When the Lights Go Out

So, last Wednesday, I woke up in the middle of the night and glanced over at my clock to see the time. But, my clock was dead—power's out, I realized, and rolled over and went back to sleep. Now, power outages at my house are not too uncommon. In Sosh, and I think in most of South Africa, instead of paying a bill at the end of the month for how much power you have used, you prepay and then reload as you get low. I don't entirely understand how it works, but basically you have an account and you go to certain places (corner stores, random people's homes, gas stations, etc.) and give them money and they top-up your account and then you go home and type in some code into your little power meter box and the lights stay on. Well, the power goes out at my host family's house several times each month. I think it's a situation of everyone thinking someone else is going to re-load the account, but then it gets down to zero and zap, lights go out. This usually only lasts a few hours each time since as soon as it happens, someone makes their way to top-up and then the lights come back on. So, that's what I thought had happened on Wednesday…the power meter ran out overnight and it would need to be topped-up when the family woke up. But then, when I was getting ready in the morning, I checked with my next door neighbor just to verify my suspicions that it was just our house. "No lights!" she said. Hhmm…this was a different problem than I had anticipated! The infrastructure in Sosh certainly has some bumps and issues, but I had only experienced one other large-scale power outage since January and it was resolved within a few hours. So, that's what I was hoping for.

I made my way to Block HH for our usual team meetings and learned that power was out there too! This was not good, but at least it meant it wasn't just a small problem. Surely, the more people without power meant the sooner it would get fixed, right? Oh yeah, and it was a beautiful sunny day, so there wasn't any weather-related cause to the problem. As a team we chatted a bit about what could be the issue, but it was all just guessing. Someone said that perhaps a cable had been stolen, a common problem here. There was a phone cable stolen back in March or April and it cut off landline service to Block HH and Luc & Petunia's house. I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently the phone company just decided not to fix it. Also, there is a new high-speed train service that connects Johannesburg to Pretoria. The stations in Pretoria just opened in the beginning of August and in the past two weeks, there have been at least two incidents of overnight cable theft which have disabled train service for commuters! Oysh. Oupa, my teammate who has grown up in Sosh, reassured us that it would be fixed before the end of the day. He has experienced his fair share of outages, but it had always been resolved quickly. Luc made a comment that it was a good thing we weren't in the Congo, where he grew up, since sometimes it can take up to 6 months to fix a power outage! (Side note – I tried to apply reason and logic to this situation, thinking there's no way it could take so long to fix, but I soon realized that all my powers of reason had no effect on the actual reality of the situation. It could potentially never get fixed!)

So, the day continued and frustrations grew about the power. When you have the sense that it could come back on any minute, you start keeping track of the minutes as they go by without any change. We carried on and had our Tswana lesson that afternoon as usual. Fortunately, Mama Jane has a gas-powered stove in her garage so we could still make tea J Mama Jane invited me to stay and eat dinner with her family, but I decided to venture back to Block GG and see what my neighbors were up to.

I stopped in at my friend Thembi's house and my neighbors Sherz and Tsholo were already there! My main priority was figuring out a plan for dinner and while everyone was concerned about the power, no one else seemed quite as worried as I felt. The main topic at that point was the death of a South African Soapie star. (The rumor of his death, by the way, later proved to be untrue.) So, as they discussed the fate of the soap opera, I kept trying to interject with questions about dinner. By that point, we knew that it was only some sections of some blocks of Sosh that were without power and it didn't seem like there was any rhyme or reason to which blocks still had power and which didn't. The main shopping area of Sosh still had power, so my proposed solutions all involved taking a taxi to one of the fast-food places and buying dinner for everyone. My whole concern was how we would eat, and where we would go to get food, and how we needed to do it before dark. My neighbors, though, are far more resourceful than I am as most made some sort of fire in the front, side, or back of their house and cooked a nice meal. I forget that most of the adults in my neighborhood grew up in areas where electricity was not a standard and cooking on the fire outside was a feature of daily life. This reminded me of my ignorance and naiveté and lack of resourcefulness! So, as those conversations continued around me, only occasionally in English, I decided to sit back and relax and pray that the lights would come back on. When it gets dark, there are only a few things you can do, and sleep is one of them. At some point, Thembi remembered she had a gas stove in the garage. So she and Sherz got a ride to a gas station to buy some gas. But, when they got back they realized that the keys to the garage were in the pocket of Thembi's brother, who was on the train home from work. By this point it was 8 pm and there was no clear plan. I had eaten a slice of bread around 7pm and it seemed like that would be it for the night. I walked back home with Sherz and got ready for bed, as best as I could, in the dark. I was definitely thankful for the head-lamp that I got before I came to South Africa! I went to sleep that night hoping to wake up to lights on in the morning.

