The Short Run to Freedom

I think one of the things I have learned the most since moving to South Africa is how disgustingly prideful I am. I feel like I am constantly having to suck up my pride, which is certainly nothing to be proud of because it makes me realize how big of a beast my pride is... Thankfully this is something that I'm learning and growing in. Here is my most recent pride-sacrifice --> blessing I have experienced...

This morning there was the annual Freedom Run at the Drakenstein Prison (about 3 mi from Bridges Academy). This is the last prison where Nelson Mandela stayed before being released in 1990. There is a statue in front of the prison of Nelson Mandela in the same pose he had when walking out of the prison. (If you are looking for a nice long read, check out '"The Long Walk to Freedom" - Nelson Mandela's autobiography)

Because he was in prison for a total of 27 years, the longest race of the Freedom run is 27km. It counts down, not in km but in years so the 10k marker would say "17 years", counting down to the 27km finish or 0 years (FREEDOM!!!). There is also a 10k run and a 5k walk/fun run. 19 of the Bridges Academy students, one house parent, and our school principal had signed up to do the 5k run. I have been running with a running club in Stellenbosch for almost a year now and Saturdays are our long runs (15 to 42 km). This week I was planning to do the 27km race, but was too late and missed the registration date. I begged someone on the phone to do the 27, but he said, "you can still do the 5k!" and I laughed a little and said thanks and hung up. (I have turned into a running SNOB...ew.)

Then I started thinking about it and went ahead and signed up to do the 5k with my kids. While driving from home to the school, I had to drive past the 27km run and pass one of the guys I usually run with. We had to distribute shoes to some of our students who didn't have "tekkies" (running shoes) for the race (once we got there - saw that about 25% of the kids participating did not have shoes...).

We all warmed up for the race together - I led them in a little jog and stretch, but the kids added their own flair to it with a bit-o clapping and singing that I certainly would have not come up with. While we were waiting for the race to start, they started playing games all together - in 1 group in Xhosa - involving singing and dancing and a bunch of other kids came up and just watched. Then our kids invited them in to join and I wanted to hug all of my kids. I really get so proud of them sometimes. They are so good with younger kids, so inviting, loving... They explained the games to the other kids and made sure that they all felt included. I couldn't stop smiling

Then the race started. I took off with Bongeka and Zandile (one of our new grade 8 kids). Zandile stayed with me for atleast the first km, then decided to start walking. Soon after, I saw Ayanda walking and told him to run with me. He ran with me the whole rest of the race!!! I was running fast for me (that's not saying a lot, but I do run pretty often and Ayanda probably only runs when we do stuff like this). We ran through the farms and barracks at the prison and looped back around. At the last km, he said "Yoh!" and started walking, but I convinced him that 1 km isn't too bad and he ran through the end. We then cheered on everyone else that came through. (I kept running to the guy with the microphone telling him specific things to say to our kids like "Hey, Bridges Academy girls - if you don't run through the finish line, the bus is leaving without you!" or "Bridges Academy - no walking! Either run or dance it out!" It was pretty great...)

There was live music (cheesy Afrikaans pop)and some little stands around after the race. Our kids found one that were giving away free prizes for playing a game. Our kids (like most kids/human beings) love free stuff, so they grabbed me because they needed to have an adult with them. So the "game" ended up being to look through a bank brochure and be able to find the answer to the question "How much do you have to pay to use another ATM" and win a pen, pad of paper, and a lanyard to hold keys. Real fun... The kids were a bit disappointed. Then the guy (realizing that his advertizing attempts were sadly lost on our demographic) said "Yeah, so tell your parents about our bank so that they sign up with us". Jokes on him, they don't have parents! So in the car on the way back I heard the kids talking about that line and laughing. I told my kids that I thought of telling the guy, "That's me, sir", but I didn't to save on a long explanation. They said I should have said it.

Once again, I am reminded how freaking much I love these kids and how blessed I am to be doing what I'm doing. Running a 27k would have been great for my ego, but running a 5k was great for my soul.

