The Southern Africa YAGMS

I have worked with some incredible people this year, and I want to share with you all who these people are! I give you the Southern Africa Country Program!

Sarah Vatne: Empangeni, KwaZulu-Natal

I first met Sarah when we were in Chicago attending the placement conference for YAGM, a mentally and emotionally draining weekend for everyone. The last day of the conference, the YAGM volunteers were asked to run the worship service on their own, so of course I jumped at the chance to play the music, and sure enough, Sarah was there waiting to help in any way she could. Though Sarah may be small in stature, make no mistake, this woman has a huge personality! When I first met her, I was incredibly intimidated by her. She seemed to know everything about anything, she is an incredibly talented singer, and she exudes confidence in everything she does.

As time went by Sarah became less and less intimidating because she is truly herself. All of the confidence she has, all of the knowledge she has, all of the talent she possess, are truly Sarah. She lives as herself with no apologies for it, and when she does, she never comes across as arrogant or boastful, because she doesn’t live that way to better only herself, she does it so that people can see that who you truly are is okay, and you should live that way. She cares about everyone she meets, and she wants everyone to have the confidence to live as themselves, so she walks the walk to show people that it is possible. She has helped me to realize this in myself, and I can walk taller because of her!

Ashley Holbert: Soweto, Gauteng

The first time I met Ashley was when we were waiting for the bus to arrive to take all of the volunteers from the airport to our placement conference. All of us had arrived tired and exhausted from mostly early morning flights, and out of nowhere here comes this woman, confident, dressed to the nines, and looking fresh, walking up to the group and just started having a conversation with a group of people. This was a woman who grew up in Chicago, was proud of where she grew up, and loved the people she grew up with. From the second you met Ashley, you could tell she was at home anywhere she went, and if you gave her the time of day, you would be her friend for life.

As the year has gone one, I have come to know Ashley as the woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. She feels everything with her full being, and when she loves, she loves fully. I had the opportunity to go and visit Ashley in Soweto and see her site. When I arrived, I didn’t see her in a site placement, I saw her in a new home, a place where she knew everyone, and everyone knew her. She was so excited to introduce me to people she now considers family, and she was excited to show me the people she had come to love. Because Ashley has such a big heart and such a capacity to love everyone, she truly makes everyone feel welcomed and makes them feel like they are loved for who they are. Because of Ashely, I know that I am loved, even when I don’t feel like I am; she is always there to tell me I am.

Michelle Olson: Atteridgeville, Gauteng:

Michelle is a fellow Minnesotan, so the first time we met each other was technically on the plane to our YAGM orientation. The only problem we ran into was that Michelle didn’t say hello to me on the plane, but then again, neither did I. We both recognized each other, but because of nerves or exhaustion, we waited for the next opportunity to introduce ourselves. The next opportunity came on the bus ride to orientation, where we sat and had an intensely personal conversation right away. I am not one to start with small talk; I usually just jump in to the deep end and start asking personal questions. Michelle was kind enough to answer many of my questions, and to even ask me some of her own. It was great to meet another person who had the patience to deal with my strange conversation style.

Michelle is one of the most patient people I have ever met. She will listen to anyone and everyone, and not only listen, but make you understand that you have been heard. If the conversation gets interrupted, she will make sure to bring it right back to where you left off. She makes you feel heard because she genuinely wants to hear what you have to say, even if it is nonsense, or if it is venting about something going on in your life. She is also one of the best cribbage players I have faced since my own father. She and I seem to have a continuous series of Cribbage games, and if I remember correctly, we are tied, something that hasn’t happened since playing with my own family! Watching Michelle in her own community, I was able to see how many people she had spent time getting to know, because they all loved her and were excited to see her when she walked by. Because of Michelle, I have learned how to be patient with everyone, and I have learned to see the value in every conversation I have, even if I don’t understand it!

Courtney Smith: Spruitview, Gauteng

The first time I met Courtney was at our orientation in Chicago when the Southern Africa group was hanging out together during one of our breaks. We had all decided we wanted to get to know each other better, and somehow the game of cribbage was brought up. Courtney had never played cribbage before, but was very excited to learn. She could tell it was a game that some of us were excited about, so she sat down and learned how to play. The first game we played, she was my opponent, I lost, not just lost, but was demolished. I have been playing cribbage since I was about eight years old, but I had never lost that bad, at least not that I could remember. I was more than a little upset, but the fact that a new friend wanted to play my favorite game was more than enough to make up for my embarrassing defeat!

Over many cribbage games, I have gotten to know Courtney better, and she somehow is able to make people feel like they are the most important person in the room. She has the ability to walk into a room full of people she doesn’t know, and she will walk out with a room full of new friends. She cares about what other people are interested in, and she wants to know about it too. She doesn’t just care what you are interested in, she wants to know why you are interested in it. She has a heart of Gold, and she will invest herself into your life, even with little things that you would think are inconsequential. To Courtney, they are important details that she wants to know more about. She is also one of the biggest Harry Potter fans that I know, and if you need to know anything about the series, just ask her, she’ll tell you right away. Because of Courtney, I have learned how to invest in people with everything that I have. Not just to talk to them, but how to talk to them to invest in their life and show that they truly matter! Courtney has been a huge help in reading and editing my blog posts before I send them out to the world.

Andi Logee: Ndlovini, KwaZulu-Natal

The first time I met Andi was in Chicago, a few weeks before the start of our Orientation. We both had to travel to Chicago to apply for our Visa’s in person. We had spent months collecting all of the necessary paperwork, had completed numerous checklists and appointments to receive the paperwork, and this was the day we would complete the last step in the process. So we thought. Because of a single piece of paperwork having been printed on the wrong sheet of paper, Andi was denied her Visa, and would have to return home, and travel back to Chicago again at another point to do the process over again. Despite the setback, Andi kept her spirits up, and we walked around Chicago and explored some parts of the city and enjoyed an afternoon in a new city.