Thursday morning came and my clock was still dead. As was my lamp, refrigerator, and everything else that used electricity. I was really getting worried now about the meat in my freezer and the milk in my fridge. I have learned that refrigeration here is not such a big priority for people, as often frozen chicken sits out all day to defrost or cooked meals just don't get put in the fridge at the end of the day. But, I haven't quite adopted that attitude and I hated to think that I'd have to throw away money if my uncooked meats went bad. My frustration was growing, but so were my prayers. I still didn't know what the issue was, but I knew that ultimately there were people who did have the authority and ability to fix the lights. And I knew that ultimately God had authority to move their hearts to restore our power. At the same time, it was a good reminder about the people that live their whole lives without electricity. This is certainly a luxury, as far as the sheer numbers of people in the world who go without, but I take it for granted every day. I expect it and don't really think about how privileged I am to have it.

I noticed anxiety and anger growing in my heart so I decided to spend my quiet time that morning just asking God to help me find contentment even in this undesirable situation. I turned to Philippians 4:11-13: "…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want (whether with electricity or without ß my addition). I can do everything through him who gives me strength." Now, this was written by the apostle Paul, a man who faced troubles larger than a power outage. And yet, he could say with confidence that he had learned the secret to true contentment—to always rely on God for strength. That was the secret that I wanted to be true in my heart, on Thursday morning, but actually on every day. As I meditated on that passage, I just kept asking God to grant me that strength to be content in this very frustrating situation. I knew complaining and worrying wouldn't change anything, and I also realized that everyone would be complaining. I didn't want my heart to settle on a complaining spirit in this situation, and I knew that the only way that would be possible was through God's strength. Then I was reminded of 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." Well, there you have it. The "secret" that so many Christians claim to be seeking is right there in black and white—God's will for YOU is to be joyful, keep praying, and give thanks in everything. So as much as I struggle with that on a daily basis, I wanted it to be true of my heart and attitude in this situation.

Having meditated on these verses helped me as I took a very cold bath that morning. I thanked God for clean water and for the usual ability to heat the water. I thanked God that I have a bathroom in which to bathe and for all the other things I usually take for granted or don't appreciate. And those verses also helped me too as I walked to Block HH that morning. As soon as I stepped out onto the main road, the brightness of the sun caught me off guard. I just paused for a moment to admire the glory of the day, blue skies and all. As I sat in my bed, brooding and worrying and wishing things would change already, the day seemed so dark and gloomy. But I realized that God's light was still shining. That bright sun and blue sky were a reminder that God has made even this day too, even the days that are frustrating and that He is still at work. As much as the present situation seems grim and hopeless, God's light is still shining. Often, for me, it is a matter of taking my eyes off my own problems and looking up to see the light.

I made my way to Block HH and the power was still not on. I learned of some of the rumors floating around – someone had stolen the cables; some of the municipality workers were on strike so they didn't have the normal manpower to fix it; they were using this as a strategy to hold out on their employers and somehow get the public on their side to join them in their wage demands. It really felt like we were being held hostage because we hadn't done anything to be part of this struggle. In addition to those other meditations, I gained a new appreciation for all the psalms and prayers in the Bible on behalf of the oppressed. This was a tiny, tiny taste of "oppression," but it really felt like we were being punished unjustly. We were being used in the labor dispute, and we were paying the price. That was the rumor anyway. Later on, there were rumors about the water being shut off too as more municipality workers joined in the strike and tried to get us on board with their cause.

