In September of 2010 I found myself once again visiting the small African community known as the Transkaai on the outskirts of the beautiful coastal town of Port Edwards.
I believe that everywhere you go, you have a lesson to learn, that if you are willing to listen something will be revealed to you, and that sometimes when you give a little bit of yourself you will actually receive more than you bargained for.
I dont know what it is about Africans, but they can sing. Sing so beautifully that its hard to explain. Their voices come together perfectly, a waterfall of sound, so pure, so perfect, always synchronized, always in tune. The children in front of me were no exception. A chorus of voices so innocent and so sweet. Listening to them I heard Africa. My heart beat so loudly in my chest like a drum beat to their song and a baby crying in the distance filed the gaps in their melody. As I watched I could feel my throat tightening and the inevitable tears finding their way down my cheeks. They stood in line, chins high, shoulders back staring straight through me with those deep, dark eyes. They were singing with the widest smiles Ive ever seen and their pearly whites in such stark contrast to their pitch black, chocolate skin glimmered in the midday sun. Angels. Angels singing for joy, for Africa, but most importantly singing just for me. To think that a few cookies and some apples could be the source of so much joy, joy however, that would be as short lived as the mark of my footprints on the red earth surrounding the orphanage. I wonder how they perceived me. More importantly I wonder how the perceive their lives. Some say ignorance is bliss, do they know any better? Do they long for a mother to hold them every night, for a meal at least once a day? Maybe not, maybe they are content with their situation. Maybe they do not long for a better life, for a bed, for more than one room to share between 30. For some grass to play on instead of rugged rocks and red soil that dries the skin and puts dust in your eyes. Maybe they don’t mind the sharp nagging pain of thirst and hunger that haunts their days. But maybe they do. And for me that is the problem……
The Transkaai is one of the poorest areas in the world, a vast space of land bordered by the Pacific Ocean and views so beautiful they make your eyes hurt. Rolling valleys of green and brown lead into cascading cliffs and bordering gorges. The Transkaai is home to people who have access to some of the most beautiful and valuable land in the world, but no food, no water, no purpose. Shanti houses line the hills, made from anything imaginable. Scrap metal, tins and rocks serve as a common foundation for most shacks. I was astounded at the amount of churches in the community. One, or one being built at least every 500metres and although I wish I could say this is exaggeration it most definitely is not. I struggle to think that so much funding from organisations around the world go into buildings. Try feeding a child concrete, I can guarantee it wont work.
As we drove through the community in my Aunts Land Rover they would stop and look, or the little ones would wave or run along beside the car, arms outstretched in hope of receiving a gift, money or food, from the strangers passing through their land. Our doors were locked windows up. In these communities crime and violence is common part of everyday life. If you need to steal to survive you do it. If you need to kill to survive, well unfortunately you do it. Survival of the fittest? Excuse the cliché but desperate times must cause for desperate measures. Uneducated, no way out, I cannot begin to understand why these people make the choices they make and that is why I cannot judge them, I do not know for a moment what I would do in the same situation.
At one stage we drove past a group of young men. It sent shivers down my spine and an infused smell of alcohol and marijuana entered through the car vents. I was scared at that moment, not for myself, not for my Aunty, but for Africans. For the African girls being raped on a daily basis by unruly youths who join gangs to survive, to belong, to escape in the pleasures of alcohol and drugs, to gain power in their poor, powerless positions. At that moment I thought more about those boys. How had they come to this place, what choices and what circumstances drove them to be who they are today? I fear for those young men, for their future sons and daughters, for the future of South-Africa.
There is no denying it, the situation in South-Africa, well, all over the world is grave. I saw many of the injustices that occur in this country happening in Australia. All over the world people are paying the price for the way humans have treated one another. But looking back, as I sit here I realize that there is hope. Those little things do make a difference, that maybe a little knowledge and a little passion can change the course of many lives. That a little light sometimes is enough to see the bigger picture. That a little joy even from the gift of an apple or a hug from a stranger is enough to make a difference in someones life, even if for that day, even for only that moment.
…..As I was leaving the orphanage they ran after me. Goodbye is always the hardest part. Little palms swaying frantically from side to side waving me goodbye. I could hear the babies, the 10 or so of them who lined the floor of the building in their pillow cases still crying, I longed so much to comfort them, to hold them, to take them from the floor and place them in a warm cot, with musical toys dangling above their heads to keep them happy, to stop their tears from flowing. Little boys ran to open the gate for us, their little brown legs camouflaged in the dust that rose up between them. A few shy girls huddled at the corner giggling and screaming and chasing each other. I looked back with resolve, if anything I most definitely would not have changed their lives, and sometimes trying to do too much can become overbearing. What I realized however, was that in that moment I had shown them love, light and life, and in return had received from them the greatest gift of all. I had come to comfort them, but instead through their joy they had comforted me.