a mom to celebrate.

march 30th. i miss my mom.
i'm like a street kid who cannot go home. but unlike them, i get to hear my mom say "i love you" and hear her voice lovingly talk to me.

my mom is sober. my mom is christian. my mom thinks of me and takes care of herself so she can be around for my life. she's not selfish or self-focused. she is honest. she is thoughtful. she is a loyal mom. she gives me her best.

i could have a mother who i don't know, or one who beats me. i could be like damien. i could wander through my life alone and lonely--from gang to god, back to gang again. i could use drugs to numb my pain. i could live off of buckets of food and the next volunteer.
but god chose to bless me with an amazing mother who loved me even when i was totally unloveable. they prayed for me. they taught me how to hold out in hope for god to overcome.
so instead of sadness about being far away from my mom, perhaps i should think of what it means to not have a mom. i should be thankful that god has brought me here to love on me and love on others through me--to hold out in hope for god to overcome all the pain in their lives--those with no mom to celebrate.

to my mom, happy birthday--i celebrate you on this precious day.

a day in the life.

some good news from our world to yours.

1--Saturday night Melissa and I had dinner with the formerly "cool people i don't know in africa" link on the right side of my blog. Steven and Amy
work with ServLife here in Africa, and they live on the same mountain as us in Fish Hoek. We had a famous South Africa bbq (they call it a brai here, but i don't know how they spell it exactly). After dinner we spent the evening discussing South Africa, Muizenberg, church, politics, books, and many other topics we all connected on. Steven gave us a helpful overview of the history of South Africa's political party system. My brain enjoys trying to understand this stuff, but I require some smart person like Steven to explain it in detail. I like detail. Thanks Steven and Amy. It was a really fun evening!

2--Melissa and I spent all day Sunday with Ryan Dalton. He's a 25 year old guy from Cookeville, TN who's lived in Cape Town since he was 19. He speaks fluent Afrikaans and works directly with the street kids. He knows a ton of information about the Muizenberg kids (the ones we work with) but he spends most of his time on the streets of downtown Cape Town, where he learned the language and about the culture of the streets. Every, literally EVERY, street kid knows Ryan. He's a musician that has recently released a cd all about the kids he works with, about their lives, and about the life and death of kids he's worked with. Ryan has signed as legal guardian for lots of the kids, fought the police on their behalf, testified in court, beaten or threatened the lives of foreign sex offenders taking advantage of these boys.
Melissa, Ryan, and I are taking on some tasks together. One of these includes getting some of these dirty old white men out of the area and back to their home countries. We talked for a long time last night about different ideas and avenues we can explore. Melissa and I are in contact with the police chief of Muizenberg, a Christian man.
Ryan is here another 6 years, finishing up his degree at the University of Cape Town and starting an organization in Khayelitsha, South Africa's fastest growing township with over one million current residents. We connected very well with Ryan and feel excited about working with and learning from him. He told us "working with the street kids isn't something your turn off and on, it's a way of life." I'm learning this too, and so it has really been a gift from God that we met and work wiell with Ryan. I foresee lots of productive and life-altering events coming as a result of our friendship with him. I see these kids getting some part of their life back. That is so exciting!

3--Melvin came back today!!!!!!! he's the kid we work with who is totally addicted to meth. He has been gone a few weeks. Last night we learned from Ryan that Melvin started the idea of sleeping on the streets for Muizenberg kids, meaning he did it first and all the other kids followed. So, in a since, Melvin is the catalyst for all the street kids choosing such a life. However, he's also very streetwise and we are finding he is totally open and honest with us when he does show up. Today was so great b/c we saw him coming down the mountain and we screamed out his name, and he came with a huge smile--running down to us. It was awesome getting to love on him and encourage him to come again tomorrow. This is a HUGE answer to prayer that many of you have expressed concern over. Thank you for loving and praying for Melvin. He's the one we've got to connect with in a unique way.

