The organization I’m working with here is the South Africa Community Fund, which is a very small, peacebuilding-focused organization. The bulk of our work is centered on providing a transformational experience for the groups of students that come to Cape Town through our program each summer, although there are other projects sponsored by SACF as well (read more background about these at www.southafricacommunityfund.org). Essentially, we use South Africa as a live-in case study for peacebuilding issues; since their history is so multi-layered and their social transformation so recent, it makes for a poignant and intense study into the factors that go into reconciling a vast and diverse population. Students spend a good bit of time being introduced to the history of this place through visitations to historical sites of various significance, and then spend the bulk of their time working either individual service placements or in team service work. However, the purpose of their work is divergent from tradition missions work; we are very intentional to work with existing grassroots organizations so that we are empowering local movements rather than creating non-sustainable ‘band-aid’ solutions. This experience also provides our students with the opportunity to interface with people of varying backgrounds, thus exposing them to the myriad of storylines present in South Africa and thereby accentuating their understanding of the complexity of peacebuilding.

If you’d like to read more about the philosophy of this organization, please visit the website I mentioned above. If you’re interested in picking up a bit of summer reading, Desmond Tutu’s book No Future Without Forgiveness also gives a great insight into the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and offers a deeper explanation of the theology behind this kind of work.

Please feel free to email me at kefrankhauser@yahoo.com should you have any comments or questions, or if you just want to say hello!

So yes -- hooray! -- I'm here safely! My flights all went well, with just enough time in London to take the train into the city, but even as I was wandering about Piccadilly Circus I couldn't think of anything but how much I wanted to be back in Cape Town. Our arrival into South Africa was stunning -- circling around the city just at sunrise on a clear morning, with Table Mountain and the Cape Peninsula looking like giants awakening from a deep slumber. Oh, such a beautiful city. I was grinning like a fool the entire time, scarcely able to believe that I was coming back.

But now, it's more like I never left at all. I've spent a good bit of the weekend with Lorraine (the woman I lived with last year), although I'm not staying with her until my last few days this year. I feel like I've come home again -- we've just finished a proper Sunday feast in the backyard and now we're all lazing about doing our best not to divert energy from the digestion process.

Have no fear about my indulgence, though... I dive into work tomorrow. I'll hopefully meet with the co-worker I'm taking over for this afternoon, and after that it's work as far as the eye can see. Of course, I'll still make time for all the pleasures Cape Town has to offer, but it won't all be as indulgent as this first weekend.

That's all for now -- I just wanted you all to know that I'm safe and sound and loving being here. I'll keep you posted as things unfold. :)

Thanks also for the myriad of thoughts and prayers that I know are coming my way. It seems that they are already making a difference, because I came into South Africa yesterday with a greater sense of peace than I've carried for the last few months. Thank you, thank you, and keep them coming!

much love,
Katie

Hi y'all,

Yes, I've been missing in action the last couple of weeks, even though I've wanted to write to you all.... so, business first: please note that I'm sending this from kefrankhauser@yahoo.com. My planet-save account is being blocked from sending mail thanks to accusations of scam mail (it's not me, I swear!), and last week it was entirely on the fritz so that I couldn't even get into my inbox for a couple of days, so I think it will be easier to use this account. Until I say otherwise, please direct all mail to this yahoo address.

And now, for the last two weeks in a nutshell. My first week of work was actually quite a bit less chaotic than I had expected, since Lyndon (my coworker) and I are essentially sharing a job. He leaves the organization on June 9, so I'm kind of phasing into his job as he's leaving. Primarily, we've been working on getting housing and internships set up for all of the students coming through the summer, which means a lot of driving and networking. The typical chaos associated with this organization set in on Wednesday, though, when the first team of interns moved to Khayelitsha, the black township that we've been involved in for the last few years. Everything has gone remarkably smoothly in getting them settled there, but it's inherent to the work that I'm generally running a taxi service for a few hours a day. We're trying to get students as self-sufficient as possible transportation-wise, but in the meantime I'm spending a lot of time in my little Tazz.

