our life in pictures...installment 1

so pictures say a million words right? so here's millions of words.
Captions. 1. Rio--the beautiful daughter of Bongeway (totally not spelled right)
. Rio doesn't speak much English but says beep when you touch her nose (thanks sarah)
2. Solomsi--with Oma's remedy to fix worms (cloth with some plant in it) they walk around with these all day).
3. Sarah and her shining favorite--Shedrich. He gets lots of love from her...
4. Kopanang--the boy that looooves cars and that's an understatement. He always asks,"must i drive your car fast? must i ride in your car? are you leaving in your car?"
5. Ncbazaki--the helper of the bunch. she is
always doing chores with oma. she is a great dancer as well and can't speak much english...

random pictures

captions: 1. a cool snail Sara was enthralled with
2. Azola and his perfect expression of joy. 3. Sara and Veronica, one of the youth volunteers that is at the centre. 4. Mbasa, one of the kids at the center.

The views and people of Khayelitsha food distribution. It's crazy fun. The woman pictured is from the church and helps out every Thursday.

Words we never want to hear again

“Must I drive your car?”

“Look Here, Look Here!”

silent tears while pointing blame to another child

“I want more!”

“He pushed me first!”

“Give me…”

“And me”

Mozambique Team

For those who don’t know, we’re headed to Mozambique this week. We’re headed up with the church Sara went to when she was studying abroad, Claremont Methodist and will be there for two weeks (back July 16/17). We’re going to an orphanage in a rural area of Mozambique and will hopefully benefit LCW by gathering ideas that work up at this children’s center and pass them along.

On Sunday the church commissioned off the team and we had to introduce ourselves: “Ian, Ian, Nicky, Jess, Jess, Andrew, Sara, Sarah, Bronwyn”. No joke. And we thought our house of three Sara(h)s was impressive. Not only are the names impressive, the people themselves are such a wonderful blessing. The fellowship we have been able to have with them at team meetings and fundraisers is beautiful and much needed. One of the Jess’s cracks us up with her energetic dancing, beatboxing, craziness. Bronwyn encourages us with her realness and joyous spirit. It is so good to be part of a team, to be with one mission, one page we’re all on. Even though we are still often not sure of what is going on, we feel a part of something and that is good. Very good. Except when they make you do fashion shows in front of perfect strangers at a breakfast fundraiser. That gets a bit sketchy. We had to wear sarongs and walk the “runway” with attitude. It was supposed to give an idea to people who we were. So I guess we’re two awkward models from what people saw on Saturday.

Our journey to Mozambique will consist of three days of driving with another team from Jo’burg. It started with getting fun visas from Mozambique, an expensive passport accessory because of our US nationality, and a long wait in the city center for our passports to clear.

Libby

A 15 year old mother-to-be took drugs. After the child was born, she abandoned him on the stairs of a relative who couldn’t themselves take care of the child. Eventually the child made its way to the center to be cared for. Now the boy, Siabulela (aka Libby), is four years old and has mental and physical disabilities because of his mom’s drug use during pregnancy. He has a beautiful smile and laugh. He loves to clap and bounce up and down to clapping or music. He can’t eat very solid food and has to be fed by someone. His verbal skills are minimal and can only make noises. We love him dearly, he is amazing. He is peaceful when the rest of the kids are chaotic.

At the same time we are lost in how to care for him best. Though Sara took a class in inclusive education, the class contains as much information as most education classes…minimal. If anyone has any help on how to include or care for Libby, any advice is helpful. He is often left in a room by himself in a makeshift crib for the majority of the day. We have tried to include him in activities, or at least bring him outside, hold him, talk to him. Every morning when Sara changes his diaper contains the most (sorry to be a little graphic but maybe someone has advice on this) odor filled urine I’ve ever smelled and is in quantities that I’ve never seen. I was thinking it may be because of the lack of water or liquid in his diet and ultimately is dehydration, but maybe it has something to do with the lack of absorption in his digestive track? Just thoughts. It breaks our hearts to not know what to do, not know how to make it any better. We are going to look into investing in a wheelchair he can grow into as we’re not sure he’ll ever be able to walk. He currently is put into a walker that is far too small for him. Prayers and advice would much be appreciated in regards to wonderful Libby.

