So I got an email 2 days ago – nothing weird, dark or sinister – but something that has prompted me to write to you guys again. Remember a few week backs, how I was complaining about the fact that I found myself in a situation where I needed to ask for money – and how it disturbed me? Well, the email told me that there was a donation that had been secured that would pay me monthly until the end of the year. And for all the other God-fearing peeps in the house, give me a “Hallelujah!” Now, in all honesty, I’m sure there are some of you who spend this amount on your petrol in a month alone, but when you take a pittance and add it to another pittance, it turns out to be substantially more than you started with, so I simply receive all gifts with gratitude and trust that the One who called me on this Journey is providing just as He said He would. So what’s the reason for me writing to you?

“The Contract”

I must sign a contract for the people who control money to actually release it. That’s normal, isn’t it – why the fuss? Well the thing is that I’m not normal, and the path I walk is not normal, so when I find normality along the Way, it disturbs me – especially when it requires me to make some contractual promise that I am committed enough to the Path to be “worth” the money. I mean, did I need “The Contract” to pack my rucksack and head off into impoverished rural Africa for 5 years? Did I need “The Contract” to live there in freakin mudhuts, so that I could get a deeper understanding of Her culture? Did I need “The Contract” to quit my business so that I could dedicate my life to this path? Did I need “The Contract” to grow my friendship with two streetkids in a squatter camp, before starting a streetkid soccer project with them that has kept me busier than a whore in Thailand? Do I honestly need to sign a freakin’ contract to ‘prove’ my worth? But that’s not the point of today’s blog post – I’m just being an arse coz I feel a bit of wounded prided stirring up some emotions But here’s the thing…

“The Contract” requires me to do something that I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about, and for which I am not in the least bit motivated, since I don’t believe in it; it asks me to be overall sport’s director for netball and volleyball – over and above the Singcono Masisonke Soccer Project – leading people who, quite honestly I do not trust to be here for the next two years, and who would definitely leave in a heartbeat if we stopped paying them, coz that’s how little heart they have. I couldn’t be bothered, and that’s the part that gets me. You see, I’m engaged to be married to a beautiful woman – and that requires money. I also foresee myself being in Johannesburg for another 2 years before my leadership are sufficiently equipped to take over, and that costs money. And I also would like to get back into the habit of playing golf every week, and that costs money…and that’s the power of “The Contract” – it always has a way to satisfy you now, robbing your soul in the process. I’m living on a monthly pittance and “The Contract” would almost double my takings, and that’s significant for me – but  am I willing to lose a piece of my soul to gain a bite more out of my time on earth? That’s a shite question to face; I believe that most people get sucked in without ever pondering it; and I never thought – rather naively – that I’d be here facing it myself. I thought I’d always be the guy who’d look at such capitalist junk and immediately turn his back. But I didn’t. I pondered it for 2 days.

Now obviously I rejected what I did not believe in, and feel confident that the process will still go through because I love the people I am in partnership with; believe that they love me in return, and trust them completely – but the point I’m trying to make is not about the people who wish to bless me, but it’s about me and the struggle I find within my depths; how I was pondering selling my soul, for two days. And I feel pretty confident that I’m not the only one. Do you feel that in your place of work, that your soul is nourished and filled with joy, or do you feel that you were called to sacrifice some of that for the sake of money, security etc?  What would your and my own life look like, if we could truly live it according to the deeper yearnings of our heart, without having to sell parts of our inner beings in order to satisfy capitalist requirements? What would the world then look like?

If your life were a movie, where your daily needs were taken care of and all you needed to figure out was a story, what would you do with your time? Would you still be where you are today?

I wish you strength and honor, as you continue to shake off the shackles that bind you, and live in a manner fit for who you are created to be.

For the past 10 years I’ve had these days where I wake up and I say to myself,

“What will you do today that is Truly Excellent?”

