Texture#6 Poverty

If there is a sight that instantly conjures the thought 'poverty' in my mind it is this sight. Corrugated iron sheets bent round each other, wrapping their dented and busted 2mm thick hands around a single room, squeezing the life out. They are painted happy colours but the corners peel back where rust sets in, decay eats at the edges of the flimsy walls, dispelling the skin deep veneer. This house is broken, these walls are failing, sagging with age, succumbing to the will of time.

The hot air inside is thick, close and heavy with the smell of old cooking. Holes in the ceiling let through pin beams of light that reveal the dust that sticks to the single bare incandescent bulb, the only source of light, that leaves corners darkened in a permanent vignette, no one sees what hides in the darkness of those corners.

Each shack stands alone, though there are thousands upon thousands each has its own story, its own prisoners. The walls remember different pains the bulbs highlight different atrocities and the memories change them. They cannot hide it, try as they might, the scars of history bleed through from the background if only we take the time to look closely enough to see.

Peeling paint and crumbling mortar, time pushes through the cracks. That which was once strong becomes enfeebled, brittle and bent. This wall remembers that it was once dust and tries to resist its inevitable return but time heads no one. Neglect hangs heavy on its face, each layer is laid bare and its history is an open book to those who care to see. It's former days of strength are all but forgotten a shadow blown away by the winds of time.

But this house is not left to its own end. It does not belong to itself for it was purchased at a price higher than its own value. One stronger and wiser than it is at work within, he is creating a masterpiece, breaking off the old and dilapidated and replacing it with the new. He has a vision that looks beyond the possible and deeper than the skin.

He cries:

 'O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.'

the response:

"Let me hear joy and gladness;

let the bones that you have broken rejoice."

Title font: 'Sketch Gothic'

Pretoria #2

I am convinced that it was nothing short of a God send when just as I was leaving the coffee house (the face of our ministry in Pretoria)  that I saw Tony hobbling though the gate with one of my fellow trainees under his shoulder helping him along. It made my week. He had somehow made it! It took me around 30 minutes to walk the distance from where I first met him to get back to the coffee house which is several blocks (I walk quite fast) so it is quite the miracle that he even managed to make it. I greeted him and showed him to a seat - I managed to get a new testament into his hand before I had to leave, his reaction was priceless-

'Glorious God hallelujah!'  

I was very frustrated to only have been able to give him a new testament, this guy knows a chunk of it already and he would actually be able to make use of a full bible.

The following morning I came prepared - I would not have to experience the frustration of wanting to give a whole bible but not have one on me - so as I approached the coffee house again the following morning I was elated to see that Tony had stayed under the stoep that night - I woke him up with a complete bible in my hand. I don't think he has had such an awakening in a long time. He was on the brink of tears - 'It's my food! - My daily bread!' Tony has stuck around at the coffee house since then and I have had the opportunity to begin building a friendship. It will not be fun to leave this city though I know he will be just fine.

In other news on Saturday we hosted a sports day for 30 shelter kids who have been taken off the street - it was good to forge relationships and display love to those who rarely experience it.

We visited a Creche, a prison, a brothel (the girls only), a hospice and walked the streets, telling whoever will listen that there is a hope that they are missing out on.

Creche ministry = clowns ( I personally find them terrifying)

 It has been a pretty intense week topped off by an experience evening on Friday - we had R5 (about 50p) to spend on food for the evening - it was chicken feet time ...

We went to bed on a full stomach (you can eat cheap if you know where to look) and a thin piece of cardboard under the stars. It was an interesting experience to lie on the pavement in a sleeping bag, though on reflection I think the hardest part of being homeless is the loneliness - I was surrounded by my friends and could happily sleep like that for some time but I think it would be a different story entirely if I were by myself. Maybe you should befriend the next homeless person you meet - they are notoriously unreliable, hard to love and most likely will betray you in a heartbeat because that is all they have experienced from other people, but you could change that ... today.

I got the opportunity to preach to the guys before we fed them

Title font 'Louis Ann'

Pretoria

Tony threw his 7 Rand change on the floor a couple of feet in front of us - I was shocked and a knot tied itself in my stomach, his following sentence confirmed the motivation behind his action which challenged me and I hope will challenge you.