This reminded me of stories I've heard from the struggle to end apartheid. There were people who would organize boycotts and protests against the government, but they didn't end there. They would threaten and harm those who chose not to participate in the boycotts and protests. So, I felt like this strong-arming tactic was re-appearing in this situation. Again, perhaps just a small taste of South African history, but it was interesting. (Side note: there seems to be a "strike season" in South Africa. Every year, around the same time, various industries—mining, service workers, bus drivers, etc.—strike for improved working conditions, wage increases, etc. Another interesting piece of local culture…)

We carried on with after-school tutoring on Thursday afternoon since it really doesn't require electricity. Thank God for all the things we still could do despite the power outage. During the day it wasn't so bad, but night was when we felt really powerless—literally and figuratively! I walked back to GG on Thursday afternoon, anticipating a nice hot meal cooked on Thembi's gas stove, since by then her brother had returned with the garage keys. I stopped at home first and saw Sherz & Stan, my next-door neighbors, making a small fire. What about Thembi's stove, I asked. It had a leak apparently and was not gonna be used, after all that! So, I donated my thawing meats to the dinner cause since I figured they'd have to be thrown away if I didn't use them that night. So, Stan cooked a nice meal for us on the fire – pap (like thick grits, a staple starch of most meals here; chicken; ground beef. I stayed near the fire with Stan and advised him on the chicken – he had never cooked skinless, boneless before since most people in the township buy and eat full-skin, full-boned chicken meat. It was actually quite fun, Stan and I started singing and I got the chance to learn more about his upbringing. He told me his family didn't have electricity where they lived until he was about 15, so he was very accustomed to cooking outside on the fire. Sherz also didn't have electricity growing up, but they cooked on a coal stove. My ignorance sometimes astounds me, especially as I learn more and more of how other people live. I guess it seems obvious to realize that not everyone has grown up the same way as you, but when you actually learn about real people and the lives they have actually lived, it's quite eye-opening! We enjoyed a tasty dinner that night, complete with three meats (chicken, beef, and some beef stew bones)! It was a feast :)

I went back to my room after eating and decided to read. I was just getting ready to start reading when, in one moment, I heard the hum of the fridge and my clock started blinking again. THE POWER CAME ON!!!!! I screamed!!! Hahaha Sherz heard me and didn't yet realize the lights were back on so thought something was wrong. I ran outside and called her and then I danced to celebrate. I was so excited and praising the Lord! It was amazing.

All in all, this was a good learning experience, though I hope to not have to go through that lesson again! And the moral of the story is: appreciate what you have because you never know when the lights will go out!

The Bang Bang Club

Yesterday I saw The Bang Bang Club.  I had heard only bits and pieces about the movie—I knew it was about a group of photojournalist friends, and they spent some time filming in South Africa.  Turns out it is based on a true story of 4 white South African photojournalists who worked together during the last years of Apartheid, documenting the violent uprisings that preceded the transition to a democratic government.  I definitely recommend the movie, especially to get a different perspective on the ending of Apartheid. 

I didn’t realize the history, but there were not only two sides in the Apartheid fight.  It wasn’t just blacks vs. whites, but ended up being much black vs. black fighting.  It was really eye-opening to me to see how latent frustrations among blacks were stoked by the pro-Apartheid forces to create intra-racial conflict.  I guess if they kept them from having one common enemy, they felt their resistance would be weakened.  I will admit that I struggled at times to focus on the story of the main characters and their photojournalist lives because I was so disturbed by some of the images they were capturing (and I was seeing) of the intense fighting between black South Africans in the townships.  Not only did my heart break to see the terrible and true recent history of this country, but my heart also broke for the way these journalists had to basically become desensitized in order to continue working.   I certainly agree that people need to see these images, and thus there need to be photographers to capture them.  But I can’t imagine how they must learn to cope as witnesses to so much suffering.  You can see the shift in the main character in the beginning, as the internal conflict plays out—care for these people I’m photographing or just move on to get the next shot?  This dissonance continued throughout the film.

