Reflection, New Tactical Assessment

I've been back in the states for a few days now. I must say, it's different. I'm different. 9 months away really changes one's perspective, mine anyway. Especially i guess, having been in such a drastically different culture... However, even within South Africa there are drastic cultural differences. Most of my time was spent in rural areas, next door to people who believe in ancestors and practice animal sacrifices to insure their own safety and health. I was next door to desperate people, whose days were not spent in traffic and air conditioned offices but on dirt pathways, unsure whether they'd have food to eat that day. As Americans we may think they are half a world away from an alternative lifestyle, but, as Americans we may not realize just how close an alternate lifestyle is. One American pastor, visiting South Africa, was shocked at the quality of their infra-structure. Comparing close to our own. I observed my own emotions as one week i was in a rural setting, doing ministry to people whose hunger pains were dependant on the quality of crops the weather allowed them to raise. The next week i was in an exquisite shopping mall perusing the cd's in the Virgin Atlantic store, having driven there in a 2005 BMW with a 100,000 full warranty. "Out there" the concerns were clothes, of any style, that would keep the body warm. "In there" the concern was for clothes, of only the latest style.
How is it that such wealth and poverty can co-exist? I am not going to attempt to answer this age-old question, but i would like to challenge the Christian to consider his and her part in the solution. Particularly by sharing what my part is.
In proverbs we are told if we "give a man a fish we've fed him for a day; teach a man to fish and we've fed him for a lifetime". This opens our eyes to varying degrees of need and aid. If you simply "teach a man to fish" first he may not listen because what he wants is food, right now. Second, depending on the need for food he may faint or even die before he's learned the lesson! Therefore i am an advocate for immediate aid, that is, nurses who are willing to come in and comfort the sick, people giving much needed clothes out, food banks, etc. People with fish and who are willing to share. God bless them. At the same time, long-term solutions need to be implemented. A mother and father may do a good job feeding and sheltering their own children, so why should the children ever move away? Because developing independence is the goal. Independant people are those who can potentially benefit others. Like a full-grown tree which provides shade. Therefore, by educating the next generation they can potentially benefit others rather than being a drain on resources. This is the direction the logic of the situation has attracted me.
By partnering with a ministry called CYB, Christian Youth and Beyond, i will be able to do just that as we take a Campus Crusade curriculum into the village schools which teaches the youth character and good decision making skills. Also through educating them on AIDS and how it is prevented and spread. Currently this curriculum is being used in 50 countries in 16 different languages having influenced over 1 million students on 5 continents. In other parts of KwaZulu-Natal (the province i'm working in), the curriculum is already being used in schools.
Teaching this curriculum in high schools will naturally sift the serious kids to the forefront and lead to discipleship programs.
Likewise, i am still looking into developing a children's home in a rural village. In this village i've been able to work with the Health Care Workers pinpointing the extent of the need, as well as varying degrees of need: children which would be considered "high need"-- those children living without adult supervision, susceptible to rape, hunger, and cold. The total need is in the hundreds, the "high needs" are in the 20's. This is doable.
The new problem.
Corruption in the governments of African countries is horrendous. I, like any American, has his issues with our own government, but i must say, there has been nothing like being away for 9 months to make me appreciate just how adept our government is! These millions and billions of dollars we hear of, being sent to Africa in lieu of the AIDS crisis, sadly is not getting to the ones in need due to corruption in the African governments. Bono, bless his heart, for all of the attention he's bringing, is really just a voice in the wind. The real need is for individuals like you, to give money to individuals whom you know to be making progress in the fight. I know of a gal who was a ER nurse in the states, but has sold everything to come to Africa and do her part. She is wonderful as she makes her rounds caring for women and children suffering unnecessarily, some in the late stages of AIDS. She spends her own money, while envisioning how she can develop a much needed ARV clinic. Now if Bono would support a gal like that it would do alot more tangibly toward solving the crisis. Or consider the CYB ministry who develops youth to go into schools and evangelise, teach classes, and lead discipleship groups in multiple schools.
I urge you to prayerfully consider my work. Whether i am a safe direction to send the money you set aside for investing in Kingdom work.
I've spent this past year investing in children's lives at the Agathos cottages in Loskop. I miss them and they miss me. I was able to distrubute almost 200 bibles, primarily through the contributions of friends reading my blog. I preached in multiple churches and repeatedly at a nearby high school. Through a generous donation i was able to purchase a computer for Pastor Moses to further his church ministry. I got a good start on the Zulu language as well as learning alot about their culture. I received many confirmations that i had indeed found God's will for my life and 9 months proved to be an adequate test for whether i'd be able to spend my life in the area. I spent much of my own money, and lost my laptop to theives, but was undettered.
I have strong backing in the area and my personal vision is growing more and more.
I want to thank-you all for faithfully following my 9 month trip, for praying, for responding, for welcoming me home... it has been good. By God's grace its only the beginning of a big work which He has begun. When i return to South Africa in January i'll be starting a new blog and sending it out only to those who respond with a wish to be added to my mailing list. In it i intend to give readers a first-hand look at South Africa from my perspective, as well as enlightening you throughout the development of my own ministry.
You can reach me at richardharleman@gmail.com.
God bless,
-Richard Harleman

