Under a Large White Tent

It is a muggy Sunday afternoon in Phalaborwa and we are gathered around two twin babies in celebration. We celebrated their baptisms earlier that morning, and as we hold the two small children in our arms, we give thanks that they will be raised to know and love the Lord. As they grow, we have hope that their faith will grow with them. We sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

It is a scorching Sunday afternoon in Alexandra and we are gathered around a young man dressed in his best black and white. He has just completed his testing with the pastor, and has become a confirmed member of the church. We celebrate all of his hard work and his confirmation of his faith which now lies in his hands instead of in the hands of his parents. We sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

It is Christmas morning near Tzaneen and we are gathered around a bride and groom as they exchange wedding vows. With the support of all their family, friends, and neighbors they commit themselves to each other, and we hope that their relationship will help strengthen both of them in the Lord. We sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

It is a sweltering Saturday afternoon in Bochum and we are gathered around a woman celebrating her 80^th birthday. With all her family, friends, pastors, neighbors, and other acquaintances giving moving speeches about her exquisite character, we celebrate how she has lived out her full and fruitful life to date- founded in the Lord. We sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

It is the early morning of Christmas Eve’s Eve in Ga-Kama and we are gathered around a hole six feet in the ground. As our dear friend and youth member is lowered in her beautiful casket into the grave, we remember her short but happy life with glistening eyes. We sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

When you do not understand a language, it can be quite challenging to determine what is happening around you. I often find myself in situations which I do not entirely understand, and due to my relatively slow uptake of Sepedi, I find that what people say helps me very little in my comprehension. But there are a few things which are universal- singing, dancing, feasting, and celebration. These things I understand- from the tambour of the music I can tell the mood of the occasion, from the intensity of the dancing I can determine the passion which people are feeling, from the food I can tell the thoughtfulness and hard work that was put into it, and all of these combined give off an air of celebration. To a passerby walking past one of these occasions, this is what they see. They see the extravagant food which took hours to prepare on the tables, they see the people dancing enthusiastically to the upbeat songs, and they hear the celebratory remarks exclaimed in the choruses which are sung. To an outsider, the events which occur under a large white tent are all the same.

But under that tent, so many different events are occurring. Yes, you are guaranteed to find people singing, dancing, feasting, and celebrating, but the root cause behind these festivities differs vastly. So far I have experienced a baptism, a confirmation party, a few weddings, a birthday party, and a funeral. Had I been in the States for each of these occurrences, I would find that their celebrations do not even closely resemble each other, if there is even a celebration to begin with. I am pretty sure I have never heard of a confirmation party in the United States to which the entire village is invited- and I most certainly haven’t been to one where they slaughter a cow for the affair! But here in South Africa it has surprised me at just how similar all of these occasions appear- especially when I can not understand what is being said most of the time, so all I have to go by is appearances. These similarities made me think, is there something which ties all these events together that I had previously overlooked?

I have come to realize that yes, there is an underlying connection which ties together all of the events which occur under a large white tent. At each event we sing, we dance, we feast, we celebrate LIFE. We celebrate new lives starting their journey, young lives choosing their spiritual path, two lives uniting as one, the many blessings of a long life, and the memory of a life that once was. Instead of focusing on the differences, if we focus on the similarities of all these events we realize that LIFE is the true cause for celebration.

The funeral which I attended is what helped me to stumble upon this realization. Up until that point all the partying made complete sense, but a funeral in my mind is a solemn affair reserved for teary eyed people clad in black to mourn a death, and this funeral was the exact opposite. A huge crowd gathered wearing their Sunday best and we processed from the house of the family to the church singing choruses the whole way. When we arrived to the church we came into a lovely setup with flowers and candles and the entire youth standing up front singing and dancing to a lively tune. I could not help but join in the celebration, and let out a little smile as they sang my favorite song. Then my eyes landed upon the coffin hidden amidst the flowers and the dancing, and I felt a sudden shift happen with in me. Instead of mourning a death, we were celebrating a life.

It is amazing what a simple change in perspective can do to a situation. All too often we approach things with our one-sided views and we miss out on the bigger picture. We hear funeral and expect dirges, we think of Christmas and wish for snow, we see worms and think of fish food not people food- but here in South Africa I have been blessed to see things from another side. While a hot Christmas and a happy funeral may seem like contradictions at first, we must remember that there are always other perspectives. Although they may seem to contradict, our lives are full of contradicting truths.

