Sekhambane, Speeches, and the Seaside

Previously unemployed, Patrick and Lucia are workers who've learned the skill of candle making at one of the income-generating projects to which I've been assigned. We sit together for hours at a time in their workshop.  They've given this business the moniker "Bambanani Candles" (bambanani is the Sesotho/Zulu word for "working together" or "standing strong together").  There are cultural differences I just have to laugh at, one being my American ideas about division of labor and efficiency.  South Africans just don't have the same Ford-inspired production principles like the assembly line.  Its not uncommon that Patrick or Lucia to make a few candles, shave off the rough edges when they cool, wrap them, tag them, price them... and then start over with the next small batch.  Africans also don't have the same Western concept of "job creation"... In fact, I sensed on my first day that I wouldn't simply be helping them with the marketing and development of their small business.  Nope, I'd be rolling up my sleeves and getting in the hot wax with them.  To them, it doesn't matter that each candle I make or wrap depletes from the sum of their work, and consequently, the hours of paid work available to them.  What's important is that when I'm with them, we can laugh together and work together, we can bambanani.  

They've also agreed to help me learn Sesotho as we bambanani and I'm swapping those lessons for help with their applications to a nursing school about an hour's drive from Kroonstad.  There are highly competitive government bursaries available to some students in this nursing school, and it includes a living stipend worth much more than we can pay them here.  I feel a bit strange helping them pursue another option to the Bambanani project, but I understand their dilemma.  Neither seems to have a passion for nursing, but for both, getting a bursary would mean a better life for their families.

Since it's too expensive to get a taxi to the city, they're hitchhiking there in a few days.  I haven't decided whether I'll accompany them yet, though I think with a man in the trio we should be quite safe.  Hitchhiking here is much more common than in the States too. :)

Over the hours, I've learned about their children and the struggles to put food on the table.  When the candle business wasn't running, Patrick and his girlfriend supported themselves and their little girl on 600 South African Rand per month (less than $80).  He just smiled when I asked if they ever went hungry. "Sure, sure, of course we do.  My girlfriend and I just drink coffee before bed and look forward to our next meal, whenever it comes.  But my little girl always has something.  She isn't going to suffer because of me."  Lucia describes how difficult it has been for her to send one of her four children, the oldest who's twelve, to live four hours away with her mother, because she can't feed him herself.

Despite these struggles, the generosity overflows.   I've started bringing extra fruit and tea with my lunch both Patrick and Lucia insist on sharing their meals with me.  One of my favorites is an indigineous delicacy they make or buy called "bunny chow" or in Sesotho/Zulu "sekhambane" (I'll have to ask the kids at St. Peter's the correct spelling).  The cooks at St. Peter's also make and sell it for R5 (about 80 cents), so I've had to practice temperance (two per week is my goal).  Making sekhambane involves cutting an unsliced loaf of white bread into thirds.  Each portion consists of a third of a loaf, which as been hollowed out.  Inside is a piece of pologny, the closest equivalent for which would be bologna in the States, a layer of a spicy mango chutney-esque mixture called acha, and a layer of chips (thick fries).  Then the filling is capped with the bread portion that was taken out.  Carbohydrate overload, but its DELICIOUS!

This weekend Lucia and her husband invited me to attend their church.  During apartheid times the South African government made distinctions between "white," "black," and "colored" people these distinctions still manifest themselves in the Kroonstad community.  The church was almost entirely colored people, with a few black people and one or two white people other than me.  The service took place in a reclaimed building that served as a movie cinema years ago.  The environment felt nothing like a church, but the moving praise and worship music and the choir (which was about half the congregation) made up for any lacking in "churchiness."

Other than that, life here is wonderful... We're being spoiled rotten, by those who can afford it and by those who can't but want to anyway.  This weekend, we enjoyed the quintessentially Afrikaans get together with some new friends... they invited us over on Saturday for a braai watched the Super 14 rugby finals and had a braai (South African barbecue).  Then on Sunday, an Indian family called the Josephs, invited us over for a delicious feast of fish briyani (who knew baracuda was so darn tasty).  The Josephs have essentially become our family-away-from-home.  This weekend, they're taking us with them to Durban to see the seaside, which will be a nice vacation from the tall grasses of the savanna we now call home (not that we need one).

One insight I've been thinking about a lot lately has been the grace of receiving hospitality.  It feels more comfortable to extend it than to accept it, I've found, but whether its sekhambane from Patrick and Lucia or a seaside trip with the Josephs, I'm realizing it takes a humble heart to accept and enjoy the love offered by others and not instantly think of how I can "even the score" by returning the favor.  Of course, this too is important, but receiving graciously and allowing your enjoyment to bless the giver of the gift is a gift in and of itself.  This is the most challenging when the person who desperately wants to give is far less privileged than you, but it's equally if not more important to allow them to be the giver sometimes and not always the recipient.

What else? Oh, the students at St. Peter's recently had the opportunity to compete in a regional speech and debate competition some of the rural schools organized.  With my background in college speech, I thought I'd offer the teacher organizing the team my help.  I helped him judge auditions for the 6 spots available on the St. Peter's team... over twenty students tried out.  Their speeches ranged on topics from HIV/AIDS to human trafficking during the World Cup (http://www.ngopulse.org/article/human-trafficking-and-2010-fifa-world-cup).   We narrowed the group down after much deliberation and helped coach the lucky 6 before the competition.  St. Peter's took four 1st and two 2nd place awards!  It was incredible... I'm looking forward to helping develop the team.  They're amazingly passionate speakers.  This week, the entire student body is sitting national exams.  Tomorrow I'm helping proctor the tests.