Feed My Sheep

Feed My Sheep...
Christ, before departing to heaven after His resurrection, charged His disciple Peter with taking care of His church. Three times our Lord emphasized His concern with the words, “feed My sheep”. Likewise in John 17:20, before undergoing His passion, Jesus prayed for believers throughout all ages. Most of all, He underwent torture and death, to provide atonement and relationship with the Father for all who would believe-- therefore, it is no misjudgment to conclude the welfare of His followers to be of a high priority to Him.

Politickin…
It has been a long time since I have posted, and therefore, a lot has happened which I’ve not told you about. I had an experience as a politician a couple of months ago- The day started off well, as I was able to get a load of manure I needed for my garden. Afterward I decided to stroll over to the soccer field where some type of community event was going on, made obvious by the 4 large tents being constructed all morning. Entering the field, approaching one of the tents, and wearing my work clothes I hoped to indiscreetly stand in the back of one of the tents… but, as I got closer, a man in a fur headband, wearing a political flag and carrying a crowd control whip approached me. He grabbed me by the wrist and said “are you from the cottages?” On replying “yes” I was dragged toward the VIP tent (where the deputy mayor was speaking from a podium and the other political leaders were seated). The man in the fur headband attempted to seat me right behind the podium but I managed to finagle a spot two rows back. A few moments later the wife of the chief whispered in my ear that she would like me to give a presentation about Agathos and what we are doing across the river. It seems the federal government had allotted the rural communities large sums of Rand (South African currency) and the chief’s wife wanted us to have a shot at some of it. Well I put together a speech as best I could: I told them by taking in homeless children we are building future adults, which lead to strong families, which leads to strong communities, which leads to a strong South Africa… the following speaker made a joke about me by imitating president Bush, but I didn’t fully understand what he said… most important, I was able to put the Gospel in as well. Telling them that our Lord Jesus suffered and died for us. Because He gave of Himself we have also come to rural South Africa to share our lives. I received handshakes from the VIP table and some yells from the Christians in the crowd. That part of the speech was a success. We’ve not received or heard of any money as of yet. Quite honestly from what I hear, the money has most likely paid for Beemer’s and Benz’s. I don’t mean to negative but that is one of the sad truth’s about the government which this nation lives under.

Preachin…
Zamani is a seventeen year old young man who lives with me. I preached at his high school one day and a friend of his agreed to go to church and asked Zamani and I to come along. The plan was to meet him at the church he sometimes attends with his mom. Well Zamani and I showed but he didn’t. We went inside anyway and, within a few minutes, while standing and singing, the lady leading the service approached me asking if I would be willing to share the word that morning. I asked where the preacher was and found he had moved to Ladysmith. So I asked one by one about the other men in the congregation. To each she had a reason why they could not preach, so, I gladly accepted. When she walked away, I must confess, I sat down and wept. I was overwhelmed with the need for pastors, and the need for pasturing by those who are pastors. Right now I can tell you of multiple pastors i know who are not pasturing their flock on a weekly basis. I can tell you of two who have been gone from their congregation for more than a month, one for almost two months and no one knows when he’ll return.
Fortunately, for the sake of my preaching, I had been invited to a Zimbabwe church the previous week, and, not understanding whether I was expected to preach I had prepared anyway. Therefore, the sermon went unused, making ripe for the need at hand. The Holy Spirit was in it and I made friends with the congregation as well as making a friend who is here from Zambia. I returned the following week to meet the preacher, but, again he was not there and again, I was asked to preach. I was not as prepared this time, but since I study daily it wasn’t hard to put together a sermon out of the psalms. The third week I returned as well, and this time the pastor was there. It was quite a festivity with a three hour service and lunch brought in afterward. The pastor told me it is fine with him if I preach as long as I preach the gospel. Though I am happy the Gospel is his criteria for adequate preaching, the looseness in which the walls of the sheepfold are held scares me. As I have said before in my writing, seeing pastor training take place here is one of my chief passions.