And it is only when I ask it in the morning and review it in the evening, that I am faced with the reality of how much of my life is filled with mediocrity. And I hate mediocrity. In this season of my life I’m trying a bit harder to fight against mediocrity, rather than in my earlier seasons where I’d dream through it and then resign myself into accepting it, seeing that the other option of Excellence required more from me than I could muster energy for. I think if we’re all honest with ourselves in that little dark space of our lives where all things are sacred, we’ll also confess to lives filled with mediocrity; maybe it is mediocrity of the mind, which results in poor thinking, maybe mediocrity of the body which results in poor actions, or maybe mediocrity of the heart which results in poor words. And I don’t think it’s mediocrity that we’ve created, I think it’s mediocrity that we’ve inherited and which we’ve never quite managed to write out of our story – perhaps some of us have never even questioned it. But I have… and I hate it.

Last week, some young adults from the African Leadership Academy found their way to me. They were thinking about a sustainable vegetable gardening project in an impoverished African community and found their way to Zandspruit, where they found me – I’ve become quite famous there Anyway, we talked and visioned together about a project that equips and empowers Youth to sustain a vegetable garden, where they’ll be able to carry a parcel of veggies home each day; we also talked about equipping them in such a way that they pass the knowledge down to the younger generation so that 300 homes could have veggies each day, delivered to them by their children; and finally we chatted about the idea of teaming up with Sarah Morrow from Urban Gardens so that the initiative could be transferred into used and discarded tyres and taken across the community by the 300 children so that Zandspruit would be a community that fed itself with its own vegetables everyday. It felt good. Correction, it felt Excellent. We were then invited to their lush green soccer field on Friday to challenge them to a game, which we accepted – all in the name of relationship building. Ironically, I have been looking at this field for two years and trying to find a way to partner with the Academy so that my boys could train there, but for all sorts of reasons I could never break through the barriers, but time had come when a new generation of young Leaders had found their way to me and invited us. That was a whole other story…

The field was fantastic, it reminded me of the fields I played on as a private school child (if you don’t know the story, back in apartheid times, my parents were employed as the first non-white teachers on the academic staff of a private school in South Africa and I got my private schooling free, so please don’t look at me like a snob!). The kids were just amazed at the quality of field that could be played on and they showed off some serious skill that made the 22 year-olds break into quite a sweat. At half-time, with the score at 1-1, the young Leaders quickly scrambled some of their ‘ace’ players from the dormitory to come and help them save face in front of my bunch of schoolkids. It was Excellent! The game ended 6-3 to the young African Leaders, but with a positive spin on the event, where we’ve been asked if we want to join them every week on a Friday, at their lush green field for a joint practice session. With the garden project looming and an invitation such as this, with the only concern being a potential clash with an HIV/Aids awareness, counseling, training and treatment project that is also in the pipeline with GrassRootSoccer and their USAid, Nike and UNAIDS partners – I can convincingly say that things for me and the naughty little buggers are quite Excellent at the moment. But that was the culmination of about 5 days of Excellent living. What would my life and the life of those around me look like if I could live 5 days, every week, in Excellence?

I don’t know the answer. I used to dream of it once, but I don’t truly know the answer. I can only try and pursue Excellence as best I can and wait patiently to see the results. And I’m content with that. Is your heart and flesh willing to join me on this Journey? Are you prepared to wake up tomorrow and ask yourself the question,

“What will I do today that is Truly Excellent?”

I hope you are. And when you do, please send me an email of your story so that I can post it for others to see that I am – by no stretch of the most creative imagination – some outstanding being, but rather just a boy who’s trying to fight back the fear and wage war on the mediocrity he has found in his own life, and who is eager for companionship along the Way.

I wish you strength and courage as you continue your incredible Journey.

Have you ever pondered how cockeyed it is to “work for money”. How progressive is that mentality, or is it – in fact – enslaving?

A weird thing happened to me this year – I started asking for money. I haven’t done that since 2001 when I used to work as a barman “to make money”. But here’s the thing, I have reached a place where I feel that I can no longer maintain a more than simple lifestyle without having more money paid out to me on a monthly basis, in lieu of my work. And that pains me, because since choosing this Path I now walk, I never had money as a priority – I just did what I did because i felt it important within my soul, and it has brought me immeasurable joy whilst bringing joy and progress to people around me. It sounds like a winning combo. But it isn’t. How weird. You ever thought of that?