Gotta go--just wanted to keep you updated on the happenings of Cape Town!!!

carl turns 18!

thursday afternoon we had a park party for carl's 18th birthday. carl looks like he's about 12, but he's the oldest one. and the sweetest. he is respectful, compliant, loyal, and reliable. we sat in a circle and the kids were eating ice cream out of one big buckey--what we'd call a bucket--b/c we didn't have bowls or plates. everyone told their favorite thing about carl, and 9 out of 10 kids said "he is my best friend". the other kid who didn't say that said he liked carl's cap. it is a cool cap, i'll give him that. anyways, the kids used the adjectives i listed above to describe carl. here we are at the park eating ice cream:


then it suddenly became time to climb trees. for any of you who know much about me, you know this is one of my most favorite things to do. whenever i go to a new place, one of the first things i intentionally notice is where the good trees are to climb. i've had my eye on these, and the kids initiated the whole thing. so, here is ashwin in a tree:


and here is ashwin surfing down the tree:


and here is ashwin climbing up the tree to surf down it again (by the way, they were just basically letting the tree limbs catch them as they fell. it was much safer than it appears here. but i will say, it was a tall tree):


and finally, here i am on the very tip top of the tree. what kind of example am i? it was so fun, so i don't really care :)


our party ended, as all good parties do, with the local police coming and busting it up. however, this was not because we climbed the trees. actually, these trees are right outside the police station windows. the cops came b/c the kids were so hyped up on sugar and sweets that they were climbing on my car (not cool) but before i could pretend to control the situation, the police handled it. all this consisted of was them driving up, honking their horns at us, the kids scurrying off-waving to and slapping hands with the cops as they passed-and then escorting us to capricorn, a local township where we took one of the street ladies home. friendly law enforcement!

i had my first fight with one of the kids, gamieldien. he's got a big attitude and i don't handle that well. he's been told not to return to the center a few times because (a) he has a home and a mom who comes to find him each week, (b) he ignores our authority, and (c) he brings in lots of other "street kids" who really are just punks out on the street, causing trouble during the day and going home at night to mom's home-cooked meal and a nice warm bed. one of our rules is that the kids must truly be street kids to come and receive what we have to offer. we are limited as it is.
so, gamiedien started throwing his attitude around and i put my foot down. he got so mad that he cursed at me as i drove off. but my skin is thickening because I knew I had to let it go. It was hard to do. but anyways-pray for gamieldien.

"as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth." good luck, ashley.

isaiah 58:9-11 says:
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you SPEND YOURSELF in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."

I just received a text message from my friend Katharina (the german girl I've told you about) saying, "I ask you tonight to pray for me. I am so confused. I feel like I'm not able to handle the contast between rich and poor anymore. And I don't know what God wants me to do-I see so much pain and need around me. My heart continues to break everyday anew."

Thousands of years ago God spoke some truths through isaiah that He new were going to last for a long time. One, there is oppression in the world. Two, it's a heavy load to carry, should you willingly allow yourself to be aware of its presence in the world. Three, most people will only point fingers, spit out facts, blame governments or leaders. They will not attempt to do anything about it. They will not allow the yoke of oppression to become a burden they carry. They will only talk about it.

Romans 12:1 has Paul telling his readers to offer their bodies as living sacrifices-as a spiritual act of worship-and to remember God's mercy in the process. Somewhere along the line, God clued us in to another truth: we are going to need mercy if we try to do anything about the problems of this world. We'll need that mercy to SEE the oppression, then to be able to carry that yoke alongside the hurting world. But on the flip side of this, we're going to need his mercy because we are going to feel like we're screwing up, doing something wrong, or worse yet--doing nothing at all. There are no guarantees that we'll be equally "effective" as we are "sacrifical". Most of our spending of ourselves (as isaiah words it) will go unnoticed or even misjudged. We'll find that, much to our dismay, people are more likely to point fingers and talk maliciously about our obedience to become living sacrifices, to become one's who spend ourselves for God.

This is where I am today. I've seen the results of oppression. I've been told "carry this", but I don't know how long I am the bearer of this weight. Sometimes I hope it's mine for many years. Other times, like today, I struggle with wanting to go back to pointing fingers. I don't want to carry this today. And my desire to lay it down is not because it's too heavy--it's because the pointing fingers are all around me. According to many people in this part of my life, I'm not doing something right. I'm not "effective".