At the Cottages…
While there’s new things transpiring this week with Agathos in Zambia things are continuing along in Loskop. We’ve taken in a few more kids in the last few months and done ample construction work on the existing buildings. We’ve turned what was before block rooms with metal roof/ceilings and ugly floors, into cozy two-toned rooms with carpeting and ceilings. There is a group coming in the middle of August from my home church in Seattle as well as longer-term visitors coming and going.
It seems that kung-fu is the universal language. I brought along a Chinese movie from America and showed it to the kids and they loved it. Since then I’ve got some Jet Li and Jackie Chan movies; I guess since they can scarcely understand the English movies what does it matter if the movie language is Chinese, Japanese, Hebrew, or any other? I guess it all might as well be Greek. One thing they do understand is the names of the actors and that putting in one of the discs with the right name on it will bring about an hour and a half of amazing kung-fu fighting! Each evening I have children hanging on my arms asking for a Jet Li movie and the walls ring echoes of a song of praise they’ve created which lyrics say “Jet Liii… Jackie China! Jet Liii… Jackie China!” it is interesting to me to see the genuine praise ring out for that which brings pleasure to their souls. I pray their understanding will awaken one day to know the pleasure which Christ’s redemptive work brings!

Work in Lesotho…
When visiting South Africa, a three-month visa is given at the border. Its free and relatively easy to renew, simply requiring one to go outside the border and come back in. Fortunately for us Lesotho is only a four hour drive-- I’ve been there twice. This last time, we chose to check out some prehistoric dinosaur footprints for a diversion. We picked up a couple of locals to help us find our way and managed to see some pretty fascinating footprints which I was pretty skeptical about at first. The significance of this trip is that one of the locals we met was not so local. His name is Okongo Jerim from Kenya. He is a teacher at a Christian high school in Lesotho and has begun work in his area with children in high need of help. He has surveyed a relatively small area and found forty double orphans. He has taken many other steps toward advancing some long-term help and is now talking with me about what aid might be brought in. Now I look forward to returning, for a meeting with Jerim and those working with him on the project, to see what move we should make next.

Closer to home…
Things are also developing in Hlatekulu where Pastor Moses lives. I’ve met with the chief’s council and they are glad for us to be out there. Since my goal is to work with the community, (as opposed to “for” or “over”) during the meeting I was pressed to share my vision. But, I told them I don’t have one. That I don’t plan to move in and tell them how it will be, rather, I wish for them to discuss and tell what they think needs to happen. Through working together in that way there will be greater ownership taken by those local. There is such a thing out here called the “home-based caregivers”. These are the backbone of AIDS work as they are ladies who typically volunteer their time to go house to house visiting those who are sick and dying of AIDS. These ladies bathe, medicate, and cook for sufferers who are physically unable to do so for themselves. Therefore, these ladies are also aware of the children who are most in need of help. The chief’s council is planning to meet with the caregiver’s leaders and other relevant community organizations to develop a plan of strategy. Then they will call me and we’ll meet together again. This is an exciting progression, but as you can imagine it may be a year (at the earliest), likely two or three, before the vision is cast and fulfilled… I am most concerned for the children who are hungry now. The children who are living alone now-- those who are alone in their houses, susceptible to rape, cold and hunger. I looked in the eyes of one of these health workers telling me she knows of children living in houses with no adults and completely vulnerable to neighborhood men who would desire to come and rape as he pleases. So while the grand vision should be sought and done well, likely taking three years to complete, something for the immediate must be done.
Please pray for wisdom and solutions.

Rural South Africa

My week-long visit to rural south Africa gave me a picture of true Zulu culture. I saw the tools of ancestor worship, was fed the traditional Zulu diet, learned the spirit of “Ubuntu”, was offered land should I wish to move there, had many offers for marriage and had opportunity to preach to the people of Pastor Moses’ church. I also visited the clinic and found the percentage of HIV infected is as bad as anywhere in KwaZulu-Natal (70% is what is claimed), there is a strong need for homecare workers (care for those in the late stages of AIDS) as well as care for children whose burden their guardians are unable to bear… It was a powerful 7 days. The prevailing religion among the Zulu people is ancestor worship. The “ancestors” keep the majority of them bound by fear and strict obedience. The ancestors come to them in dreams and visions, mostly at night, and tell them what to do. For instance if a man should prosper so much as to buy a car he would be required to offer a goat or cow in thanks. For newborns each family has a particular ritual they must uphold-- after making the proper animal sacrifice, the family would then cut off the pinky of the newborn, or possibly make the required slices on the child’s face, as well as tossing the ambilical cord into the river when it has separated from the child to appease the ancestors. If you see a preying mantis- don’t kill it! Not because its helpful to your garden but because the ancestors return to life in the form of these insects. It is the ancestors who speak to sangoma’s (medicine women) with methods of healing for the deadly sexually transmitted plague or other diseases. Two such methods are: 1. That the infected man must have sex with a virgin. 2. That the family must assemble for a ceremony where the infected is cut near the throat with a razor, then the knife is used to make a cut on the accompanying family members. Its true that many in South Africans claim to be christian, the statistics are high for such claims, but ultimately it is the ancestors they fear.
This sounds pretty archaic and far removed from our own cultural practices… but don’t be too quick to judge fellow American! I learned some of the difficulties the Zulu christian leaders meet in addressing these practices with the people of their culture. The ancestor worshippers ask “how can my religion be wrong when the white people who tell us to be christians worship ancestors themselves?” The “worship” referred to is that of carrying flowers to a grave, or talking to a family member’s stone who has long been deceased. I was sitting in the kitchen of my hosts when they confronted me with this issue… I must say I was momentarily perplexed. What about Catholics? Isn’t it true they pray to saints and the mother of Jesus? In fact, they even perform certain rituals to aid their ancestors who have travelled into the “waiting room” called Purgatory.