Andi’s ability to persevere is nothing short of incredible. She knows that things will eventually get better, and she pushes through. She can see that things need to get done, despite the situation at hand, and she will continue to push through until the end. She doesn’t quit, and she doesn’t give up, she just rolls up her sleeves and gets to work. Because of her perseverance, Andi has the ability to encourage people to continue working and to push through whatever obstacle they are facing at the time. She has a way of opening up new ways of looking at situations and a new way of viewing the world. Because of Andi, I have learned how to take a step back and look at things before deciding I can’t do it; Andi has many times stopped my train of thought from being cemented and has taught me that maybe things aren’t the way they seem!

Solvei Stenslie: Makhado, Limpopo

The first time I met Solvei, we were planning to sing a song for the talent show on the last day of orientation. We sat down in a small practice room with only enough space for a chair and a piano, and began working on our piece. I would play piano, and she would sing her piece, one she had written on her own. We spent nearly two hours flipping through her song book just reading through the hundreds of songs she had already written and had penciled into her notebook. Just being able to sit down and jam with her in a language that we both understood was very freeing. We had the chance, just for a few hours, to speak in music.

Solvei is a fiercely independent woman, and isn’t afraid to be who she is. She is also one of the few people in the world who can somehow translate my strange thoughts and conceptualized thinking. We have been able to sit down and have conversations such as “where does love come from? And are animals capable of selfless love?” She is another person who doesn’t do well with small talk, and will choose to dive headfirst into conversations that are deep and intense and usually can’t be concluded in less than several hours of discussion. Because of her ability to get to the important stuff so quickly, people take to Solvei quickly. They enjoy being able to have a conversation with her and to know that there will be no shortage of thought provoking questions from her. Solvei has taught me to keep asking my questions, and to make no apologies for being curious about the world!

Alyssa Buchanan: Swaziland

The first time I ever met Alyssa was the same day that I taught Courtney how to play cribbage. There were enough people that wanted to play, so we played teams. Alyssa was my teammate, and I was excited to help my teammate with her first time playing cribbage. As you already know, it was a tough loss, and as much as I would like to blame the loss on Alyssa’s first time playing, it wasn’t her fault. I had terrible cards, and I just played a bad game. It was my fault we had been humiliated in her first attempt at cribbage.

Alyssa is a warm hearted woman who is excited about everything she is a part of. When she chooses to do something, she doesn’t tip toe up to it with caution, she just goes for it. That is what she did with YAGM, and it is what she did with making friends in the group. She was excited to meet the people in this group and was happy to support the others through the year. Because of Alyssa, I have learned how to be more excited about the things life has to offer, and how to just go for things instead of tiptoeing towards everything!

Emily Dietrick: Newcastle, KwaZulu-Natal, Umphumulo, KwaZulu-Natal

The first time I met Emily was the day we were given our placement for the year. The small group of people who had been selected for Southern Africa was meeting together before we were all traveling back to our homes. Though I was incredibly nervous, Emily seemed to be relaxed enough to talk to people, and we started talking about running. Both of us enjoy running, but Emily is a very dedicated runner, having trained for and competed in numerous races, including a full marathon. We began discussing the possibility of running a marathon while in Southern Africa, and I felt comfortable knowing that there was someone who could help encourage me to keep running, even overseas.

Emily is one of the most detail-oriented people that I know. When it comes to making plans, she will be the first to step up and start laying out ideas and possibilities. I was planning a visit to her site, and I wasn’t sure of the bus and travel information. I checked my email later that day and she had clearly laid out my travel dates, travel times, travel costs, information on where I would catch each bus, and what we would do each day at her site. She has such a passion for planning and a passion for making sure that people are successful. Because of Emily, I have learned that it is okay to make plans, and it is okay to have aims for the future! Emily was also a huge help and was always willing to read and edit my blog posts!

Tessa Moon Leiseth: Pietermaritzburg, KwaZulu-Natal

This is a bonus, Tessa with my host family, Rev. LM Mdluli, and his Wife, Mbali
and my host brother, Izicolo (10 months in this picture)

Finally, our fearless leader, Tessa. The first time I met Tessa, I was entering into the room at our placement conference to hear her presentation on Southern Africa. From that very first presentation, I could see that Tessa was excited about sharing knowledge with people. The presentation was only 30 minutes, but in that time, we all learned that there were many things that we were about to learn on our Journey, and Tessa was going to be there with us every step of the way.

Tessa has a way of sharing just enough information with us so that we will be successful, but not sharing too much so that we experience things through her eyes. Everything that Tessa has taught us has been a way for us to navigate this new experience in our own way, and how to process through all the information we have been taking in. Moving to another country and living among a culture that is completely foreign to you can be incredibly emotional and terrifying, but Tessa has taught us all to see these things as wonderful, and to be curious about them. With the immense program library that Tessa has worked to build, all of us have been able to learn more about ourselves, our country program, and about the world at hand. Tessa is our supervisor, but she is more than that, she has been a friend and a confidant, and someone whom even when we mess up, we can turn to for help and support. Thank you for all you do for us Tessa!


These people have been incredible to work alongside with during this year, offering me more grace than I deserve, and always willing to listen to me, and to teach me when I need it. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to have gone on this journey with! Thank you for you support and your love this year!

-Evan

Reflection on the Seven Last Words

The Seven Last Words of Christ is a service typically held on Good Friday. The service focuses mainly on the seven last sayings of Christ during his persecution and death on a cross. I was asked to share a meditation on the seventh phrase, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" Luke 23:46. This is what I came up with!

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” According to the Gospel of Luke, these are the last words spoken by Jesus before his death. Jesus speaks these words out loud, but unlike other examples in scripture, he does not clarify who he is speaking these words for. Did Jesus say these words for the benefit of those who are present, like he does at the mouth of Lazarus’ tomb when he says “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me,” or does Jesus say it for his own sake, like in the Garden of Gethsemene, when he asks God to “Take this cup from me”?