Foxy

Foxy… the demon dog. Well, there were two cute, subdued dogs living at the centre we when arrived; one small, shaggy white dog and a larger black mutt. They just liked to be pet and curl up together to keep warm. No harm, you probably wouldn’t even notice them unless you accidentally tripped over one on your way into a room. And then came Foxy. There are only two words that can describe Foxy accurately: Child Snatcher. Apparently this crazy dog was bought as a means of protection, but it’s so psychotic that it is useless for any job of the sort. However, it does well at destroying toys, knocking down food and attempting to eat small children. It has already nipped at at least 4 boys, all of whom ended up in tears after their encounters. Although it has yet to do true harm to anyone, it is still one scary mongrel; like the Sandlot Beast of Elsies River. Literally, it prowls in the dark and if you don’t know where it is, it could come tearing after you from afar for some unknown reason. Although the kids like to play games with Foxy by throwing things at him to see if he will bite it, they still scream “IT’S GOING TO EAT ME” as they run away from the little terror and cower in the corner until one of us can escort them to their rooms as bodyguards from Foxy. And yet they all say they’re not afraid…

Adventures in Baking

Baking is difficult when you have no measuring utensils. Or a recipe to follow. For the last two Sundays we have made brownies to sell at Claremont Methodist Church to help fund the trip to Mozambique. The first week we followed the recipe that was given to us but did it without measuring cups and spoons, and they turned out just fine using our eyeballing technique. The second week was a bit more challenging. We lost the recipe. No, someone at the centre stole the recipe. So we attempted to make brownies from memory. One cup sugar. One cup oil. Was it one or two cups water? And how much cocoa do we need? Over a cup? Ok. When we pulled them out of the oven, they looked like flat, black bricks, and they were not burnt. Ingredients… yes, we for sure got them all. Amounts? Still a little sketch. We were fine with our black brownies until we had something to compare them to at church the next day; a batch made by a Mozambique veteran who used the recipe and all the proper amounts; two cups of flour, not three and eight tablespoons of cocoa, not one-and-a-half cups. The real ones were about twice and tall as ours and about 10 shades lighter. Nonetheless we laughed it off, deemed them edible and sold them for R5 each to unsuspecting customers. We promised an extra cocoa flavor, made with love.

Success

For the first time since we’ve been here, we have successfully executed an activity with all of the kids without mass chaos and frustration. We made pizzas with the kids tonight and it turned out magnificently well. We spent a few hours in the kitchen ahead of time making dough, cutting up toppings and shredding cheese for the big event. In groups of 5 the kids all came in and decorated a pizza with tomato, avocado, meat, onion, pineapple and broccoli. Each one got to pick out an ingredient and they all got to put a handful of whatever they chose wherever they wanted to on the pizza. The older kids grasped the concept of spreading toppings evenly, but the little ones just took a fistful and dumped it onto the middle of the pizza in one heaping pile. Either way, the pizzas were delicious and the kids had a lot of fun helping cook dinner. They all enjoyed eating their creations and begged for more. It was such a beautiful thing to feel encouraged and successful after trying an activity with them instead of utterly defeated and frustrated. Woohoo for pizzas and Alistair’s recipe!

Coming Home

Just a quick thought. Life Community Welfare has started to feel like home. Sometimes we leave for the day to regain our sanity and patience so we can better serve the children with cheerful attitudes. It’s completely necessary and we look forward to our days off, but what’s even better than our time away is the time we come home. Sometimes we can see the kids playing in the yard as we drive up and they come running to the gate to let us in. when they do, Sara has to maneuver through a maze of children to pull in and park. All of them excitedly open our doors to give us huge hello hugs. They always want to know if we’re back for good, because they really like it when we’re home to spend time with them. Can you sense a pattern of hugging? I think we like the love just as much as the kids do. They are so genuine in their love, and they can forget about the times when we discipline them with time-outs to embrace us with sincere joy. Isn’t there a life-philosophy about free love? Well then call me a hippie, because the love is free flowing through the children at LCW and I cherish every moment of it.