In a recent interview (check it out at on youtube), Bishop Hanson was asked to answer the question “Why Lutheran”. Part of his answer focused on the contradictions which we as Christians must learn to embrace. We must be both saint and sinner, believe in a God who is both vengeful and merciful, and those are just a few of many present in our beliefs. While these things appear contradictory to us, they all make sense from an outsider’s perspective, from an omniscient viewpoint, to the one who created and fully understands everything that we see as confusing and contradictory. While we will never fully understand LIFE, if we keep our eyes open we can see the one thing that remains consistent through all life, our Lord, and for him we can sing, we can dance, we can feast, we can celebrate…

You can find us under a large white tent.

The Rooftop of Africa

With a show of hands, how many of you are familiar with a country called Lesotho? Where is it located? How big is it? What are the biggest challenges that it is currently facing?

Before this year I would have to admit that the most I knew about Lesotho was that I had a shirt that was made there- and the only reason I knew that was because I wanted to know if I could put it in the dryer and while looking at the tag I thought to myself- where is that country? Probably somewhere by Russia, I can never keep that part of the world straight.

Lesotho (pronounced luh-sue-too) is a landlocked country inside of South Africa. It has the highest average elevation of any other country in the world and is therefore properly deemed “the rooftop of Africa.” This year eight other YAGM’S and I chose to spend our New Years in this small but beautiful country, and thus we came to know a little more about it’s culture, people, politics, and struggles.

Upon entering Lesotho through Maseru, I was shocked to see a U.S. embassy sitting right there, with a full-fledged golf course! I wondered, how many other countries does the US have an embassy in that I have never even heard of? Does my lack of knowledge show that I am an uninformed citizen or that my country has not properly informed me? Is it a little of both?

As we drove from Maseru further into the country to Roma, where we would spend the evening, we gazed out the window and listened intently as our taxi driver chatted away about everything we were seeing. I saw stone houses and rondolvos with thatched roofs, I saw people returning from a long day at work on a taxi, I saw cows herded in for the evening by men draped in traditional Lesotho blankets- all of this seemed familiar to the sights I have seen in South Africa, though with a slightly different flare. But then we came across huge factories amidst these villages which dominated the landscape and people around them. We were told these factories were owned by the US, China, and Germany and although the laborers were from Lesotho, the customers were far far away. Some made clothes (that explains my t-shirt), some made light bulbs- can you imagine working in a factory that makes light bulbs when you don’t even have electricity in your own home? I am not out to condemn these countries for their factories in Lesotho, I know absolutely nothing about working conditions or profits in any of these factories. I do know that these factories provide jobs which sustain many families in Lesotho. I am just observing the blatant contrast which I found in Lesotho between the traditional Lesotho life and the westernized culture which is infiltrating it. Our globalization is bitter sweet- it may create jobs and opportunities, but the cost is often a loss of unique culture in the country we affect.

In Lesotho I see a country which is still holding onto its tradition with all its might. I see the struggle of each Lesotho being confronted with a push for modernization, and being conflicted with how that changes their traditional lifestyles. I want them to hold on to tradition, but if the spread of modernization benefits their livelihoods and eases some of their struggles, especially with HIV/AIDS, I want that too. It’s hard to hold onto the past and move forward at the same time- but I hope Lesotho can do just that.

~Heather Anne Nelson

Muscle Memory

When I sit at a piano or any keyboard instrument, my hands start playing John Rutter’s Toccata in Seven – they can’t help it. It does not matter how long it has been since I last played it, if there is music in front of me, if my eyes are open, or even what I am concentrating on, my hands know where they should be placed and my fingers automatically tumble through the strange but familiar chords. It is so easy, so thoughtless. After years of practice, this song has been engrained in my memory so deeply that I can feel how the song is supposed to progress without even actively thinking about it or doing it. We all experience this muscle memory- whether it is playing a song on the piano or riding a bike – there are things in our lives that we have done so much that our body just knows what to do.

