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. 

more thoughts on the "rainbow nation"

I came across this article recently and my impression is that while the author has some valuable observations about South Africa, he probably didn’t spend most of his time in any of those “shanty towns,” like Sosh, where my perspective has been shaped. I agree that it is miraculous that apartheid is legally ended and in many ways people of different races do interact on seemingly “normal” levels. But, at the same time, I wonder how deep those interactions really go. Most white families and white-owned businesses still employ a black person to cook/clean/garden. Many of those domestic workers are the same ones who worked in those homes before apartheid ended.  I visited the office of an accountant in Pretoria North several months ago and most of the women who worked there were Afrikaans. When I told them I lived and worked in Soshanguve, they looked at me as if I were an alien. They responded by marveling at how amazing it was that I would come all the way from America to live there while they had lived not 40 miles away and had never even visited. It got me to wondering if there really even was anything obvious that would bring them to Sosh, that would help them see beyond the stereotypes they held of a scary place inhabited by criminals and desperate people.

Another thing that has become clear from my four months of living in Sosh is the distinction that we often place on quality of life vs. value of life. “As with many squatter camps around Johannesburg, Zandspruit residents live in squalid conditions, sharing toilets and communal taps, with little or no electricity. Neighboring suburbs have some of Africa's most expensive real estate.”  This quote from this article reflects a common sight in South Africa. 

The terms "quality" and "value" are often used together when we think about a purchase we want to make, but when it comes to describing life often they are total opposites. We, whether in America or South Africa or other places I assume, have internalized this message that the outer quality of our lives implies the inner and eternal value of the same. I have realized that often the luxury that we desire is just the comfort and ease of convenience. We think the good life is having what we want, when we want it, without having to work hard to get it. I have had the odd and ironic experience of sitting with my neighbors, in their corrugated tin shack, watching an episode of MTV Cribs. The whole point of the show is to elicit the covetousness of our hearts towards the excesses of celebrity. But for those who have to walk outside to use the toilet, without a distinction between kitchen/living room/dining room/bedroom/home office, the allure of it all is obvious and natural. My instinctive disdain for that show and the lifestyle it promotes riles up naturally, but I have to catch myself when I realize the privilege that informs my attitudes juxtaposed with the realities of my neighbors’ lives. This situation even brought up that quality vs value of life internal debate when I tried to convince my friend Sherz that that was not the “good life.” But Emily, she asked, what is?? Following God! I told her, excited at the chance to answer such a question. But again, the realities of life can obscure that truth. When we cling to physical things of comfort, as I have been tempted to do here, we forget not only about eternal comfort but also about the God who provides our daily bread.

...and here is another eye-opening article about the state of the South African family

News from South Africa

The Coming "Egyptian Moment" in South Africa

"As a South African, I wonder how South Africa's leadership might respond if it were to reach a similar tipping point with its disenfranchised youth -- where conservative estimates tell us that more than half of South Africans under the age of 25 are unemployed. I do believe it would be foolish for South African leaders to think that these unemployed and disconnected youth may not one day ignite a revolution...Because like Egypt, Tunisia, Libya and most of their neighboring countries that are weathering the revolutions of today, South Africa also has a massive army of disenchanted youth. South Africa is a young country considering that more than half of its population is under the age of 25, and with more than half of them unemployed -- the numbers are equivalent in size to the entire population of Zambia. And the chilling truth is that unemployment doesn't end at the age of 25. Based on current trends, it will go on to become a way of life, not only for their generation but also for following generations."

Nelson Mandela Launches Clothing Line to Help Promote South Africa 

"Former South African president and Nobel Peace Prize winner Nelson Mandela is the last person you’d expect to be dabbling in fashion, but then again, he’s never been known for sticking to convention. Named after his inmate number at Robben Island Prison, 46664 Apparel is a new clothing venture focused on raising funds for the Nelson Mandela Foundation."