When I was in Zambia, before I met Gaduke, Mwiche and Lubengula – I was a stranger (see last week’s post). I had heard the Voice within me call me into Zambia and I had obeyed with the swiftness of a Greek war-horse – never once questioning it. I loaded a backpack, hoisted it onto my shoulder and ventured off to a country I had never previously heard of. It was mad! But I wasn’t too worried coz I had some good money with me and was certain to find a job at a Lodge as a cook, since I was pretty bloody good at it! But that never happened and I found myself stranded one day in a valley of ‘uncivilized black savages’ without any money – coz I had spent it all, without considering that I was an 8 hour ride from the nearest town with running water, electricity, phone lines, internet or anything that you would normally associate with the word “civilized”. Not to mention that the only transport that went to that town went once a week and cost money, of which I had spent all of mine. That period in my life was a great lesson.

A short, toothless man approached me when I was seated upon my backpack, looking all forlorn and hopeless, waiting for a magical horse to appear and carry me home. Bianda was his name. Canishis Bianda. After much talk with me about my situation and how I had come to find myself in such a precarious position, Bianda finally asked,

“Philen. Have you eaten?”

“No” I replied. I don’t have money, remember?”

“Philen! Don’t worry we are paddling in the same canoe!” And the little man flashed me a toothless grin I’ll never forget and held up a packet of  tiny fish that he’d caught from the river that morning. “Come with me! We are paddling in the same canoe!”

I followed the mysterious Bianda along invisible pathways through head-height wild, African grass to a little village that appeared from nowhere, where I was fed until I could eat no more and introduced to the entire village. I was taken by my hand from hut to hut, village to village for 5 months. At last I mentioned how I wanted to get back home and the farming communities I had visited and friends I had made put together enough money to send me back home to South Africa. I was in – what was reported at that time as the 26th poorest nation on earth. When I returned home, my mother took one look at me and exclaimed,

“Boy! Where have you been and what have you been doing!? Look how fat you’ve gone!”

True story.

Now I’m in my home country, surrounded by people who know me, doing a work that everyone commends, and I have to ask for money to just support myself on a daily basis. I’ve lost 6 kilos and am the lightest I’ve been since 1994! Go figure.

There’s something to say about this capitalist system of governance we all subscribe to, and the self-focus it breeds in us. I firmly believe we’re a small part of a very big con. That’s why I don’t vote. Never have. Won’t support it. There’s a life that exists beyond what you know – it’s real. It’s LIFE, not just living. I’ve been there. I know it. It’s not an imaginary idealist thing. It’s real LIFE. It’s a place where men and women live together – for the good of the land and the good of each other. And it works. It’s a place where a stranger can live 5 months without a cent… and return home fatter than when he left.

What do you live for? Why do you breathe? Is it for Love or is it for money?

I was driving home, talking on my phone when I heard a siren beep and saw a finger direct me to pull to the side of the road. Two cops came and made me aware of the law I was breaking by being on the phone. They told me that I needed to go with them to the police station to pay a R500 fine. But it was clear that they did not mean what they said because their eyes were looking at the soccer kit that lies constantly strewn across my back seat, and without a word of opposition from me – since I was clearly guilty – they asked me to step out and open the boot. I was puzzled coz it seemed like they had forgotten about the police station idea. While I was opening the boot, they decided to ask me what I was doing with all the kit, so I explained my work with the streetkids, and then they asked for a pair of shin-pads each – saying that they didn’t want to ask for a ball because of the good work I am doing – and in a flash, they were gone. Just like Kaizer Souze. And I was back on the phone.

And that got me thinking.