Sitting outside on a sunny afternoon in Masealama, I experience a similar muscle memory. With the warm sun beating down on me from the cloudless blue sky, my body knows that it is time for cold drinks, fresh fruits, green grass, and summer vacations spent relaxing with friends and family. I am prepared for the hot months ahead, full of barbeques and fun, and when at last the days begin to cool, my sun-soaked skin will slowly pale as pants and sweaters replace breezy summer dresses. When that time comes, my body knows it is time to snuggle up by a fire with a cup of hot chocolate and whistle Christmas tunes. But my body has been deceived. Living in North America for my whole life, I have grown up associating the Christmas season with winter, but now in the southern hemisphere everything is thrown off. I don’t feel like Christmas is coming because the influences which have previously triggered my Christmas “muscle memory” (such as cold weather, warm sweaters, and snowflakes), are not present. I know how it used to go, I can hear it in my head, but the piano isn’t there for me to tap out all the right notes. I keep reminding myself that it is December and Christmas is almost here, but my body is telling me otherwise. I am internally engaged in a civil war- one side fighting for the true Christmas, and other fighting for my memories of Christmas.

My favorite Christmas song is White Christmas by Bing Crosby, which I usually play on repeat for the entire month of December. In South Africa this has not changed, I still love and play this song tirelessly, but now it is full of contradictions. As I sing along while my good friend Bing describes his dream of glistening treetops and sleigh bells in the snow, my internal war rages. How can it be Christmas without the low threatening snow clouds or morning frosts? Living with and fighting this contradiction is one of the hardest things I have had to do during my stay here- even harder than eating a chicken head. I have always been big on holidays, but when the traditions and muscle memories associated with those holidays are taken away, what is left? For me it is hard to leave behind my North American Christmas traditions during my time here in South Africa. This year I pulled out my wintery Christmas music well before the socially acceptable point of Thanksgiving (like I do every year), I have baked all the usual Christmas cookies, and on Christmas Eve I will open a few small but special gifts from my family. All of these things I am doing to make Christmas real to me this year, and to ease the civil uproar inside of me, but I must remind myself that these things do not MAKE Christmas.

We all know what Christmas is really about- that Jesus Christ our Savior was born to Mary and Joseph, and through this gift from God, we are saved from our sinful selves and given eternal life. We all know this, but are our actions and associations with Christmas showing this? Our minds know Christmas is about Christ, but do our bodies feel it? Has Christmas become so easy and thoughtless to us that we can tumble through the season without really concentrating on what it is that we are doing and why- much like I mindlessly play through Rutter’s Toccata?

I have been caught up in all the bells and whistles associated with the Christmas season in the US. It took a large jump in perspective (i.e. a move to a different continent) for me to realize that my small idea of Christmas was distorted by my westernized upbringing. Seeing Christmas from a different angle- one that has not yet been tainted by years of repeated traditions that alter perception- I am able to better see the true Christmas which is a Christmas of celebrating the best gift we have received and can ever receive- the gift of Jesus Christ. The question is this - how do you choose to celebrate this gift?

I love traditions, and will most definitely continue practicing some of the Christmas traditions on which I was raised. But there are a few problems with traditions; we typically do not understand the reasons behind their establishment, and we do not like to see them change. We exchange gifts on Christmas, but who started this tradition and why? If we can understand the initial foundations of our traditions, then we can better understand why we do them, and how they can become more meaningful to us in this day. My task this Christmas is not to give the perfect gift, but to receive the perfect gift. The traditions which I choose to continue should reflect the receiving of this gift from God. I do not know how I will reconcile these two battling fronts of Christmas vs. Christmas tradition, but in the upcoming season I will attempt the painful process of making peace accords. It will take compromise and sacrifice, but if the result gives me a more meaningful understanding of Christmas and the traditions associated with this holiday, than it will be worth it. I encourage you all to consider going through this process with me- and slowly we can redefine Christmas. The tune may not change at all, we can still participate in the same traditions, but by breaking the habit of going through the season using our muscle memories, we will be able to enjoy the true gift of the season.

~Heather Anne Nelson

IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?

The following are a collection of out-of-the-ordinary occurrences during my stay here in South Africa which I thought should be shared- to add a little bit of humor to some otherwise heavy blog posts. It is times like these when I stop and ask myself “is this really my life?” Enjoy!