Up to this point, I've been living in an area quite different than anything I've immersed myself in before. It's a ritzy, somewhat artsy, white neighborhood not far from downtown Cape Town called Tamboerskloof -- for those of you familiar with the area, it's situated about halfway up the Lion's Head, with a spectacular view of the city. It's been wonderful for the sake of living comfortably while planning the summer programs, but the juxtaposition of driving between the poverty of Khayelitsha and the wealth of Tamboerskloof each day makes for an interesting emotional challenge. I'll be moving back to Khayelitsha this week as well, which will only accentuate the struggle. It's a constant tension to be relatively wealthy and white when we choose to immerse ourselves in impoverished communities; there is no way that we could even attempt to blend into the culture of a township, and we come bearing the baggage of "compassionate" Americana. We're here to learn, to serve, and to be peace-builders, and yet we are torn between simply enjoying this place because we have the wealth to do so and feeling as though we have some sort of obligation to take a vow of poverty. This is especially acute today; at the moment, I'm in Stellenbosch, a predominantly white town in the heart of wine country. We took our students wine tasting today (with generous portions of cheese to top it off, of course), and in less than an hour will be returning them to their homestays, where they will sometimes have power and will bathe in a sponge-bath. If nothing else, it's a powerful testament to how deeply we must desensitize ourselves in order to live in a world overflowing with inequality.

Shoot... my internet time is up, and I still have more that I want to say. I'll write again soon, or at least as soon as I can. In the meantime, check out www.frankhauser.com and www.frankhauserconcerts.com -- my dad's recently put up both pages, and he's done a beautiful job!

Take care, and love to each one of you --

Katie (Sikelelwa)

Hi folks,

It's raining in Cape Town today, so I'm killing a bit of time at an internet cafe before being drenched on the way back to the car (I parked quite far away so I could get a bit of exercise, and the rain started a block after I decided to leave my jacket in the car. Sometimes I'm utterly convinced that God really does have a sense of humor).

And for those of you who know just how much my mind is a perpetual jukebox, I must make mention of the music that I've been hearing lately, because the randomness of song selection is being done for me: just in the last half-hour, the music selection has gone from Maroon 5 to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" to "Kissing You" off the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. I am perpetually amazed at how much American music is played the world over -- and how much bad American music at that. Brazil, Belize, South Africa... it's all been the same in terms of old pop that has long ago faded in the States being blared from every streetcorner and radio tower. Although I personally find it amusing, I shudder to think that this is the best we have to export.

And yes, this week I moved to Khayelitsha, the largest black township in the Cape Town area. The struggle of wealth continues even there, though, in part because of the wealthy-white-with-compassion-fatigue phenomenon, and in part because I'm living in a posh house by Khayelitsha standards. It's a government-subsidized house, which means its a solid concrete structure as opposed to a compilation of salvaged materials, and the family has outfitted it with comfy couches, a large TV with DVD player, microwave, washing machine, and hot water heater -- as one student commented, it's the Hilton of Khayelitsha. Certainly, the family situation is a little unusual, in that the mother is working as a nurse in London so is able to send some money home each month. And I was familiar with the home before I moved in, since leaders have traditionally stayed there (the factor of where to park a car is a large one in a high-crime area, and this home has a place to pull in a vehicle close to the house), but it's still interesting to see the vast variation in living standard even within the township. It's so easy to categorize poverty when I'm looking in as an outsider, assuming that each person or family's situation is the same, and that everyone is equally desperate. But here, I've been over-fed and spoiled beyond my imagination, which certainly shakes my implicit construction of poverty. I'll be in this home for about six weeks, so I'll be interested to see how my perspective changes over time, as it inevitably will.

Alright, I feel like I'm rambling away without saying much, and in the meantime and watching the clock tick away. Even though it's Saturday I do have a bit of work to do, so I must be off. You can now also read these emails on www.frankhauser.com/southafrica.htm -- my dad will be posting them shortly after I send out each one. Eventually, I may try to post photos there as well -- I'll let you know via email if I do.

