January 2009
At last, a couple of days off …
Time to give an update and to write something on my web log … that hasn’t been updated for a long time.
The good intentions to write something at least once a month could not be kept.
Well, I’ll start by wishing each of you all the best for this surprising new year !
Of course I wish you all the very best; it would be very sad if I would wish anyone anything bad :-)
2009 is going to be a special year, a lot is about to happen and I am very curious how everything will run.
I started this year pretty well. I got overloaded with all kinds of things and am happy that again we could lead a lot of children into the right direction.
Also a few critical situations have been solved.
There is one that really stands out enormously … a little boy of 8, undernourished, too small for his age, super active when his body allows it.
A few weeks ago I got the visit of a lady who looks after 8 children in her little house of two rooms.
She came to tell me that the children, living under the custody of their grandfather, came to visit her to celebrate Christmas and New Year with her.
During their stay she heard a lot about how these children were treated by their grandfather.
She expressed her concern and asked me if I could help her to get the children under her custody.
Because of the holiday period it was not possible to act quickly as it takes a whole procedure previous to replacing children.
We agreed that we would contact the social welfare in a week, as soon as they got back from holiday.
The next day I paid a visit and soon discovered that a little help could best be used here.
We gave mattresses, made a plan to deliver bread twice a week ….
During my visit the lady told me that 1 of the little boys was infected and sometimes fainted.
When she pointed out the little boy, I was totally surprised. She said that he was 8 but I saw a little boy of 6 with very thin legs and arms, and eyes that were too big for his fallen little face.
After a superficial, physical examination I established that he had to see a doctor as soon as possible.
I also informed about his status and his CD4 count. The lady did not know. I immediately made an appointment to have his blood examined.
The results were there a few days later, and they were shocking … The immunity system of the little boy was on a very low level. If it would lower even more, he should immediately start with AIDS medicines.
Tears burned in my eyes.
It is so damned unfair. How is it possible that a little child of 8 has to go through this hell !
I pay a visit every day to see how things evolve. The children start to know me and come slowly out of their shy little shells. The children are very suspicious, which is not normal; other children run spontaneously to you or call out your name already from a distance.
These children have a past, a past that made them like they are now: afraid, shy, and attentive.
What happened there at their grandfathers???
A few days ago I got a phone call in panic from the lady around 19.30 in the evening.
"Mr Gunter, he passed out, and now he doesn't wake up..."
The only thing I said was: “I am coming, will be there immediately …”
The little boy reacted to all physical stimuli, but totally not to voices or sounds.
“Let this not be true” I thought.
AIDS is a very unpredictable virus. You never know where it damages the body at the most.
The last thing I want is that the brains are damaged …
Thanks to our extended network I immediately knew whom to contact and within 45 minutes a complete medical team was available.
The little boy was examined and it was decided to bring him to the hospital for further examination.
The little boy is home again, a real reason was not found, a light form of epilepsy is not excluded.
I know now that we will be called more than once. The little boy is not stable. It can happen every moment …
Meanwhile I do enjoy his good moments. He is a real romping boy.
When his body allows him, he runs after the ball like a real sportsman … Great …
Fortunately he does not know what goes on in his little body. Let’s hope we can give him a nice life after all.
With me it goes a bit less at this moment. Took too much on my shoulders and my body is protesting a bit.
I always advise others “Listen to your body”, but laugh it away when it happens to me.
All signals were present, throat pain, head ache, diarrhea, too quick to take offense, few in words, always tired and name it.
And yet continue like a hare who always thinks to arrive too late for a train that never comes …
Yes, one day this has to go wrong …
And so it happened a few days ago. I wanted to get a glass of water at night and suddenly woke up next to the bath tub …
“Strange”, I thought, “I was lying in my bed, wasn’t I?”…
The next days I got house arrest for “at least” three days I was told and they took my phone away.
Every day my car disappears, the gate is locked and here I am …
Fortunately they left me my computer …. So I can still work (hush, don’t tell anyone !!!).
I am prepared to take some distance, but it is so hard, there are so many things to be done. Still so many unfinished cases.
