I’m back! I went to South Africa and then I came home, the end.
Just kidding! But seriously, the past two and a half weeks feel like a giant, nameless blob. Part of me wants to run away and ignore it forever because:
It’s too much.
I have nothing to say.
I’m drowning in thoughts.
I don’t have the words.
I know so little.
***
One of the host organization’s leaders told us, both on our pre-trip zoom calls and then a couple times in-person, that he doesn’t agree with the “experience is the best teacher” statement.
“I have hundreds and hundreds of experiences every single day,” he said, “and they teach me absolutely nothing. But examined experience — now that’s where the real learning happens.”
So. I had an experience, and now for the examining.
Here’s to hoping I learn something.
***
Travel Days
We arrived in Johannesburg in the evening, bleary and rumpled after our 15-hour direct flight (and before that a two-hour flight from Dulles to Newark, and before that, a two-hour bus ride from my town to Dulles) — FIFTEEN HOURS, friends, in seats that reclined a total of two freaking inches. I bought a neck pillow for the flight — figured I’d be like one of the cool kids — but it turns out that neck pillows, when one is in an upright position, only serve to thrust one’s entire head forward in the most awkward position possible.*
Also note, sitting upright for 15 hours is painful on the hips, spine, and emotional wellbeing. I used to think flying was fun, but not anymore. I am a baby.
Anyway. The flight eventually ended (while in the air, we jumped forward six hours), and we arrived at St. Benedict’s, an Anglican retreat center where Desmond Tutu occasionally sequestered himself and where we would be staying for the first part of the pilgrimage.
Iziko (pronounced “ee-ZEE-ko”) leaders doled out t-shirts, water bottles, pens and notebooks, the wi-fi password, towels, and a little booklet containing the schedule, brief summaries about the sites of struggle we would be visiting, and poems and prayers we would be using in our group times. I didn’t use the book much while we were there, but now that we’re home, I find myself repeatedly referencing it for spellings, dates, and definitions. It’s a brilliant little resource.
***
Some stats to get you oriented:
- This pilgrimage was organized by Mennonite Mission Network (MMN).
- There were twenty people in our group, including our two MMN leaders.
- Iziko Lamaqabane — which means “the gathering space of comradeship” — was our host organization. Iziko’s earlier name was Anabaptist something or other, but to most South Africans, “Anabaptist” is a meaningless word, so they changed it to something that everyone would immediately understand.
- Our Iziko leadership team was comprised of four people: Mzi, Pokie, and Nkosi live and work in and around Jo’burg, and Steve, a white person from the US who has lived in many different countries, the last 15 years of which have been in South Africa, lives and works in Cape Town. The four of them, in one configuration or another, accompanied us for the duration of our pilgrimage.
So what, you ask, does Iziko do? Here, I’ll let them explain in their own (booklet’s) words.
Iziko Lamaqabane is on a pilgrimage to heal colonial wounds, disrupt systemic violence, and cultivate faith formed by and expressed in liberative praxis. By working in relational solidarity with urban peace and justice practitioners, Iziko serves those active at the site of struggle by facilitating spaces of retreat, exchange and collective learning grounded at the intersection of anabaptism, Black liberation theology and critical consciousness. . . . It is our conviction that the more we can walk together, sharing stories, friendship and knowledge, the more our wisdom, longevity and capacity to disrupt violence and oppression will grow.
***
Three Disclaimers
1. I am taking creative license with the quotes in this series. Most of the statements are not direct quotes (though some of them are!), but the essence of them is, to the best of my memory, true.
2. Some quotes, ideas, photos, and reflections may be recorded out of the order in which they actually occurred. This is due to my faulty memory and the ever-present bubbling of ideas. But again, the gist of the sequence is true.
3. Remember that I am new to much of this information. I am not an historian, nor am I a theologian or a scholar or reporter. I took daily notes in South Africa, and while I am fact-checking myself and running some of the more tricky bits by people who know more about South Africa and its complicated history than I do, there is still a good chance there are flaws in my recounting.
Grace, people. I’m operating on grace here. Challenge me, ask questions, and then go do your own research.
at one of the sites of struggle later in the week
Let’s all be pilgrims together.
***
*Silver lining: neck pillows make a fantastic sleeping pillow when flat on one’s back. Highly recommend.
P.S. My husband read this post and then said, “You didn’t even start!” And this, after two full days of writing and 18 pages of typed notes. I think I’m gonna go curl up in the fetal position and suck my thumb.
This same time, years previous: extraction, dulce de leche, chai tea concentrate, wait for it, the quotidian (11.4.19), sour cream coffee cake, old fashioned apple roll-ups, cinnamon pretzels.