Almost as strong as religious beliefs is their adherence to their traditional diet. Consisting primarily of cornmeal cooked in a couple different ways, they believe it is this food which makes the Zulu people strong and able to work all day without a second meal until suppertime. They call it “the strong food”. In the many homes my pastor friend and I visited, all were proud and surprised to know that a white man had eaten their traditional meal called “isiChinga”. Although I enjoyed the diet, I can also see plainly why there are no South African restaurants in America (as far as I know). Though I would love to have you taste “Amaguina” ( a light yeast bread fried in a pan of oil) most of the diet was simply a stewed vegetable and meat soup poured over corn meal cooked to a crumbly doughy consistency. As much as I enjoyed the diversity of foods I experienced in Germany and Ireland enroute to SA… I think I could live off of “uPutu” and “isichinga”. Tea is consumed with every meal. I should say sugar is a staple as well. I watched one man put about a half cup on his morning porridge; that’s not to mention the amount that went into his tea… I imagine most Americans anticipate losing their teeth when they are old (the book of Ecclesiastes encourages us to expect it) but over here its not the just the old who lose their teeth-- it wouldn’t surprise me if 90% of the people suffer from cavities and, while most can scarcely afford to have them pulled, fewer can afford a filling. I hope one day for a dentist to visit the area and make it his goal to pull 200 teeth before leaving! A lot of pain would be relieved on that day.

Hospitality is a major part of their culture. I told Moses, when he foreshadowed my visit, that I would feel bad if I had the comfortable bed while he and his wife slept on the floor with the children… but that is how he said it must be. We did a lot of walking and greeting of his family and friends in their homes. Greeting many people was a must in regards to my visit, in fact, greeting one another and hospitality summarizes well the spirit of “ubuntu”-- that is, the spirit of the “good-hearted person”; one who cares about others. My visit conveyed a lot of that. In our walks and greetings I was overwhelmed by the reception I received. Nearly every person we met gave thanks to me for visiting their village. It is very significant for a white person to visit blacks in their own area. I learned from my host, who being 39 years old remembers apartheid, that from those years the black people were treated like, and learned to deeply feel like, animals. For a white man to simply visit gives them a feeling of acceptance and value. Later, an older woman greeted me as “inkosana”. I asked pastor Moses what this meant and basically it means “common king”. This is the title whites demanded from blacks during the ugly years. Having learned what I did about apartheid, it nearly turned my gut to receive that title.

My visit was for the purpose of continuing a friendship I made with pastor Moses Zwane. “Baba Zwane” as we call him, is a man who truly has the heart of a pastor. I have seen the fruits of his heart and ministry God has given him. I’ve met a young man, recently married, planting a church in a nearby town. This young man was brought up spiritually by Baba Zwane from a youth. Another such youth has recently moved into the Agathos cottages to work as a cook until her recent engagement becomes her wedding day. Baba Zwane and I spent a lot of time talking about his ministry and how I might help him to take the next critical step as he strives to fulfill the vision God has given him. That of taking the 'life' Jesus gives as far as he might. He shared with me in detail how his vision transpired, that he saw a fountain flowing, and it created streams, the streams forged rivers, the rivers flowed powerfully into the ocean. This was a magnificient sight as in the distance the ocean surpassed the ability of his sight and merged with the blue sky and white clouds. At this he asked “what is the fountain”? Was told, “it is the abundant life found in Jesus”. He knew then he would take the gospel out of his own village, that he would cross denominational boundaries and racial barriers. He has already planted churches in two other towns and looking to do a third soon. He believes my partnership is the beginning of multi-cultural barriers being broken.