Because Jesus is both human and divine, we can assume that he speaks both for our benefit and for his own benefit. When he speaks these words as a human, he speaks them after suffering for nearly 24 hours. The night before his death, Jesus is betrayed by a brother and a disciple, he is brought before Pilot, he is brought before King Herod, Jesus is then punished to 100 lashings, sentenced to death while a known murderer walks free, forced to carry his cross, and then nailed to it. Jesus’ death did not just happen on Good Friday, but rather his death began the at the last supper and continued slowly and with increasing pain every step of the way.

Finally, when the pain had become too much for Jesus as a human to bear, he releases his spirit into the hands of God. Jesus turns to his father, the one who sent him here to die, and he says “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” It is an endearing moment for all of humanity to witness, a moment in which Jesus, the Son of God, who could have been saved, chose to continue his suffering until death so that we would be freed from the power of death. In this moment, Jesus bares his human side more clearly than ever before; he submitted himself to death, just as we all must do at some point in our lives.

Even in the intimate moment of Jesus, fully human, handing himself over to God, we are filled with hope with these words that are spoken for our sake as well. In his divinity, Jesus spoke out loud so that we may fully understand that his dying on a cross was truly an act of defiance. Everything that Jesus had done on earth thus far was in defiance to the way that life had been lived up to that point. Jesus lived in a constant defiance to the ways of the world.

The sermon on the mount of olives defied all the things that people had been told before Jesus’ time. Jesus healing people on the Sabbath was an act of defiance to the laws of the time. Jesus ate dinner with the tax collectors and prostitutes in defiance of what was expected of people who claimed to be holy. Jesus washed the disciples feet in an act of defiance against what was expected of a king. Jesus did not fight back when he was accused, choosing to be passive and loving, an act of defiance in itself. Jesus was the king of the Jews, even the note above his head on the cross said so, but Jesus did not die with the honor of a King, but the disgrace of a common criminal. Fully divine, Jesus chose to die in disgrace in defiance of what would be expected of someone who claimed to be a king.

But how is this final statement an act of defiance as well? The word “commend” means to offer up for judgement or approval, something that the world had already done when they judged Jesus to be a criminal and a heretic and condemned him to death. But by saying “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,” Jesus takes all the power of judgement away from the world and places it in God’s hands. These words, spoken by Jesus in his divinity, are offered up to strengthen the disciples as they were about to head into a more difficult time without Jesus by their side. He proved to them that even though the world had thrown literally everything it had at him, the world will never have the final say, only God will have the final say.

In his humanity, Jesus is broken physically, he has suffered for almost an entire day, his body is dying, and Jesus’ spirit is ready to be taken into heaven by God. In his divinity, Jesus knows that his spirit belongs to God, and that he is going home shortly. He knows that the world doesn’t have a say in his true judgement, and even when the world thinks it has a hold on God, Jesus says “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,” and everything is changed. Christ’s death marks the moment in which the scriptures are fulfilled, the ransom is paid, and the penalty of sin is no more. The act of grace is complete, the love that God has for the world is restored, and the hope for all is shared, but we do not know that yet, not for another three days.

for more information on the seven last words, click here

South Africa: A Christian Nation

South Africa Is a Christian Nation. This isn’t surprising to anyone who knows about the history of Africa and Missionaries. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in Southern Africa is in existence today thanks in large part to missionaries coming through the southern portion of the continent. One question that I have struggled with throughout this year is, how do we live with the fact that South Africa is a Christian nation because of Colonialism? I have had many conversations with my host Pastor about this, and we have stumbled across numerous answers, and even more questions. What would South Africa look like today had the Dutch not landed on the Cape of Good Hope in the 1650’s? Has South Africa becoming a Christian nation really helped the country, or has it made things worse? What do we consider to be civilized?

               

 When white missionaries first arrived in Africa, the goal was to spread the word of God as well as to teach the people to be more civilized. In the book “In Our Own Skins: A Political History of Coloured People,” by Richard Van Der Ross, he attempts to explain what it means to be civilized. In the opening part of the book, Van Der Ross discusses the interactions between the Dutch and the Khoi Khoi people’s, considered to be one of the first tribes of South Africa. Van Der Ross defines civilization as a group of people who are governed by a certain set of laws. By this definition, South Africa has always been a civilized nation. The Khoi Khoi had their set of laws, the Zulu people had their own set of laws, and the Xhosa people had their own set of laws. There was civilization among the people.

              

A reoccurring conversation that I have with Pastor is based around this idea of what it means to be civilized. Pastor Lindo comes from a family steeped in Zulu traditions. He and his wife celebrated a white wedding, much like we would find in a European sense, but they also celebrated a traditional Zulu wedding. The fact that there is a traditional wedding ceremony is a testament to the fact that the Zulu tradition was chalked full of civilization.

Looking at the Khoi Khoi people again, they are the first peoples to have contact with white people in the country. The Khoi was made up of two groups of people, the Khoi, and the San. The Khoi people were semi-nomadic farmers who were more interested in herding cattle, and the San were a nomadic group of people who followed wherever the hunt was. The Khoi were considered the more intelligent peoples, and eventually, a Khoi woman became an interpreter for the Dutch. As is natural in any close quarter situations, a relationship developed between the Khoi translator and a Dutchman. The two were married and had children together. This was a beautiful marriage, but it also caused another problem.  Were the children to be considered Dutch, or African?

The Children were later considered to be Dutch. As the relations between the Dutch and the Khoi people grew stronger, more and more marriages occurred. As the number of mixed race children increased, the Dutch began to notice a problem. After several generations of children being born of Khoi and Dutch decent being considered Dutch, the white men changed their minds and decided that these people were no longer European, they were African. Once again, the European’s attempt to civilize a group of people had literally spawned an entirely new generation of peoples who weren’t considered to be black, but also weren’t considered to be white, they were Coloured.

Missionary work continued in South Africa into the 18^th century, with new people coming from missions all around Europe. The Dutch, the British, and the French all felt it was their duty to come to this country and bring God to the people who needed God the most. Pastor has a different idea about why missionaries were so excited to come to South Africa. Within South Africa there is a wealth of natural resources, including Gold. The bible promises the Israelites a land of milk and honey, a promised land that belongs to them. Hearing Pastor talk about how the bible was used by Europeans to take over the land that isn’t theirs wasn’t new to me, but it did bring up the question of what was God talking about then? Pastor always asks me “Would God really send people to claim a land as theirs that was occupied by other peoples?”

