I can't count how many people have asked, "Jessica! How was Africa?!" Where am I supposed to start? I was there for two weeks. Some of my friends came home after three months; I can't even imagine trying to explain their experience. But here, I'll try to say at least something.
The first week in Durban was...definitely trying. It was beautiful, for sure, but I quickly learned the downside to South Africa's cultural precedent of communalism and what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine: no personal time. Ever. It was great that Elani let me use the internet on her phone, but I can only think of one time in Durban where I was actually alone, and that's when I skipped something else early in the morning. I just wanted Me Time!
Each day there was pretty similar: wake up, prayer at seven, breakfast at eight, worship at nine, training until noon, lunch, training until five, supper, prayer, worship, fall into bed from exhaustion. A few times we went to the beach or the mall, but generally our time was scheduled (most agreed: over-scheduled).
But through all this, I really did grow incredibly close to the team there, both the Americans and the Africans, and by the time I went home, the idea that I wouldn't be sharing the bed with two other people was strange and borderline-saddening. It was strange how well we knew each other, considering the fact that on July 25, the only thing we had in common was our swollen ankles (thank you for that, two consecutive nine-hour flights).
The second week, though...words can't begin to describe. It was then that we actually got the chance to go into the schools, talk to kids, and really see fantastic transformations. I'll be honest: I wasn't completely behind the curriculum we were supposed to be teaching. It was abstinence-only, which I've never been a fan of. Here in America, I'm an AIDS Peer Educator*, and I consider that more comprehensive, so, admittedly, I rolled my eyes a bit at our lesson plan.
(* I do this through a program called the Dramatic AIDS Education Program. Basically we go into junior highs, high schools, and lockdown facilities and right off the bat present a monologue as an HIV-positive teenager. The kids think we're positive, then we say, essentially, PSYCH, I'm a nursing student and he's an actor and lets talk about sex. And the kids ask us whatever's on their mind; we answer their questions honestly and work in some key points. The program has an almost twenty-year history and has been pretty successful in changing kids' habits and clearing up misconceptions.)
But one of the coolest parts of the trip was seeing radical change in these kids when I was heartily expecting some half-hearted response: Jesus basically said, "Hey, uh, Jess. Hi, Christ here; I think we've met, but I just wanted to remind you: I can do anything. Regardless of whether or not you want to believe. So just drop the know-it-all attitude and watch this..."
On the first day, we had the kids write about whatever was on their minds or in their communities. We heard about rape, murder, theft, orphaned children, sick families, financial uncertainty, and lots more rape. The majority of the letters ended in "Please help me," or "What do I do?" I was shocked by the heartbreak that these kids had endured, and the inherent strength exemplified by the fact that they were still alive, but what impressed me even more was that they all had something beautiful in common: hope. The fact that they were asking for help and advice showed that they still held onto some belief, however faint it may be, that they were intended for something better, and that all the terrible things they'd seen and experienced didn't have to be permanent. (If only I could remember that more consistently.)
Two days later, we had them write again. You would have thought a completely different classroom of kids wrote these letters; they were radically changed. They said things like, "Thank you so much for being here; I've never been able to tell anyone what my cousin did to me. I feel so free now," and "I have hope now. I know I can change," and "I learned what it means to be a real man. I have to respect women." Especially that latter statement is a huge step in the right direction for this community. Women are consistently objectified, and men are taught (usually unintentionally and by example) that if they want it, they can take it, regardless of if the woman agrees to it.
I wish I could convey more fully the emotion I felt on the last day, but I'm afraid that within the constraints of human language, it will always be outrageously understated. I love each of those beautiful kids. The majority of them ended up pledging abstinence, and I'll fully admit that many of them might not hold onto it until marriage, but I'm fine with that. If they stopped having sex for a week, awesome; they reduced their risk of contracting HIV or getting pregnant for a week. Beyond the physical, though: the Spirit did something in that classroom that week. The ladies realized that they were not worthless; the young men began to understand that they they can choose to change stereotypes. If only for that moment, those kids were different, and it was the one of the highest privileges of my life thus far to be allowed to witness it.
Five of our team are staying in the area for the next year to support the kids we were able to teach that second week. Prayers for them would be awesome.
One day, we got to visit an orphan care center. I could write about that, too, but I feel that I've already gone too long. You can view my abridged trip album here, but here are some of my favorites, as well:
These the four in the middle picture are some of my kids; I have no idea who the rest of them are. I was an instant celebrity and people would walk up to me and say, "Will you take a picture with me?" or just whip out their camera phone and save us all the hassle of actually posing. My hair was also petted regularly.
This guy is incredible, and yes I bought one of those paintings, and yes he'll paint you one. It was only like thirty dollars.
I don't know these kids' names, we never spoke a word thanks to a thick language barrier, but we played for an hour and I love them to pieces.
Anyway. That's a little glimpse into my trip. Planning for India is underway and that should be absolutely awesome as well. Love each of you.
Jessica
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