It is true that the African people have a lot of ways that keep themselves down, and as a result we see a rapid spread of AIDS, poverty, crime and government corruption. Its true that the bible calls a christian to a high standard of life and obedience; Dietrich Bonhoeffer teaches in his book “the Cost of Discipleship”-- grace is costly. However, it is also true that the gospel begins with acceptance: God has accepted us “while we were yet sinners” (Rom. 5:8). That is what I believe the African people need first: acceptance. I hope my continued work, and the visits of other whites, will deeply root acceptance in the Zulu people. Then, when we speak the words of the Gospel, they will have already known an example.

the Cottages at Injesuthi

We are 4 ½ acres on the Injesuthi river near the “Gourton” intersection in the township of Loskop. If you look at a map of South Africa-- find the land-locked country of Lesotho, put the tip of a pin at about 2:30 of that country, then move it directly east so its about ¾ of the way to the N3 freeway… that’s where we are. Loskop is a community of about 50,000. Most of the husbands of Loskop are in the cities because jobs are hard to find in townships. Our 4 ½ acres are bordered by two roads and the river. On it we have a few rows of block buildings, painted white, with detached communal plumbing (I haven’t measured it, but it’s got to be nearly 200 yards to the john from my room!). These buildings were built by an industrious man who was murdered in the days of Apartheid. Some men reasoned that since he owned a block business he must have some money. When he denied it, they shot him. Now, years later, I think his hard-work is being redeemed-- there are four Americans, a family of five Canadians, six Zulu South Africans, and twenty-six kids living in the block buildings now.
My particular portion of it sits on the end nearest the hiway. That’s where I live as a dad to 3 boys ages 13,13, and 17. The schools here require uniforms and swat you on the knuckles if you’re late. So our mornings begin early as they dress in the clothes they’ve ironed and laid out the night before. When they finish that, and just before breakfast we re-visit the previous nights devotions. Each night before bed, the boys and I get together for devotions and prayer. While the children are all gone to school, we adults clean up the dining room and kitchen then assemble for devotions led by the site manager. The routine of the day is hardly routine- we may be in the middle of interviewing potential newcomers, driving to town to do the shopping, taking someone to the doctor, or meeting together to develop the latest necessary administrative improvement. As a whole however, concerning what goes on at the village, there is not a lot to say… we are a low-key operation raising children.
That’s not to say that our lives are uneventful. Easter is a widely celebrated holiday here, and, I’m happy to say the day came and went and I didn’t see a single easter egg. Instead here and there churches were planning trips to the city where they would get to enjoy three days of resurrection celebration. I took a group from our village to the town of Estcort where Pastor Moses has sent a member of his church to “pioneer” a new following. This young man had a tent filling his front yard and inside was an electric piano, chairs and lots of people. Other pastors typically aid a pastor in this work, so we heard from a visiting pastor that evening after about two hours of singing and dancing in praise of Jesus. The next days services started at ten a.m. and concluded at ten p.m. That day we sang together, danced, and ate together… however, at one point I did break away with my kids and took them to town because two months ago I promised the girls I’d buy them ice cream. With that accomplished we returned to a wonderful lunch of beef and vegetables and then resumed the services. It was a long day, but a refreshing one. Many friendships were formed for me and I look forward to being a part of pastor Moses’ work in the days to come.
He is a man who has shared with me his vision which God has given him-- a river which goes out from his own church. Somehow he believes I can aid him in this and has asked me to his house for an extended visit. I’m planning at this point to go the first week of May. A couple weeks before Easter I had given Pastor Moses all the bibles he said he needed for his congregation. Then, at the Easter service, I brought as many as the pioneering pastor needed. To this they were very grateful and I extend the “thank-you’s” to those of you who contributed to the purchase of those bibles. I have a collection of bible reference books to bring to Pastor Moses which he is eagerly anticipating. It is amazing for me to know the importance of interpretation of the bible and sound doctrine, but to see the lack of availability of resources to these who are pastoring the flock of Jesus. Outside of caring for the children at the cottages, I would say that aiding the pastors is my great passion. Your prayers in both areas will be greatly appreciated.

Americans Pay a Visit...

In August of ’05 after visiting South Africa I offered to the Agathos Foundation to come back for three months and develop the “hosting” of the short-term visitors on the African side. They asked if I could stay for 8 months, and here I am. Just recently I drove our first group to Johannesburg to fly back to North Carolina after a great 2 weeks together. They are a great group of people and I’d be glad if they all came back to live here.

It's my intention to give each visiting group a rounded experience of culture, ministry, recreation, spiritual growth, as well as work projects to help us here at the village. I believe I met these aspects with the group from Hope Chapel in North Carolina. As the “mortar” holding my stated values together I aim to be “well-organized”… well, organized may not have been met.