South Africa's test of nerves begins now--Update from the Cricket World Cup!
"The South Africans have the mettle but can they endure the pressure that awaits them in the knockout stages of this tournament? History shows that this team has a tendency to crumble in high-intensity situations."


More than 15,000 march for education in S. Africa
"South Africa, a country with one of the greatest disparities of wealth, still struggles to close the gap apartheid created between white and black schools. Only a third of third-graders in South Africa meet the minimum literacy and numeracy standards, according to national test results. Last year, a third of those taking final-year exams failed."


Why South Africa is so violent (not trying to make you nervous, Mom, just found this interesting!)
"Violent crime is deeply ingrained in the social fabric of the country and cannot simply be solved through the criminal justice system. This is according to a report on the violent nature of crime in South Africa which was made public in November."


South Africa Faces Growing H.I.V. Crisis
 "South Africa, already home to 5.7 million H.I.V.-positive people, more than any other nation, can expect an additional five million to become infected during the next two decades even if the nation more than doubles its already considerable financing for treatment and prevention and gives prevention a higher priority, according to a report presented to the country’s leading advisory body on AIDS policy." 

the one about race

first it was going to be a post about obama. and how historic this moment is in our country. i was just going to write about how heartened i was to see a candidate who my neighbors believed in. but then it became something more.

this past may i attended a conference and one of the workshops was entitled "would jesus vote?" this was my question. we examined isaiah 61.1 and asked which candidate would truly be a leader who would preach good news to the poor and bind up the brokenhearted. we argued over what that might mean and look like in our country and world today and asked if it was even possible within the social structures we have created. mostly i listened. i was troubled, as i usually am with political debate. politics is politics, i knew. talk is cheap, until the votes come in. and then....well, then, the winner will do what the winner wants to do. maybe its from living in new orleans, maybe not--i feel we have little recourse when it comes to holding our leaders accountable. furthermore, it is easy for me to postulate what one candidate could do versus another. but looking deeper i realized the privilege that even comes with being able to ask that question. i wondered who my neighbors would vote for. i wondered why they should even care. i wondered what those issues were that would inform their decision. the workshop left me partly discouraged and partly encouraged. i knew that politicians werent speaking to my neighbors. it's common sense really, you make promises to the people who will vote. so in a democracy, the people who dont vote are nearly as good as invisible. and essentially powerless. that was the discouraging part. the encouragement came in the vision that began to grow of the empowerment that could take place among my neighbors. imagine if they had a voice, imagine if they rallied together about the things that mattered. i think its easy to think that nothing matters to my neighbors. but do they know that they could possess the power to effect the things that matter? have they ever been told that THEY, in fact, matter?

so, barack obama. and my neighbors. i think that my neighbors truly saw a bit of themselves in obama...or perhaps a bit of what they could imagine themselves aspiring to be. forget the fact that perhaps obama's achievements and successes could have been the same as any white candidate. it was the fact that he is black AND had those successes that connected with my neighbors. it was like they were finally willing to believe the cliche that they've perhaps never been told--you can be anything you want to be. let's be honest--a person cannot be anything they want to be by simply wanting it to be. and without resources or encouragement, its hard getting it to be a reality. so as it came down to the wire, i was more confident in my decision for obama specifically because he seemed to be the candidate of my neighbors. no i didnt base my choice solely on that fact...but it mattered to me that this was someone they could believe in. it mattered to me that it suddenly mattered enough for them to want to vote. it mattered to me that this was someone they could relate to, feel comfortable representing them as americans. that mattered to them, so it mattered to me.

and then, he won. and the historical significance is not to be understated. he's the first black president of america. he will be the face of america to the world. and the majority of voting americans chose him. that is big.

i heard some analysts talking the morning-after about which came first: the chicken (obama getting elected) or the egg (the change in attitude of america). one guy made the point that blacks have always in this country had to work twice as hard to prove they are just as good as whites. and that is precisely one of the things that obama had done. i think he is extremely qualified to be president, though i wouldnt wish the job on my worst enemy, but are we not just a little bit more impressed because he is such an accomplished black man? with the same credentials and hope-laden rhetoric, and white skin, would we be just as impressed? or is his brand of hope somehow more believable, and less political, because his black-ness represents something beyond what we've seen in america?