Bed Time

8:00pm. I look forward to that time every day. The kids are finally worn out after a long day of playing outside, and we are utterly exhausted from all that it takes to keep 17 young ones fed, clothed and happy. At the end of each day we say good night to the roomful of boys ages 5 and under. If we’re not there to help them change into their pajamas, they are sure to come fetch us to tuck them in. Shety and Solomzi share a bed most nights (even though there are enough beds for everyone) and it’s quite possibly the cutest thing ever. It’s about a 5-minute routine of what we have to go through to get them down. I think every night a new step is added to the process, but right now we’re at the following sequence: Start with Solomzi. Double high five. Another double high five. One single high five. A single high five on the other side. One huge hug. One kiss for me. One kiss for Solomzi. Throw Solomzi down sideways onto the pillow in a fit of laughter. Repeat process with Shety. It makes them so happy to have those few moments of personal attention without the other children around.

Plus, after everyone is tucked in that means we are free to go to bed at a whopping 8:30pm… and believe me, we’re more than ready to get in our own beds each at that time (I know I’m completely breaking the double-digit rule, especially since it’s summer, but I’m too tired to care).

Odwa is a slightly different routine. Sara runs up asking, “can you give me a hug?” and he throws back his covers and yells, “YESS!” then a huge hug is given and received, followed by a kiss for him. Sara says, “I love you” and he says, “and me you”. Ahhhh I love it. Sarah goes up to his bed and he puts his covers to his face, revealing just his eyes. She bounces him in bed as high as she can and then gives him a huge hug as he giggles the whole time. Priceless.

Imitators

Further in Ephesians it talks about imitating Jesus by living “a life of love” as a dearly loved child. I am loved so I can love. I don’t need to spend time trying to gain love because I am ALREADY loved, what freedom is that?! This freedom allows me to love without looking for anything in return. In this freedom I can imitate Jesus in the way he sacrifices, the way he embraces the broken, the way he is selfless, the way he loves.

A perfect image of this is when Sarah and I are dancing with the kids. They love it. They love following every move we make as closely as possible. Two of the girls even like repeating everything I say, which I guess I could take as a compliment, but they love imitating. The kids love imitating our speech, our dances, our facial expressions, our sounds, and our attitudes. May I be like a child, following Jesus’ life and imitating his life of love.

Nice Girl

“Be kind and compassionate towards one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you” Ephesians 4:32

I (Sara) dislike being described as nice. I feel like nice is one of those adjectives that you use when you can’t think of anything deeper or more meaningful about a person. “Well, Sara is nice” sounds to me like “Well, Sara doesn’t do anything to make people upset or angry”. I do want to be kind, to put others needs and desires before my own, and as my dad says, “there is no reason to be unkind”. As I was reading in Ephesians earlier this week I was thinking about compassion and how that seems to go beyond kind. Here’s a brief look into my rambling journal thoughts about it:

“Being compassionate goes beyond kind, it overwhelms the heart and soul, it seeps into motivation and reasoning. If I am compassionate must I even question whether or not to be kind? Compassion pushes me to consider others’ needs before my own. It gives me patience to take the time to consider the other side of the story. It puts my desires on the backburner as I invest in others—whether they care or not. Whether they are compassionate or not. Gosh that is hard.”

I desire to become a compassionate person. I will start by being compassionate towards people here. I will start by giving the benefit of the doubt and seeking to bless and encourage others.

Morning Hugs

One of my dear friends, Katie, and I (Sara A) implemented the morning hug idea when we were leading a backpacking trip with a group of middle school girls. I am a big fan. I love getting them. Anyway, when we wake up in the morning and leave the sanctuary of our room, we get attacked by the kids. If it’s early enough to be before school most, if not all, the kids are awake to give us “mornings” and knee or waist high hugs. Otherwise the little boys still out of school run at us full speed and jump, fully trusting that our arms will work and swing them up for a neck hug. I love it and it’s one of my favorite parts of the day.

