A Journey With Injustice, Part III

Injustice is a funny thing. We care about it deeply when it affects us directly, but when it doesn't, we quietly accept it and go about our daily lives. We may feel a fleeting sense of pity or offer our expert advice on how to arrive at a solution to the issue, but we don't really care. Yet we must! I complained about my daughter's first week of school, but do you want to know what injustice really is?

• Injustice is having to dig old newspapers out of a trash can to use as toilet paper.
• Injustice is being raped as a toddler by someone who was told that is the way to "cure" HIV/AIDS.
• Injustice is not being able to send your children to school because you can't afford the uniforms or school supplies.
• Injustice is not being able to get a job because of your skin colour, not having any political representation, and carrying around the stigma of your forefathers' mistakes, forever being the "bad guy" just because of your ethnicity.
• Injustice is being born into a country where you have no future because of your social class.
• Injustice is being sold as a child and sent to work as a sex slave.
• Injustice is being ten years old and being the head of your household, burdened with the responsibility of providing food, shelter and clothing for your younger siblings.

What my daughter endured is nothing to what millions of people around the world endure every day with no end in sight. I feel ashamed for being so self-centred and for complaining about so "small" a thing. Two ideas begin to emerge in my mind: the need to fight for others who suffer injustice as much as I would fight for my family, and the idea that how I teach my children to respond to injustice will profoundly affect their future.

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A Journey With Injustice, Part II

When we moved to South Africa, it was a combination of several things - our desire to make the most of our lives, a sense of God's leading/calling, and our love for the different peoples and cultures of the world. We knew this was a big decision and would affect our children, but we largely imagined that it would affect them positively. We anticipated the challenges of moving half a world away... for us, but not for our children.

I have muddled my way through culture shock, navigated bureaucracy, been robbed and had things stolen more times than I want to recall, and felt generally overwhelmed and confused. I have eaten sheep eyeballs, brains, mopani worms, fermented milk and intestines. I have been lost, run off the road by taxi drivers, and bribed by policeman multiple times (and no, I never gave in). But if you mess with my kids, that's a whole different game!

The "mother hen" in me wanted to protect my daughter from the injustice she was suffering at school. I wanted to fight on her behalf, take this matter up with the headmaster, and change the world for the better (but let's be honest - I wanted to change the world for her benefit). And then I looked around me... and saw injustice everywhere.

My bubble was burst. I was humbled. I was ashamed. I realised how much the American values of safety, security and entitlement were ingrained into my mindset, and how they clashed with the South African values of hierarchy, family and relationships over individual preferences, and survival.

So what now? How do I bridge the culture gap, help my child, and deal with my own feelings? It's not always so easy...

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A Journey With Injustice, Part I

After five years in South Africa, I thought I pretty much knew what to expect... and then my daughter entered high school. Unlike in the U.S., high school in South Africa is from Grades 8-12. Many schools require the Grade 8's to go through an initiation during the first week. If you are looking for an American equivalent, it's akin to what university students who want to join a fraternity or sorority must go through - hazing.

haze, v. To subject (freshmen, newcomers, etc.) to abusive or humiliating tricks and ridicule.

My daughter had to wear her uniform inside out and backwards, paint her face to look like a clown, wear three ponytails in her hair and a large nametag the size of a paper plate with ridiculous information written on it, and she was not allowed to wear shoes. She was made to walk barefoot on hot cement, had to hold hands with other random Grade 8's and march around the school, was subjected to long hours at school, and had to ask permission to greet anyone, addressing them as "Commander" or "Admiral". The worst part was when she had to spend the weekend at school, was deprived of sleep, made to write a test on the history of the school at four in the morning and then shouted at for not performing well. Needless to say, the result of this week left my daughter in tears every day, terrified of making a mistake, fearful of every teacher and Grade 12 student, and not wanting to attend school ever again. What happened to the "Learning is Fun" mantra that is part of the American mindset? Are different countries' systems of education that different?

I was shocked. I was horrified. I wanted to howl and throw a temper tantrum and cry "Unfair!" I paced in my kitchen. I ranted and raved to no one in particular. I was angry. I wanted to give the school - and the whole country - a piece of my mind. This was unjust!

But what to do?

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The First Bloom

One can always tell what month it is in South Africa by which tree is blooming, or which insect is flying around. In October, the jacaranda trees bloom. In November, the Christmas beetles come out. In December, butterflies are everywhere. And I know it's January because my young bauhinia tree is blooming.

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The Blessing of Jet Lag

Jet lag is the bane of travel. Being able to see the world and engage with different cultures is amazing, but trying to stay awake (both coming and going) can be a challenge the first week.

Everyone has their way of coping with jet lag. I call mine the "mind over matter" method - I just make myself be in whatever time zone I'm in. If it's time to eat, I eat, regardless of whether or not I'm hungry. If it's time to be awake, I make myself stay awake. This has always worked well for me... until now.

Coming back from the States, I have had such a hard time sleeping through the night. My body wakes up at 4:00 each morning, and no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it's time to sleep, my body refuses to sleep. Sigh... I could complain, but I discovered something that made it all worth it:

I've been listening to the crickets each night. Their rhythmic chirping has kept me company on these sleepless nights. I also discovered something I've never heard before: there is a moment when the first bird begins to sing - before the sun rises - which signals that morning is soon upon us. As more birds join the chorus, the crickets slowly stop their chirping until one hears only birds. It is a smooth transition, and it is a magical moment. The night shift gives way to the day shift. How do they know when to start singing? What prompts that first bird? I have no idea, but I know I would never have been able to marvel in it if it weren't for jet lag.

I wonder how many other distasteful things in life hold hidden blessings?

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Thoughts on Returning To South Africa

"Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer's paradise, a hunter's Valhalla, an escapist's Utopia. It is what you will, and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or the cradle of a shiny new one. To a lot of people, as to myself, it is just 'home'. It is all these things but one thing - it is never dull." 

- Beryl Markham

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First Impressions Upon Returning to the States

1. I keep looking for the light switch to the bathroom outside of the bathroom... I forgot that you are allowed to have electricity inside the bathrooms here.
2. The toilet paper is so soft and fluffy! I actually feel a twinge of guilt that my bum is experiencing such high levels of luxury... is it really necessary?
3. Drive on the right. Drive on the right. Drive on the right.
4. The things people complain about are funny to me. I caught myself wanting to say, "Really?" a few times.
5. I miss the birds and the thunderstorms of South Africa already.
6. Starbucks! There will always be an element of "hopelessly American" in me, I suppose.
7. It's such a treat to drive on a freeway that a) is free and b) doesn't have any roadworks! Wow!
8. The pet hospital is bigger than most health clinics in South Africa. I feel embarrassed of this and frustrated on behalf of South Africans.
9. Grandma's cooking still rocks, even though she's 96!
10. I appreciate roots and history I have here, but it's clear that I'm a visitor now and not a resident. This is both pleasing and strange.

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