But I haven't been asked to be effective. I haven't been taught how to make a difference, if we're using their rulers to measure such a lofty goal. I've only been asked to spend myself for these kids, to pour out all I am as a living sacrfice. And with that comes some failure, some sin, some mistakes. If I'm pouring out all I am, then I'm quickly seen as imperfect when the contents of Ashley Lovell spill out onto the lives of these kids.

Christ says that we have to take up our cross, to deny ourselves. Galatians 1:10 asks me, "Ashley, who are you trying to please? Man or God?" If my answer is the former, then I'm not a servant of Christ. And I want to be a servant of Christ. But I don't know how to deny myself of the lifelong habit I've fed of worrying so much about whether or not I can ALSO get the favor of everyone on the side of a big serving of pleasing God. I've been unable, all my life, to rid myself of the curse of internalizing what you say of me, my work, my heart, my choices.

"Complicated creatures we are, aware of only the smallest fragment of ourselves; seeking good and yet far too often unable to tell the difference between right and wrong; misunderstanding each otehr and so blundering into the tragedies of warring nations, horrendous discrepancies between rich and poor, and the idiocy of a divided Christendom."

i hate drugs. i'm pretty sure drugs have taken all these boys hostage.

but this is brian when he's not on drugs, and he still has fun. he got new clothes somewhere. no more nasty green sweatshirt.



and this is ricky with some silver chain he found on the street.



yesterday we drove down to the street fair in muizenberg, but we never made it there because on the way we passed brontino and ricky sitting on the side of the road near fish hoek, a good 3 miles from muizenberg. we pulled over and they told us they had walked to our church looking for us. after finding that we were not at church they went for a swim.
saturday night brontino got the tar beat out of him and his sweat pants were ripped to shreds. so he had no clothes to wear. when we found them, he was pulling on these super tight, too short jeans he got somewhere.
another day in muizenberg.

brian wrote a short rap song about me. i'm going to try and load it on here, b/c i recorded him singing it. it's pretty awesome.

the dichotomy of south africa--manure and money.

Last night at Monkey Valley Resort, Living Hope hosted its first fundraiser in the community. Around 75 businessmen and women accepted our invitation to feed them and tell them about all the problems in the community and our means of treating them--for the small fee of 250 Rand (about 40 bucks). The former Mr. South Africa was our MC, and he happens to be on the board of Living Hope. He is a beautiful man, inside and out. And apparently a comedian. We still are not sure if one of his jokes was a mistakingly semi-racist ( is that possible?) "oh dern, i wish i hadn't said that" comment or if he really thought it was funny to tell the "black" people (instead of the "back" people) to get their food first. Judging by the akward laughter and silence of the room as a whole, I'd say that was a belly flopped attempt at humor. None the less, we had fun and everyone still loves mr. africa. Even the black folk:


These are members of the HIV support group I sit in on with Nobuntu on Tuesday mornings. All Xhosa speaking, you can imagine what great wisdom and guidance I offer them. Nobuntu and I talked at the end of the night, and I shared with her my frustration at having to sit in the white crowd while they sang to us, rather than being up there with them, even if i don't know Xhosa. If I could turn back time, i'd be in this picture pretending I have rhythm and a grasp on one of many african languages.



On a completely other note, here is my new hobby: organic gardening. Outside the hospice is a series of gardens tended by Darvy (pictured below). It's his JOB to teach people how to grow vegetables. What a completely glorious way to spend your time. Darvy gave both Melissa and I our own little plot of land to tend, pictured below. It's actually bigger than the meager hole I'm standing in, but this was after day 1. Digging dirt is hard work. My back is still sore. But I successfully made this hole and filled it with compost (aka--manure and other random things found lying around). I wish I had carried it on my head, b/c that would have been the african thing to do, but I cannot balance the wheelbarrow like that, and i didn't see any empty buckets lying around. And it wasn't hot. And I wasn't starving and stricken with some deadly disease. So really, I'm not at all african. But I like to pretend.