Grace

(In Response to the post titled "The Bad")

My sister loves the name of Grace. For good reason, it is a beautiful name and is the center of Christian faith. Though I did not physically meet a Grace, I was faced with it multiple times this week. Long story short I got the quote for the accident (for fixing the other car) and it was a little over $500. I fully understand that for car repair, that is on the low end but $500 dollars to me feels like a couple of thousand. I had yet to have any emotional breakdowns from the incident until I got the fax. My mistake now had a price tag attached to it. And that sucks. For the record tears don’t make money appear or erase a mistake, but I sure tried.

Lana, the other driver, called me the next day and asked if I got the fax and asked what I thought. I replied that it looked good and that I would get her the money as soon as possible. She asked if it looked a bit expensive and I tried to cover up my “YES” and said, “yea, but looks reasonable for what needs to be done and it was my mistake so I will pay you it in full.” [here’s where grace comes in] She replied, “Well, my husband and I have been talking about it and we decided that we’d like to help out. We know it was an accident and will pay for half.” Wow. I was amazed. A perfect stranger that I had caused discomfort and inconvenience to, was willing to drop 250 for me. Wow, what a small glimpse and reminder of God’s grace to us daily.

Another face of grace was demonstrated to me by the owner of the car that I drive, Alistair. To put it lightly I was shaking in my boots to admit to him that I had driven his car into an accident. I called him and explained the situation to him and after asking if everyone was okay he said, “well it doesn’t sound too bad, I’m glad no one got hurt”. Wow. Again I am humbled by people’s overwhelming grace to me when I am vulnerable and in fault.

I can't even begin to explain

(This post follows the 3 part Good, Bad Ugly posts) The weekend held even more excitement, if you can imagine. Sunday evening we find out we must go to Kalk Bay to report the incident to the police with jurisdiction over our case. “I can’t even begin to explain where the police station is, it’s on the main road. You’ll see it. You must be here 1900” were the exact directions given to us by some unknown police officer as to how to find the police station 45 minutes away from the centre, an hour and a half before our deadline. No, he did not tell us that there is no police station in Kalk Bay. No, he did not tell us the police station with jurisdiction over Kalk Bay is actually in the neighboring town of Muizenburg. No, he did tell us that “it’s on the main road” really means “there is a small, almost visible sign on the main road that points up some dark road heading into the mountains where the actual police station hides, out of view from the main road”. Five turn arounds and two stops asking for directions later, we reached our destination with 3 minutes to spare. Why we had to be there before 7pm we still do not know, I think they were trying to scare us into actually coming. I can’t even begin to explain the frustrations that were fuming behind us as we hauled our bums into the station.

Luckily, the actual reporting of the incident went very smoothly. A really fun younger man with a very thick accent helped fill out the forms and sent us on our way (ticket-less and a little more joyful about the situation after our conversation with him, he reminded Sara that there are no bad drivers, everyone makes mistakes)

If you ever need directions to the police station that has jurisdiction in Kalk Bay, Cape Town, South Africa, I can explain to you in great detail how to get there. And no, it’s not as easy as they make it seem.

The Good (part 1)

(from 6/17)

We went to the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point on Saturday. What an amazing place! I remember learning in grade school about the explorers rounding the Cape of Good Hope excited to see what was on the “other side of the world” and I remember thinking how far away that was from me… I never thought I would actually get to see it for myself a mere 10 years later! We hiked up to Cape Point, the southern-most point of Africa where we could see the ocean on one side and a sea of clouds on the other, covering up the waters below. Just below and a little to the West rests the Cape of Good Hope. We hiked down to the waters and laid on large rocks as the ocean water swelled around us. I’m pretty sure we could see the South Pole just a mere 6,000 km away if we looked really, really hard. While we were at the waterfront some fancy schmancy tour group of foreign women came with champagne celebrating who knows what, the fact that their jeeps made it down the paved road to the Cape so they didn’t have to hike the rocky paths? Who knows, but I think they felt sorry for us as we trudged back up the hillside sweaty, dirty and champagne-less. I think we took more pity on them that they felt the need to bring every comfort from home with them instead of enjoying the rugged beauty in a more natural way.