An Innocent Death

Sitting outside on a sunny afternoon with the ladies of the Drop-In Centre, our silence was suddenly interrupted by a sharp squeal. Turning around I see Sister Marion pulling away in fear from the object which frightened her, and instantly everyone around me screams in a similar manner and does one of two things- runs away to the safety of Mamalume’s stoop, or jumps on top of their chairs. I remain seated and calmly look for whatever devil creature had caused such a scare- and to my surprise- I found a harmless little chameleon to be the source. It was kind of cute, blending in with the dusty yard and walking slowly toward me. “Heather, are you not afraid of it?” I was asked by my co-workers. Well, I can not think of the last instance when a chameleon did harm to me or any of my acquaintances, so no, I am not afraid of it. But they were. So Mamalume, being the brave one of the group, comes off of her stoop with the end of a broom in hand, and slowly approaches the creature. She puts the end under the chameleon, and starts flipping him up in the air toward the gate to get him outside. Once he is out of our gate, I thought it was over- that he could go on with his normal life of blending in, just not with anything in our yard. But no, apparently this chameleon was so frightening and repulsive to these ladies that he couldn’t just be sent away, his life must end, which is a logic that I apply to spiders. So Mamalume proceeds to pick up large stones and throw them upon the little chameleon until he was no more. That is when I screamed. IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?

Impromptu Safari Tour

It is a Sunday afternoon and we are on our way to a joint wedding party of some friends. Piled in a large blue truck, we are flying down dirt roads in an attempt to make it to the wedding reception on time. The pastor who is driving decides to take a short cut he knew from four years back when he lived and worked in this area, so instead of following the dirt road which forks to the left, we take the dirt road which forks to the right. A little ways down this road it becomes clear that this passage has not been well travelled recently- for the sweet thorn bushes have overgrown into the road, and as our large blue truck whipped down this road, we all sat listening to the painful sound of the spikes scraping our car. After twenty minute of this scratching, we come to the place where this road is supposed to hook up with the other road and continue toward our destination. But there is a problem- at some point in the last four years a new fence was placed around the perimeter of the land we were on. That doesn’t stop us! In order to ensure that the last 20 minutes of our lives and the scratches on the car where not done in vain, we proceed to jump off the dirt road and begin driving through the high prairie grass- dodging bushes and large ant piles and looking for some kind of gate. Another 10 minutes passed, and we are now in the middle of nowhere with our only trail back being the inconvenient fence which we are desperately trying to break through. After asking a local across the fence for the location of the nearest gate, we turn around only to find out that we were lied to. Accepting our defeat, we proceed back through the prairie grass, ant hills, and spiky bushes to the narrow dirt road and when we arrive back where this story started, we decided to take the left fork. Off-roading through the plains of Limpopo with a pastor- IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?

Celebrity Status

Arriving at our final destination of the wedding party, we find ourselves in a very rural setting at the foothills of a mountain in Limpopo. Much to our surprise, we arrive to hundreds of cars surrounding a house and large party tent which is housing the wedding party already in session. We walk in late (after our safari excursion), and are standing at the outskirts of the tent with the hundred other people looking in on the festivities occurring, but we are instantly spotted, called out, and drug inside the tent- front and center. After forcing some other ladies to relinquish their seats, the man with the microphone sits Andrew and I right beside the bride and groom who we do not know in the front. Looking around, I know that there are countless eyes on me and Andrew, not to mention the video cameras, regular cameras, and cell phones which are snapping picture after picture of us. Why? We are different- we are white. A rural area like this does not see many outside visitors, so our presence gave us somewhat of a celebrity status- something which I am not used to and do not really enjoy. But all you can do is smile at the cameras and laugh at the situation that you are in. At a wedding of someone whose name you can’t even pronounce and you are all of the sudden drawn into the wedding party to be gawked at by hundreds of onlookers. IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?
When the ceremony was over, we ran quickly out of the tent for some fresh air and hopefully to sit in a little less conspicuous location. But our presence was already well known, so we were found and greeted by many people. Unfortunately as with most parties, some had been celebrating a little too much and approached us with a semi-drunken air. Politely we shook their hands and listened to their slurred Sepedi (which makes it infinitely more challenging to understand), and usually they smiled and moved on. However, there was one man who was enjoying his one-sided conversation with us a little too much, and he refused to leave. A man we were with kindly asked him to step away from us and give us some air, which swung him into a violent rage where he started hitting our friend and saying that he had no right to tell him what to do! Luckily, his intoxicated state resulted in him not being able to maintain his balance, so his punches did not have much force behind them or else he would have thrown himself to the ground. Another man from the wedding party came and escorted him away, and no one was seriously injured. But, a pastor just got punched at a wedding celebration- IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?