Step Up

One of the great things about our students this year is that we have a pretty big graduating (matric) class of 8 students (4 boys and 4 girls). Last year there were only 2 matrics (both girls) and it made for a bit of lopsidedness in terms of student leadership. (As an update – both passed and should be starting university!!! Well done girls!) This year’s group of 12th graders (and 11th graders) have so much potential to take on responsibility and lead the younger kids. I’ve been seeing it a lot from the boys so far and am hoping to see it more in the girls in the coming months.
Odwa, one of our students who has been here since the school opened, has taken an extra step up. At the end of last year he was pushing the limits a bit, toying with the difficult decision to be a positive leader, or a leader of mischief and ruckus-causing… So far, I have been incredibly impressed by the maturity he has brought with him to the beginning of this school year. Over the summer he had his Xhosa tribal initiation ceremony. It’s a full-on National Geographic- type coming of age ceremony involving fending for yourself for days in the wilderness and yes, some blood-letting… I don’t know everything that goes on, but do know that once someone has gone through this process, they are no longer seen as a boy, but are accepted as a man by the tribe and expected to act as one. I can see that Odwa has taken this quite seriously in the way he dresses (he arrived at the school with an off-white dress coat, dress pants, and a newsie hat), the way he respects his elders, and in his general attitude toward others. He used to always want to be in the middle of mischief and now he is focusing more on his studies and is by far the most polite student at the school. Keep it up!

Changes

If this were Pee-wee’s Playhouse, the magic word of the day, nay, year, would be “Change” (cue loud yelling from everyone including the couch). Bridges Academy has undergone a tsunami of change in the few months I was away. I have never been a fan of change, but so far things have been running smoothly in an awkward, bumpy, way. Aside from the obvious leaving home and moving to Africa thing, here are some of the additional changes:

The first major change was in school administration. The head teacher, Jenni Feldman, who had been here since the beginning of Bridges Academy resigned. In her place, we took on two Peters – Peter Pederson and Peter Sawyers. I have been able to see Jenni and her family of Feldmans pretty frequently, but they live about 40 min away, so I can’t see them too often unfortunately. Jenni is pretty amazing. I’ve admired her organization, confidence, and ability to play about 50 roles at the same time since I met her 3 years ago, and have even more of an admiration for those abilities now that we are trying to sort out how to attempt to do all the tiny things she used to do at the school. When she left the school, the Feldman’s left the cottage next to the Academy, so that is where Cece, Kristy and I are living now. It is a great house, and is starting to feel a little less strange. I’ll probably always think of it as the Feldman’s house with some great memories of family dinners attached.

The two Peter’s are wonderful. Peter Pederson is the school’s head – so he is taking on more of the principal roll. He is also teaching some classes and is doing a fantastic job. He is settling and sorting out problems as they come up. He is incredibly kind, genuine, and is very passionate about teaching these kids and seeing them succeed. Peter Sawyers was at Bridges a couple years ago and was already familiar with most of the kids before being hired on this year as a full-time school chaplain. His job is to encourage, emphasize and guide the spiritual aspects of the school. He is incredibly joyful, always encouraging, and so creative. He has done a great job so far at planning activities for the school, organizing our morning devotion times, and making sure everyone is doing ok.

In other staffing changes, we are missing two other faces from last year – Annette, the grade 7 teacher who took on a new position this year at a local school, and John, our counselor. I’m hoping to still see a bit of both of them hopefully some time soon. We also hired on some new teachers, Sarie (an Africans math teacher) and Washington (a Zimbabwean religious studies and English teacher). Both have been so nice to work with so far. I am very lucky to work with such a great staff of like-minded people. All of us share in wanting provide the Academy students with the academic, social, and spiritual tools they will need to have a great future and stay on the right track.

We have also lost some students and gained some students. Just after I left at the end of September, there was an incident at the school involving three boys, an altercation, a pair of scissors, and about a 12 inch gash in one of the boy’s face that is now a dramatic scar from his hair down to his chin. Needless to say, the other two boys involved were expelled and are not at Bridges this year. I was sad to hear about the incident, and sad that the boys had done what they did. Both students had great potential, but made a very poor and scary decision that ended their time at Bridges.

On a positive note, we have welcomed an absolutely delightful new 9th grader from Gugulethu named Bongeka. She is so sweet and has joined in the rankings of “best smile” at Bridges. She has had a great attitude and has made friends quickly. She is very bright, participates in class, loves reading, and is just a great kid. I’m so glad she’s at the school and that I have the opportunity to teach her! Today we also had another girl come from Philippi to take her placement tests for the school. She may be joining us later this week!