I know I’ve said it before, but from what I have seen of Africa, it truly is a zoo without cages! The wildlife at the Cape was incredible! On our drive up we had to quickly yield to a pack of baboons that was hanging out in the street – baboons! They are kind of ugly creatures, but beautiful in their own way. A few kilometers up the road we saw another baboon just perched on a post on the side of the road, minding his own business. Apparently, the baboons on the Cape have become very accustomed to humans and have been known to destroy cars in order to get the food on the inside. We also saw wild ostriches grazing on our hike down to the Cape of Good Hope, plain as day without a care in the world. Little lizards were in abundance and we could see them sunbathing on warm rocks and scurrying out of our path every few steps.

The Bad (part 2)

(from 6/17) Why does the bad part have to be about me (sara a)? The fact that the blog titled “The Bad” surrounds an event caused and created by me is a little humbling. So being the considerate person I am I thought I’d stop by Kalk Bay for Sarah to enjoy the cute shops and atmosphere. I faced my fear of parking on a busy road only after one turn around and we headed on our way. I was right, Sarah liked it. However when I came out to see I was parked in I was a little fearful. Never-the-less the friendly parking guard guided me out of the tight space and I was ready to pull into traffic. I looked over my shoulder and looked ahead again to make sure I was clearing both cars. My eyes must have failed to register a large white truck was actually coming my way. But my ears were working fine when I heard the collision. I cannot begin to write the sick feeling that took over my body instantly, or the words that escaped my mouth. The driver was a very nice woman, and I was able to semi control my emotions as we exchanged details, looked over the cars. Little damage was done to her car it seemed. The runner to step up to the truck was loose on the back end and some paint on the side was scrapped off. Much better than I had originally thought. I said sorry repeatedly and felt awful, but as my parents always said, the important thing is that the people involved are okay. Cars can be fixed, people are a little more tricky. We both drove away and the rest of the evening was overshadowed by thoughts of how could I be so stupid and not see a large white truck??!

The Ugly (part 3)

(from 6/17) Saturday night. I don’t even know if there is any way to describe it. We came home after our escapades on the coast to joyful children yelling “Games! Games!”. We were going to the arcade. With 16 young children and not enough adults. Maybe we should’ve stayed out just a little longer… for two hours Sara and I pushed strollers running around the largest arcade I have ever seen trying to keep tabs on all of our children. Each of them was given R3 (that’s 3 Rand… and R7 = $1 approximately) to make last as long as possible in the hundreds of games that N1-City housed. Can someone say overstimulation? As it turns out, kids night out also means adult night off. The youth volunteers were as excited as the children to explore the loud, dark, crazy place of glowing games. The two of us seemed to be the only ones concerned if our kids were snatched up by random strangers, broke games, fought with each other or others, ticked off security guards, wet their pants, etc. The two owners of the centre seemed to be enjoying a conversation in the food court outside of the arcade, with no concern visible as we madly tried to control chaos. Upon reaching our breaking point we decided enough was enough. The money had long run out (almost 2 hours ago) and we decided to round up the gang. Easier said than done. We finally got 95% of them at tables in the food court while one of us would try to find the others. Kids decided it was a game to try to run back into the arcade without us noticing. Ha, funny game kids. We thought the two head adults would get the idea and come help, but they seemed to not notice. Finally one of the youth volunteers brought sandwhiches from home to feed the kids, which was good as it was past 8 o’clock at this point. We tried to find the baby and Libby, who has mental and physical disabilities and cannot feed himself, all the while trying to keep 13 other kids in one location. Finally the night came to a close at 8:30 when the two adults came over with no emotion showing and announced our departure. We drove home in silence and couldn’t put the experience into words for awhile...besides clearly knowing that the next time “arcade” is mentioned we’re both pleading sick.

Come dance with me

The children love mimicking what we do. They follow us around, repeat what we say and are always watching to see what we do next. Thanks to Jon Anderson and the staff at Fort Wilderness, children all over the world will be "driving the bus"forever and ever. Music seems to be one of the few things that focuses the children on the task at hand. The task being dancing. They love to dance, and they have quite creative moves, comparable to Jon's "tiny bow and arrow" and "man dance" moves. These kids are not afraid to get loose and boogie down. On our very first day we taught them the bus driving dance and now they ask for it by name every day, knowing that it will inevitably lead to more songs and more dancing.