Here is Darvy. He likes the idea of us gardening. I take this wild guess from the fact that everytime I looked up at Darvy he was taking a photo or video of us with his cell phone.


Mother Mafrica's treating me well. You know you want to come.

The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them; that is the essence of inhumanity.
--From The Devil's Disciple by George Bernard Shaw

Another day. Another war.
In our hearts. In our worlds.
Beating us down and shredding our peace.
Leaving us in need. We are all in need.

it's been a month.

all i want to say, and all i think i am destined to hear, surfaces to the top of my mind through the words of this song. my mind is like a lake filled with fresh fish that will never be caught, for my strength is to tired to cast a line.

"return, return to the person that you were. and i will do the same, because it is too hard to belong to someone who is gone. my compass spins. the wilderness remains...
well, now, i tell myself i've mended, under these patches of blue sky. there are still a few holes that let in a little rain. so it is cying on my shingles. my floorboards moan under my feet. the refrigerator is whining, so i've got reason to complain.
you can save face but you won't ever save your soul. and that's a fact."
bright eyes, make war.

some funness.

this is kyla. i'm her unoffical babysitter. she hangs out with the street folks and takes it all in. when she's not loving me, she's trying to break my fingers or strangle me. it's strange, but she's got a violent streak. i'm just letting her climb and jump on me. it's like having a little sister.

i hate feeling like i'm going to screw everything up no matter what i do. i'm fighting off the tendency to take the world's problems on my shoulders.
how do you separate your breaking heart from that of the world?

today is one of those days i'd like stay in bed and pretend i'm 7 years old again, back before i started seeing the darkness of this world creep into my being and try to take hold.

fake plastic africa

these are the fake plastic street kids i'm now in charge of. uh, nervous laugh.
actually it's cool becuase a fake plastic organization with the fake plastic south african government is going to put me through 3 months of training and then i'll apparently know what to do with these kids.
but to be honest, i don't find myself thinking about much else. i'm in love.


this is my friend at the hospice, which also feels fake and plastic. apparently i work at an AIDS hospice every tuesday and thursday. when is this going to feel real?



and this is my incredibly fake plastic roommate melissa. i cannot believe i have only known her for 3 weeks. that seems like a fake plastic sentence. she's like one of the greatest blessings and funnest people i know.

i like fake plastic africa. i'd bring a few other people here if i could, but maybe one day we'll all float back together like pangea reversed, and fake plastic africa will be like a stroll down the block.

the bbc team is here, minus arley who is here in spirit. it's nice having faces (and gifts) from home. natural peanut butter and swedish fish and notes from friends don't come easy here in africa.

go to seth's blog for cool pictures and thoughts!

i feel like i should be the salmon.

thanks to the friend who bought me this book long ago. i just read it. and it's so good. i feel like it described my feelings over the past few years and really helped me understand how to be ok with what i struggle with.
"here every bird and fish knew its course. every tree had its own place upon this earth. only man had lost his way."
this is not the last line of the book, but a good one. the ending lines are absolutely beautiful. i'm glad to recommend it to you.

today is election day in south africa. so everything is closed. we had the day off, which i needed. the past few days have been really overwhelming and emotionally draining, i just didn't realize it until i slept for 14 hours last night, beginning at 630 in the evening. i started working with the street kids yesterday: melvin, carl, and andrew. they are so dang cute. and sneaky. we played "memory" and they were able to keep their eyes on the matching cards in the huge stack of constantly shuffled cards. i guess you get good with your eyes when you are live by stealing and sneaking around. you learn to keep your eyes on the winning cards.
i also helped lead a xhosa-speaking HIV support group. as if i know anything about xhosa or being HIV+, but they seemed ok with that. i learned that "molo" is hello in xhosa. soon as i can get my clicks down, i'll be able to learn xhosa. and afrikaans. and zulu. yeah right.

so it's election day, like i said. everything is closed. the ANC (currently governing party) intentionally left the christian party off the ballots and so last night they had to completely reprint the ballots with all the parties on there. the ANC said they were hoping the power failures would mean they couldn't reprint the ballots b/c there would be no electricity. i guess they assumed the ignored party would just concede, after the millions of dollars they have spent on their campaign which included hanging a "vote for us" sign on every single light post in the city. i'm not even kidding. go democracy!

our drug crisis center has a presentation at the police station tonight. if they like us, they'll refer the drug-related cases they get to us. it could be a big deal.

mary solomons.