The Retreat Center is also undergoing a heap of change. We are surrounded by construction on the pool, property road, kitchen and basketball court. There is a constant layer of dust on everything, but things are getting done quickly and look great so far! The Duncans also have some friends who came from Cali and have been working on beautiful paintings around the retreat center.

Last change for now– I do miss my friends Maia, Leeanne and Emily who I had the pleasure of teaching and serving with when I was last here. It is always hard to start over again meeting new people and building new relationships, especially when you miss old friends. It really has a much different vibe without them. Still good, but in a different way.

As much as I pretend I don’t care much for change, there is something very refreshing about it. It often is paired with loss, which is never easy, but I trust that God knows what he is doing and I know that good things are coming and are already here. Bring on the change!

Getting Here

After an incredibly restful 4 months back home (so much more could be said here to fill in the 4 month blank, but I'll leave it at that), I took off from LAX the evening of Jan 10th to start the journey back to Cape Town. I had an uneventful flight to London, then on to Cairo for a 24 hr extended layover.

I got in to Cairo around midnight on the 12th, and left around midnight on the 13th. Khaled the driver (for those of you who visited me in Egypt know Khaled well) picked me up so I was met by a smiling familiar face. I got dropped off at my friends Jen and Emily's apartment and crashed hard. I woke up early to the call to prayer from the mosque across the street, had a nice day of going to the gym, my favorite coffee shop, a massage from the Moroccan hammam, my favorite fruit stand, a yoga class, and practicing my arabic and and chatting it up with some of the familiar faces at all of the aforementioned places! I got to meet up with some friends that I taught with later that evening at the ACE club and left from the airport from there. That's where things got a little more interesting!

I was saying my goodbyes at the ACE when my phone rang. It was Khaled. I started apologizing for being late getting out to the front of the ACE, but he interrupted me and said, "No! I'm not there! There's riots on the Autostraud and I can't get there to pick you up!" So, that meant I had to grab a cab from the street, convince him to take me to the airport, and use the meter, and take the Ring Road instead of the Autostraud. It took some frantic arguing with none less than 4 cabs before I was on my way with a driver who was not sure how to get to the airport. Eventually we got there, a bit later than planned, but I made the flight and all was well for flight #3.

My flight from Cairo left a bit late, and landed a bit late in Johannesburg. I picked up my luggage and went through customs. I then had to re-check my luggage (a very large, heavy and awkwardly packed backpack) quickly and get my next boarding pass before my next plane left for Cape Town about 40 min later. I made it through the process and went to my gate. There were very few people waiting there, which should have concerned me. I then heard a final boarding call for my flight and looked again at the empty gate and my boarding pass. I was at the right gate, but...what? the time was wrong, and the NAME was wrong. I am not nor will I ever be Mr. Cotton.

I ran to the gate where my flight was supposed to leave from and explained my situation. The first question they asked was, "Well, who checked you in?" Uh... Their solution was to have my bag taken off of the Mr. Cotton's flight (which I ended up on) and for me to pick it up and re-check it with the same person who checked me in to begin with (retrace my steps from my 20 min sprint through the airport earlier - with a busted Achilles, mind you...), and have him re-check me for the next flight (Mr. Cotton's flight) if I could take care of all that business before the flight actually took off. To spare the boring details, I retraced all the steps and not one went smoothly. The man at the baggage said he would just cancel the order to take the bag off, so pretend I was Mr. Cotton, and the lady at the check in desk (clearly not the man who had checked me in) was having her own issues that day. But, I made it on the Cotton flight and made it to Cape Town! My luggage didn't, but I wasn't surprised. I really was just happy to be where I was supposed to be.

The luggage did get there later that evening - perfect timing when we went back to the airport to pick up another teacher.

Phew!

Old Friends in New Places

One of the greatest ways I have been blessed again and again is by being surrounded by wonderful people. I have an incredible family (with each member quirky in our own ways), and a great bunch of loving, unique friends scattered all over the world. I have had to say bye to people so many times not knowing when or if I will see them again.

In my 2 weeks back in South Africa, I have had the chance to spend some great quality time with 3 great friends from the past (and one new friend).