For those of you that don't know, the bus driving dance is a simple dance consisting of a lot of silly moves. There is really no order, and whoever is leading just starts doing what they want to do next and everyone follows. Moves include: driving the bus, hugging the cow, mowing the lawn, grocery shopping, etc. They follow our moves until we call out a name of a child, who then comes up with a new move that everyone follows. We all just stand in one big clump around the music flailing about and laughing loudly.

I don't care what people say about math... music is the true universal language. As long as you've got the beat, you can turn any rainy day into a dance party.

Jo’burg

Though our initial understanding of the weekend was a small group staying in Jo’burg and climbing right outside of it was a little off of reality, it was an amazing weekend. It was my (Sara) heaven—climbing and staying in a hostel. The climbing was supposedly the best sport lead climbing in South Africa, and I could agree with my limited exposure to Cape Town climbing. The rock itself was beautiful, a red that glowed in the sun. The climbing was so much fun. Sarah learned how to belay and was a fantastic encourager. I only have bruises to show for myself, but it was wonderful. There was a large group of us, all very friendly, typical climber people staying in a climber-specific hostel 2 ½ hours outside of jo’burg. I got to go running every morning through the small, excluded town and loved it. The temperatures were a lot colder than in cape town but was dry and sunny during the day. I am getting more comfortable sport leading, but falling far off the bolt is still a scary, awakening experience. All in all, it was wonderful and a great break.

Hitting and Kicking

Why or why does it seem like a good idea to hit and kick each other? The kids seem like that is perfectly acceptable for them, but what if I started doing it to them? Yea, that’s right not so cool anymore. Seriously, we try and try to get them to stop with little luck. Dinner was a disaster today as two boys could not keep their hands to themselves. Anyone have any ideas? We have little ideas of disciplining but take them away from the group and talk to them. For some kids it works better than others. We also didn’t give them bananas when they hit each other (bananas were for dessert), and for me that would have worked instantaneously, but I guess it will take more than not giving them fruit…

Mango airlines

On our weekend off we flew to Jo’Burg to go climbing and hiking with Alistair and a bunch of friends. To my amazement and excitement we went on Mango airlines. Now for those who don’t really know me, I love fruit. I love it a little too much at times, but mangos are seriously amazing and should be eaten frequently. Anyway, this airline is wonderful. The planes are orange with a huge “mango” written on the side. Sarah and I were both astonished at the marvel of the inside of the plane, everything was orange and cool looking. So we had this grand idea that we’d take the head rest covers (that were bright orange) for souvenirs and letter writing paper. Then we got a bit carried away as the airline magazine looked cool enough for the taking. Then as Sarah was commenting on the fineness of the hostess’ clothes (full mango orange attire) and searching for the barf bag to see if has orange and cool, I, in a typical weird Sara accent, said, “oooh look it says mango on it! That’s so cool, anyone else, anyone?” We both laughed as we realized we were being a little ridiculous, but never the less, we strongly recommend the beautiful, tasty airline.

Oma and Opa

Oma means grandma in Afrikaans, and Opa means grandpa. They are two unrelated people that work at the centre and have become favorites in our hearts. Oma is one of the most hard-working, diligent people I know. She is over 60, yet works harder than anyone else at the centre. She cleans everything, washes, dries, yells at kids, avoids pictures and says, “thank you dear” or “thank you lovely” when we do anything. I (sara a) asked her to show me how to wrap my hair in the scarf type thing I always see her in...so the pictures are of the one she did on me then the one i did on sarah p.

Opa is a man who I just found out is exactly 74 years old and helps out on Tuesdays. He cracks me (Sara A) up. He always speaks to me in Afrikaans and has me repeat it, but rarely tells me what I’m saying…dodgy indeed. I rode back with him from the vegetable market today and it was hilarious. I was making faces at him, either huge grins or wide open typical Sara face and he returned the favor. Then he elbowed me and then quickly looked away as if he didn’t do it. Maybe you had to be there, but it was a riot and he never stops joking around.

