Saturday, May 19, 2007
At the beginning of April I realized I would be in Stellenbosch, near Cape Town, for a New Testament conference on Passover, so contacted the local synagogue beforehand and asked if a service would be held, explained who I was and why I asked. I was offered a seat for the service and invited to a family Passover Seder by a delightful couple, Jerry and Bernice Rosendorff. Jerry explained that he was a retired physician in the quaint little European, cobblestone street town. After dinner we played bowls, the European game where you roll small heavy balls on the floor with the object of getting closest to a key ball.

I’m nearing the end of my stay in South Africa and double booking my time to say goodbye to everyone. My neighbors and I have been counting the days leading to Pentecost and prayed tonight thanking the Lord for the 43 day. Here’s a picture of the fence post ribbons we’ve tied to keep track of the days. I’ll be back in the U.S. for the 49th day and the great celebration of the 50th day. I’m amazed to have almost spent the whole spring festival season here in Africa. The leaves are changing, turning yellow, orange and red as autumn turns to winter. The temperature is expected to drop to minus 4C on Monday night. If my fingers thaw out, I’ll try to write again before I leave on Wednesday. I’m so thankful to you for all the email and correspondence during my stay.

South Africa has 49 million inhabitants. Many landed in the country as part of the slave trade generations ago. The rich international influence from India, Asia, Europe and different parts of Africa is seen in food, architecture and language, particularly in Cape Town. The Xhosa language is major African language there, and it includes five different clicking sounds. In the year 2010 the World Cup will be hosted by South Africa and the population during that time is expected to double. They're making plans.

During Peter’s visit we went to Market Theatre in Johannesburg before setting out across the country and saw a performance entitled, “Shirley Goodness and Mercy,” an autobiography about a national film personality that starred in the show. It was about growing up in the Apartheid years from the perspective of being “coloured,” described by the writer as, “not as low as being black and not has high as whites, but somewhere in-between.” It was set in Soweto, the huge black township near Johannesburg and gave great insight to this culture. Peter and I had dinner at Gramadoelas beforehand a place to spot dignitaries and celebrities and eat authentic South African food. We took a picture and sat a table away from the Dutch ambassador.

This weekend my neighbors will get together, as is our tradition now, on Shabbat or Motzei Shabbat; anywhere between 15 to 25 of us not counting children gather for dinner and fellowship. Friday night is the thirty-fifth day in this biblical festival season leading to Pentecost. It will be one our last times together as my time is coming to a close and I'm making plans. I return to the states on March 23rd!

Today is Freedom Day, a national holiday commemorating this country’s first democratic elections in 1994. Nelson Mandela, the first black president, spoke along with others on this cold rainy day Cape Town day. His main themes were crime, economic challenges, alcohol and drug abuse, and “pushing back the frontier of poverty”. The underestimated number of people living with HIV virus and AIDS related deaths weren’t mentioned while I listened and tried to find any white faces in the crowd. Tribal dancers wearing a variety of colorful outfits (mostly covering their lower body) danced while professional news personalities announced the event on TV. Two worlds, both black, present quite a different picture. Some of the women in African garb interviewed have University degrees and a proficient command of the English language, and others are as rural as you can imagine, speaking only their native language. Many share the tradition of topless tribal dress. Africa meets the West.

While the nation takes a break today, I study and reminisce about the holiday Peter and I took last week. While traveling we saw many beautiful things: fields of trees including bananas, oranges, macadamias, coffee, pine trees, avocados and palm trees; dramatic waterfalls, canyons, rolling landscapes and fifty foot trees in full bloom, pink, yellow and blue. Africans line the streets walking nearby every town, smiling faces emerged almost every time eye contact was made. Some women we passed on a seemingly endless stretches of land balanced sticks and branches (at least as tall as they were) on their heads often carring babies the traditional way, straddled legs in back held with a towel, sheet or some other kind of fabric. The two women pictured here were selling their wares and when I asked if I could take their picture the older one stood up to pose. You can see from their clothes, that inseparable mix, Africa and the West. On this day, Freedom Day, I pray God looks with favor on these and all His children here in Africa.

Kruger Park is in the Northeast part of this country, home to a great assortment of animals including the “big five”: Lion, Buffalo, Rhino, Leopard and Elephant. I didn’t expect to see them while I was here, but last week I saw them all! Peter came for a visit and we had a wonderful time. Exploring a small section of the 36 506 acre park, we watched a giraffe run right in front of us, saw hippos take an afternoon swim, and enjoyed a herd of elephants, babies in tow, walk past stripping every tree in their path. We also saw wart hogs, wilderbeasts, zebras, impalas, monkeys, a crocodile and a slew of beautiful birds. Then there was this huge African Buffalo. These animals are said to be one of the most fearsome in Africa weighing in the region of 1,320 pounds. This crusty old guy gave us a questionable look with these two birds on his back.

Maybe the most enjoyable experience we had was an early morning guided walk in the park. We rode before sunrise in a high open air 4x4 out of our campsite to the path where we began the hike. Our guide said he had heard a roar that morning and knew a lion must be nearby, so just outside of the camp he looked around with his flashlight and framed a full grown lion not more than 30 feet away. He was beautiful. The camp has an electric cattle guard that keeps animals from coming inside, thank goodness. On the walk, we passed a massive pile of dung, a local toilet for black rhinos, and not too long afterward came across a mother rhino and her calf. She looked for a moment as if deciding whether or not to charge and the tour guide’s assistant cocked and pointed his riffle, just in case. Fortunately, it turned and walked into the brush. What an experience. We saw a variety of footprints, plants, rock formations, learned a lot about the animals including a small coniferous deer. On the ride back we stopped and watched a gorgeous, full grown male leopard up in a tree. Peter and I felt privileged to see such a unique slice of nature. What a creative God we serve, His untamed imagination and gracious character are evident in the wonderful creatures He chooses to have share this world with us.