A few years back when I was living the Journey with Gaduke, Lubengula and Mwiche (see last week’s post), I was also engaged in some small business of exporting motor spare parts from South Africa to Zambia. I was a real small-time dude so I used to ride the 30-hour bus trip across 4 borders with all my spares loaded into the trailer. I used to do this monthly. It was mega-tiring. But when we reached Chirundu – the Zambian entry point – there was something quite cool that took place. You see, the tax I – and every other person – was expected to pay to bring spares into Zambia was 47% of my cost, which is bloody ludicrous. Well it’s fine if I were trading in a wealthy country because I would simply pass that cost-factor onto the buyer. But Zambia – at that time – was recognized as the 26th poorest nation on earth – how could I transfer such exhorbitant prices to such poor people? It would never work. And if I stopped bringing spares into the country, then the taxi business would fold, putting more people onto the streets. So the customs officer would graciously reduce my tax to the government so that I could continue to survive, and assist the growth of small business within the country. In return, I would – obviously – appreciate such grace with a token of support for the man and his family for the good work he did in supporting the little-people. And we all continued to live. Joyfully and in relationship with each other.

Appreciation.

I think this is known in the westernized world as bribery and corruption. And therein lies what I like to refer to as a ‘Cock-up’ by the western and so-called-but-much-debated “civilized first-world”. Because it’s not bribery and corruption. It’s appreciation, it has been born from the barter system and works within societies that are community-focused; communities that live with no walls of separation between them; communities where it is completely normal and expected for you to wake up in the morning with a friend knocking on your door beckoning you out to share breakfast with him and two others; breakfast that the four of you will cook together after you borrow egss from the neighbour and milk from the woman across the road. It’s not bribery. But that’s the ‘Cock-up’. Another civilization who thought they were greater than the people they encountered, imposed their culture and system of living on a people that were not ready for it; a people who did not subscribe to the same values of life as they did; a people who had not walked a path to reach a place where the system of capitalism and democracy were the natural next step. These people – upon whose land we live – had a system of life that worked. Sure, it had it’s flaws and weaknesses that needed to be ironed out, and with time would probably have been done, but it was their land and their culture, and it worked. The parasitic civilization had no interest in trying to learn the way of the land and the people therein and decided to impose their own culture and values on the natives of the land. What the ‘Cock-up’ is, is that this system and culture that was brought was not faultless, and is still not faultless. In fact one could argue that it is the very system that continues to destroy life as we know it.

I am Afrikan. I live with the people and I live for the people, taking no more for myself from the land than I am willing to invest into the land and its people. I appreciate my fellow Afrikans, and in return, they appreciate me. I appreciate the land that feeds me, and in return She appreciates me. What I did was not bribery today because of the fact that it is bribery. It was only bribery because of the imposed system of culture and governance under which I live that has made it bribery and corruption.

Now I’m not saying it was right. Coz it was not. But I will fight you to the death to say that it in itself is far from the issue. You say potato, I say potahto. You say civilization, I say slavery. The unfortunate thing is that this system of living which has infested my dear Afrika has messed up the natives; the blood of whose ancestors cries out from the ground since the beginning of time. Now there is no more community, no more wall-less relationship, no more one-for-all-and-all-for-one, no more unity and common understanding. Now it’s all ‘Cocked-up’. So instead of living in appreciation of each other, we live with a constant fear of each other – fearing that what’s “mine” will soon run out – and this has raised up a generation of men and women who wake up in the morning, seeking to see what they can get from their brother or sister, and not what they can share with their brother or sister.

This is why the policemen went intentionally out of their way to stop me this morning. Because they wanted to get something. That mentality is not Afrika. It makes me sad. More than I can say.

I got an SMS last night that reminded me of why I do what I do and go where I go.

3 of my closest friends I made in my 5 years of life in deepest, wildest, raw-and-untamed Africa were Lubengula, named after the 2nd king of the Matabele people, and was renowned for ruling with an iron fist in an age where men and women feared his strict discipline. Mwiche (pronounced Mwee-Cheh), because he claimed this was his real name even though there was no evidence to support him. And Gaduke (pronounced Gah-Doo-Keh) because of his legendary status regarding penis size – don’t ask.

