Derek and Shea in SA

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.