The New South African Struggle
(An excerpt from my journal. Additional comments in [brackets].)
I was in Jane Furse today [which is in Limpopo province North of Johannesburg, towards the Zimbabwe border. It appears to have been a prior homeland, an area that the apartheid government deemed to be a separate country for blacks. There is still very little development in the area -- just one shanty town after another for a solid hour of driving. Because of the draught that is affecting the area (as far north as Malawi), Jane Furse has not had water for months. Despite this, it is one of my favourite places in South Africa.].
Farah and I were visiting SEP (Sekhukhune Educare Project) to gather statistics for the NMCF report to USAID. We divided the volunteer care-workers into small groups to update the statistic forms.
The women I was working with told me of one girl they regularly visit. Her name is Nthabiseng [henceforth Ntha]. Both Ntha and her mother Anne are mentally disabled. The care-workers I spoke with had reported on their statistics form that they had assisted Ntha to receive a Disability Grant. [I knew from prior experience that the care-workers tend to do far more for the Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) than they report. Somewhere along the line, they came to believe that NMCF and Western donours are only interested in key economic activity. This is completely untrue. Even something as seemingly insignificant as a home visit creates positive impacts on the OVC's life by showing the child that someone cares about them. Thus, I knew that I had to push the women to give me more information so I could accurately portray their activities.].
After asking some key questions, I came to understand that the care-workers had visited Ntha many times. I ascertained that they had organized for Ntha to attend a school for disabled children. They eventually told me that they had also brought Ntha to the clinic for treatment.
That was all they were willing to tell me, so I moved on to the other children they were working with.
Before finishing our session, I returned to Ntha. When I pushed the women around the issue of the clinic treatment, they eventually told me that Nthabiseng has been repeatedly raped by her father.
These two women looked at me with such despair. In broken English, and sometimes through an interpreter, they explained that Ntha didn't know that was was being done to her was wrong. They said that Ntha's mother was unable to help her daughter because of her own disability. They said they didn't know what to do to help her.
This is a part of the new South African Struggle.
With the veil of apartheid removed, South Africa's wounds have been revealed: rape, child rape, poverty, unemployment, HIV/AIDS, child-headed households.
While this vileness of life is shocking in its presentation, I am humbled by the depth of the human spirit to deal with these issues. These care-workers were raised during apartheid. They received a Bantu education, if any at all. They were restricted in their movement. Freedom only reached them in 1994. Yet, here they are, volunteering their time and love to develop their nation and protect their nation's children. With few possessions themselves, they care for the OVCs in their area for no compensation. Every day they help those who have suffered devastating human rights abuses.
In South Africa, this human spirit is called Ubuntu: a person can only be a person through the help of others ["umntu ngumntu ngabanye abantu" in Xhosa]. Watching the spirit of Ubuntu manifest itself in Jane Furse is awe-inspiring.
I was in Jane Furse today [which is in Limpopo province North of Johannesburg, towards the Zimbabwe border. It appears to have been a prior homeland, an area that the apartheid government deemed to be a separate country for blacks. There is still very little development in the area -- just one shanty town after another for a solid hour of driving. Because of the draught that is affecting the area (as far north as Malawi), Jane Furse has not had water for months. Despite this, it is one of my favourite places in South Africa.].
Farah and I were visiting SEP (Sekhukhune Educare Project) to gather statistics for the NMCF report to USAID. We divided the volunteer care-workers into small groups to update the statistic forms.
The women I was working with told me of one girl they regularly visit. Her name is Nthabiseng [henceforth Ntha]. Both Ntha and her mother Anne are mentally disabled. The care-workers I spoke with had reported on their statistics form that they had assisted Ntha to receive a Disability Grant. [I knew from prior experience that the care-workers tend to do far more for the Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) than they report. Somewhere along the line, they came to believe that NMCF and Western donours are only interested in key economic activity. This is completely untrue. Even something as seemingly insignificant as a home visit creates positive impacts on the OVC's life by showing the child that someone cares about them. Thus, I knew that I had to push the women to give me more information so I could accurately portray their activities.].
After asking some key questions, I came to understand that the care-workers had visited Ntha many times. I ascertained that they had organized for Ntha to attend a school for disabled children. They eventually told me that they had also brought Ntha to the clinic for treatment.
That was all they were willing to tell me, so I moved on to the other children they were working with.
Before finishing our session, I returned to Ntha. When I pushed the women around the issue of the clinic treatment, they eventually told me that Nthabiseng has been repeatedly raped by her father.
These two women looked at me with such despair. In broken English, and sometimes through an interpreter, they explained that Ntha didn't know that was was being done to her was wrong. They said that Ntha's mother was unable to help her daughter because of her own disability. They said they didn't know what to do to help her.
This is a part of the new South African Struggle.
With the veil of apartheid removed, South Africa's wounds have been revealed: rape, child rape, poverty, unemployment, HIV/AIDS, child-headed households.
While this vileness of life is shocking in its presentation, I am humbled by the depth of the human spirit to deal with these issues. These care-workers were raised during apartheid. They received a Bantu education, if any at all. They were restricted in their movement. Freedom only reached them in 1994. Yet, here they are, volunteering their time and love to develop their nation and protect their nation's children. With few possessions themselves, they care for the OVCs in their area for no compensation. Every day they help those who have suffered devastating human rights abuses.
In South Africa, this human spirit is called Ubuntu: a person can only be a person through the help of others ["umntu ngumntu ngabanye abantu" in Xhosa]. Watching the spirit of Ubuntu manifest itself in Jane Furse is awe-inspiring.
posted by Jana at 4:13 PM
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