Exhibit A - Jen and Joe Welsh – Two close friends from my first two years teaching in Cairo. Jen is my go-to definition of hospitality. I don’t know that I will ever meet anyone who can beat her in that category (see my “Steph’s Cairo Life” blog on Christmas in Cairo from 2 yrs ago). She is one of the most unselfish people I know and is so full of love to those around her. We got to be great friends pretty early on in my time there, and I got to watch as she met, dated, and fell in love with Joe, the witty Welshman who was teaching at our British sister-school. They are such a great couple and I loved spending time with them. They got married in 2008 (luckily the wedding was in California and sparked an epic road trip with my friend Sarah to make it there) and moved to Malawi to teach shortly after the wedding. Well, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes moving to one of the poorest countries in the world and a trip to Cape Town to deliver a baby in modern facilities! So, perfect timing – Jen and Joe were in Cape Town for a while to deliver their baby boy, Caleb! Joe picked me up from the airport, and we headed over to visit Jen and Caleb. It was sooooooo good to see them! They took me home (to Bridges) and I got to show them around a bit of the property. Joe left last week to head back to Malawi to teach, but I got to visit Jen again this last weekend and have some great talking time. She is such a good friend. Such a refreshing, honest, real person. I do miss our conversations so much, and am beyond thankful that I had the chance to spend some more time with her in such an unlikely situation. She is heading back to Malawi in a couple days, and I don’t know when or where I will see the Welch’s again, but I know I will. (inshaallah)


Here are some pics of Jen, Joe and Caleb, and of the Cairo crew at their wedding.

Exhibit B – Sarah Guhrung – Sarah is a friend I met during my first visit to Cairo to coach at Wadi Sports Camps in 2005. We had many adventures together with another coach, Lori, that summer. The 3 of us were a force to be reckoned with. Sarah is from Germany, but was living in Florida to attend college. She stuck around in the US for a bit before moving to... Cape Town! Crazy! Her brothers are also living out here. We actually hung out while I was here a couple months ago, and have met up a couple times since I’ve been back. She introduced me to a great church that I have gone to for the last 2 weekends, and a great beach! Ah, summer in January… It is so good to have an old friend nearby and I look forward to hanging out with her in the months to come!

Here is a picture of Sarah, Me and Lori on top of Mt. Sinai back in 2005


So, the moral of the story (stories?): God is really good. It’s little “coincidences” like this that put a smile on my face, like God is sitting there saying, “Don’t worry. I see you. I’m taking care of you.” A good reminder that I am blessed and that God is bigger than I usually think he is.