I hope you all are well... I do love hearing from you when you have time to write! I don't have much time to write individual replies, but I'd still love to know what's going on in your lives.

peace and love,
Katie

Hello friends,

Another overcast morning in Cape Town leaves me in that rainy-day writing mood, although this time I’m thoroughly dry and holed up in our bare-walled office. We are quite fortunate to have landed this place; our office is in the church-house of St. George’s Cathedral, which is the home diocese of the Archbishop of the Anglican church in South Africa – the position formerly held by Desmond Tutu. Several justice-oriented nonprofits share our hallway in this archaic building, and even though I know few of them personally, just working in the same environment affords the impression of solidarity.

The last couple of weeks have been refreshingly slow; most of the interns became relatively self-sufficient in terms of transportation, so last week was a more relaxed one for me. A few minor incidences have put me back in the role of personal taxi, though, so my pace has picked up again in the last few days. We are also preparing for a team of seven people to arrive this Saturday, so the details for their time here, as well as for the subsequent team, have been accruing quite rapidly. My to-do list has expanded exponentially from one day to the next, but I must admit that I kind of like the busier routine; I almost feel guilty for having free time when this organization has put out so much money to have me be here. I’m working on the release of personal guilt, though… slowly, but surely, I’m learning the art of taking time for personal restoration.

I’m feeling a bit pensive today, so please indulge me as I dive more into rumination than descriptions of scenes or people. As many of you know, last year was an enormous challenge for me, thanks in large part to the confidence required to step up and lead a team of students not much younger than myself. At the end of my time here, I had internalized an unhealthy amount of self-criticism as well as a heavy burden of guilt, having assumed that everything that went wrong was a result of personal failure. This year, I’m finding my role to be a better fit, as I’m doing more supplementary work than providing primary leadership. As a result, I’ve developed a bit more confidence in my work, and am much more at peace about my role here. Still, though, it’s a daily uphill battle to maintain that sense of composure. The slightest mistake can begin to unleash the fury of self-deprecation that remains lurking beneath the surface of my calm, but I’m learning to recognize and to quell the triggers that can allow this fury to become a self-fulfilling prophesy. Without a doubt, my work here is the impetus for a journey of self-discovery.

And just in case you couldn’t tell from my other messages, I’m thoroughly enamored with Cape Town. I took a hike the other day to the top of a small mountain overlooking a quaint seaside corner of the city, and I was once again reassured of how smitten I am with this place. Mountains, plants, birds, critters, people, the city itself… it’s all worked its way deep into my blood, and I suspect will be hard-pressed to extricate itself. The best I can do to remedy the situation is convince some of you to come here yourselves so I can prove that I’m not entirely crazy!

Work awaits, and the sky is clearing. Until I see you again, I send all my love.

Katie

Hello friends,

Sheesh…. another three weeks has flown by here since I last wrote, and I can scarcely believe that time has passed at all. I think it was last year about this time that I finally reached a singular conclusion to explain my perpetual state of disorientation: after crossing hemispheres so many times in the last eighteen months, my body cannot comprehend both components of the space-time continuum simultaneously. Either I know the continent on which I reside, or have some basic understanding of season or month – not both.

In this case, I think I’m alright with knowing that I’m in southern Africa, although that at times is also beyond the realm of belief. In the last week or so, I’ve found that my fascination with all things South African has begun to wane, and every time I come around a corner I have to remind myself that I am indeed here rather than any large college town at home. Rather than tiring of this place, though, I’d liken it to moving from infatuation to deeper love; there is no doubt that I am becoming more deeply rooted in this place, even though I’m not as visibly smitten as I was a few weeks ago.

