Twenty-six. Some of the students seem to think that age tremendously old and I suppose that at 11 and 12 it looked fairly old to me as well. I remember thinking Mr. Hausman was so old in eighth grade when he turned 29...hmm, funny how perspectives change in such a short amount of time.
While the rest of the world was reeling in shock over the events in Japan, I remained in the dark and content at Fraaiuitzicht farm. It was not until later in the day on Saturday that I heard the news and began to worry about my sister in S. Korea. My birthday on Saturday was a non-event; my favorite kind of birthday. I spent the day working cows from horseback with S.W., making a leather holder for my iPod and watching a film with the van der Merwe family. Tannie Hessie van der Merwe made me one of my favorite desserts, a grenadilla tart, mmmhmmm.
Sunday was church at Hobhouse where there is a little boy they call Mugabe after the infamous dictator in Zimbabwe. I suppose the reason is because he takes great delight in terrorizing the other children in church. Sunday afternoon and night I began to feel really congested and unfortunately it did not go away.
So, today was a sick Monday. I still was at school, it just felt like someone replaced my brains with concrete and my energy with lethargy. I am thankful that I was able to still come since one of our teachers is out and Mr. Philip Geise had to go to Bloemfontein for supplies. God is good. This week is busy. I am going with the other teachers on Thursday and Friday to a seminar in Bloem and then leaving immediately after for Cape Town to attend the wedding of Delani's father and I have to be back by Monday night. So, I'll let you know how it all goes; should be interesting. Cheers.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
rambling thoughts in the late summer twilight...
A grey cloud is over Lesotho in the gathering twilight of this late summer evening, hanging low over the plateaus. Thunder peals long and soft like tympanis in the distance and the lights begin to twinkle around Maseru. Fraaiuitzicht (which means “beautiful view”) I am sure had a beautiful outlook when the first small, stone house was set here over a century ago, but now most of what remains of the view towards the Caledon river and Lesotho is the ever stretching, slowly sprawling metropolis of Lesotho’s capital city. Still, if you like the lights of a city and the quiet of the country, the view—though hardly Times Square—is the proverbial, ‘best of both worlds.’
The quiet. The stillness here, as I think it is more aptly named, is deafening. I lie awake at night sometimes and if no ‘bumps in the night’ have set the dogs going, the silence literally roars in my ears. It is for me more unnerving than peaceful and yet at some point my mind becomes once more acclimated to it and I can sleep without noise. At this point I still need at least a fan and preferably music.
It’s strange that I dread the silence. Silence bares the soul and leaves our thoughts and desires naked to our introspective gaze. Its like having that dream come true where you are standing in the middle of your school or on a busy street corner and suddenly you look down you have no clothes on. It is not a matter of needing to hide anything, it is the same as that busy street corner or your school; everyone knows what is there, but you still don’t feel comfortable with it being scrutinized. I know, the analogy has gotten perhaps a little out of hand, but all the same; I have nothing to hide and yet I balk against self-scrutiny. Perhaps it is a part of looking on the finite side of the mirror that is now hazy and darkened, but then “face to face…”
When we shed this mortal coil what dreams may come, must give us pause .
It doesn’t seem to matter how much I think I know about God and eternity, the sheer vastness of Him and the void that is a timeless, and endless scope, leaves me feeling shaken and insignificant. C.S. Lewis said that we are like children pulling levers on a vast machine, unaware of what frightful consequences we may be enacting on the other side of eternity,
The days at the school allow no time for introspection. The quietest moment of the day is the few minutes of staff prayer before we open the doors and are over run with laughing, smiling faces (usually) that keep us occupied for the next several hours of our day. They are a joy, a vision of eternity in their limitless capacity for wonder, for discovery, for joy, for hurt, for loss and for disenchantment. Some of these children have already lived more hurt than I can fathom in my nearly 26 years on this earth. It slips out in little moments…a flash of anger, a look that breaks your heart, a flinch when you go to place a loving hand on their shoulder, or quietly sitting and crying at their desk sans explanation.
G.K. Chesterton said that part of God’s infinitude is manifested in a child’s ability to exult in the monotonous and every day we are reminded of this with endless games of tag and the same songs chosen for opening exercises. Their capacity for wonder and joy is truly limitless.