Meetings and events have to be prepared, we should be busy with fund raising, plans have to be made …
Yeah, it helps a bit that I am not working in the field at the moment, but is not really “being out of business”.
But I enjoy all the nice things we do. Let me hope that we can continue it this year.
Big hug for all of you.
Gunter
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Friday, November 21, 2008
7 days on the top of our toes
Friday, November 14, 2008 – 4 p.m.
While I sat working on my computer, I heard some rumbling in the air, the tree next to my window started going violently back and forth, the sky became dark.
For a moment the light went off and on. “Two more minutes and we have no more electricity” I said to Lizzy.
Even before I could finish my sentence, the electricity fell out.
Not so uncommon, we are used to being cut off from electricity when it storms.
I went to the kitchen to get something to drink. When I came downstairs and looked through the back window, I got a very strange feeling, and walked on to the veranda.
The sky and the whole atmosphere had a strange colour; I even sensed heavy tension energy.
From the veranda I walked into the garden. Straight behind over the mountains it was crystal clear: I could clearly see the houses and trees in the distance.
At the back side and above the house, the sky was jet-black. I’d never seen a sky as black before.
I called Henk Jan and Lizzy, they had to see this.
It looked like a tremendous UFO coming over us. The wind even got stronger, even so that I would fall over if I wouldn’t hold tight. Then came the rain, rain drops as big as R2, for a moment I feared for hail balls.
I went back to the veranda and looked at the spectacle. The wind did not seem to have a specific direction and when I looked up into the sky I saw three, four streams of wind directions. As if each layer of clouds went into another direction.
The three of us looked at it, completely surprised.
5 minutes later we saw in the distance at our right a funnel-shaped cloud gliding over the mountains.
The wind and the rain were too heavy and we had to flee inside. Some twenty minutes later the storm lay down and it became quiet again.
30 minutes later, when Lizzy was on her way to visit someone, she called me.
“Gunter, it is a real disaster in Kloof, trees over the road, roofs blown away, cars in ditches, it is not normal.”
I immediately thought about what I had seen earlier, and about the people in Molweni, the shaky little houses …
“OK, I drive immediately to Molweni.”
When I put the phone down, Precious said: “Gunter, I just got a call from a friend in Madimeni, her roof has been blown away.”
Indeed, two houses lost their roof. Fortunately the occupants had already found another accommodation.
After I had picked up a volunteer in Molweni, we drove on and saw a lot of unusual activity further in the valley, ambulances, police, officials … and people running and screaming.
I didn’t realize yet what had happened, for a moment I thought about a traffic accident.
Once we drove further into Lower Molweni, it hit me – a hurricane –
On places where houses had stood before, only the floor was left, house gone, disappeared …
A rubbish-heap of clothes, furniture, refrigerators, cars, shoes, pieces of roofs lay in the street.
Metal plates hung in the electricity piles, folded around the pile as they were of cardboard.
Trees, all trees broken down, it was bare.
People ran around, out of hart, scared, crying, limping … The confusion was large, the ravage enormous.
350 houses disappeared from the globe, another 300 houses seriously damaged.
People had lost all their personal possessions, lots of them were washing their clothes or hanging them up to dry … gone.
After I had observed the tornado line while driving past, I was speechless, could not understand it … the ravage was not to overlook. All these people already had so little … and now … even less …
When I arrived at the youth centre, a woman came immediately to me and cried for help: “A baby is hurt and the emergency services haven’t been there yet”.
“There …” a man pointed in a still dark direction. I didn’t see a thing. Very carefully I walked forward and felt that I stepped on a blanket.
I kneeled and then saw the little face of a little girl, 4 years old.
She looked straight into my eyes. I put my hand on her forehead and bended forward to hear if she was still breathing …
The pretty, unknown little girl closed her eyes and left us …
The mother could read what had happened from my attitude. She screamed and trembled all over her body.
I again searched the little neck and the pulse but did not find a hart beat anymore.
Her little feet were cold, so were her little hands.
“Goodbye sweet little girl, I haven’t known you but I was glad that I might see you for a little while.”
The child had been playing in a house a bit further away. During the storm the roof of that house collapsed and fell on her little head …
Immediately after my visit to this house we drove on and saw a woman at the side of the road. I stopped and got out of the car.