When I say that these were close friends of mine, what I mean is this: For 5 straight years, I would begin every day with Lubengula either sleeping next to me (sharing single beds is a 3rd-world-poverty thing) or coming and knocking on my door to wake me up. We would then walk about 80 meters across the main road of the town that had  about 35 shops and one road (which is the same thin strip of tar in the picture above) until we found Mwiche behind the bar of our friends ‘nite club’. Mwiche would hand us a beer each and the 3 of us would walk 30 meters up the ‘road’ to the ‘hardware’ store where we’d find Gaduke asleep behind the counter. From there, Mwiche and Gaduke would head off to find us some charcoal from the back of some guy’s bicycle who’d be riding from a nearby town about 40 kilomteres away – an event as reliable as the rising of the sun, while Lubengula and myself would head over to the market (10 stalls made of dead branches and dried grass) to buy some vegetables. After all this we would re-unite at our room where Mwiche and Gaduke would have the fire going, whereupon we would cook our meal and share it with much talk and laughter for the next 2 hours, before going back to ‘work’ – I never really knew exactly what that was.

Every day for 5 years. That’s what I mean when I say that we were close friends.

So why have I decided to tell you about my SMS?

2 months ago I received news via SMS that Mwiche was married – a most unlikely bet, yet wonderful news. And this evening Lubengula has contacted me once again to say that Gaduke is in prison, facing charges of murder. And I’m not surprised either, coz it’s not strange. I had a friend named Deokrashas, who described himself as an “Indigenous African”; he was a true villager and a real character. He took me on my first wild elephant culling expedition, where we got ourselves 50 kg of fresh meat, from which I was given the raw liver to eat, which was bloody delicious! He also introduced me to some potent local brew that had me sing and dance for an entire village community before passing out on floor of the Village Headman’s hut. He was also my partner in a fishing business that I started up to revolutionize the community… that is, until Deokrashas was accused of arson in the burning down of a shop and disappeared before you could say “Kaizer Souze”. And then there was Bwana Ngosa, who tried to resurrect a forgotten riverside lodge that once belonged to his father. I had started up a restaurant there and Lubengula ran the bar. All this right next to the South Luangwa National Park where elephants passed by everyday at 15:30 and 7 lions during the night. But then President Chiluba was voted out, Mwanawasa came in and the land was transferred. We didn’t know any of that until the police arrived one day and chased us out the camp as far as we could run, not even giving us the chance to go into our sleeping quarters to collect our toothbrush! I ask you, where in the world can you have such things taking place as a regular daily occurrence – so regular that when I hear of my good friend Gaduke, I am not in the least bit surprised or concerned?

Only in Africa – where life is life, death is death, and anything that is not death is life. Only in Africa… Real and Untamed Africa do these stories make up the daily chatter of life… and I love it! It is these most unlikely stories with the most unlikely characters, which are a part of my daily life, that make it more than just ‘worth living’ – it’s downright entertaining.

Well hello again! Did you miss me as much as I did you? Wow, what a great break – I got engaged in Cape Town, ate an oceanload of seafood, came back to Jozi and disappeared into the Magaliesburg mountain range for a 10-day fast and prayer session to clear my mind and receive direction for a new season and now, fully re-charged and raring to go with a clear head and renewed focus, here I am!

You know, while I was on my spiritual retreat, my main concern was a feeling of scattered-ness in my thoughts and a sense that I needed a clearer definition of my direction. I don’t know if it happens with you, but I often find that I lose myself in trying to reach a destination where things will be “better”; where the load will be less and the reward greater. Subsequently, I find myself in a place from where I have recently come, where I am confused about how to get there. What I love about times of fasting and praying in the bush is that it carries me into a place of stillness where I, me, my self, the world and everything else fades into silence and I am left seated in the presence of Ancient Wisdom. I have come to know that Presence as God my Father, but for the sake of neutrality and to diffuse the storm of religious quarrels, I will refer to Him/Her as A.W. – Ancient Wisdom. Right, that aside, let us continue…

In that time of stillness what I most enjoy is to hear A.W. speak into my soul. It’s an experience I can describe as being similar to a rainbow; surreal in its intangibility, yet as real as rain and undeniable in its existence. When A.W. speaks, I listen and when I follow A.W.’s call I have never yet been led astray. This – for me – is what I refer to as a Holy Moment. I’ll call it an H.M to keep it neutral . I had one of these in Magaliesburg where – after a few days of silence and hunger, all that I counted as having value within my mind subsided into silence, and in that silence the only words A.W. returned to me were,

“You are already there.”