The town here has banks that truly hold to banker’s hours, coffee shops that close at four in the afternoon and a pace that moves as only Africa can. I don’t know if Africa is the land that time forgot or the land that just forgot about time, regardless, to the newly adapting American their complete lack of punctuality can be maddening. Once you settle into it, it becomes somewhat addicting and the thought of switching back to all-night Wal-Marts and 10 pm grocers seems ridiculous.
Well, I suppose that is all of the rambling thoughts I have for one evening. It’s time to eat and then I suppose sleep is next on the docket. Goodnight all.
The quiet. The stillness here, as I think it is more aptly named, is deafening. I lie awake at night sometimes and if no ‘bumps in the night’ have set the dogs going, the silence literally roars in my ears. It is for me more unnerving than peaceful and yet at some point my mind becomes once more acclimated to it and I can sleep without noise. At this point I still need at least a fan and preferably music.
It’s strange that I dread the silence. Silence bares the soul and leaves our thoughts and desires naked to our introspective gaze. Its like having that dream come true where you are standing in the middle of your school or on a busy street corner and suddenly you look down you have no clothes on. It is not a matter of needing to hide anything, it is the same as that busy street corner or your school; everyone knows what is there, but you still don’t feel comfortable with it being scrutinized. I know, the analogy has gotten perhaps a little out of hand, but all the same; I have nothing to hide and yet I balk against self-scrutiny. Perhaps it is a part of looking on the finite side of the mirror that is now hazy and darkened, but then “face to face…”
When we shed this mortal coil what dreams may come, must give us pause .
It doesn’t seem to matter how much I think I know about God and eternity, the sheer vastness of Him and the void that is a timeless, and endless scope, leaves me feeling shaken and insignificant. C.S. Lewis said that we are like children pulling levers on a vast machine, unaware of what frightful consequences we may be enacting on the other side of eternity,
The days at the school allow no time for introspection. The quietest moment of the day is the few minutes of staff prayer before we open the doors and are over run with laughing, smiling faces (usually) that keep us occupied for the next several hours of our day. They are a joy, a vision of eternity in their limitless capacity for wonder, for discovery, for joy, for hurt, for loss and for disenchantment. Some of these children have already lived more hurt than I can fathom in my nearly 26 years on this earth. It slips out in little moments…a flash of anger, a look that breaks your heart, a flinch when you go to place a loving hand on their shoulder, or quietly sitting and crying at their desk sans explanation.
G.K. Chesterton said that part of God’s infinitude is manifested in a child’s ability to exult in the monotonous and every day we are reminded of this with endless games of tag and the same songs chosen for opening exercises. Their capacity for wonder and joy is truly limitless.
The town here has banks that truly hold to banker’s hours, coffee shops that close at four in the afternoon and a pace that moves as only Africa can. I don’t know if Africa is the land that time forgot or the land that just forgot about time, regardless, to the newly adapting American their complete lack of punctuality can be maddening. Once you settle into it, it becomes somewhat addicting and the thought of switching back to all-night Wal-Marts and 10 pm grocers seems ridiculous.
Well, I suppose that is all of the rambling thoughts I have for one evening. It’s time to eat and then I suppose sleep is next on the docket. Goodnight all.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
I had a great day today; frenetic and fun. The students started off a little slow, but after a little jog and a little fun, they seemed to wake up and think. Today we had a lot of tests and other busy work, winding down to the end of the week. The school is based off a four day academic week (new from last time I was here) which means that Friday is a day set aside for extra-curricular activities (art class, p.e., etc.) which the government requires. What this means is that the days are very fast paced and on a tight schedule. This is actually nice since it makes the day go quicker.
I had several detentions today and so was there for awhile, grading papers and recording the information into the books and just doing the general admin that comes with the job. I was able to slip away around 3:30 pm, just in time to slip down to one of my favorite haunts, Living Life coffee shop. They were happy to see me and the hostess, Aunt Linda, and I just caught up and chatted. She couldn't believe that we had stores in the U.S. that were open 24 hours and you could just stop in anytime (Living Life closes at 4 pm).
I spent a little time running errands in town, jostling through crowded stores and dusty streets in the late summer heat. It was a warm, bouncing ride back to the farm where I did a little run with dogs and just relaxed. Well, enough play by play. I need to do some teacher "homework." Goodnight.