Upon their arrival I met them at the Johannesburg international airport, from there we drove to the Apartheid museum and then it was time to make the four hour trip to the Agathos village in Loskop. Now, if you look at a road map of Johannesburg you’ll see that the city is circumferenced by freeways and, cutting through the city, are freeways as well. With the airport being on the east side of the city I took one of the freeways diametrically (east/west) to the museum. To depart I thought i’d go south on the connecting north/south freeway and then simply go east on the circumferencing freeway. This would get me to the N3, which connects Joburg to Durban, and “drops” me off at Loskop. Only in Africa will you find the intersection of two major freeways which offer no eastbound alternative! Therefore, I had to go west, the opposite direction of home. So at this point it makes sense that I would simply take the next off ramp, cross over the freeway and go eastward. This I tried. You know what? As I approached the north/south freeway which I had just left, I was given no choice to continue straight forward! I had to go either north or south. I am convinced this intersection was designed by the tourism enhancement committee of Cape Town, who thought visitors would give up and simply head west to their “wine-country” tourist destination.
Through all the confusion however God was on my side and I was vindicated. As we stopped for gas and food, (so I’d have enough provisions for another bout with the South African freeway system) the visiting group met an African boy asking for food. One guy from the group went right inside and bought him dinner, while another starting talking to him about Jesus. After about forty-five minutes the boy was toating a full-stomach, a bible and soccer gear that would make an American drool. Believing this to be a divine encounter they easily forgave me for my lack of victory in the freeway battle. Ultimately the war was won as I asked some Afrikaaners (from Cape Town) how to catch the east-bound leg. They agreed it was confusing but gave me a “locals only” tip and soon we were southbound on the N3.
Its amazing to me how much more gas a van will use when loaded down with 7 people, luggage and a trailer full of donated stuff. I think, however, that I was the only one fascinated by this as we sat on the side of the freeway with no gas. To me it was a mathematical wonder that had my brain challenged with equations and theoroms and complicated math stuff… the others seemed only frustrated. While facing 6 disgruntled faces I thought it a real shame they couldn’t appreciate the bigger picture as I was. By this time it was about 8pm and we soon learned that South Africa has a road-side service which partners with the American company Triple A. While waiting for our rescue, a tow truck pulled up and offered to take me to the nearest town for gas. I went along and, while looking at his dashboard I couldn’t help but wonder if his odometer was broken, as it was buried in the red. He told me he wanted to hurry on my account. The speedometer topped out around 180 km/hr so I asked him how fast he thought we were going. He said around 200. Let’s see… (if 120 equals 70 miles per hour, and we were going 80 km/hr over 120 which is two thirds… two thirds of 70 is about 46… add 46 to 70...) we were cruising at about 116 miles per hour. After that he and I didn’t talk much because I was busy trying to find my seat belt. I never did find it, but we got the gas and made it back to the scene alive. Soon the gas was in the van and we were going down the road. After the gas incident, I learned again that God was on my side as I was later vindicated- about 20 kilometers from our destination, at about 11pm, we passed what first looked like a dog lying in the road that had been hit by a car. Upon approaching and passing I saw that it was actually a man. I turned the rig around and came slowly up to him. Some of the group jumped out and saw that he was breathing and there was no blood. I called the police and they advised me to stay in my vehicle as it could be a trap where his friends would be in the bushes and waiting to overtake us in our sympathy… so the others got back in and we waited for the South African rapid response team. After about 30 minutes and four phone calls the correct headlights came down the road; with clubs and guns they addressed the man. It turns out he was drunk and decided to sleep it off on the highway. The police had no patience for this and when he tried to push them away they slapped him pretty good. Had we not stopped and kept our headlights on him, another moving vehicle might not have seen him and people could have been killed. Another divine appointment, another vindication.

The next couple of days were spent adjusting to the time change, meeting the kids at the village, and getting oriented. I arranged for a visit to some local high schools where we would play music and preach. South Africa is a stark contrast to our American schools which forbid the mention of Jesus name (unless its used as a curse word). Over here, each morning children line up outside of school for an address from the principal or a teacher. They start by singing praise songs and the teacher prays in Jesus name. Don’t imagine however, that the country is filled with Christians who fear God, their fear is primarily reserved for their “ancestors”-- but that’s a different story, and for the sake of this story I’ll reserve it for later; the previous fact however shows how open the doors are for church groups from America to address a student body with the gospel. This we did and were very well received. In fact, every day at school the children are still singing a particular song which the Hope Chapel group taught them.
On Sunday we had a Braai, in honor of our visitors. Though the word is Afrikaans, it was done Zulu style. I was able to purchase an “imvu” (a sheep) from a farmer and bring it home in the back of the van. Some of the ladies cooked up some authentic Zulu bread and I found a local man to sell me some meilies (corn on the cob). There was nothing Zulu about the smores the children ate that night… but the kids didn’t mind! With this combination we had a wonderful feast that evening after church.
It would be a shame to visit Africa and not see some animals, not see the beautiful countryside, or learn about the AIDS pandemic and the days of Apartheid. So these things we did… Concerning AIDS we were able to have a lady from the neighboring clinic visit us at the cottages and learn about the local condition. This hit us pretty hard and I learned that although the problem isn’t immediately visible the statistics we hear in America are true. Maybe worse. The Apartheid museum in Johannessburg is a 1st class multi-media tour which brings the visitor closer to understanding life during the tragic government experiment which ended just 12 years ago. South Africa will be a long time recovering.
A game park is scored by how many of the “Big 5” animals are represented within its boundaries. The Big 5 got its name by the 5 most desirable animals for hunting expeditions… today they are used to rate a good photo-op. Although Giraffes aren’t included in this collection I think they are equally desirable to see. These we saw by horseback, along with Zebras and many other animals which I can’t remember the names of.
For a more extensive recollection of the 2 weeks spent with the group from Hope Chapel North Carolina check out their blog at www.hopesouthafrica.blogspot.com .
For now, I should bring this post to an end, and let you know I recognize I’ve fallen behind on my blog posts… so much has happened- church services I’ve attended, a quick trip to the country of Lesotho, and everyday type stuff which comprises my new life… so I have a lot to write about… the next few weeks I plan to post one a week.
The bibles I was able to purchase have gone a long way, I wish I could convey how grateful people are for them. Particularly the pastors this last weekend I delivered a box to them and they explained they had recently held a month of evangelistic meetings where men and women committed their lives to Christ, and have now been one and two months without bibles! Bibles go a long way here and the need will be a long time until exhausted.