It had been a long day. The annoyances and uncomfortable moments of life had gotten the better of her most of the day. Moments of panic had set in, only to be resolved through the natural course of time rather than her efforts to put all the pieces in some place, any place. Too many loose ends were flying around, and they had whipped her and left her worn and frail. All she needed waited for her inside the safe walls of her new home.
With journal and iPod in hand, she contentedly sat down in the armchair nearest the open doors overlooking the valley below. Within the walls she was protected from the unpredictable world outside, or so she thought. She opened her journal to write out some of these haunting emotions--old memories that still hurt sometimes and made the dailyness of life all the more overwhelming. That's not exactly the relaxing activity she had in mind, but she knew it had to be done. In all actuality, thinking about such things seemed more daunting than the 2 awkward date refusals she'd handed out earlier, her potentially kidnapped roommate showing up late from work after taking the long way home on her bike, and returning home to the car alarm blaring into the quiet afternoon and the plastic clock in her borrowed car gone from the dashboard. None the less, the hurt was growing and she knew that confronting demons was the only way of casting them out.
She hadn't been writing 5 minutes when she simultaneously saw her roommate's head quickly turn and heard a deep voice calling out through her enjoyment of her favorite Postal Service song. As, I don't know, luck...or God...or nothing in particular, would have it, she had the only actual view of the visitors. Just outside the gate, clutching the iron rails, stood a small man and his even smaller wife.
Before she could expose herself as the sinful, judgemental jerk that she was, the gate-holders began yelling out words and requests with a confidence that comes from experience. She understood basic words like 'jacket' and 'cold' and 'hungry' and, somehow she got his specific request for 'baked beans'.
She looked at her roommates and they just sat staring at one another. I mean, there they were in their nice clean clothes, in their nice clean house, safe and content. After the various scares of the day, the last thing she wanted to do was hear these people. But she saw that the responsibility defaulted to her because she was the only visible person from their view.
She stood up and the others in the room followed. They found a brochure for a local homeless shelter, and stepped through the threshold of "safe" and into the afternoon breeze. Little did she know that she was about to gain the ghost of another child of God, a "jesus in disguise", a chance to really live out this gospel she waved around, another crack in the tile of her heart.

