I’ve Got Fleas

I’ve really been struggling with my overall purpose of being here. Now don’t get me wrong, I know why I came over here. I did not just leave me family, friends, security, identity, comfortable life, and most importantly my dog just for kicks. I guess a brief history of how God brought me to this point is somewhat necessary. Strap on those seatbelts because this is a ride, not like the unusual simulated roller coasters that you only find at shady bowling alleys that leave you feeling nauseous and irritable in the intestinal region (that may just be me), but more of a ride in Jeep Wrangler on a beautiful spring day where you kind of get lost on purpose because of the wind through your hair and the music blaring through the speakers has become your heartbeat for the moment, and because it is those moments where you get lost that you find yourself…unless you are without a GPS, then you are just genuinely lost. I have a serious problem with making introductions more elaborate than they need to be. My apologies to the reader.

Now back to the initial point. I know why I am here. I have known this for what seems like years. I have felt some connection to Africa as a whole for sometime now. I can’t explain this without sounding too ridiculous. I have always felt something drawing me towards this country. At a younger age it was purely because of The Lion King. As I grew older it became more of a passion or obsession, or maybe both. I disregarded these feelings as my “wild oats” and decided to put it to rest. But I was unable to do so. This desire to see Africa began to grow exponentially. I cannot explain this feeling; I just know it was there. It would weigh on me. Then college came hit. I expected that with this new sense of freedom and lack of responsibility that my youthful desires of Africa would fall by the wayside, but I was wrong. Then the opportunity presented itself. The Social Work department advertised a semester opportunity in South Africa to do fieldwork. I may or may not have changed my major for this opportunity. My junior year rocked up and two of my classmates informed me that they were chosen to go to South Africa at the end of the year. I was so confused. How were they able to go? The trip wasn’t until next year, and then one of my teachers told me that it was every other year and that I had missed my opportunity. Anger, frustration, injustice, unfair, ridiculous, and similar thoughts raced through my mind. I spoke to my professors and told them my side. They said to come back next semester. I did. They arranged the trip for me. Three times since they planned it I thought it was going to fail. Three times I saw the faithfulness of One who planned this long before I even considered the idea. Late November was the time I booked the flight. This represented my official going to South Africa, partly because I knew I would be in major debt otherwise. I knew then that it was God that had been tugging on my heart to go to Africa. I saw my childish dreams go to youthful wishing to reality. I knew that God must have incredible plans for me over here. I just knew that something great was going to happen. And here I am.

And here I am. Here I am in South Africa upset once again because I can’t figure out what that is. I see what I am supposed to be doing from a Social Work perspective, but that has to be more than that right? I was thinking something big…like every gang member sees me not doing drugs and models that behavior. Something as big as seeing the entire city of Manenberg come to Jesus because of my 3-month stint here. Don’t’ get me wrong, I still believe that God is very capable of all that, but this may not be my duty. The realization that this may not be my purpose came after yet another frustration. The Warehouse is an Anglican originated organization and this past week we spent a good deal of time speaking on Lent. I actually did a pre-fast to determine what God wanted me to fast from. Incredible huh? The only reason I tell you that is because of the humbling session that followed it, otherwise you would have no reason to know. During my pre-fast I quickly realized that while fasting I found myself further away from the center of God’s will. I was constantly thinking about what I was giving up and the steps that I was taking in doing so and completely forgetting about the God that I was concerned with. It wasn’t until after the fast was over that I realized what I was to give up. Nothing. God told me not to give up anything. How could this be? How could I not give up anything? I was so angry for 3 days. I was willing to make some sacrifice to God and he didn’t want it. I am not a fan of revealing too much of my personal life, although this post doesn’t really support that statement, but I think showing this will best collaborate my experience and show what I was taught. My prayer is that it is encouraging to someone. This is the prayer that I wrote in my journal last Friday, February 11^th:

As I read through the story of Ruth I am reminded of the hope that I should have in you. I am learning so many truths right now that are difficult to swallow. I see how you carried Ruth through, even when it didn’t look like there was any hope for her or Naomi. What sticks with me though is how Ruth was content to glean. She was happy to walk behind the workers and pick up their droppings. I feel that you are telling me to do that in my time here in South Africa. Walk behind these individuals and pick up anthing they throw my way. I have so much to learn and they have so much to teach. This is why you were telling me that I was not ready to fast, and that was difficult to deal with God. I did not understand how I was not “spiritual” enough to fast, but you reveal things to me little by little. You knew I was not ready. You knew I would focus on the fast, not you. God give me the hope that Ruth had in you. She was happy to pick up the leftovers. Teach me in this time so that I can go home ready to work because of all that I learned here. Ruth 1: 16-18…where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay…

Lord teach me to stay.

I apologize that this is so long of a post. I don’t really have high expectations for anyone other than my mother to actually read this in it’s entirety, and the only reason she will do that is to check my grammar! I do want to continue to thank those of you who are praying for me in this journey. This week has been another week of learning. I am taking a course of community develop and have been floored with information. I am ready to get back to The Warehouse and Manenberg though. It has only been 3 days, but I miss it! I hope all is well at the homefront!

O yeah, about the title. I do indeed have fleas. There is no joke there. I don’t know where they came from, but they are on my bed and seem to be under the impression that my leg is a great place to do their business…and I don’t want to know what that business is. Home remedies are accepted so please throw them my way. I am taking hope in the fact that this definitely is not the first time something named Tobey has had fleas. Usually they have four legs and a tail, but I am not far off.