this evening i went to see "the secret life of bees." i did not know anything about the movie, nor the novel, though had heard it was good. i dont want to give away too much because i think you all should go see it. but i will tell you i cried like a baby. perhaps because i saw it this week, after watching history being made in my own living room, or because i'm constantly surrounded by people who dont look like me. whatever the reason, the racial theme of the story resonated with me. i found the characters wholly believeable and maybe it was a glimpse into the civil rights era that i had never seen before. but i cried. i cried because of what was happening to the characters and the injustices they faced. i cried because then with the passage of the civil rights act, and now with the election of our first black president, these acts can be mere formalities without the commitment to reconciliation and long-term change in attitude. i cried because i know that there are people in our country, our country which we are so proud of at this moment, who might do the very same thing to their darker-skinned neighbors today. i cried because we are so far from equality, and in the moments when it sinks in deep enough to overwhelm me, all i can do is cry.

shelby steele wrote a compelling article in which he says: It is an American cultural habit to endure our racial tensions by periodically alighting on little islands of fresh hope and idealism. But true reform, like the civil rights victories of the '60s, never happens until people become exhausted with their suffering. Then they don't care who the president is.
and that made me wonder if we are yet truly exhausted with our suffering, or even truly aware of our neighbor's suffering.

i dont know what the historians will say about this moment in 10 years, 20 years, 40 years. i dont know how the landscape of racial attitudes will change in america in the next 4 years. but i do know that black men are still killing black men in my neighborhood, and neighborhoods like mine across america. attitudes of inferiority and hate have permeated minds and culture and have become ingrained. the lies of inequality have been believed and internalized. i know that i have privilege in my neighborhood, in my city, in my country, simply because of the color of my skin. i know that my neighbors believe that this is as good as it's going to get.

but i also believe that the differences among us serve to make us stronger. i pray that we choose to believe what is true about ourselves instead of what is false. i hope that we are not so intimidated by being created in the image of God to embrace the truth that, in fact, our neighbors have been created in that same image as well. i also know that the promise of a Beloved Community is true, firm, and real. i know that one day we will see it in full and we will not recognize ourselves. i know that it is beyond the power of any man, woman, or child to bring about--whether the president of america or the president of the block club. i have seen glimpses of it here and by the grace of God i hope that you catch those glimpses too.

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8:22-25)

October 2005

October 2005

Reflections from the Front Lines

A few weeks ago a conversation developed among my teammates about how each of us defines poverty. It seemed that one common theme was that poverty is a condition of being without access to opportunity —opportunity to attain resources, opportunity to pursue higher education, opportunity to exit the very cycle that keeps people in an economically depressed state. Through all this, the paradox of my living here is that this poverty has become for us an opportunity—an opportunity to love those who may feel unloved, an opportunity to help those who feel unhelped, an opportunity to be with those who may feel forgotten and remind them that God still cares! I wonder if the people that I know now consider themselves the “poorest of the poor.” I wonder how they see me and the rest of my team.

Our Pastor recently gave a message about taking steps of faith even when God’s whole plan doesn’t seem clear to us. And he shared that it’s probably a good thing that God doesn’t reveal the whole plan to us from the beginning; if we knew all that He had to take us through to get us to the final destination, we would probably resist the journey. It didn’t hit me until a day later that that is exactly what I’ve been going through here. The fact that God wants me to be here is about the only sure thing I know right now. I’ve been facing challenges and going through necessary struggles that I probably would have avoided had I been given advance warning. I’ve been pushed and confronted by my teammates in ways I never had anticipated. I’ve seen new things about myself that I never had the eyes to see before. I’ve been put in situations and faced realities that have been completely foreign. Not everything is pretty and not everything is pleasant—but I’m in this for the long haul. One of the main Mission Year themes is choosing deep and lasting joy over a more temporary fix of fun. And I will have to make that choice day by day, hour by hour, as I go through the stuff that does not always feel good. The work of a transforming heart is often painful! And everything I thought I knew about joy has been replaced with the realization that I had no idea. I am just beginning to understand what it means to pursue deep joy and to taste true freedom through letting go and trusting grace. This is heavy stuff, and that’s why your prayers are so important to me.