Mary Solomons stood next to her husband with her arms by her sides, looking into this white world with the same curiosity the resident had for that of her visitor. Mary's 5'3, 100 pound frame was loosely covered in raggedy black cotton pants, a red sweater with a teddy bear sewn on the front, a light, black windbreaker torn across the right shoulder, and a black beanie pulled down to her eyes. From underneath Mary's hat, wisps of grayish black hair blew in the wind and matched the thin mustache which had grown ever-so-slightly into the camouflage of her darkened and wrinkled skin.
She walked up and stood across the gate from Mary. "I smell", Mary said. And she did. Mary had not showered in a long time. As Mary spoke, she caught a glimpse into Mary's empty mouth and discovered one last tooth hiding inside. As she studied Mary Solomons, she tried also carrying on a semblance of a conversation with Mary's husband, the one with the voice. It was this voice that had introduced her to Mary when she was sitting with pen still in hand and music still in ear. "This is Mary", he had said across the once-distance that had separated their worlds moments earlier.
Now she stood, and Mary was very real. Mary's eyes pierced hers. It was as if they were nose to nose. They explained to the 2 visitors where the shelter was, that it was a place where they could receive food and clothes and showers and blankets, and that the girls would be there Monday to welcome them in. But their need, the visitors claimed, was more immediate, for "it is cold and these clothes are old. And we need some baked beans."
FREELY YOU HAVE RECEIVED, FREELY GIVE.
They handed the visitors a box of crackers and watched as they took it and began backing away thankfully. "Can I pray with you?" she asked. Mary Solomons eyes opened widely and she neared the gate and neared the girl for the first time. "Can I take your hand, Mary?" she asked. Hesitantly Mary lifted her weathered hand to the girl's and let it rest close to her heart.
AND WHERE TWO OR MORE ARE GATHERED IN MY NAME, I AM THERE.
She asked God to continue providing the clothing and food and love the visitors needed. And she asked Him to bring them to the shelter so that she might have the chance to know Mary Solomons and her husband more, and that they might find God there also. The prayer couldn't have lasted more than one minute. "Amen."
She looked up and Mary Solomon's once skeptical eyes were full of tears. One by one they began skating down Mary's hurting face. She immediately joined Mary and began wiping her tears away. Mary neared her even more and placed her head on the girl's chest and cried. She held Mary, and together they cried for the pain in their hearts, for the pain in their world.
CARRY EACH OTHER'S BURDENS, AND IN THIS WAY YOU WILL FULFILL THE LAW OF CHRIST.
She whispered to Mary that she was precious, and she was. That God never left her, and he doesn't. That he loved her and watched her. Mary looked up into the sky and stared around. Mary Solomons stood, looking for God.
FOR THE EYES OF THE LORD RANGE THROUGHOUT THE EARTH TO STRENGTHEN THOSE WHOSE HEARTS ARE FIXED ON HIM.
And then Mary grabbed the girl's hand and kissed it. As Mary walked away, tears still dripped down her face. Arm in arm with her husband, Mary waved goodbye, walking backwards away from the safety of the moment.

Mary Solomons didn't need a jacket or a blanket or baked beans. Mary Solomons needed to be loved without condition.
Ashley Lovell didn't need to be alone or to hide in her music or to pour her hurt into her journal. Ashley Lovell needed to be loved without condition.
AND NOW THESE 3 REMAIN: FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE. BUT THE GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE.

After a long day of work, the three of us decided to visit the beach for the first time since our arrival. We went to a place called "boulders", named for all the large rocks along the shoreline. This picture is taken from atop one of the boulders I climbed. I spent about an hour exploring these rocks alone. It was such a therapeutic time for me to be alone with God in his beautiful creation. Through it I discovered that rocks are very random things. Think about it. What real purpose do they serve? There are big rocks, small rocks, pebbles. People use them to decorate gardens, to prop doors open, to weigh things down, and Jesus was hidden behind a rock until he exited the tomb after 3 days of death. For me, I think rocks are a reminder to play. I have so many memories as a child of climbing huge rocks with my dad. He was a big hiker and we'd always go out West to visit Wyoming and the Dakotas and Arizona. Each trip included climbing rocks, boulders, rock walls, and petrified wood. To me, rocks always remind me to play. Climbing the rocks of Cape Town, I remembered the innocent joy found in exploring God's creation. It was a really great afternoon for me.


This picture was taken at Pat's birthday dinner at the game reserve. Next to me is Melissa, my roommate from DC. Behind her is Pat, the birthday girl and our other roommate from Asheville. Next to Pat is Wendy from Trinidad, volunteering as Living Hope's journalist for the next 2 years. And behind me is Susie from Colorado Springs. She moves back to Colorado in a month. Susie is the one who settled us here in South Africa.

And now, my parting words to you:

you might remember me...

you might remember me.
i hacked into your blog. sorry.
i thought it the best way to find you.
and tell you i miss you.
and tell you i love you
and tell you im sorry for being gone
and for being this;
for being away when you were right next to me
and wishing you were right next to me when you really are away.
i want to tell you everything.
and cry to you
and laugh with you
and get lost in stories with you.
im so sorry, 5.
i really am.

"goei more". good morning in afrikaans.