What the hell did that mean!? I packed my stuff and returned to Jozi. Upon arrival I found a mail in my inbox from a women architect who works for a governmental organization who was involved in a sporting community centre project before and had a vision and desire to design and implement such a project in Zandspruit – since her home overlooked the settlement. She googled Zandspruit and eventually found this blog, which inspired her (her words) to contact me. I thought nothing of it and supplied her with the information she needed, letting the whole thing pass bye as a random occurrence. Last week she contacted me again and said her boss and her would like to take me out to lunch, which we had today and where I discovered that they have put together a proposal for a project that fits in with my vision for Sport’s Transformation in Zandspruit, and that they have gone as far as pitching it to investors who have asked for a full blown plan. In the whole process, what they need is someone on the ground who has a formalized NGO, to help open the doors for the the project to take place and who will run the Sport’s Community Centre for Youth and Children’s Transformation once the project is complete. What a coincidence that I have been preparing myself along this path for the past 4 years and have recently registered the My Life My Africa Children’s Foundation to be the organization that goes into unchartered territory, providing the bridging that is required for developmental projects to take place in a sustainable manner. Or is it a coincidence? I stopped believing in those along time ago… around the same time as I started listening to A.W. When I put that together with the reply I got from an email I sent out last year to the Grassrootsoccer Organization who assist other organizations in creatively addressing the issue of HIV/Aids through soccer, this all looks like an interesting direction we’re heading into.

And now I get what A.W. was saying when He/She said,

“You’re already there.”

In essence what was being said is that the Journey IS the very destination that you are seeking and that patience, commitment and an open-heart and mind are all that is needed to allow it to manifest.

Much grace and peace to you, and may you find the Path you’re already on.

To all faithful bloggers – my apologies for not writing, but I’m on a long-awaited holiday. After the holiday I’ll spend January in a time of fasting and prayer in preparation for the year ahead, and I’ll see you again in February 2010!

I must apologize to all the faithful blog followers of My Life My Africa for not posting an update this past week, however I have good reason. Actually it’s kinda childish, but I’m a boy so it’s a good reason. You see, this past week was the Final week of the Singcono Masisonke Soccer League – and though some of you might think that I am heartbroken that the season has ended and that I won’t see the little kids again until January, that’s not the whole truth…

Our final match of the season was this past Thursday and for the early part of the week I was running around with boyish excitement buying trophies and medals, and imagining the look of joy on the faces of even the naughtiest kids who would all receive a medal, inline with one of our values that Every child is a winner and we consider every child higher than we consider ourselves.

Last week my Fantastic Six had beaten the Kingdom Strikers which placed us on top of the League by 3 points with only one game left. It was a nail-biter which we won 3-2 with numerous heroic saves by our star grade 8 goalkeeper and the win practically sealed the League Title for us – all that was left was to win or draw our final match ( if the Kingdom Strikers won theirs) which was not going to be difficult considering that we had only been beaten once during the entire season. I was so excited for my little kids that I was filled with joy as I bought the medals and trophy and pictured the little fellas hoisting it above their head with boyish pride in their hearts.

Thursday came and the final games began and since ours was the headliner, we were the second match. The first match was as exciting as hell on new years eve, the Kingdom Strikers went 1-3 down just after half-time and me and my boys went wild with celebration since we could even lose our match and still win the League. But in a terrible twist of fate, the Kingdom Strikers came back to win their match 4-3, which meant that we needed a draw, at the very least. But we were not troubled. After 5 minutes the score was 1-1 and all things were working according to plan – that is, until the black-rain-cloud-gods began working them into a frenzy like a smoke machine. From nowhere, the wind picked up and brought with it a mountain of dark and menacing clouds that threatened to disrupt proceedings. Which is why I have no photos to accompany this week’s post. The match was stopped…

After much deliberating  we realized that we’d be lynched if we did not hand out the trophies and medals – especially after they had been on display for the kids the duration of the match. So with black cloud spitting at us from all around, we went to penalties – 5 kicks each and if it remained a draw after that then the points would be shared and the Fantastic Six would be champions. But it didn’t end like that. My foolish children changed the order of the kickers that I had given them, putting the youngest at the end, who missed the final kick – giving the victory to the Kingdom Strikers. So I’m upset and wallowing in grief and this is the very good reason why I have not written. Further to that, I have only lately realized that my calculations on goal difference were wrong. You see, I was so busy and caught up in organizing everything that I forgot to print the league standings to take to the field, and in doing this I miscalculated. Only now when I check it on my laptop do I see that the League was a draw and that it should have gone to penalties between the Fantastic Six and The Kingdom Strikers which – obviously – we would have won. I am doubly pissed and don’t want to talk to anyone!

