An American friend of mine describes life in a third-world (or in South Africa’s case, barely first-world) country as T.I.N.A. – This Is Not America. For example, when it takes eight weeks for a package to get from the U.S. to Africa, Tina was likely on duty in the post office. Or when you go to the doctor with a wicked case of the flu and he spends all of five minutes examining and talking to you, he’s probably being assisted by his nurse, Tina.
This week Living Hope took two busloads of Grade 6 and 7 kids to camp, and Tina was clearly along for the ride. Here’s a timeline of my day on Monday:
8:00 a.m. – Pick up kids from Red Hill in personal car.
8:30 a.m. – Arrive at Masiphumelele Township, designated pickup spot for bus transport.
10:30 a.m. – Board bus two hours late because originally contracted company had no vehicles available and had to subcontract to another company.
11:00 a.m. – Arrive in Capricorn Township to pick up remaining group of children.
11:15 a.m. – Get off bus because drivers refuse to leave Capricorn until they are paid by original contractor. Stand around for two hours while company owner is tracked down and brought to Capricorn with money in hand.
1:30 p.m. – Paid in full, driver turns ignition key and finds battery dead due to having run air conditioner with engine switched off during 2.5-hour delay.
1:35 p.m. – Jump-start engine, depart for Camp Wortelgat.
2:10 p.m. – Stop in township on outskirts of city so driver can drop off bag of onions for wife. (Seriously – not making this up.)
4:30 p.m. – Arrive at Camp Wortelgat. Begin 30-minute walk with sixth-graders to “Gecko Bush Camp,” home for next two days.
The rest of the trip went mostly without incident and was a tremendous time of fellowship, team-building and, hopefully, spiritual growth for the kids. Tuesday saw intermittent rain all day, but we managed to get in some rock climbing and kayaking, both of which, not surprisingly, scared some children while energizing others. We ended the day with a “concert” in which kids from each of the six huts we stayed in came up with a song or skit to perform. My group of boys read John 3:16, followed by singing, and then rapping, Jesus Loves Me. (What, you’ve never heard a group of 12-year-old African boys rap a classic Sunday school song?)
From group activities to meals to down time in the huts, the camp was a great opportunity to deepen relationships and share the love of Christ with the kids. I’ve learned not to be surprised by some of the things they say and ask. One boy from Red Hill, for example, asked me at breakfast to show him how to eat properly with a fork and knife. Things like that, which are second-nature to most of us, remind me what a hard life kids face when growing up in poverty.
On the other hand, boys are pretty much the same no matter where they live in the world. They insult one another, because that’s the way male friends show affection. They delight in flatulence, because it’s a universally funny language. They run and jump and swing from the rafters because, deep down, they are adventurers. One day not long ago at Red Hill, I was walking to my car when I saw a group of boys gathered around a 55-gallon oil drum that was being used as a waste bin. As I got closer I saw two legs waving wildly and realized they had stuffed one of their friends in head-first. Outwardly I had to order them to help the boy out of his predicament; inwardly I was thinking, “Oh yeah, my friends absolutely would have done the same thing at that age.”
The ride home was shorter than the outbound trip, but still wearisome. En route I had received word that the bus would take my kids all the way home to Red Hill. But when we arrived at Living Hope’s headquarters, I was told I would need to help transport them back. It seems the driver had refused on the grounds that travel to Red Hill was not part of the original agreement.
Of course, neither had an onion delivery been part of the original agreement. I was sorely tempted to get in the driver’s face and tell him as much. But I knew it wouldn’t change the circumstances. Because Tina was riding shotgun and she was the one in charge.
See below for more images from Camp Wortelgat.
1 comment:
That is so true.......TINA was always w me in Swaziland and particularly in Kenya when I spent 10 hours in a traffic jam because some truck drivers were having problems deciding how to fix the traffic issue and the police were overwhelmed by situation....so no directing of traffic just waiting for each truck to decide when they would go or let others in. .....still it was an amazing day with lots of unusual sights to take in. We even managed to create a bathroom in the side ditch with two girls holding sarongs and one letting nature take it's course.
Caroline Griffith
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