Another thing that stuck in my mind is how so many people here in Soshanguve will ask me “Is South Africa nice?” or “Do you think Soshanguve is nice?” (People here like to use the adjective “nice” as a general catch-all affirmative term.)  And of course, they want me to say yes, and I do say yes because I do think that there is good in this place.  But it’s an interesting question, and this movie reminded me it’s much more loaded than just considering anywhere a “nice” place to live.  It’s different than calling Deerfield, IL “nice” because not even 20 years ago, these townships were not “nice.”  Most of the movie took place in various townships, mostly around Johannesburg.  And those townships honestly looked much the same as Soshanguve does today…except nearly every scene was filled with mobs, or burning tires, or dead bodies, or gunfire.  So for someone who has grown up here, especially the older generation, to be able to ask me, a naïve white American, if I find this place to be “nice” is quite remarkable.  The history is not that ancient—this movie took place while I was in junior high school!   There’s just so much more baggage than I even realize behind the peace and relative calm of this place now.  And frankly I think I forget about that a lot of the time.  So the movie was a good, if disturbing, reminder.    

One of the photojournalists ends up traveling to the Sudan to cover a story of a famine.  We see shots of people in a UN feeding station and then we see the character wandering off into the desert.  With his camera, he captures the scene of a starving girl, crouching on the sand, and a vulture just a few feet behind, seemingly waiting for the girl to die.  It’s a captivating image (link?) and, as his friends commend him later, it was a great shot.  In fact, the photographer won a Pulitzer Prize for it.  But the thing that haunted him after was how everyone wanted to know what happened to the girl.  Didn’t he intervene? Didn’t he help her?  Wasn’t it his responsibility, as a witness to the crisis, to step in and respond?  As he put it later in a radio interview, photojournalists capture these images that the world needs to see.  Often the images show some real evil.  And then, people want to shoot the messenger.  And I have had that feeling—in fact had that feeling a lot during the movie.   How can we diminish someone’s life and death to just “a great shot?”  How can they stand there and take pictures of these terrible things and then just walk away, expecting to get paid for documenting someone else’s misery?  But the truth is, the goal of the pictures is to prod us, the viewers, into asking those questions of ourselves.  If we are willing to ask why they didn’t do something shouldn’t we also be willing to ask why we don’t do something? If I see the picture, do I have as much responsibility to respond as the one who witnessed the act in person?  

But I am just like the photographers.  It was eerie watching this group of white guys just drive in and out of the townships, amidst the fighting and burning and chaos, and just go along with their lives.  And I sometimes feel like them.  I don’t see the pain just below the surface.  Like the photographers, I have the privilege of leaving the township whenever I feel like it.  The juxtaposition of scenes between township and the neighborhoods where the photographers lived wasn’t lost on me.  It was so easy to just drive a few kilometers away and forget about all the suffering you witnessed just an hour earlier.   At one point, the main character nearly explodes with this internal conflict as he is driven to despise all sides in the conflict.  His girlfriend calms him down by telling him “it’s okay,” which doesn’t really do it justice, though there was not much else she could have said. I don’t want to be insensitive.  I don’t want to find ways to rationalize or de-humanize the people I live among in order to feel less pain at their pain.  This is not just a movie for my neighbors here—this was their real life.  

Towards the end of the movie, we see long lines of black South Africans, waiting to vote in the first democratic election in 1994.  And we see people side by side who, just days and weeks before, had been running from or at each other, wielding guns and knives.  How does that happen?  Does that mean there is real peace and forgiveness?  It made me wonder if that is still the case today—do my neighbors, some of whom were perhaps involved in such fighting and riots just a few years ago, still harbor animosity and resentment toward each other?  How do those feelings just go away overnight because someone says the fighting is over?  It seems people here want to just move on and forget about it, but that won’t heal deep wounds.  I want to understand and I long to see real healing come.      

Perhaps for viewers of this movie who don’t live in a South African township, the experience will be different.  Maybe they will find the storyline of the Bang Bang Club and their camaraderie to be more compelling than the “background” story happening all around them.  But for me it was the other way around—the photojournalists were just a vehicle to show recent history in a new light.