So now, at this point in the history of South Africa, there are a number of problems cropping up, just because the Europeans sought to “civilize” the people of Africa. First, the civilized traditions of people living in Africa were being destroyed because they didn’t live up to the European expectations of civilization. Second, The Europeans had taken many wives from the indigenous people of the Khoi Khoi, produced offspring, and then abandoned those offspring when the number of Coloured people began to outnumber the white people. Third, the attempt to civilize these people were really a mask to get after the resources and the perfect placement of this country, making it a great stop for the East Indian Trading Company, owned by the Dutch.

Skipping over centuries of African people being told that they must change their ways to be like white people, but they will never be like white people, we arrive to the early stages of apartheid. Apartheid was not just a systematically enforced racism; it was a way to completely demolish the non-white people in South Africa. Apartheid government was run by white people, the minority in the country, and forced black people to live in only a small percentage of their own country. The laws were designed to cripple the black people both financially and spiritually. When the missionaries first came to South Africa, the people were told that they must turn away from their traditions and become civilized. With apartheid, they were told the exact opposite. To create more tension between black people, the apartheid government forced blacks to live in certain areas based on their culture. Zulu’s could only live with Zulu’s, Venda’s could only live with Venda’s and Xhosa’s could only live with Xhosa’s.

Once again, people here were told a different story of how they should behave in order to be accepted by white people. First, you would only be accepted if you turned away from your traditions, now you would only be accepted if you lived by your traditions. As you can imagine, once again, this left the Coloured people in an awkward spot. Coloured people weren’t considered white, so the segregation laws still applied, but they weren’t considered black either, so they were stuck in an odd middle ground, creating a culture completely their own.

The difficult conditions faced by black people during the apartheid left an opening for missionaries to continue their work once again. The problems these people were facing were caused because they weren’t Christian, and could be fixed by turning to God. Once again, South Africa is a Christian nation, thanks to these missionaries. German Missionaries, Swedish Missionaries, British Missionaries, and several other missionaries began building churches all over the country and Christianity grew more and more. Bantu schools in the townships were forced to separate even further, they could only teach in the language of their people, not in English or Afrikaans, the languages of power. Eventually, a law was put into place that all the schools were required to teach in Afrikaans, forcing the schools full of students who didn’t know the language to start learning in a language they didn’t understand. The removal of understanding further lowered the education of black people, and again created the standing of “you aren’t like us, but you should act like us.” Missionaries spoke in English and taught people English, a language of power in South Africa (some call it the language of money), drawing people even closer to Christianity.  

The missionaries have helped to create the church we see in ELCSA today. The church in Gelvandale, where I live, was built by missionaries, the church in Bethelsdorp was built by missionaries. There are many signs of missionaries still surrounding us today. The noticeably absent part of the mission in South Africa is the ways in which this life is better than the one that missionaries had “rescued” people from in the first place. Port Elizabeth, where I am placed for the year, is surrounded by poverty, both in the town and just outside in the townships. There are people within the city limits of PE that don’t have paved roads, there is need for food shelfs that pass out almost 700 loaves of bread a day, but yet people are still hungry. One of the highest rates of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome in South Africa is found in Port Elizabeth, and education in government schools is fighting to survive. It is difficult for a black child to attend any other school than a government school, which barely has enough funds to hire teachers, let alone supply classrooms with the right equipment. These are the things I have seen just in one portion of the country, but the issues are spread across all of South Africa.

South Africa is a Christian nation. I am thankful that it is a Christian nation, otherwise I would not be living with a Pastor and my faith would not have been challenged in the ways it has been throughout this year. However, according to Van De Ross and his definition of what it means to be civilized, the people of South Africa have been civilized for thousands of years before the Dutch ever arrived in the Cape of Good Hope and began trying to civilize a nation that was already civilized. 

The missionaries of old were successful in creating a country that was “civilized” according to their standards, but at what cost?

 Where would South Africa be today if people had respected the fact that peoples here were already civilized before Europeans decided it wasn’t the right kind of civilized?

How many of the problems facing the country today were created because Europeans attempted to change the way of life in a way that the people of South Africa didn’t need at that time? 

This Is My Body Broken For You

“If we are following Jesus, we cannot wait for the perfect community. It was while we were yet sinners that Christ allowed his body to be broken for us…Our commitment to one another in community can be no less than his: ‘This is my body broken for you.’”

-F. Kefa Sempangi

Sitting in church on a hot South African Sunday, I am sweating sitting still. The long beams of wooded ceiling are interrupted every so often by the semi-transparent shingles on the roof of Gelvandale Lutheran Church, letting the rays of the beating early morning sun come splaying through. We are headed into the third hour of church by now, and I am waiting anxiously, not to get out of church and change out of my dress pants and hot, itchy polo shirt, but rather to walk towards the altar to receive the body and blood of Jesus Christ through Holy Communion. What is it about communion that is so important? We literally just take a piece of paper-like wafer and allow it dissolve almost instantly on the tip of our tongue, and then drink inexpensive wine from a chalice to wash down the un-dissolved bits of wafer that are inevitably stuck to the roof of our mouths. What is it about communion that sends a lump into my throat and puts me on the verge of tears every time I take it? “…This is my body broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

It is these words that make me feel so emotional in the service, “my body BROKEN for you.” Jesus Christ was perfect, he was without sin, yet he allowed himself to be broken and to be killed, for me. Why did he do this for someone like me? I am not worthy of such a gift, yet I receive it every time I take communion. In my brokenness, I am still loved beyond comparison by God, who knows everything that I have done. He sees all of the mistakes I have made in the past, yet he still loves me. I don’t deserve this gift of grace, but I still receive it. If I am good enough for God, why should I ever think that I am not good enough for communion, which is God? If I am good enough for communion, then I am good enough for the world that God created, including me.