Video footage from the Wedding Party

No Hooting

Riding in a taxi around my area of Limpopo you frequently hear the horn sounded. Whether it is to ask people walking down roads if they want transport, to honk at other cars on the roads, or even to get cows goats and chickens out of the road, the horn is one of the most important means of communication for a taxi driver. Riding in this particular taxi I notice a general silence- the horn in our taxi is not functioning. No worries though because over head the taxi driver had placed a yellow vuvuzela to pull down and blow whenever he needed to honk! One of the many uses of the vuvuzela…. IS THIS REALLY MY LIFE?

~Heather Anne Nelson

Merry Christmas to All

As the Christmas season is approaching, we are used to returning home
for the holidays to be with family. We are used to participating in
our traditions of old- of baking christmas cookies, decorating trees,
hanging stockings, and sipping on hot cider to warm us from the chilly
air outside. Sometimes it feels like these things are what makes
Christmas, our family and our traditions, but when these things are
stripped away, doesn't Christmas happen anyways? This year me and 10
other young adults are seperated from our families and homes, we will
not be participating in our typical Christmas traditions, and we will
certainly not be expecting a White Christmas which I am so used to
pining over in the States. We are breaking our traditions and living
alongside our hosts to experience their Christmas traditions, and we
may not be by our blood family, but we are certainly welcomed into the
homes of our South African family. Each of us look forward to this
new experience, and I personally hope to come out of it with a deeper
understanding of what Christmas truly is without the North American
ideals which I typically associate with it.

So from our family here in South Africa to yours- we wish you a very
Merry Christmas- regardless of whether you are snowed in or lathering
on sunscreen on Christmas day we are all celebrating together!




~Heather Anne Nelson

The Non-Existent Personal Bubble

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of travelling back from Polokwane to Masealama via taxi after the workshop that Monene and I attended. I have taken this taxi a few times, and it has always been fairly crowded, because people will come into town to do all of their shopping and then try to transport everything home via taxi, which leads to some very creative packing skills. This particular journey, however, was the most crowded taxi ride that I have experienced to date, and the following is a vivid description of the ride, for those who have never had the pleasure of experiencing the South African taxi system.

Monene and I arrived at the taxis with our bags for the week just in time for the one to Masealama to depart. There were two seats left, one for Monene near the front, and one in the very back row for me to climb into. I left Monene with my luggage and headed to the back row, which was currently being occupied by three very healthy ladies. Typically fitting four in one row is a pretty tight fit, but this was tighter than usual. Doubting whether I could fit in that seat I started to turn around until one of the ladies motioned to me and told me to squeeze in. She slid over as far as she could exposing about a three inch gap between her and the lady beside her- and it is into that three inches that I attempted to squeeze. This process resulted in me half sitting on the lap of the lady to my right with my right arm behind her, and me leaning in behind the lady on my left because we had to zig-zag shoulders to fit properly. Then the man in front of me sat down in his seat which reclined more than usual due to old hinges,,, which resulted in my legs being crossed and squished up near my chest.

Just when I thought we were settled, it turns out the lady to my right had purchased a large red bucket to do her washing in, so it was passed back to our row. After hitting me in the head with this bucket repeatedly, the lady finally got it situated on her lap in a way that suited her, but that meant that it rested right below my chin. Also in the back row the metal frame of the van comes down further than the rest, so now my head is caught in between the metal frame and the rim of this very large red bucket,, resulting in a game of pinball every time we hit a bump in the road.

Now we are situated and ready to go, but our proximity to each other and the heat of the day has caused us to break out into a sweat, so the lady to my left decides to open the window. In the process she has to lean toward me, which results in my head being thrust totally into the bucket (which is filled with peaches and bananas) and my ability to breathe drastically diminishes. But at least now the window is open and we can cool off. So at around this point, the taxi driver starts pulling away, which forces high pressure cool air into the back of the taxi resulting in my untied hair whirling rapidly around in the sudden wind storm. I have no hands to calm the hair, so I just have to let it fly. Soon some hair gets caught in my left eye, so I have to shut the eye for the remainder of the trip since I can’t get the hair out. Then some hair wisps by my right cheek causing me to suddenly itch in that location, but I am unable to scratch it. I seriously debated asking the lady beside me to scratch my face for me, but I am fairly certain that would require being hit in the head again multiple times by the large red bucket.