Thanks for all the prayers, the comments and emails.

God's word and death, in Kwazulu-Natal

“Mfazi” used to be the Zulu word for woman… today it is a pretty serious insult. I suppose we could relate this to our english word which, years ago we would have used in reference to a female dog, but today is something rather different. A big push these days in the bible industry is “gender-neutral” versions so no one is offended… in the Zulu language there is no word for “he” or “she” they only have “it”. Men and women are not referred to as he or she but rather as “it”- “it is going to the store…” or, “it took my sheep…” What do we do with that in translating from the English language to the Zulu?

In my last blog I mentioned I was heading off to purchase 20 Zulu bibles for some new believers in our community. This time I am proud to announce that with the help of friends I was able to bring home 88! This is very exciting, bibles are so rare around here that it seems every day someone is asking for one.

Now, I am letting you in on what we are dealing with here in regards to getting the word of God into the hearts and minds of believers. The beginning paragraph is only a couple of examples of the difficulties found in translating the bible from English into Zulu. The only Zulu translations available are a Gideon version translated some time before 1959. South Africa is experiencing major rapid changes, many adults are close to being illiterate, and in school our children are studying 3 different languages-- in consideration of these dynamics we can imagine the Zulu language is evolving quite a bit, and has since the original Zulu bible was translated. Therefore, while it is exciting to have many brand-new bibles to hand out, perhaps you can see the greater difficulty of actually transferring the printed words into their hearts and minds.

Death seems to be everywhere here…

The other night I was particularly touched by how common death is to these people. I felt like playing my guitar while my “daughter” scrubbed my floor. (I tell you she loves doing this- she does my laundry and cleans for me and I want to give her money but she says it’s her job… so I buy her presents instead and she loves it! My wall also is getting covered with valentine type hand-drawn cards). So, while I was on my front porch playing my guitar I felt like singing an english song which the Zulu people sing called “Sweet Jesus”. Then I went on to play some other tunes when my neighbor came out to dump her dish water. She stopped and told me that she appreciated my singing, it was very beautiful and especially the song “Sweet Jesus”. She said that her older sister used to sing it to her when they were little girls. She went on to say that her sister had died just two years ago and just before I had come outside to sing she had been filled with thoughts and memories of her. I must say I was very touched. In the calm night I played the song again, this time with more feeling.
A couple days later I asked one of our caretakers how she herself was doing, she said she was doing well but looking at her face I knew she was not being honest. I told her so and she shared that her brother, and the husband of the woman I just mentioned (with the song)-- was dying. Death seems to be everywhere, it seems that everyone I talk with here has had an immediate relative die.

Death is a major aspect of the culture here… should we leave their culture alone and say we are respecting their differences? And as some would ask “who am I to judge what other people do”? Or should we recognize that we humans are sinful beings, and that culture is created by us, therefore much of what we do in our culture is rooted in sin and should be changed? It is my personal prayer that through the teaching and understanding of Christ in God’s word, we will see a culture redeemed. That the sinful aspects of the Zulu culture will be repented of and the beautiful ones will be redeemed- and that is life.

Step Inside This House…

In this post I’d like to give you a glimpse of what my new world is like. I have traveled around the world to “wield the gospel in the fight against AIDS”. So have I been doing that?