It is easy to slip into the habit of placing our worth in our abilities. We can place our value into the things we can offer people, or in the ways we can help people. But all too often, I find myself placing my value in the things that I can’t do or am not good at. I am not good at being vulnerable, I am not good at being patient with people, I am not good at being organized, I am not good at so many things. It’s no wonder that placing value in these things can cause me to lose faith in myself and to judge myself to be unworthy of God’s love. Even though I am not good at many things, there are a few things I am good at, music, youth work, and teaching, to name a few. I came into this YAGM year not knowing what to expect and not knowing how my skills would be put to use. Though I have found that my skills are being put to use sometimes, I find that I am here to be loved more than I am to put my skills to use. The people that I spend my time with love me for the person I am, not for what I can offer them. These people have taught me how to be a better listener, how to be present in everyday conversation, and how to be okay with myself regardless of how broken I may be.

 My favorite time of the week is when I get to sit and eat lunch with Auntie Vira at the daycare center. She always makes such delicious food, and makes sure that I am well fed before I leave for the day. The food is always amazing, but not at all what I am most excited about. I am just excited to sit and talk with Auntie. I am excited to hear from Auntie about her children and her family. I get to hear about her daughter teaching in the Middle-East and about her other daughter and the grandchildren she has given Auntie Vira. I get to hear about the food that Auntie cooked for her own mothers 72^nd birthday party, and event I was invited to just so Aunties mom could meet me. I get to share with Auntie about my family, about my brother who just got his dream job, and his wife who works for an insurance company and how they both love their dog, Dexter. I get to tell her about my mom and dad who were gracious enough to be okay with me coming on this trip, believe me, it makes it much easier being here knowing they support me in it.

When we have finished our lunch and the dishes are done, Auntie Vira and I get to venture out into one of the classrooms where all of the teachers gather to wait for parents to come and pick up their kids. Teacher Lucia shares pictures of her new dogs with us all, teacher Samantha gets to tell us about her adventures over the weekend, teacher Mona gets to share from her tireless wealth of knowledge about all things South Africa with us, teacher Dina gets to share stories of her late husband, teacher Rose gets to share about her journey to become healthier, and teacher Eunice gets to share her smile and her laugh with us (she is very quiet, but can laugh loud enough to shake the windows). We all sit together and share ourselves with each other. We don’t share our skills, we aren’t worried about the things we aren’t good at or the things we can’t do. We aren’t focused on that at all, but rather we are focused on being present with each other, on being with each other and enjoying the life that God has given us, and enjoying the time that God has allowed us to share with one another. We are focused on giving ourselves to one another.

The teachers at the Daycare Center from left to right:
Teacher Eunice, Auntie Vira,Teacher Virginia (Teacher June is Subbing for her), Teacher Mona
Teacher Lucia, Teacher Samantha, and Teacher Dina, the head Matron

It is moments like these that my mind jumps back to taking communion, when we eat the broken body of Jesus. I am reminded that we all are broken and that we all need healing in one way or another. But in this brokenness, we are made whole by each other. We are comforted and we are supported because no one is perfect. If we lived in a perfect society, the pressures would be enormous to keep it that way. Because we live in a broken community full of struggle and hurt, because Christ allowed himself to be broken for us, we are free to offer ourselves just as we are. We are free to give ourselves over fully to the community because that is what is truly needed. I can’t change the world with my skills, I can’t stop the hunger in the community, I can’t make the pains of apartheid disappear overnight, I can’t even teach the kids how to count to 10 sometimes, but I can offer my whole self to this community.

Communion is the reminder we get every Sunday that God loved us enough to give up his life for us. He laid his body down to be broken so that we may live. In a Christian community, we are all broken, but we are loved abundantly by God. Communion shows us the radical change that can happen, simply by giving our whole selves in love to those who are around us, as God already has. I am extremely blessed to have been placed in a community where myself, broken and damaged, is good enough. I am good enough just as I am, and the community of Port Elizabeth and my YAGM family refuse to let me think otherwise. This is my body, broken, for you.  

YAGM: A Year of.....

This past January, I participated in a two day retreat just outside of Pietermaritzburg, South Africa. The retreat was held at a place called Solitude, and the grounds looked like a scene from a lake house in northern Minnesota. It felt as though somewhere along the 45 minute drive, we were transported through a wormhole and back into Bemidji, Minnesota and on our way back, we traveled through the same wormhole to end up in South Africa again. The retreat was specifically designed to be heavily focused on ourselves and what this year means for us. I shared the retreat with Andi, one of the other members of the South Africa group, and together with Tessa, our country coordinator, we dove headfirst into our lives and into what this year really means. During lunch on our last day of retreat, the three of us began discussing the program and how to define the program. Tessa asked a very poignant question to the Andi and me, “Should we call your YAGM year a year of service?”

This seems simple enough, a normal knee-jerk reaction would be to answer yes, but after only a short time of deep thought, I realized that in reality, it was much harder to put a name to what YAGM actually is. To call this experience a year of service seems to sell the program short of what is really happening around the globe. First, before I get too far into what are some options to call this year, let me explain what YAGM really is. Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM) is a part of the Global Missions program in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). The YAGM program gives people between the ages of 21-29 the opportunity to serve in one of 11 different countries worldwide and to serve in a community within that country.

This year, we have 85 volunteers who are serving in Mexico, Argentina and Uruguay, The UK, Central Europe, Cambodia, Rwanda, Madagascar, Senegal, Southern Africa, Jerusalem/ West Bank, and Australia. As a volunteer, we are assigned a site placement within our country and some people live with a host family, and some people are placed in a flat within a host community for the year. During our year, we are asked to volunteer at a non-governmental organization or a church or school for 35-40 hours a week, close to a full time job. My country program is in Southern Africa, and I am currently placed in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, where I am living with a host family, and I am splitting my time between the Erica House Place of Safety, and the Lutheran Daycare Center that is part of the Parish I was placed in. I am working around 35 hours a week and I am learning each day about our community.