Cheers

Sorry for the delay!

Well hello again. I am sorry for taking so long to update, but I have struggled with what exactly to put on here. I could talk about my family, but there is only so much you can say about a woman who packs me 3 sandwiches for lunch and a man who is convinced that is lottery never works because the government is out to get him. He believes that the lottery is rigged so he doesn't turn his card in until 3 minutes before the cut-off so that they don't have time to see his numbers and change the outcome. I am dead serious. I hope that someone else can find humor in that besides myself because he surely doesn't see it as funny. Anyways, yeah that is most of my family life. They are great. I will have interesting stories, but I don't know if they are worth reading on a blog! I mean I could tell you about all the Oprah, Days of our Lives, and Nsdinyo (an Afrikaans soap opera) but I have a feeling that you would rather be spared!

I thought about writing about different experiences I have had in the past week, but I don't know if reading stories about me at the beach will be pleasant for all of you who are snowed in! I have cruised the largest mall in Africa (so I hear...but that is also from the man who believes that the government is solely against him winning the lottery, so take that for what it is worth.), been to an outlet store, been to a few different beaches, and attempted to get on a touch rugby team. I have not been given an invitation to play, just watch. I am sure once they see how I look in my tight Under Armour gear that they will realize their mistake.

So yeah, it is tough to find something interesting to write about. My whole day is interesting to me, but I am experiencing everything for the first time. These things may not be as fascinating for you, and hopefully you know that I am here to please you, the reader/bloggie.

These things might not be interesting to you, but what is incredible is the work God is doing at The Warehouse. I am blessed to just be on the outskirts of what is taking place here. I recently started my case studies and group sessions with a few of the guys from Manenberg. It is so evident to see that I have come in a long way into the process with these guys. They are so open and honest with their lives. They have been discipled for the past year or so which makes it incredible for me to hear their stories. I can not imagine the life that these guys live. As if finding their next meal were not enough, they must fight for their safety as well. They are surrounded by drugs, gangs, and any other negative influence that you can think of, but yet they show how resilient they truly are. I quickly realized how over my head that I am right now as I began to speak to them one on one. My job is to dig deeper than they have already gone and bring up any feelings that they have suppressed or have not properly coped with. Already I have dealt with tears, anger, confusion, and fear. I am feeling a great bit of inadequacy. I would like to meet the therapist who does feel adequate in these situations because I don't think he or she would be prepared either. I am realizing that this is going to be a tough road, but one that I am not on alone. I have incredible supervision here and I am very encouraged by that, as well as those of you who are praying for me. If you want to direct those prayers towards the guys that I am meeting with for the next couple of weeks I feel that would be more appropriate. I have 3 meals, clothes, and a roof over my head. They don't.

How's that for a post that I had nothing to write about? Ha. I guess I can ramble with the best of them. I hope that you are all doing well. I will try not to go so long without posting because I know a few of you check this every day (cough, Mom). I know that you are all hanging on every word so I will do my best to give you the next section soon! I hope you all have a great day!

Manenberg

The past couple of days I have had the opportunity to go into Manenberg. I am aware that I am not the best at painting a picture with my words, but I feel as though I should give it a try...

When you enter Manenberg you quickly realize the need for any and every sort of help one could provide. From the kids running on the streets to the drug deals in plain daylight, this community seems to be crying out for help. I do not think I am going to be able to provide pictures of Manenberg, but hopefully you will feel like you have been there soon! If you were to stand in the middle of Manenberg Avenue and basically just take a panoramic photograph of what you saw then you would see concrete flats (apartments) on either side of a narrow road. These flats are two stories and they all look like buildings downtown that have been vacant for years. Some of them are painted different colors because the resident feels a sense of ownership and pride that his or her flat is slightly different than the next. Outside of these make-shift flats are shacks made out of tin, cardboard, various pieces of lumber, barbed wire, etc. These houses are usually extensions of the first floor flat. Some have running water and electricity, some don't. These shacks are smaller than your bedroom, yes your room. Usually there are in the neighborhood of 10-12 people in each of these shacks, but that can go up or down depending on the family situation. As you walk down the streets you see street vendors selling items from their shack. The graffiti on the walls remind you whose territory that you are in and are there as warnings to other members of the community. You can hear the sound of children playing in the schoolyard, this is a pleasant sound, but that sound is soon forgotten when you see the barbed wire around the yard and the disparity of the schools themselves. Teenagers roam the streets always glancing behind them as if someone were following them. A stereo plays a Tupac song from 3 streets over. Cars honking. Men working. So much poverty. so much hurt. This is Manenberg.

But there is hope. There is a God who is not surprised by any of this. God is close to the brokenhearted. It is tough to see in situations like this, but He is there and once you see a glimpse of Him you keep searching for other places he may be. You can see him in the tired and worn faces of the elderly as they smile when you walk past. You can see it in the sounds of people singing along the way. You can see it as church members pass out food to people lining up. You can see it in the sense of community. That is where it shines the brightest. That is where the hope is found. I envy them. I honestly mean that. I have everything I could ever need and want, but I envy them. I am jealous of their community. I am jealous of their passion for each other. They have nothing to give, but they give it to make sure their neighbor can make it one more day. Children laughing. Music playing. Community in action. This is Manenberg.