Since I last wrote, I have traded in my little Tazz (which I posthumously named Scooter) for a kombi, and am now working full-time with a team of 15 students traveling through InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. I’m playing a supporting role to my colleagues, which is a near-perfect fit; I have a small niche in the leadership of the team, but am able to sit back and observe how they handle a team rather than taking it all on myself. They’re a good group, willing to ask some difficult questions, and I’m looking forward to being with them for a couple more weeks. And yes, for those of you who may be concerned about my emotional state in driving – my confidence and comfortability with kombis is light years ahead of last year. :)

If for no other reason than sheer amusement, I feel I must describe my Fourth of July. While most of you were attending parades or barbeques or fireworks displays, I was at St. Michael’s Anglican Church, our host parish in Khayelitsha. A Norwegian couple decided to be married in their church that day and came with an entourage of friends as well as their 30+ voice cathedral choir – so there we sat, a small bastion of America, dressed up upon our families’ insistence in our best South African garb, witnessing the cultural coalescence of Xhosa-speaking South Africa and traditional Norway. The whole scene was odd enough that even the local media showed up, splaying their photos (and ours, by proxy) across television screens and newspapers alike.

And now, come Monday, we will be off to Johannesburg for a few days, followed by a week and a bit in Durban. Both of these cities will be completely new to me, as my travels were almost exclusively in Cape Town last year. I’m excited to be exposed to a new portion of South Africa’s story, and am quite curious to see what life in Soweto will hold. There is so much variation in the townships just around Cape Town that I suspect Joburg will be a different scene entirely. However, discovering this means leaving my beloved Cape Town for a good two weeks, only to return for a few short days before flying home. Life in Khayelitsha has become comfortably routine, to the extent that I hesitate to believe that my time here is running short.

But in all honesty, I’m also looking forward to leaving Khayelitsha. Lately I’ve been wrestling with the paradox of loving a community in which I will never belong. As one student said in preparation to depart after a seven-week stay, I have come to see the beauty in this terrible place. I love the flock of geese that roams around the garbage-strewn park near Nontsasa’s house, the pungency of smoke that permeates the air every night at dusk, the resourcefulness of children who make toy automobiles out of wire and a single plastic tire. Beacons of hope shine through the shacks – a makeshift creche here, a garden there, a child abuse centre around the corner. But I am also reminded of its sordid history every time I see piles of sand drifting into the narrow streets; this place, deemed “our new home,” was created as a dumping ground for people who were forcibly removed from racially mixed areas near the center of the city under the apartheid area. The soil on the Cape Flats is pure sand, making it nearly impossible to reach any level of agricultural self-sufficiency; hence the fact that a simple garden is such a hope-revealing leap of faith. And I just happen to share the same skin color with the folks who implemented this horrific system of separation, which imparts a burden of guilt irrespective to personal complicity. The fact is this: Khayelitsha is black, I am white. No measure of good will, acceptance, or denial will change the fact that I am an anomaly, and no matter how long I stay there I will never cease to be the pale-faced stranger.

Enough rumination from me today. There’s packing to do, and a million errands to run before we’re ready to embark with the team in two days’ time. I’m not sure when I’ll next have internet access, but I’ll write at least once more before I come home.

Peace, love, and blessings to each of you.

Katie

“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repulsed by the inexhaustible varieties of life.” – Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby

……………….

Forgive me, friends, for the disjointedness of this, my last mail of this year’s South Africa journey. My mind is a jumble, so I think it will be most effective if I give you snapshots instead of trying to tie together the remnants of my thoughts. At times I’ve found other voices to be more articulate than mine, so I’ve inserted a few works of poetry and such as well. Here is a glimpse into my mind upon returning home, with a few flashbacks into previous weeks and months.

…………….

It’s less than 48 hours since I arrived home, and I am tired. The day-and-a-half marathon of getting home once again knocked the wind from my sails, so I’m sleeping lots and doing my best to re-orient to this time zone. I find, though, that I haven’t a clue what to say when people enthusiastically ask, “How was South Africa?” For those who remember my emotional exhaustion upon returning home last year, I can say that it was an affirming and restorative experience. But most folks aren’t interested in all that, and I don’t really want to expose that nerve every time I encounter an acquaintance. So, even though I’ve counseled students in this very thing, I’m stuck wondering how to go about distilling such a vast and multi-faceted experience into an ingestible sound byte. Any suggestions?