The YAGM program could be called a year of learning. Our learning started back in April at our Discernment/Interview/Placement weekend (D.I.P.) when we were first taught about the programs model of accompaniment, more on this later. Each day I step out into the community, I am shown something new. I learn more about the Xhosa traditions in the areas that surround me, I learn more about the history of the Colored people and more about the Khoi people from whom some Colored people originate. I learn more every day about what it means to be a white male and how my privilege has sheltered me from many of the realities of real life.

To call the YAGM year a “year of learning,” would again, sell the program short. We are learning every day, but we are doing more than learning, we are experiencing. There are some things that we are seeing that cannot be put into words. At our orientation in Chicago, we even had an hour long session on how to communicate our journey to people back home. Though the session mostly spoke about different social media platforms and ways to write our newsletters, it also tried to help us all understand how to better share our journey, which for many will be misunderstood. So then, should we call this a year of experiencing? We are, after all, experiencing an entirely new world, one that looks drastically different than everything we have known back in the United States. We are experiencing the stories of many people who come from places we could never imagine. We are experiencing the life of people that the world has forgotten about and we are experiencing the roll that we play within their lives. We are also experiencing what it means to be a Christian in a global sense, especially in a program like Southern Africa that is tied so closely with the church.

“YAGM: A Year of Experiencing” doesn’t quite fit the bill either. We are experiencing things, but that sounds like we are just sitting by and watching these things take place, when, in fact, we are living amongst people in our communities and we are sharing our lives with them. So then, maybe we can call YAGM a year of sharing? One of the most powerful ways of communication is story telling. By sharing stories with someone, we can get to know them on a much deeper level. Story telling becomes an invitation to see who a person really is. It is an opportunity to hear where a person is coming from and to hear the life this person has lived. Sharing stories is a way to share culture with people as well. When I hear stories about a Zulu wedding and about the gifts that were presented to the bride and the groom, I get to hear about the culture around marriage in the Zulu tradition. When I share stories about how my dad loves to cook for thanksgiving, I get to share the tradition of celebrating an American holiday with my Zulu family.

“YAGM: A Year of Story Telling” also doesn’t quite seem to fit. It is part of the program, but that title somehow makes it seem like we are constantly drinking tea and eating biscuits while telling stories. We do quite a bit of that here in South Africa, but that’s not everything we do. We do actually work with these people and walk along with them on our journeys. We are accompanying these people in their everyday lives. So then, can we call this a year of accompaniment? That is after all what the YAGM program is modeling. Accompaniment is a wonderful word that carries with it the difficult task of defining what exactly it is. Accompaniment is so much about action that it is exceedingly difficult to define in words. The journey of walking side by side with someone and sharing your life, just as you are, while also listening to another person share their life is close to what accompaniment is.

“YAGM: A Year of Being.” Much of the early part of our year was learning how to just be alive. We had to unlearn the very American way of viewing each day as the opportunity to accomplish something, and learn that each day is the opportunity to live. We are given only so many days, so instead of trying to accomplish something all the time, why not just do what we love? If we spent each day doing something we loved, we would be much happier. I spend each day playing with kids, reading books, and learning more about a culture that is very different from my own. While we spend a lot of time just being instead of doing, that still doesn’t quite match up with what our year is all about. It is a large portion of the year, but not all of it.

 YAGMs are considered missionaries, and with that title comes a heavy weight, especially here in Africa. Missionaries have, in the past, come to Africa and told people that they need to change in order to be accepted. The YAGM model attempts to change that idea of what we are as missionaries. We aren’t here to change people, we are here to understand people, to learn more about what is happening in these different corners of the world, and to see new ways in which God is working around the globe. In this way, our communities are serving us, because they are helping to teach us how to better serve our world.

So then, we are back to the original question, should YAGM be called a year of service? Yes, I think it should, but not because we are here to serve the people in our communities, but rather because we are learning how to serve our world through the love and the accompaniment of the people within our communities. Before I left for South Africa, I was so confident about what I had to offer this community. I have been playing music for over 20 years, I have extensive experience with youth ministry, I have outdoor ministry experience, I have ecumenical knowledge about the church, and I know quite a bit about South African history. I felt that I had a lot to offer to this community.

 When I arrived in Port Elizabeth, I realized that very little of my experience actually mattered. I thought for sure I could play the music in church, but with almost all of the music here being learned by ear, there was very little I could do for services. The youth operates very differently from the United States, so while I know quite a bit about working with kids, I found that on my own I was completely useless. My knowledge of South African history served me only as far as being able to ask questions. I had read the history from one perspective, and not through the eyes of people who had actually lived it. Books can tell you only so much, the stories of a whole community can change everything you thought you knew.  That, for me, is the final piece of accompaniment. Listening louder than I speak and hearing what the world actually needs. If I come into a place and think that I know how to serve these people who are from a very different cultural background from me would be arrogant and doomed to fail. Coming in and listening to these people and hearing the stories and hearing what these people actually need has taught me how to better serve the world.

So, yes, YAGM should be called a year of service, but only because a year of “experience, learning, sharing, story-telling, getting your butt kicked every day, being, realizing you might have some things wrong, living, seeing the world, experiencing God in new ways, and loving” is a little too long to fit onto one small pamphlet. “YAGM: A Year of Service,” only gives a small taste of what the year actually has in store. 

Sit Down, Shut Up, and Cry

My YAGM orientation started in Chicago on August 16^th, a very exciting day, but one that had a nearly two hour delay right off the bat. After the lengthy delay, the buses arrived at the airport, and all of us YAGM’s were whisked away to the University of Chicago to finally start orientation. Most of our orientation stuck to schedule, except for our departure date. We were supposed to have orientation from August 16^th through August 24^th, with the last day being the departure of all the different country groups. As the 24^th drew closer, the chances that the Southern Africa group would be departing on time began slipping away, slowly but surely, until the 23^rd, when it was confirmed that due to Visa issues, we would not be leaving with the rest of the groups, but would be staying in Chicago for a short time longer.