We are travelling down the road, about five minutes into our hour long journey, and I notice a familiar car to my left on the highway. Looking closer I confirm the color and the style of the car to be identical to that of the Dean’s (a lime green Nissan), who lives 20 feet away from me in Masealama. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony that we could have been riding comfortably with the Dean all the way home but instead we were packed into this taxi like fish in a can. It is a good thing I got rid of my need for personal bubble space a long time ago!

And that is the story of the most crowded taxi ride of all time. If only there had been a live chicken in the bucket.

With Rights comes Responsibilities

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a workshop on Care and Support of Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) provided by the Life Skills, HIV/AIDS Education Program. This workshop was hosted in Mokopane (west of Polokwane in Limpopo), and brought volunteers involved in organizations which deal with OVC’s from around the area together for a week of education and inspiration. Most of us were active members in the Lutheran Church, so our education went hand in hand with biblical scripture and our spiritual beliefs, something which is atypical for an educational workshop in the United States. Mixing education and religion has always been a problem, but here it is comforting to be able to connect the two openly. During our week long workshop we learned about life skills, drug abuse, sexual abuse, HIV/AIDS, nutrition, sexuality education, first aid, and much more- things with which I am already familiar but could use a little refresher, especially when determining how they are affecting South Africa in particular and what is being done in response. I was not expecting to come away from this workshop with a completely altered perspective, but things often happen when you least expect them.

The first day in the workshop we started by listing out all the problems that children and youth in South Africa are currently facing. These problems included poverty, negligence, peer pressure, lack of confidence, teenage pregnancy, human trafficking, prostitution- and the list goes on. All of these problems combined are feeding into the HIV/AIDS epidemic which is currently crippling South Africa, so in order to put an end to HIV/AIDS, we need to start from the source- from the problems which we listed out. An HIV/AIDS free generation can start with the youth and children of today, so our care and support of these children is vital in our fight against this deadly disease.

In the new constitution of South Africa written in 1994, there is a Children’s Bill of Rights which lists out eight fundamental rights given to children. These rights were instated to ensure the proper care and support of all the children in South Africa, and yet to this day these basic rights are still being abused and denied. The rights include a right to a name and identity, the right to be fed, the right to shelter, the right to education and relevant information, and the right to protection, among others. If these rights are listed out in the constitution, how is it that the problems which are currently plaguing the youth and children of South Africa are still so prevalent? The fearless leader of our workshop, Nelly Tlakula, answered that question in a few simple words that changed my perspective forever, with rights comes responsibility. Rights can be given, but if they are not received with a certain amount of responsibility, then they become null and void.

When this Children’s Bill of Rights was established, responsibility was automatically distributed to society as a whole to hold firm these rights. Even the children, the receivers, are responsible. If you are given the right to a name and identity, it is your responsibility to create a positive association with that name. If you have the right to be fed, it is your responsibility to not be gluttonous or wasteful, but to take care of the food and be thankful. If you have the right to shelter, it is your responsibility to be respectful and keep that shelter clean. If you have the right to education and relevant information, it is your responsibility to take it seriously and listen and learn. If you have the right to protection, it is your responsibility to not expose yourself to unnecessary harms.

On the other side, society is also responsible for upholding this Bill of Rights. Parents, guardians, and adults should ensure that their children and all children around (especially OVC’s) have a shelter above their head, food on their table, proper schooling, and protection from harm. Providing these things for your own child is instinctual, but as adults it is our responsibility to provide this care for all children, as if they are our own. In a child headed family, who is there to protect? Who is there to provide food, shelter, and proper schooling? It is not the child’s responsibility to be the giver of these rights, but the receiver. Unfortunately too many orphans and vulnerable children have to fill both roles. They are only children, but are forced to be parents as well. They lose their rights and their childhood if they do not receive the care and guidance they deserve.

What rights are you given, and what are the responsibilities associated with those rights? What are the rights of others that you are responsible to help uphold? In our constitution in the United States of America we are each given the right to freedom of speech. What responsibility does that place on us? We must not use that right to inflict harm through our words or lack there of. The first may be obvious, but apathy and silence in the light of injustice is just as much of a violation of our right and responsibility as using our voice for harm. On the flip side, what responsibility do you have to ensure that others have the right to free speech? We must be tolerant and able to listen to many different views, and ensure that all are heard- even the homeless living in a cardboard box and your 97 year old grandmother.