This is the website for the The Fish Hoek Drug Crisis and Information Center, where I spend my days working here in South Africa. I am able to meet with various people from the Fish Hoek community and surrounding areas and counsel them. Some of the people we see are drug addicts, while others are the family and friends of drug users. We also have support groups for addicts on Thursday nights, and on Saturday mornings we have an Al-Anon meeting. How cool! I will now be helping facilitate an Al-Anon meeting! Experiential training at its finest!!

I have spent all day reading through material we have in our library. I was able to pray for one of our clients earlier today who is addicted to "tik" (street name for crystal meth because of the sound it makes when you flick the needle, or straw, with your finger before you use). You often hear people saying "tik. tik." as they walk around looking for their next high.

The problem here is quite severe. Statistics from my research this morning showed that 60% of high schoolers in the Ocean View aread where we work are addicted to tik. Children as young as 5 have recently been reported to our center for treatment of tik addiction. Girls are selling their bodies for the drug, creating a ring of prostitution/drug use. It's a totally different world to see this so up close.

Also, I'm starting to learn Afrikaans!! This is the language of the white and colored communities, but most everyone speaks it aside from English. My coworkers are giving me lessons!!!

driving around.

around the corner from my house.

melissa and i with the penguins.


our power has been out for 3 days now in spurts. everytime we get to a place to send email, the power shuts off again. sorry for the delays. as my friend lesiba in joburg said the other day, "it may look first world, but under the pretty mountains and ocean and sky, south africa is still a 3rd world country. after starting my work and meeting people and seeing how things operate, i won't argue with his observation. if you could see into my world right this moment, you'd find me and melissa parked outside the church in the dark, near a big jehovah's witness party next door, bumming the wireless signal that's been down all weekend. we're still strapped in, lights on, typing away. pretty hilarious!

i'm sunburned. i fell asleep outside for like an hour and i woke up frying. also, i went running today and i won't point i think i was running through the eye of a tornado. cape town is an incredibly windy city.

collum from dublin.

today we arrived at the church to drop off some Living Hope photo display boards for Avril to pick up later today. as we drove in the parking lot, a leathery-skinned white man with bony arms and fingers, a bright green tshirt, and a pair of dirty old khaki shorts hanging off his frail waist stood under the awning of the church. like a rickety old fence, he stammered from one leg to the other, as if the plastic bag in his hands was too much weight for his weakened body. his hair, the color of his skin, was messy and dirty.

as he approached our open window, something inside of me froze. i tried looking into the man's eyes but it was as if none existed in his face. for behind the surface of his eyes, nothing seemed to exist. and smothered on top of these empty eyes was a thick film of disillusionment, so thick it made his eyes appear transparently white in color. had he pricked his eyeball with a pin, it seemed that water would pour forth for ages, perhaps the tears of lost years that had never been let loose. for a man such as this, tears might be the only thing left he had to hold on to. shedding them would be to loose little of the nothing you have left.

i stuck my right hand out the driver's window (which is the right front window down here) to shake this man's hand. instead of a hand shake, he only stared at my hand, up at my face, and then down at his own scarred and cracked hand. "I have AIDS", he said. "I won't let you shake my hand."

His name is Collum. He's from Dublin, Ireland, & living in Cape Town for a reason I'm not sure of. He need 3 Rand (50 cents) to get home. He has just drawn the letter "J" in the ground to represent his belief in Jesus. He had no belongings with him. He claimed to have just come to the church to receive drug counseling and a bite to eat. He had been "wasted" the night before, which he translated to us to mean that his girlfriend had stolen all his money and ran off. He claimed to have nothing left.

Physically, the man looks like a cracked-out drug user who might or might not have AIDS. He hadn't showered in a long time. Mentally, he wasn't all there. He had fragmented sentence and thoughts. But his words were convincing.

What do you do?

ra-ra for ra-ra.

today is
birthday.

happy birthday robin. i miss you. you are R-ridiculously hilarious, O-oh my gosh I wish I were that funny, B-beginning a new journey of life, I-impossible not to love, N-not knowing it but coming to Africa for a visit.


enjoy your madeline and coffee and yellow wallpaper.


eat greek food for me.