Robben Island, Soccer, and What Little I Know About Apartheid

Robben Island is a small, flat island off the coast of Cape Town where political prisoners were held during Apartheid (probably the most famous prisoner being Nelson Mandela who spent over 20 years on Robben Island). The island has a long history as a leper colony, World War II training facility, and prison, but it wasn’t until 1961 that the first Apartheid political prisoners arrived (and 1991 that the last political prisoners left).
When I came to visit Bridges Academy last spring, I was a bit humbled by how little I knew about Apartheid – and still am. In the airport on my way back to Egypt, I went on a hunt for a readable book to teach me more about the recent history that created the unbalanced social strata that still exists today. After a long, critical book search, I came across More Than Just a Game : Soccer vs. Apartheid, a book about the Makana Football Association that was formed by prisoners on Robben Island. The book explained a bit of the history of Apartheid, blended into the context of the prisoner’s passion for soccer.
Most of the prisoners on Robben Island were highly educated and had been leaders for political groups fighting for a freedom and equality in South Africa. The prison contained people who have become doctors, lawyers, scientists, and the presidents of South Africa. The white guards did anything they could to degrade and demoralize the prisoners. They gave common law prisoners authority over the political prisoners (sometimes as guards), allowing them more privileges like better food and jobs on the island. When the political prisoners were first brought to the island, the common law prison facility was too small to house the huge influx of prisoners, so they were forced to work long hours in the limestone quarry breaking off rock that they would later use to build their own prison. Food rations were allotted based on race: Whites, coloreds, and blacks would all be given different amounts of food in the prison with the black food portion being the smallest portion with the least amount of nutrition.
To combat the dehumanizing attempts by the guards, the prisoners pulled together to form a soccer association. The organization of soccer on Robin Island is pretty unbelievable – until you consider who was doing the organizing. They had negotiated with the prison for years, consistently bringing up their case as to why they felt the game of soccer was important to life and work on the island. With each request usually came a punishment, but eventually the prison gave in and allowed them the privilege. There were individual clubs that involved managers and contracts, trading, schedules, tournaments, and awards. Most prisoners on the island, and guards for that matter, became loyal fans to the different clubs. The prisoners had fashioned goal posts out of driftwood and would carefully maintain the field that they worked so hard to attain. Teams would train and discuss strategies quietly in their cells at night or out in the quarry during the day.
Soccer on Robin Island provided the prisoners with the opportunity to exercise not only their bodies, but their minds. They were able to assume similar roles that they had played before life on the island by organizing, strategizing, negotiating, and networking. The prisoners wanted to make sure that every prisoner on the island had rights and opportunities and that everyone was treated equally – especially since they had been denied these rights in every other way on the island. The prison guards would sometimes use the right to play soccer against them by randomly deciding that soccer would not be taking place on certain weeks. The prisoners would then use their right to play as a sort of hunger strike – to forfeit their rights so that the prison could not use it against them.
Anyways, read the book. It’s fascinating. Apparently there is a movie as well, but I haven’t seen it yet.
About 3 weeks ago, Cece, Leeanne, Maia and I had the chance to take the Grade 8 class to Robben Island. The grade 8 class is pretty notorious for being the toughest bunch for teachers to handle, so we were looking forward to the chance to hang out with the students in a context outside of school (Especially in a context where we didn’t have to be their teachers, but were fellow students). Jenni dropped us off at the water front where we walked around with the kids and had a little photo shoot while we waited for the boat to take off. We then boarded the boat for Robben Island.
As we pulled out of the harbor, the boat’s safety video came on, followed by a video on the history of Robin Island. As soon as we left the harbor area, we didn’t hear any of it because everyone was yelling and laughing hysterically as the boat rocked like mad through the choppy water. We had a couple full barf bags by the end of our trip. Most of our kids were not used to being on a boat…
When we got to the island, we jumped on a tour bus that took us around a quick tour of the island that took us past the leper graveyard, the first prison, penguins, some of the structures established for the guards and their families on the island, and the limestone quarry that the prisoners had spent years of their lives working in (even long after the second prison had been built). Apparently, many of the prisoners had permanent damage due to the massive amounts of chalk dust they had to breathe in every day. The guide said that Nelson Mandela can’t cry because his tear ducts were clogged and injured during his time in the quarry.
After our bus tour, we took a tour of the second prison (the one built by the prisoners themselves). Our guide on this portion of the tour was a man that had been a prisoner himself for “crimes against the state” in the 1980s. He showed us the prison blocks where 20-40 prisoners would live together, the kitchen where large vats of food were thrown together, and the solitary prison cells where more “dangerous” prisoners were kept alone (like Nelson Mandela). Most of these prisoners were the leaders of political organizations.
I think our students enjoyed the chance to get out and see a part of Cape Town they had not been to before. I don’t know that they were severely impacted – but hope that as they learn more about Apartheid that it will sink in a bit more and that the images from Robben Island will stick with them to understand what people had to go through to fight for their freedom. Our students come from the townships that are the result of Apartheid. The townships were created to separate the blacks, colored, and white South Africans – creating more poverty, and therefore violence, a lack of quality education, and a breeding ground for AIDS. All of our students are orphans, mostly due to AIDS and other challenges of living in the townships. A lot has changed since the end of Apartheid, but there are many issues that continue as a result. Even the fact that a 4 white teachers were able to take 8 black students on a field trip and hang out with them as equals probably could not have taken place 20 years ago. I feel very privileged to be able to play my tiny part in the positive changes that are taking place.

Dam part II

Here are some pics to follow up on the dam fieldtrip from last week. I think they learned something, and even if they didn't, they had fun getting off the school property and running around a bit. Here are the 8th graders in front of the Berg River Dam

and playing with the amphitheater that overlooks the dam

This is Sandile
Thandi, mystery hooded child, Lazola, and Sive the boy
and Zanele. She was sick this day, but I love her hair in this picture.
Time to head back to the van!