I’ve met the lady who runs the community clinic which is located across the river and the street from the Agathos village. When interviewing her I considered what a great opportunity I had to talk with this woman who is at the heart of the AIDS crisis- she tests and counsels people who are HIV positive (the Kwazulu-Natal region is considered to be one of the highest HIV infected areas in Sub-Saharan Africa, some say its as high as 60%, but statistics are always uncertain). On this day I asked Priscilla how bad the AIDS problem really is… she told me it was 100%. She had seemed particularly discouraged, and then I understood it was because everyone she had tested for HIV that day proved positive. The AIDS infection rate is high and not declining, yet.
Knowing this, my Zulu pastor friend and I were driving some people home after church late one night. As we drove the rut-ridden dirt roads with the high beams glowing we’d come upon a man talking with a woman on the side of the road. Each time we approached a couple the young woman would attempt to hide behind her companion from the exposing light. My two friends were asking and laughing from within the confines of the van, “why are you hiding?”
Why were they hiding? If they know its wrong, and they do know about AIDS in this area, why are they hiding? Why are they doing it? I think if this question were answered and addressed we would find the cure to the AIDS pandemic.

I recently met one of my favorite people in the world though I only met her for a brief minute- if that long. She is a Zulu woman who may possibly carry the spirit of Mother Teresa. Just outside of our nearest town is a collection of mud huts which is home to a large Zulu woman, many orphaned children, and a respite to men who have to face the fact that an invisible virus will take their lives early.
Every Sunday morning this “Teresa” named “Mbongi” takes her children to a nearby church. Through the week her office is open to counsel the dying with practical truth and grace from the bible. On the floor lays a child about 4 years old who can do nothing but that- lay. Because of a lack of access to a hospital room this child suffered complications in birth and turned out to be a quadriplegic with brain damage-- but the promise of Psalm 68:5&6a proved true through the openness of this beautiful godly woman named Mbongi. She has no income but relies on donations. A friend of mine brings her fresh goat milk each week and I personally am considering whether I can help her to start a sheep herd which would create an income as well as provide fresh meat.

In a neighboring community I met recently a woman who has been given a home of the chief, or “Inkosi” as he is called here. She is a sharp, hard-working, organized woman with a plan, and has consequently been rewarded by the chief with one of his homes for her community service project. It is actually a multi-plex where young women with HIV are taught life skills. Also, they have a program which is dependant on donations where, each Wednesday they feed the communities orphans after school. They have about 48 which come by each week. There are many more in the community but the distribution center is too far for some to walk to. I am meeting with this lady on Monday to discuss helping her get a goat herd started. Goats are very profitable around here and require very little expense to keep them going.

This is very much an Old Testament country. Perhaps I enjoy myself here so much because of my love for the Old Testament. Everywhere I look there are crops, flocks or herds. There are even sacrifices. When preaching in this culture I have to consider which concepts need to be expounded on. The other day while preaching I mentioned Christ was a sacrifice, I paused, and then continued; realizing sacrifice is a concept which the locals know firsthand.
I’ve been studying the Old Testament for the past year and I’m getting new perspectives here on many OT concepts. For instance, the story of David has had deeper understanding as I found out it is typical for 9 year old boys to herd cattle by themselves. My friend was telling me about his experience as a nine year old chasing the cows- he didn’t like it, he had to go day and night, rain and cold, sleeping in caves all by himself. My heroes have always been cowboys… in America I think a lot of us can’t help but read our American cowboy mythology into the story of David as a shepherd boy, but over here I am getting a more realistic perspective on the character of David- how he worshipped God and kept strong work ethic in such a lowly undesirable task.

Feed My Sheep...

Speaking of preaching, my pastor friend and I have recently started a Wed night bible study “across town”. The Bible uses a lot of “shepherd” imagery in the OT, and then in the New Jesus refers to Himself as the “Good Shepherd”. He likewise exhorts Peter to “feed My sheep”. My pastor friend and I are taking this exhortation for ourselves as we are finding a hunger in people to know God more- Jesus says, “If you have seen Me you have seen the Father” (Jn. 14:9). Therefore, we are teaching Jesus on Wednesday evenings and I’ve promised them I would bring them bibles written in Zulu.
The immediate needs that cry for attention are housing, clothing, school fees/uniforms, and food… But the deeper need, the long term need that will bring a cure to AIDS is to know our sinfulness and the redemption found in Christ. To repent from “turning His glory to shame” (Ps. 4:2) and start living for Him. Our bodies were made to live for Him and when we use them for what they were meant to do-- then we’ll see life where there is death.

I thought in this modern day Bibles were as plentiful around the world as they are in the U.S. But I’ve found this to not be the case. Here, a cheaply made bible in the Zulu language is no less than $8.50. My friend and I need a minimum of 20. If you are interested in getting a bible into the hands of a new believer let me know. If you are interested in sponsoring the other endeavors you can do that too. A goat costs about 50 to 100 American dollars and a sheep costs about $45.

This final picture is the view from right outside my door...