expectant for God to move in huge ways. Ways that I can't even begin to imagine. Ways that would probably blow my mind if I knew right now what He was about to do.
When we moved to SA, I didn't think we'd be 'going' anywhere. I thought I knew what He had in store for us before we got here, only to find out that He had bigger and better plans for us than I could've imagined.
The other day I was reading in Matthew 17 where Jesus heals a demon possessed boy. He has to do this, because the disciples couldn't. They didn't have the faith to do this. Jesus tells them that if they even had faith the size of a mustard seed then they could've done what he did. In fact, if they even had that type of faith then they could move mountains.
Right after this in the chapter, Peter was asked by a tax collector if Jesus paid his taxes. He says, of course Jesus pays his taxes. When the two of them get away inside a house, Jesus goes on like this:
"Simon, what do you think? When a king levies taxes, who pays--his children or his subjects?" He answered, "His subjects." Jesus said, "Then the children get off free, right? But so we don't upset them needlessly, go down to the lake, cast a hook, and pull in the first fish that bites. Open its mouth and you'll find a coin. Take it and give it to the tax men. It will be enough for both of us."
I was left wondering what Simon's face must have looked like at the thought of doing this. What was going on in his head? Did he think Jesus was a crazy man? Did he wonder "why would I do that?" Or, did he just do it? Did he hesitate?
This is the same way I felt when we felt the need to move to Keiskammahoek. I felt like I was looking at Jesus wondering if he was a crazy man. Thinking, "I don't have what it takes." Thinking that I'm the last person that should be doing this. Thinking that He has to be huge and know what He is doing.
I've had faith enough to cast into the sea. I've had the faith to keep going even when all has felt lost. He has always shown up the whole time we've been here. That's what I'm left asking for again. Just for Him to show up.
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