She had a severe wound at her leg.
“Stay here”, I said, “I will send someone.”
I drove further, two little boys yelled: “Gunter! Gunter!”.
I stopped the car.
“We can’t find mama.”
“Come on, jump into the car.”
Less than 100 meters further, a family: father, mother and a lot of kids, all sitting on what was left from their house.
“Come to the youth centre”, I shouted.
“No, we cannot leave our things behind or they will be stolen.”
“My God”, I thought, “nobody is prepared to leave his possessions behind … how are they going to get help?”
My head tumbled, everywhere I looked there was need for help, hundreds of people looked at me, begging.
What can I do? How can we take here the fastest actions?
Together with some people of the youth house we drove to the community, hoping to get some clarity there. Nothing was less true. Nothing happened; nobody seemed to take things in hand.
I couldn’t look at it any longer.
Together with Max and Lindiwe (the two leaders of the youth house) we decided to open the youth centre for people who had lost their houses.
The frustration even got worse when I discovered that I had left my phone in the other car, and Lizzy was far gone. I had to start calling people.
I asked Precious to send a message to Lizzy. She had to come hereto with my phone as soon as possible.
It started to rain very hard again, we were soaking, I didn’t care.
I made up various scenarios in my head … so much had to be done.
Finally I ran into Lizzy. I yelled for my telephone, the tension was high.
We needed food, clothes, mattresses, medical care, people to cook, we needed a stove, gas bottles, blankets, washing-things, tooth-brushes, soap, water, electricity … yes we needed a generator
and much, much more …
Still phoning I drove to the youth house to prepare everything. In no time I had contacted all persons that could help us.
It was a snowball effect. I gave a short summary of the situation and all friends got into action.
After 2 to 3 hours we had most things in the youth centre. It was overwhelming how people offered help.
Together with Max and Lindiwe, Lizzy co-ordinated the actions in the youth house; they are a wonderful team.
I didn’t have to worry about the centre.
Back in the car, to the ravage. It was not to overlook, where do we have to start?
Suddenly I got a telephone call: “Hi Mr. Gunter, my name is Yusuf Arbee, I believe you are responsible for helping the people in the calamity area?”
I thought very quickly: “What? Me responsible?”
I told him friendly that I was not aware of that.
“Well, doesn’t matter, I have here fresh cooked food for 1500 people, where do I deliver?”
I didn’t know what I heard. Food for 1500 people?
I immediately planned that we would traverse the whole area and give people food.
Yusuf is a very friendly Indian. We talked a lot while we distributed the food.
He promised to serve 1 warm meal a day until people could cook themselves again.
A next Phone call: “Hoy Gunter, Brian from SACAN, can we meet?”
Less than 4 hours later I was taken up in a complete rescue team. We all got our tasks. The rescue operation had started.
Looking back at the last 7 days …
It is difficult to write down every step
It is difficult to describe what you think and feel
It is difficult to describe how much energy one has to keep this going
It is difficult to explain what it means to loose all your possessions in 7 minutes.
I am asking you, you as reader:
Just close your eyes, now …
Open your eyes and look around, look at all your things, what is in your room.
Imagine now, 7 minutes later … all gone.
The tornado blew over the area for 7 minutes, 7 minutes and the life of hundreds of families has drastically changed.
8 people died in this storm, 5 adults and 3 children.
1750 people are affected by the storm.
Hundreds of people from churches, organizations, private came into action, used their personal vehicles to offer help.
Even yesterday, a lady, poor, had walked an entire day to donate two bags with clothes to the youth centre.
She came to me, all sweating: “Gunter, I gathered some clothes and brought them.”
I knew that this lady lives in Mgababa, that is 5 kilometres from the valley and I also know that it is a very steep way and one of the most tiring to walk.
This lady, all by herself, came all that way to donate two little bags of her own stuff.
I want to tell so much more …
later ….
kiss
Gunter
While I sat working on my computer, I heard some rumbling in the air, the tree next to my window started going violently back and forth, the sky became dark.
For a moment the light went off and on. “Two more minutes and we have no more electricity” I said to Lizzy.
Even before I could finish my sentence, the electricity fell out.