I have a tendency to compartmentalize my life. The separation of my secular and sacred life makes it easier for me to deal with the contradictions between the two that I stumble across. Instead of addressing those contradictions and determining how I am going to resolve them personally, I simply separate my life into two categories and avoid the conflicts all together- I guess that is part of my non-confrontational manner. But with my experience here in South Africa, where religion freely pervades all life from classroom education to hospital wards, I am forced to de-compartmentalize. The rights we are given do not only come from our government here on Earth, but our higher “government” as well. What are the rights given to us by God? We are given the amazing right of choice- we get to choose who we love- whether it be our creator, false deities, or earthly possessions. God could easily have created us to always know and love him, and live perfect pious lives. But forced love means little- chosen love is much greater. As Christians it is our responsibility to be aware of this choice and do our best to live our lives accordingly. We do need to actively make this choice, and continually remind ourselves that money, fame, and other earthly rewards are blessings given by God and should not become the center points for our lives.

Imagine what the world would be like if everyone took responsibility for the rights they were given- rights from earth and from heaven. It sounds simple, but being aware of the rights and consequent responsibilities that we have and actively responding instead of living our lives being unaware and passive can make a significant difference in this world.

~Heather Anne Nelson

Aowa, eh-eh, UM-UM!

At the workshop I recently attended in Mokopane, we sang many songs during our break to keep our energy levels high and our brains functioning properly during our sessions. One song quickly became the theme song if you will for the workshop, as it was favored by everyone there and everyone got out of their chairs and would start dancing and singing excitedly. To get a flavor of typical "choruses" sung in and outside of church, attached is a video clip,, I hope to record more and more throughout the year! The song is simple and repetitive, so you may find yourself singing it as your day goes on. Just so you know what you are singing about the song is roughly translated as follows :

No, No, NO! Never have I met anyone like my Jesus! (repeat until you can no longer sing and dance!)

I encourage you to get up and dance along!

~Heather Anne Nelson

True Southern Hospitality

We call Masealama an island for a reason. Not only is there no running water and the electricity is hit or miss, but communication is also a major challenge. There are no landlines in Masealama, so the only possible means of communication is via cell phone, but network coverage is very rare. You are lucky if you can get two bars standing over the stove. So how do you stay connected with the outside world when you are stranded on this “island”??? The answer is—you don’t.

This past week I was supposed to attend a workshop on HIV/AIDS in a hotel two hours away in Mokopane. Monene (a lady I work with) and I left on Sunday night to Mokopane to check in to our rooms which we were very excited about—a week of running water!!! So we arrive at Oasis Lodge around 6 o’clock on Sunday night, only to be greeted by a receptionist who told us she didn’t have any reservations for our conference… Through many calls and speaking with the coordinator of the workshop, we came to find out that the date had been changed to next week, and everyone else who was attending the workshop was apparently informed, but those of us from Masealama were left off the radar. So now we are in a town 2 hours away from home with no car and no means of transportation because the taxis had already ended for the evening, and no place to stay for the night. Luckily, we were blessed with a very kind receptionist at the hotel named Sibongile, and she was nice enough to give us a room free for the evening! If I was in the States and stranded in a random town late at night, I am pretty sure I would have to pay for a room, but here we experienced an act of TRUE southern hospitality coming from the SOUTHERN hemisphere in SOUTH Africa. I look forward to returning next week for the actual conference J

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending the annual Gala Dinner of the ELCSA Mphome Circuit, and although a power outage the night before limited the life of my camera's battery, I was able to capture this clip. Among other musical treats, the Kgapane Choir performed a very familiar tune which I thoroughly enjoyed. Although it was 32 degrees Celcius and ripe time to pick bananas off the trees outside, this Christmas tune reminded me of exactly what SEASON I am about to enter. Although it may not be the weather season which I expect, we are all about to enter into the best time of the year (in my opinion)- the church season of Advent and CHRISTMAS!!! It is time to bust out the Christmas music, as I will be doing! I'll be singing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" while wearing sandals and shorts and sweating under the sweltering heat of the South African summer sun... Won't be the same, but it is the Christmas season none-the-less. Enjoy the clip!

~Heather Anne Nelson