……………

“I think I finally hit upon what it is that draws me to South Africa and makes me writhe upon coming home. Although there is rampant inequality in South Africa and the country is far from perfect, there is a general acknowledgement of a common history – one that benefited some at the expense of others. Here, though, everyone seems to have forgotten our past injustices, and thus continue to perpetuate them with a blind eye. ‘Racism doesn’t exist in America,’ we cry, ‘here, everyone is equal.’ Funny, though, that the underlying voice is that of Napoleon the pig: ‘Everyone in equal, but some are more equal than others.’ America, it seems, is a land of delusion; we face many of the same problems as South Africa, but generally prefer to maintain our ignorance at the expense of our own humanity.” – journal, 08 August 2004

……………

Questions posed to South African youth in Soweto:

What does peace mean to you?

What does democracy mean to you?

…………….

“[My host father] told me the most amazing story today: in 1961, he and some friends tried to escape South Africa. As they made their way to the Botswana border, they were caught by an Afrikaner man on his farm, and rather than turn them in to the police he forced them to work on his farm for 3 or 4 months. Somehow he ended up in prison for another three months that year after another escape attempt, but it ended in 1962 when he was sent into the bush to become a man. What a history… and how many people have stories that this that we don’t even know?” –journal, 03 June 2004

………….

“Many times our people were left perplexed by this remarkable fact, that those who treated them so abominably were not heathen but those who claimed to be fellow Christians who read the same Bible… [That which endowed human beings with infinite worth] is the fact that each one of us has been created in the image of God. This is something intrinsic… It is because of this fact that to treat one person as if he or she were less than this is veritably blasphemous. It is like spitting in the face of God.” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu

……………

Congregation of the Story-Tellers at the Funeral of Sowetan Children

We have entered the night to tell our tale,
To listen to those who have not spoken.
We, who have seen our children die in the morning,
Deserve to be listened to.
We have looked on blankly as they opened their wounds.

Nothing really matters except the grief of our children.
Their tears must be revered,
Their inner silence speaks louder than the spoken word;
And all being and all life shouts out in outrage.
We must not be rushed to our truths.
Whatever we failed to say is stored secretly in our minds;
And all those processions of embittered crowds
Have seen us lead them a thousand times.
We can hear the story over and over again,
Our minds are numbed beyond the sadness.
We have received the power to command;
There is nothing more we can fear.

- Masizi Kunene
(displayed at the Hector Pieterson museum, commemorating the June 16, 1976 student uprising against Afrikaans as the sole language of education. Over 500 schoolchildren were killed in this and subsequent protests in 1976 alone.)

………….

“The Bible turned out to be the most subversive thing around in a situation of injustice and oppression.” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu

……………

I’ve been reading Antjie Krog’s Country of My Skull lately. She is an Afrikaner journalist who covered the proceedings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and she writes with a poignancy that I have yet to see matched. She is first a poet, though, and she concludes the book with this tribute to the TRC:

because of you
this country no longer lies
between us but within

it breathes becalmed
after being wounded
in its wondrous throat

in the cradle of my skull
it sings, it ignites
my tongue, my inner ear, the cavity of my heart
shudders toward the outline
          new in soft intimate clicks and gutturals

of my soul the retina learns to expand
daily because by a thousand stories
I was scorched

a new skin.

I am changed forever. I want to say:
        forgive me
        forgive me
        forgive me

You whom I have wronged, please
take me

with you.

………….

Well, it’s quite evident by the capsules of thought that have ended up in this compilation that I’m processing my experience via stories that I’ve heard and voices I’ve encountered, rather than with words of my own fabrication. There’s so much more I wish I could share – so much more history, so many more thoughts, so many more encounters with beautiful people and spectacular places – but if I were to do so, I’m afraid I would drown you completely. So, I leave you with that montage of verbosity and hope that it helps to complete your mental sketchpad of South Africa.

Lastly, I know that some of you were not able to open my last mail, and I suspect that this one may end up scrambled as well. It should be up soon on the website (www.frankhauser.com/SouthAfrica.htm), as will this last one. If you have any other problems – or if you just want to say hello! – feel free to drop me a line.

peace and love to you all,

Katie