There’s a thorn bush in South Africa called “stay-a-while” aptly named because once you brush against it, its prickly spikes grab hold and don’t easily let go. I heard about the plant on an early morning hike several days ago in the Karoo National Park (photo). The Karoo is largest ecosystem in South Africa, a vast and unforgiving stretch of land North of Cape Town and home to a fascinating diversity of wildlife. I stopped in the Karoo with several colleagues that had attended a New Testament conference near Cape Town with me. I flew to the conference and took the opportunity to see the countryside with them by car on the way back. We hiked in the Karoo in the early morning moonlight with the call of baboons in the distance. The stars in the Southern hemisphere, Alpha Centauri, Orion Nebula, the Milky Way, were all glistening as we set out that morning.

The NT conference was held in a town called Stellenbosch. It’s really beautiful, small and quaint, reminds me a bit of Winter Park, Fl. with cozy sidewalk restaurants and unique shops. The participants of the conference were from all parts of South Africa, other regions in greater Africa as well as Australia. I enjoyed the company of Scotsman trained in Edinburgh, now the principal of a bible college on in Western South Africa, an eastern European priest who studied at the Vatican and others. The keynote speaker was ironically from Barnard College at Columbia in New York. She stayed in a guesthouse and missed the college dormitory experience. A group of opera singers stayed in my dorm and although they didn’t keep unruly hours, it was a bit surprising to wake up and fall asleep with Motzart and other arias at full tilt. One day I went to borrow an iron on the other side of the dormatory complex and bumped into a student who said she had heard an American staying there.

We went to the 5:30am Easter service at the Anglican Church this morning. Today is the Day of Firstfruits on the biblical calendar and the later part of the Feast of Unleavened Bread. Several of my neighbors counted the first “omer” together last night. They’ve decided to tie a ribbon on the fence posts around our complex for each of the 49 days leading to Shavuot (Pentecost). I’ll send a picture when there's a few more on the fence. Happy Easter! Happy Day of Firstfruits! Happy Feast of Unleavened Bread! Happy first day of counting the omer!

Along with Claire's birthday, today is also Purim. So last night we had a Purim party and skit to act out the story of the Book of Esther. The children in the flat complex were the main actors and they recruited Godwin (a linguist specializing in Semitic languages particularly Hebrew and Syriac), to play the role of Haman. No one else would be the bad guy. It was great fun. While preparing I was particularly struck by the line in Esther, “these days should be remembered in every generation by every family, and in every province and in every city. They should never cease to be celebrated.” (for a copy of the skit, just email me, I'll post it on the Festival in a Box website later).

Last week a British guy stopped by my office at the Theological College to say hello. His name is Stephen, a Catholic priest from Pretoria, a 2 hour drive from here. (Very odd to have a Catholic priest at a reformed seminary!) We talked about how we found ourselves in South Africa and he told a story about growing up in England with Jewish neighbors. As a boy, he was invited to do things around their home on the Sabbath that Jewish families weren't permitted to do. One particular Sabbath, Yom Kippur, he remembered the woman of the house asking him turn his pockets inside out before coming inside. It was an abrupt request, as if she wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. It made quite an impression on him. It made an impression on me too, but in a different way. The act of turning out pockets on Yom Kippur is an ancient tradition tied to asking for forgiveness and getting stuff right with God. Stephen didn't know it but he was taking part in a custom that later carried great meaning and a place in his Christian walk with the same God.

I promise to write about my adventures in rural South Africa. This week has just been filled with remembering and celebrating festivals. They amaze me with their richness and God’s goodness.

Pasaka (Pess – eh’ – cha) knocked on my door yesterday (pictured). He was with the Bureau of Statistics for the South African government, taking census information as his department does every five years. “Do you have electricity, water, refrigerator, internet, radio, tv, how long have you lived here ...?” He wrote answers on a very official, multi-page form. We got to be friends during the questioning, his female co-worker who joined the conversation wanted to know when my husband was coming. The most shocking answer I gave was that I had never given birth. The idea was so unheard of that Pesaka repeated the question three times to make sure I understood. He was missing important parts of his sandals (same as some of the other workers with him) and made a point, after the business of questions, to tell me his name. “Pasaka,” he said, “in English it means Good Friday.” Ahh, of course. Pesach: Passover, redemption from slavery and sin. Somehow it seemed right, a South African black man telling a white American woman about God's mercy and His power to save.

Before Pesaka arrived, the yard men came to the same twelve foot gate entrance where Pesaka arrived. As is customary, they whistled until someone let them in to do their job. Two faces smiled and thanked me for being the one to come. Several weeks ago, a group of military police showed up. They came --- in eight armored humvees holding about five police officers each --- to see if they could get overnight accommodation nearby before a big international soccer match at the University the next day. All forty of them sat on the lawn and visited with us about their jobs: employed by the South African government, as the Riot Patrol, they assist in dangerous situations all over the continent. They had just returned from the Congo and were excited about the soccer match at the University (where the most violent incident was in the game itself) the next day. I couldn’t help but pray for them.

As of yesterday, I’m in the South African Government’s records as a temp resident situated with a beautiful lawn all around, protected by the country’s finest armed guards and reminded of God’s saving grace. I count it a good day!