I had several detentions today and so was there for awhile, grading papers and recording the information into the books and just doing the general admin that comes with the job. I was able to slip away around 3:30 pm, just in time to slip down to one of my favorite haunts, Living Life coffee shop. They were happy to see me and the hostess, Aunt Linda, and I just caught up and chatted. She couldn't believe that we had stores in the U.S. that were open 24 hours and you could just stop in anytime (Living Life closes at 4 pm).
I spent a little time running errands in town, jostling through crowded stores and dusty streets in the late summer heat. It was a warm, bouncing ride back to the farm where I did a little run with dogs and just relaxed. Well, enough play by play. I need to do some teacher "homework." Goodnight.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
First post from Africa...
Africa welcomed me back with a warm mist that swirled around the silver-winged bird that had been my home for 14½ hours. The lush green landscape below me quickly succumbed to the geometric industrialization of factory yards and planned, government housing. The white clouds disappeared in a brown atmosphere that hangs in perpetual suspension over Johannesburg. God had brought me safely across the Atlantic once again.
I shouldered my carry-on bags and pushed through the controlled chaos of a disembarking planeload and walked through the halls of an airport I have greeted several times before. God graciously kept His hand on all my bags; then through the doors and to the welcoming smile of Uncle Johan and Joreth. The drive ahead was still a long and warm run through sunshine and green fields and a sky that only Africa can display.
I dozed and woke, spoke and slipped into a dreamless sleep once again as we moved closer and closer to home. I was struck by a singular realization; Africa did not feel novel to me. Had I somehow changed; had the picture remained constant, but the lens altered? I was home and it felt right. No, she was the same Africa with her dazzling skies, endless plains, phantasmagoric rock shapes and ghoulish cliff faces. It felt good to be back.
The silent company of partially unpacked cases in the corner and the air thick with mosquitos, my family on three different continents and I am on one little piece of God’s brilliant canvas known as Fraaiuitzicht. It is night in Africa and time to sleep. The night sounds chirp and rustle outside the windows and occasionally the dogs burst into a cacophony of discontent with something outside their vision.
Today was my first day back at the school. It was good to see familiar faces and a joy to meet new ones as well. Hectic and a little hot and ultimately very satisfying and fulfilling; it has been a great couple of days. Delani visited the farm over the weekend and then had to leave Sunday afternoon to drive the 500+ kilometers to her home. It was great to get to see her, even for such a short while.
There is school tomorrow and sickness on the farm tonight. Please pray that the Lord preserve my body from the “bug” that is going around. I need to be at the school tomorrow. Well, the dogs really started up again, it could be a long night. Goodnight all and God bless you. Please keep me in your prayers. I’ll try to post pictures and perhaps a little video when I get a better internet connection.
I shouldered my carry-on bags and pushed through the controlled chaos of a disembarking planeload and walked through the halls of an airport I have greeted several times before. God graciously kept His hand on all my bags; then through the doors and to the welcoming smile of Uncle Johan and Joreth. The drive ahead was still a long and warm run through sunshine and green fields and a sky that only Africa can display.
I dozed and woke, spoke and slipped into a dreamless sleep once again as we moved closer and closer to home. I was struck by a singular realization; Africa did not feel novel to me. Had I somehow changed; had the picture remained constant, but the lens altered? I was home and it felt right. No, she was the same Africa with her dazzling skies, endless plains, phantasmagoric rock shapes and ghoulish cliff faces. It felt good to be back.
The silent company of partially unpacked cases in the corner and the air thick with mosquitos, my family on three different continents and I am on one little piece of God’s brilliant canvas known as Fraaiuitzicht. It is night in Africa and time to sleep. The night sounds chirp and rustle outside the windows and occasionally the dogs burst into a cacophony of discontent with something outside their vision.
Today was my first day back at the school. It was good to see familiar faces and a joy to meet new ones as well. Hectic and a little hot and ultimately very satisfying and fulfilling; it has been a great couple of days. Delani visited the farm over the weekend and then had to leave Sunday afternoon to drive the 500+ kilometers to her home. It was great to get to see her, even for such a short while.
There is school tomorrow and sickness on the farm tonight. Please pray that the Lord preserve my body from the “bug” that is going around. I need to be at the school tomorrow. Well, the dogs really started up again, it could be a long night. Goodnight all and God bless you. Please keep me in your prayers. I’ll try to post pictures and perhaps a little video when I get a better internet connection.
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