"I don't need this money" He said "I need Jesus - I depend on him!"

He was welling up and so was I, though I think I hid it quite well (you get good at that if you live in "I am an O.K. Christian" pretence  for too long).

Honking is illegal - not that it stops the taxis

The wisdom of throwing money away aside, his actions spoke more loudly than his words ever could...  

About 10 minutes previously as I was sat down next to him when a friend approached him, handed him 2 cigarettes (one of which Tony offered back to his friend) and 7 Rand change. As far as I know that was the sum total of the money he possessed.

The junctions can be a little crazy

Tony has been living on the streets of Pretoria for the past 6 months since he had a stroke which left him unable to continue working as a panel beater. He is applying for disability benefit  but his situation is still pretty desperate. His second stroke which re-hospitalised him until just a few days prior had stopped him from being able to function well enough to walk further than a block before collapsing.

The stroke had also removed all sensation from his bowels so he is completely unaware of having soiled himself again until someone points out the smell to him.

He lives day by day and he values God more than money.

I had just been trying to comfort him with some scriptures that I knew (I was not carrying a bible with me). He had mentioned Matthew 6 earlier when we had offered to pray for him - he reminded me that I did not need to pray aloud on the street corner for the world to hear, only God needs to hear and he can hear your thoughts just fine!

Later in Matthew 6 Jesus teaches us not to be anxious about what we will eat or wear. I started telling him and he completed my every other sentence, despite not owning a copy of the Bible he knows it very well.

I was not expecting the reaction that I got, it is one thing to remember the word of God, it is another entirely to live by it on a daily basis.

The second event that put a knot in my stomach was seeing people walking by on the street (sitting next to a homeless person on the street is about as close to their perspective as you will get until you are there yourself).

The 7 Rand had been lying on the pavement in front of us a couple of feet away for about 5 minutes before a guy walked past looked at us, saw the money on the floor, picked it up and walked on.

"See - his life revolves around money instead of God", said Tony.

Tony understands that he has more than the young well dressed man who will take 7 Rand for himself instead of giving it to those in need less than 5 feet away, because he has Jesus who is so much more valuable than any sum of money.

An exert from my journal

I talked to him for an hour and a half with the intention of blessing him - I bought him a coke (on his request) and I came away blessed and challenged by him.

Title font 'Lois Ann'

Lethabong

This past week has been a busy one - doing different practical ministries each day within the local area. One of these days I visited Lethabong - a very small township that lives in deep poverty, the houses are corrugated iron shacks that are (if you are living in the UK) probably no bigger than your bedroom and they are occupied by families of 4 or 5. There is no running water and no electrical hook up in the area.

The locals are dependent on truck-delivered water and cook on open fires. Any electricity they have is from personal generators. It is a place of great need. We were in this area partnering with another organisation that has started a pre-school in the centre of town for the education of the next generation and also so that the parents are able to look for jobs. We were there to paint the pre-school (also corrugated iron shacks) to make it a more colourful place and increase the longevity of the buildings.

Despite circumstance these people seem to have a richness in community and contentment in life that is a challenging thing to encounter. As I was painting and thinking to myself how little benefit a pretty looking shack is to people who have no water - a young man who was walking by shouted to me:

'yes! More! More!- Good! Good! Nice job! God Bless you!'

Then I started thinking how amazing these people are.

Where there are people the gospel of Coca-Cola is never too far away, it is in a lot of ways (somewhat ironically) a sad sight.

But it is nothing in comparison to the heart crushing sight of the church building...

This is very typically African in my limited experience and it makes me sad - in the middle of a town of maybe a few thousand who have nothing - the people who can bring hope and light into such a community instead bring a massive church building that probably has more monetary value than the whole rest of the town and then tell the people there that if they would just love God enough and give enough money then they would be laughing all the way to the bank.  Meanwhile they question how they will eat that night.

To those of you who read this and do not call yourself a Christian because you do not want to be associated with people like this - please know that these are wolves that dress themselves as sheep but that does not make being a sheep bad.

Title font used 'Henry'