Favorite Days

Now I love Tuesdays and Thursdays. Besides both starting with the letter T, both mean food distribution and that means fun. Tuesdays are when Pastor Joseph takes us to the biggest warehouse of fruits and vegetables I’ve ever seen to pick up donations. They fill a trailer full and we head back to the center. I have to admit, the first time we went to the warehouse I was severely tempted to become a crook and steal. Okay maybe not that far, but if I ever go off the deep end, you can find me there in the corner eating lots of mango, pineapple, and oranges. Anyway we head back to the centre and organize/sort through all the food. Some of it is rotten so we have to pick through and find the good stuff. Sometimes this gets messy as Sarah’s potato mush stained pants can attest to. Over 60 people are waiting at the gate to get the vegetables for virtually free (they have to pay 3 rand, which is less than 50 cents for lots of vegetables). Oma, one of my new favorite people, organizes it all and gives us very specific directions of attack.

Thursdays we drive with more donated food to Khayelitsha, the township where most of the kids came from as well as the volunteers at the centre. Pastor drives through in his bucky (pick-up truck) honking his horn. Little kids from all over run and yell in excitement and race to the location where we hand it out. It is beautiful and I love it. The only downside is that we have to play paper, rock, scissors to see who sits up front as pastor really likes the heat blasting on…cooking us to the very core of our beings…okay so I exaggerate a bit.

Bone Soup

The name reminds me of something maybe my grandma would say she is making for dinner…but it is reality. Never before did I think kids would make “cameras” with left overs-of their dinner. But I’ve been proven wrong. Bone soup is a common occurrence here and the kids love it. Nerdy me tries to always identify what type of bone the different ones are, and usually they are some part of the vertebrate (for those curious ones). Sarah and I are both finding it semi-challenging not to have control or independence in what we eat, but the last couple of nights we’ve been able to make dinner and love it. I (Sara A.) lean towards using as many vegetables and beans acceptable. All the food is mass produced to feed the hungry 16 kids and usually about 8-10 adults. The pots and pans are so huge to make the cooking possible, and great a chore of dish washing. Besides bone soup, we’ve made/had a pasta kolash type thing, split pea/sugar bean/ground beef (referred to as mince meat) soup, rice and some type of meat gravy, sopa (a type of soft corn pellet)…The kid’s breakfasts are either oats or a corn hash mixture.

children, children everywhere

Any suggestions on how to quickly become an authority figure?

As of now, we are seen as playthings to the children. They love to climb on every limb, sit in our laps and laugh when we tell them not to do things. We love them, all 16 of them, but they are completely crazy. It is what is to be expected from young children, but we are struggling to have any sort of power over their actions. We're praying hard for the children at the centre, and that God would give us patience with them and allow us to love them even while they are causing trouble.

Nonetheless, their smiling faces are enough to make your heart melt and their excitement for life is enough to make us realize in the end, it's all good. We are so desperately trying to remember names and pronounce them correctly. We are working very hard on mastering the different clicks in the Xhosa language (said "kosa") so as to pronounce words as best as our Midwestern North American accents will allow. The kids love trying to make us say difficult Xhosa words and laughing at our poor attempts. One day, we will be fluent. Mark my word ;)

The kids have such strong personalities which shine in all that they do. Without even looking at them I bet we could tell who was who based solely on their chosen activites, actions and the sound of their laughter.
Kanya is the trouble-maker.
Solani likes to pretend he's playing piano and singing gospel music.
Ace is the caretaker. He's sensitive, and helps out the younger children.
Shatty is the crier. He is a lot smaller than the rest of the children and doesn't like not getting what he wants.

We love them, we really do. And we can't promise that our suitcases won't be full of them when we return. Or they might just cling to our legs for the duration of the trip home. Yeah, I could see them doing that. They are very hard to peel off once they have latched on.

our excitements

Sara and I (Sarah) have very different lifestyles and excitements we've come to realize. Sara enjoys running and climbing mountains, I would rather take a long walk and be near the ocean. Luckily, Alistair was in town on Saturday and we were able to fulfill two of our different excitements. Two words: Penguins and mountains.