After orientation had ended and all the other groups had left for their countries, the Southern Africa group sat outside of the University of Chicago and waited for another two hours to be taken to our hotel. Finally, the transport arrived and took us to our destination. With hopes that we wouldn’t be in Chicago for more than a few days, we all settled in and went out as a group for dinner.  What was supposed to be a few short days in a hotel however eventually turned into three full weeks in the hotel.

While it was nice to have a few days off, three weeks was too much. It was like being stuck in a hamster cage with nothing better to do than to meander over to the hamster wheel, a Target store across the street, and walk around and around and around, not really accomplishing anything other than killing an hour or two of our day. I was so frustrated, I hadn’t signed up to sit in a hotel and do nothing, I had signed up to go over to South Africa and to learn and see how life is really like outside of the United States. I had signed up to go and learn about myself in a global perspective, more so, to learn about God in a global perspective. How could I learn anything in a global perspective when my world for three weeks was limited to room 271, room 248, or room 413?  We all had to trudge through the endless days of sitting and deciding whether to have pizza, sushi, Chipotle, or Culvers for dinner. But eventually, all was settled, and eight of the ten member of the Southern Africa group left for in country orientation.

I thought all of our delays were finally over; we were on a plane and headed to South Africa to finally start our YAGM year, the thing that I had been awaiting restlessly for the past three weeks. The first week of Orientation was great, full of new lessons to learn, new cultural things to understand, and the beginning of our language training. The second week, however, began with news of another delay. My original site placement in East London had fallen through, so I would have to stay back with Tessa, our coordinator, for an extra week. That week elapsed, and I finally departed for my new site, Port Elizabeth, with hopes that I was finally done with delays.

No such luck. 

When I arrived in Port Elizabeth, the only thing that was ready for me was my temporary housing with Pastor Mdluli, his wife, and their 3 month old son Izi. Pastor and I had hoped that things would be settled before the family left for a two week vacation in a month, but again, no such luck. So here I was, living in South Africa, stuck in a house all by myself for two weeks with no work, no car, and no one around the house to talk to. Though from time to time I was invited out to a meal, or someone had cooked a meal and brought it to the house for me, I had a four day stretch where I had no human contact. This was not at all how I had pictured my YAGM year beginning

I was angry at this point. I couldn’t believe how many delays had come up and how long I had been waiting to get started with my year. I signed up to be in the program to be working in a community, not sitting either in a hotel room or a parsonage and doing nothing. I hadn’t left everything I knew back home to come to South Africa and just sit, I wanted to be out in the action and I wanted to be doing something right then and there. I had seen pictures of other YAGM’s in their sites both in Southern Africa and around the world. Everyone was doing these really cool things and had been taking awesome pictures of the friends they had been making and saying how cool their YAGM year had been so far. Yet here I was, reading almost non-stop or watching The Office for hours on end, not doing anything cool, not doing anything interesting, not doing anything related to God. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, the day before pastor was slated to return, God asked me an honest question. “Is your heart really ready to serve me?”

Back in March of 2016, only a few weeks before the YAGM interview weekend, a very dear friend of mine, KariAnn, committed suicide. A person who I considered to be one of my best friends, who was planning to come to Chicago with me for the YAGM interviews, had killed herself. KariAnn had suffered for a number of years from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and anxiety.  For years I had witnessed KariAnn struggling to drag herself out of the house to go to church, something she was unbelievably passionate about, I had watched KariAnn turn and sprint down the street in terror at the sound of a car horn, I had watched KariAnn go from a bright and “life of the party” kind of a person, to a puddle of tears in a matter of seconds, all because of PTSD. And finally, after four years of daily struggle, several stints in the emergency room because of suicidal thoughts, KariAnn finally lost her battle with this destructive disease.  

Like anyone who has been through an unexpected death, I decided the best course of action was to continue on with my life, to keep the emotions pent up and not let them out. There was nothing I could do to change what had happened or bring Kariann back, so why dwell on it any more than I had to? Her funeral was the week before the interview weekend, but I didn’t let that affect my ability to interview. At the interviews, I informed both of my potential country coordinators what had happened. I spoke with a calm demeanor and as factual as I could. This is what happened, this is how I am doing, yes, I might struggle with this during my year of service, nothing more, nothing less.

After I had accepted my position in the YAGM program, I returned to work at my summer camp for the third year, simultaneously a great place and a horrible place to grieve. At camp, I wanted to get through my five stages of grief as quickly as possible over the summer. Denial on Monday, anger on Tuesday, bargaining on Wednesday, depression on Thursday, acceptance on Friday, sleep all day Saturday, campers come on Sunday. It was the perfect plan, but of course it didn't happen that way. Grief doesn’t work like that, especially not when someone so close to you has died so suddenly an unexpectedly.

My emotions hadn’t come yet, so I continued on with life, moving fluidly from one thing to the next with no stopping to think about what I was doing with myself or my grief. Acknowledging my grief came second to my plans that I laid out over the next year. I was doing fine, so why should I stop and take time to grieve? I didn’t want to do it, so God made me. He forced me to sit still in complete isolation for two weeks and do nothing, just so I could finally come to terms with the fact that KariAnn is gone and there is nothing I can do to change it. I can’t fix it, I can’t make sense of it, I couldn’t have done anything to stop it, so just cry about it. And cry I did.

After finally realizing why I had been delayed so many times, I hopped in the shower and quickly melted into a sloppy mess of tears, crying so hard that my head hurt. My heart was desperately trying to heal, and I had been ignoring it for long enough, letting it bleed every day.I was reminded by the crushing weight of my emotional damn bursting that I am human, and I need to feel things. My dear friend had committed suicide; she had lost her battle with a nasty, ravenous disease that takes life without any consideration for the person whatsoever, a disease that is just as dangerous as any other physical illness, something that many people suffer from. I needed to admit to myself that KariAnn is gone, and yes, this sucks, a lot. She fought so hard for so many years, and in a matter of minutes, her battle was over.