But I can’t end this blog post without the Truth, and that is the joy that was present on every child’s face. It was clear to see that they never expected to be rewarded for not winning. Even the naughtiest and most troublesome children, whom I was doubting to see next season, were moved beyond words. And in that simple moment of generosity, I truly believe that we have gained valuable ground in the lives of those 34 little street children. I praise God for the opportunity to be in this Journey and I look forward to sharing years together with them, as I strive – together with you – to meet needs in their lives that we have taken for granted and which they have only dreamed about. Needs of a big brother/sister, of after-school tutoring, of after-school tertiary training, of daily food, of daily loving kindness.

My heartfelt gratitude goes out to those who have supported us and made the medals and trophies possible. I can honestly say that without you, I would be nowhere. And I continue to encourage others to find a way to spare even R50 or US$5 a month for our project. Email info@mylifemyafrica.org

Thank you for reading and inspiring me along a difficult path. I wish you grace, peace and much laughter during the December times.

This week has been a crap week. It was supposed to be our second-last week of the league, but it has been a complete washout and we did not manage a single minute on the field, which has been very disappointing for the kids. On top of that, I received my blood test results which say that I – at age 33 – have a cholesterol level of 7.3, which is apparently very dangerous. It bugs me coz I don’t drink, smoke, do drugs or eat eggs. Of course I do eat about 500g of lamb curry every weekend But worse than that is that they found my thyroid gland to be under-active, which means that I am constantly tired and lifeless. I guess it makes sense that when Light moves into darkness, that darkness will resist, and that the best attack against any project is against the leader. So if you are a Spirit-filled, Christ-follower then I would dearly appreciate your prayers. But that’s enough about me. Let’s get to some HOLY SHIT!

But as I began my search for the source, I soon found the water to be murkier than previously imagined...

When we come face-to-face with a challenge such as this one, we usually have 4 choices in front of us:

1. Ignore it
2. Call for help and wait until it comes
3. Give up
4. Be the change you want to see

If you’ve been following this blog and the work of Singcono Masisonke for some time, then you would know that a huge part of our MISSION is to equip and empower children to BE THE CHANGE in a community that cries for change. So we decided to postpone our league by a week and to get down and dirty!

Our idea was to divert the water into an open field. Unfortunately I could not stay to complete it since I had another engagement that I had been booked for, but I will cruise over today to see how it went. The truth is though, I don’t think it will work. We were too few, our trench was too narrow and the sewerage and rubbish is too much. But that’s not the point. the point is how much I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!! I mean it’s the end of term, they’ve finished their exams and they want to play soccer and get some medals and trophies, but they see the need for us to work and they pull up their sleeves and dig a 30 meter trench to divert sewerage from the field – which is not even their field, but a community field. I really love these kids and am inspired, humbled, encouraged and blown away by them and how far we’ve all come in just 3 months.

When I look into the eyes of these kids, I firmly believe they are what we should all be investing our resources and energies into. These kids will do far more for the transformation of our world than suits seated in air-conditioned offices! (that’s just my opinion and not the stance of My Life My Africa or the Singcono Masisonke Project)

Hey, I didn’t tell you the good news. My brother was trolling Facebook and came across the MylifE Project (check them out at http://mylife.org.za/) and he passed them onto me. I had one look and was so encouraged and inspired at the idea of being able to partner with an organization such as this, that I contacted the Founder and Director, Linzi Thomas, and just laid everything on the table. She has been so encouraging and we’ve been emailing and the last mail seemed like she was interested to come up to Jozi to meet with me and to see how we can work together! Now I don’t want to get too excited coz I hate disappointment, and Kim has taught me to dream a bit smaller so that I can be blessed bigger – but the idea of partnership with an organization that seems on the same path as my vision, and is 11 years ahead of me is just too much to let go. So, if you believe in Singcono Masisonke, the vision I have, the work we’re currently doing, and the Path we’re trying to follow; if you believe it would benefit Africa’s children for us to partner with the MylifE Project, then would you please take a moment to recommend us to them with an email that’s from your heart.