As for my schedule, I’m settling into a routine. On Tuesdays, Karrie and I will be staffing the information booth in the ER waiting room at Highland Hospital. This is the main Alameda County medical facility in Oakland and as such, most of the uninsured population passes through Highland at some point or another. On Wednesdays I volunteer in a first-grade classroom and on Thursdays and Fridays in a kindergarten class at Prescott Elementary School. This has been so joyful but so challenging at the same time. I’ve been reminded of my distaste for the task of having to discipline other people’s children but I’ve also gained a newfound admiration for anyone who submits their lives to teaching children. Wow. There is so much need for assistance in both of the classrooms where I’m working and I so long to see each and every student succeed. Many of the students struggle with things that I had taken for granted in the early years so I look forward to getting to know them better and watching them grow.

On several afternoons I head over to World Impact, which is a Christian community development organization that has been in this neighborhood for about seven years and runs several programs for the community. Wednesday is Girls Club for girls in middle and high school. This is a really cool time to just chill and hang out with the girls in the neighborhood. It’s going to take some time for me to earn credibility with them, but my ability to teach them a new skill (knitting!) has helped a lot. Thursdays and Fridays are Homework Club and I get to do more one-on-one tutoring with elementary school kids. On one particularly difficult day at Homework Club I remarked to my teammates how I had observed how readily kids want to give up on tasks that are difficult. And as soon as these words came out of my mouth I realized that this is also true of me—and most people I know, of all ages! Homework is such a beautiful metaphor for the daily struggles that everyone faces—as we learn and grow we have to go through things that aren’t comfortable or easy or things that we are used to but if only we persevere and endure through the difficulties, how much wiser we come out on the other side. What a great gift that life’s struggles and challenges often teach us more about the journey than the destination!

This place has transformed before my eyes. This is no longer the “inner-city.” This is not “the ghetto”…because this is where I live. The inner-city is somewhere else. Somewhere I used to drive through and look suspiciously at all the people just standing around. The ghetto is where those other people lived. Now those people are my neighbors, they are the children that I work with and the adults I see at the corner stores. These are the people who are vibrant and vital in this community. They are the people that make up this neighborhood. Without them, I would not be here. Without them, this place would not be here. And I can see how integrally tied I am to each of these people. And my prayer is that that connection may be made clearer and clearer for you with each anecdote, each story I share.

As I grow this year, I look forward to sharing in joy that growth with you. I hope that the people that I come to know and love here are people you can come to know and love as well. I pray that my stories encourage and challenge you as well. You are no less an important part of this journey than the people who live in my neighborhood. I love you and appreciate all your prayers and support!

In love and joy,

Emily

Praises…

*God’s steadiness and unchanging nature, as the world changes all around us God remains the same*God is speaking through our church and our pastor*Our team is growing together more and more each day*Relationships developing with neighbors, both young and old*

Prayer Requests…

*I want to keep fighting for joy through my trials and celebrations*For our team to continue to grow together*For God’s protection and provision as His hand covers our hearts, minds, and spirit and all the work we do*For God to help me understand what grace and freedom truly mean*For the children in my classes at Prescott, for the girls at World Impact Girls Club*For some neighbors in particular: Mason and Darius, Keisha and Knight, Elgin, Marilyn, Cynthia, Beverly, Cathy & Terry, and Katrina*

P.S. Check out http://www.missionyear.org/ and go to “Our Cities” to see pictures of all the teams in Oakland