Thoughts after 1 year in South Africa.

Yesterday was our 1 year anniversary of being in South Africa.  We talked to the kids about that milestone today. Whether it had gone quickly or slowly and what they remember about what had happened in a year.  I haven't blogged much at all and I know I am going to regret that when we are back in New Zealand and want to reminisce.  

For me, I can't believe it has only been 1 year.  It feels like we have been here a LONG time. So much has happened, so much growth in our little family, in our marriage, and in my soul.  

This will be Lucy and Oliver's last term at their private school.  From July we are going to home school. It is a decision that has not been taken lightly and one where I have dragged my heels but ultimately I think it is the right thing for us to do.  The private school fees were killing us and with no luck in being able to enrol the kids in the 'good, english speaking' state schools which are a 30+ minute drive away it was the only option in the end.  We also kept coming back to what our reasons were for coming here. They were to travel with our kids and expose them to different cultures, we wanted it to be a family adventure, to grow closer as a family through shared experiences.  

It wasn't to spend my days as taxi driver, dropping them off at a private school which in itself is a lovely school but on the other hand just didn't feel like a true representation of South Africa.  We were only getting to spend a few hours a day with the kids in the evening after a full day when they were tired and cranky.  And as for traveling, after paying the school fees there wasn't much left to save for travel. We know our time here isn't forever and we really want to make the most of it so the decision was made.  I have a feeling our 2nd year here is going to look very different. 

And to be honest, I hope it does.  Even though we live in South Africa, we actually live in a little bubble in Franschhoek.  It may as well be Havelock North in New Zealand.  While this makes our parents feel more comfortable about us living here my conscious is pricked daily. This town where we live is run by a lot of wealth.  Mostly foreign white wealth.  If you are of colour in Franschhoek then chances are you work in the service industry.  Apartheid ended over 20 years ago but go to a restaurant in Franschhoek and most the people at the tables will be white and most the staff coloured or black.  Through the eyes of our children,  it is white people spending money, and it is the coloured or blacks that do all the work that white people don't want to. In their eyes, brown or black skin means you are poor and white skin means you are rich.  This isn't the case in all of south Africa.  In Joberg for example there is a huge and growing black middle and upper class but it doesn't feel like this has filtered down to Franschhoek yet.

It's been a year but I still struggle with the guilt of being a 'have' while surrounded in so many 'have nots.'  Probably because what we have isn't something we earned.  We were just for whatever reason lucky to have been born in the country to the parents we were, and given the education and opportunities that we took for granted. 

And you would think that I would be doing all I could to help but I don't.  

Last night after arriving home from a church woman's conference I passed a black lady on the side of the road. It was dark and I was concerned for her safety so I stopped.  I instantly recognised her as Elizabeth, a woman that had come to our house a few weeks earlier selling baskets.  I had no cash to buy a basket but she asked if I had anything else, clothes, shoes, bedding etc.  I had just done a big clean out so I invited her in to wait while I sorted through some stuff.  I gave her a bag of clothes and shoes then she asked for children's clothes or shoes so I went on another hunt.  I gave her a bag of those, then she asked for some cheese and jam for her 2 bits of bread so I made her up a sandwich. Then she asked for a cup of tea, then a biscuit, then some cake,  then some juice.  The poor lady probably hadn't eaten all day but if I'm honest I was kinda put out by her lack of gratitude and her expectation that I should give her all I could.  I had to pick the kids up for school so I told her I needed to go, then she asked for money for a taxi. I gave her what I had which was a few dollars and she said she will come back to visit me soon.  In my head I was thinking yeah, I don't think I'll be home next time Elizabeth pops by. 

So fast forward to last night when I wound down my window to see if she was all right. She had missed her ride home which was to a town over the pass just under an hours drive away in a township I was unfamiliar with. She asked if I would drive her home.  I said "I'm sorry, I've been gone all weekend and I'm tired and just want to see my kids, I can't drive you home."  Then she asked if I had somewhere for her to sleep for the night then.  To which I said "I'm sorry Elizabeth, no I don't. A ride will come by soon I'm sure. I can't help you. I'm sorry." and I drove home. 

It was a big lie.  We have several spare rooms, we have food in our cupboards and blankets to share. I could help her but I was feeling selfish and so made the claim that I can't. 

Nathan is going through a stage at the moment of saying "I cannnnnnn't" When I ask him to clean up his toys or put his apple core in the bin.  I lovingly say to him.  "you can, you just don't want to. They are different things."

I walked in the door, heard the kids and Marcus upstairs doing the bath and bedtime rituals. I zapped some dinner in the microwave and sat down to eat it but I felt terrible. It was going to be a cold night. I pictured Elizabeth curled up for the night under a tree trying to keep warm.  I pictured our spare room, the bed already made up lying empty while a woman who needed somewhere to sleep stood a few blocks away.  Marcus and the kids came downstairs and I filled Marcus in on my moral dilemma. He is such a good man. He said, "Anna, do what you need to do."  I grabbed the car keys and headed back out to find Elizabeth I drove up and down the road, calling out her name, looking for her in the dark but couldn't find her.  She had, I hope got a ride home after all.  I said a prayer for her safety and repented of my selfishness. 

That was last night and I have been reflecting on my apathy all day.  On why I don't help, when there is so much obvious need all around me. There was a time in my life when I all I wanted to do was be a teacher in poverty torn Africa. I was sure I could fix most of the world's problems with some hugs and some smiles. What has happened to me since then? My idealism has turned to realism and the problem feels so very big. 

I don't help I think, because I feel overwhelmed in knowing where to start.  Because I'm not sure of the best way to help. Because I'm scared of becoming too involved. Because if I help one, then I will need to help many.  Because I want to see the end picture and know that what I do makes a difference. Because I want my family to be priority and I'm scared if I get involved I will put them at risk or deprive them. 

I am reading an amazing book at the moment called When helping hurts. It is so good and is challenging me on so many levels.  It is slow reading because I literally can only read a few pages at a time before I have to stop and process what I've read. I am hoping it is going to equip me with some tools for dealing with all this and for teaching the kids. Because that is ultimately what we want our children to learn. Gratitude for all their blessings. Yes.   But also the desire to help those less fortunate. 

I will try to blog more of this journey but for now, sleep beckons. I'll leave you with some wise words form Nelson.

Post script: The day after I posted this Elizabeth turned up on my doorstep asking for a place to sit out of the rain while she waited for the Hospice shop to open.  She had apparently left her Zimbabwean Bible on a taxi and she had been tracking it back and forth for a week eventually learning that it had ended up in the hospice and was waiting for her.  She was anxious to get it back.   I was so grateful to see her. She had ended up spending the night at another Zimbabwean lady's shack across the road from where I saw her the night before.  When she told me,  I again felt the pang of shame that a woman with little means had shown more mercy than I in opening her humble home to Elizabeth on a cold night.  I don't know why Elizabeth keeps popping into my life. I don't even know if I will ever see her again, but I'm glad that the encounter with her has forced me to confront feelings that I had pushed aside. I am also glad that I got to see her today to share a cup of tea and some stories with.