It will take many years to come to terms with the KariAnn’s death; I may never be able to fully come to terms with it. But, God sat me down and forced me to really look at myself until I could see just how much I was hurting. All of the delays, while undoubtedly frustrating, were for a good reason. My heart wasn’t ready to serve yet. I needed to finally admit that my heart was still bleeding from the blow it was dealt in March. Though  the YAGM year that I had pictured for myself didn’t materialize, I was still living the YAGM life. God was trying to get my attention so he could heal me, and he finally did so by telling me to sit down, shut up, and cry. Part of YAGM is discovering who you are, and healing is a part of that process. I had been living out my YAGM year in a real way, I just needed to acknowledge my suffering so that I could finally see what God was doing in my life. 

Even as I sit here and type this in February, almost a year after her death, my heart is still broken. KariAnn was a beautiful person inside and out. Through her suffering, she always made sure that everyone had food when they couldn’t afford it, she made sure to show love to people who she knew didn’t deserve it, and she had several copies of the bible around her house, each with almost all of the margins filled in with her own notes and thoughts. She was an incredible human who was made to fight a disease that no one deserves, least of all her. I miss her every day, but the healing process has finally begun. Though my wounds have not entirely healed, my heart is ready to serve God because I can finally admit that I am hurt, I am broken, I am nowhere near whole, but this is how I am, take me and use me as you see fit, God.

Thank you for your love and your grace KariAnn, you are missed every day.  

KariAnn, myself, and her service dog Sonya.
My family has now adopted Sonya, and she
is working her way towards becoming a
therapy dog. 

Do You Feel Safe?

About a week ago, I went to get my hair trimmed. I knew it was time to get into the barber when my eight-year-old host sister and her friend were playing with my hair and were able to tie the dilapidated mop on my head into a few oddly placed pig-tails. After several embarrassing minutes of trying to convince the two girls that I would not look good in a pony-tail, I flattened the shag carpet on the top of my head and went inside to ask for a ride to the mall in order to visit the barber in the morning. Thankfully, Pastor agreed and I found myself waiting in the long line at the barber shop early the next morning.

The shop was busy, which was no surprise, and thankfully I had been smart enough to bring along a book to read to pass the time. After nearly an hour of waiting, it was finally my turn to make my way to the chair for the long overdue trim. Being the Scandinavian that I am, I look very much like an Afrikaner, so it’s no surprise that every time I meet a new person in Port Elizabeth, I am greeted in Afrikaans. After a few attempts at responding to the barber in Afrikaans, I finally admitted that I am not from South Africa. The woman was very gracious and laughed, told me my attempts were actually pretty good, and we continued on in English.

As with the first time I went to get my hair cut, I went through the usual questions. How do you find South Africa? Are you here for holiday or are you here for work? What kind of work do you do? I have been answering these questions for almost the entire five months that I have been in Port Elizabeth. I explained to the woman that I was a part of the Young Adults in Global Mission program through the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and that I will be living here for the year and working in the community at a few different NGO’s around the city. I also explained to the woman that I was living with a Zulu family in a Colored neighborhood.

That’s when she asked me an unusual question, “Wow, do you feel safe?” This question came seemingly out of nowhere. The woman hadn’t even asked what my host parents did for a living. She didn’t even bother to ask what neighborhood I had lived in. She might have had a different opinion on the matter if she knew that I lived with a Pastor and that the neighborhood is very young and filled with lots of kids who are in grade-school all the way through to high school. There are also two brothers who are working their way through university, one studying mechanical engineering and the other studying electrical engineering. These two brothers are hoping to open a garage someday, something they are getting started with out of their own home with the help of their father.  

This was more than likely a woman, who is about the same age as my mother, showing her concern for a young traveler in a foreign country. Even though she was showing concern, her question revealed so much more though; it revealed the amount of perceived danger she had as a product of years of apartheid influence. During the apartheid era, signs were placed outside of townships warning white people of the dangers of entering into the black townships. White people were often warned by concerned parents not to bother black people because they may be dangerous. Much like back home in Minnesota, I was warned of how dangerous places like North Minneapolis and South St. Paul are.

While both the area’s that I currently live in and areas back home like North Minneapolis and South St. Paul may be dangerous, the whole point of accompaniment is to break through these kinds of stereotypes and the singular stories that have caused many place to be considered dangerous. It would be irresponsible to say that these places are completely safe, but it would also be irresponsible to say that anywhere we live is completely safe. When participating in international travels, safety is a big portion of the preparations, and it was no different with YAGM. It is important to acknowledge the perceived danger as well as the real danger that comes with any type of traveling, and Port Elizabeth is no different.

 The truth is I have never once felt unsafe in my area. I have always felt welcomed by Pastor and his wife, especially since they entrusted me to hold their small child only minutes into meeting me, not knowing that this was probably the third time I have ever held a baby. I have felt welcomed by the kids in grade-school who have come to the stoop several nights a week to interrupt my quiet time by trying to push me off the 5-foot ledge. I have always felt welcomed by the number of people who remember the last YAGM who had served in Port Elizabeth, some 8 years before my arrival. I have felt more welcomed in an area where I am in the minority, but I am still a brother in Christ.

“Wow, do you feel safe?” Yes, I have always felt safe living in an area that has become known as a dangerous area. I have feel safe because these people have gone from being a foreign and unknown neighborhood to being Leah, Lyra, Makayla, Pastor, Mbali, Steven, Matthew, Pastor Mike, Calvin, Auntie Lorna, Auntie Vira, teacher Mona, teacher Samantha, teacher Lucia, teacher June, Auntie Julia (never get on her bad side, she is feisty!), Auntie Josita, Zanna, Thobeka, Candice, Sikilewe, Auntie Rachel, Auntie Rosa, brother Steven, sister Reona, Auntie Dina, and so many more people that I don’t have room to name here. These people have gone from being strangers, to being family. Sometimes we need to push through some of the perceived danger to see the real beauty in these neighborhoods that lies within the stories and the lives that these people have to share with the world.