Thanks for being a part of this Journey and playing a part that really encourages me and keeps me strong even in the times when I am most challenged. Much love to you…

You know what pisses me off… and I do mean “pisses me off” and not “annoys”, “upsets” or “makes me angry”… i mean “pisses – me – off!”? It’s people who expect to reap without sowing; people who walk into a situation with no understanding or investment into it, yet expect to receive full benefits. You know the kinda people I’m talking about?

This past week Tebhogo – the grade 12 kid who was working with me, Shimi and Bafana; who ratted out Shimi for drinking, and lied about Bafana – came back to the field after the month-off he had taken to complete his exams. A few weeks back he had approached me – all sullen and argumentative – because he believed that Shimi and Bafana were my favorites while he was not. I took about an hour to sit with this kid and explain how I cannot make any investment into his life until he completes school and chooses a path for me to look into. Shimi and Bafana – on the other hand – were 22 and 21 year old guys without a grade 12 and who had no choices other than to hang out on the street, so they had chosen their path to be with me and the development of the children. I explained this all to the kid, who then told me that he had been offered a bursary to study law. So I told him that was exactly what I was talking about – how could I start investing into a kid for children’s ministry when he’s busy thinking about law? I went on to stress that he should make a decision and then come to me. And that was that…

On Tuesday the kid comes to me at the field and tells me that he’s made his decision and he wants to stay with Singcono Masisonke; that he also wants to study theology with Shimi and Bafana and the Head Campus where they are being sponsored, and that he expects to be paid. But wait for it, he is coming for a gap year so he can complete his science paper – which he thinks he failed – so that he can go on and study in media! I had to resist slapping the dude square across the face. I first explained to him how an 18 year-old kid who has not received his exam results cannot come up to anyone and make demands, coz it just does not work like that – regardless of what example he gets from whatever role models he has. I also went on to explain how it’s just not reasonable for him to think that he can walk into a Bible College and expect me to find the funds to support him in 6 weeks. I went further to explain how I could not go to Golang – our partners next year – and ask them to sponsor a dude as a child care worker, who only intends staying a year. And more than that, I could not allow him to be a child care worker with little kids under his care if he had a heart to leave after that year. And the dude freaked out! Now, if you are South African then you might know what a ‘militant black man’ looks like and that’s exactly the approach the kid took with me. I could’ve kicked him in the nuts! But I didn’t. I asked why he thought that he should be automatically assigned each request of his, and his answer was,

“Because I was here with Bafana and Shimi from the start so I don’t see why they should be treated differently from me.”

“Don’t you think there is a difference between them – who have made a commitment to faithfully serve the project, and you who has openly stated that you will leave after a year?” I asked, not mentioning the fact that his lack of maturity and the burden he brings to me in a day would’ve discounted him already.

“No.” he replied with indignation, “there’s no difference. We should be treated equally.”

And herein – I believe – lies one of South Africa’s big stumbling blocks because Tebhogo is just one of many, who believes that he is freely entitled to whatever he wants, simply by virtue of … I don’t know what. Ordinarily – by westernized standards – the solution is a no-brainer, I would simply tell the kid – politely and in a manner that builds rather than destroys – to get lost and that there’s no opportunity for him with me. But it doesn’t work like that in Zandspruit. You see, anger and pain and jealousy are all very real and overwhelmingly strong emotions that are tightly coiled and ready to snap in a community like this, so one wrong step by an outsider like me could send the kid back into the community speaking ill of me and the project, and – quite literally – we could have war by Sunday. Aaaaahhh!!! I think I better hand this one over to our Zandspruit local and big brother, Pastor Simon…