PENGUINS! I was super excited to see the penguins of South Africa. For all of you doubters, yes, they do exist and yes, they are really cute (and a little smelly). We took a drive near the coast to penguin haven. The little creatures are everywhere and they scurried across our path to dive into the cool ocean waters.

What's nice about Cape Town is the changing landscape. Mountains flow into the ocean and you can go from the top of a cliff into the water in about a 15 minute drive. Our next stop on our exciting day was rock climbing; a favorite pastime of Sara and Alistair. We spent the afternoon hiking around Peer's Cave to different challenging courses. Sara was extremely excited to be back in the air, conquering new climbs.

We ended our day taking a hike up Lion's Head; a mountain smack in the middle of Cape Town to watch the sunset and moonrise. We missed the sunset, but we watched the moon come up in between two neighboring mountains to illuminate the picnic dinner we had packed. From the top of Lion's Head you can see everything. Look one way and you've got the ocean. Look again and there's the city of Cape Town. Turn around once more and you see Devil's Peak and Table Mountain. It was truly an amazing sight.

We recounted our adventures over milkshakes and headed back to the centre, eager to get some rest.

Farthest you can be without turning back

(from last week)

We have decided that we are the furthest away from the home as we can be without starting back the opposite way. Our arrival into Cape Town was hectic... an hour delayed because of fog, lost luggage, a nonworking cell phone and our ride nowhere in sight. Being the big girls that we are, we figured it all out and mananged to get to the centre without any trouble at all (Don't worry parents... we bought a new sim card, called our ride and he was at the airport 10 minutes after we talked to him to take us on our way. And Sara's bag arrived safely at the centre the next morning).

It was great to meet the staff we have been emailing with for the last 6 months. Everyone who works and lives at the centre has a lot of energy and was really excited for our arrival.

We spent our first day handing out food in Khayelitsha, the township that LCW serves. The pastor of the church LCW is connected with just drives up and down the streets honking his horn and little children pop out from every which way and come running with their empty plastic bags eager to fill them with the fresh fruit and veg in the back of the truck. We found such joy dividing the food among the masses. At least for a while, we know that these children and their families will not go hungry. And we will be back every Thursday that we are here to repeat the process and fill their sacks.

I take food for granted. I have never had to worry about not having enough to eat. I usually have too much to eat and can't make decisions on what I most want to have for a meal. I have come to realize that for some of the world, food is a scarcity. Be thankful for what God has provided for you, big or small.

Halfway There :)

We left our apartment at 3pm on Tuesday, May 29th and did not arrive into Cape Town until 9am on Thursday, May 31. Luckily we had a nice long layover in London to stretch our legs and see the city. We made the most of our short time in London and attempted to tire ourselves out so we would sleep the whole 12 hour plane ride to South Africa. It almost worked...

Our adventure started after getting our passport stamps at the airport. We seriously looked like two lost tourists wandering around with our heavy packs. Train, underground... aren't they the same thing? Apparently not. So we took the adventurous way using the Tube to get into downtown London. A fun French girl named Leslie took pity on us and rode the Picadilly line with us to get to Big Ben. If it hadn't been for her, we'd still be trying to navigate our way through the city.

We walked and walked and walked all over London, getting a beer at some restaurant claiming their portions were big enough for an elephant to eat (Thanks for the pounds, Papa Parker :) and laughing at the ads on the red double-decker buses (especially the one that said in big block lettering 'For the love of boobs'). It was misting and raining off and on all day, but we were so excited to be in London and out of our cramped airplane quarters that we hardly noticed.

All in all, it was a good day. It kept our mind off the 12 hour flight looming before us and tired us out enough that we couldn't wait to shut our eyes and doze off.

The flight to Cape Town was anything but exciting. Luckily the cabin was very empty so we were fortunate enough to each have our own row of seats so we could lay down and sleep most of the time. We thought we might actually feel rested by the time we arrived at Life Community Welfare :) we are so naive.