Not so uncommon, we are used to being cut off from electricity when it storms.
I went to the kitchen to get something to drink. When I came downstairs and looked through the back window, I got a very strange feeling, and walked on to the veranda.
The sky and the whole atmosphere had a strange colour; I even sensed heavy tension energy.
From the veranda I walked into the garden. Straight behind over the mountains it was crystal clear: I could clearly see the houses and trees in the distance.
At the back side and above the house, the sky was jet-black. I’d never seen a sky as black before.
I called Henk Jan and Lizzy, they had to see this.
It looked like a tremendous UFO coming over us. The wind even got stronger, even so that I would fall over if I wouldn’t hold tight. Then came the rain, rain drops as big as R2, for a moment I feared for hail balls.
I went back to the veranda and looked at the spectacle. The wind did not seem to have a specific direction and when I looked up into the sky I saw three, four streams of wind directions. As if each layer of clouds went into another direction.
The three of us looked at it, completely surprised.
5 minutes later we saw in the distance at our right a funnel-shaped cloud gliding over the mountains.
The wind and the rain were too heavy and we had to flee inside. Some twenty minutes later the storm lay down and it became quiet again.
30 minutes later, when Lizzy was on her way to visit someone, she called me.
“Gunter, it is a real disaster in Kloof, trees over the road, roofs blown away, cars in ditches, it is not normal.”
I immediately thought about what I had seen earlier, and about the people in Molweni, the shaky little houses …
“OK, I drive immediately to Molweni.”
When I put the phone down, Precious said: “Gunter, I just got a call from a friend in Madimeni, her roof has been blown away.”
Indeed, two houses lost their roof. Fortunately the occupants had already found another accommodation.
After I had picked up a volunteer in Molweni, we drove on and saw a lot of unusual activity further in the valley, ambulances, police, officials … and people running and screaming.
I didn’t realize yet what had happened, for a moment I thought about a traffic accident.
Once we drove further into Lower Molweni, it hit me – a hurricane –
On places where houses had stood before, only the floor was left, house gone, disappeared …
A rubbish-heap of clothes, furniture, refrigerators, cars, shoes, pieces of roofs lay in the street.
Metal plates hung in the electricity piles, folded around the pile as they were of cardboard.
Trees, all trees broken down, it was bare.
People ran around, out of hart, scared, crying, limping … The confusion was large, the ravage enormous.
350 houses disappeared from the globe, another 300 houses seriously damaged.
People had lost all their personal possessions, lots of them were washing their clothes or hanging them up to dry … gone.
After I had observed the tornado line while driving past, I was speechless, could not understand it … the ravage was not to overlook. All these people already had so little … and now … even less …
When I arrived at the youth centre, a woman came immediately to me and cried for help: “A baby is hurt and the emergency services haven’t been there yet”.
“There …” a man pointed in a still dark direction. I didn’t see a thing. Very carefully I walked forward and felt that I stepped on a blanket.
I kneeled and then saw the little face of a little girl, 4 years old.
She looked straight into my eyes. I put my hand on her forehead and bended forward to hear if she was still breathing …
The pretty, unknown little girl closed her eyes and left us …
The mother could read what had happened from my attitude. She screamed and trembled all over her body.
I again searched the little neck and the pulse but did not find a hart beat anymore.
Her little feet were cold, so were her little hands.
“Goodbye sweet little girl, I haven’t known you but I was glad that I might see you for a little while.”
The child had been playing in a house a bit further away. During the storm the roof of that house collapsed and fell on her little head …
Immediately after my visit to this house we drove on and saw a woman at the side of the road. I stopped and got out of the car.
She had a severe wound at her leg.
“Stay here”, I said, “I will send someone.”
I drove further, two little boys yelled: “Gunter! Gunter!”.
I stopped the car.
“We can’t find mama.”
“Come on, jump into the car.”
Less than 100 meters further, a family: father, mother and a lot of kids, all sitting on what was left from their house.
“Come to the youth centre”, I shouted.
“No, we cannot leave our things behind or they will be stolen.”
“My God”, I thought, “nobody is prepared to leave his possessions behind … how are they going to get help?”
My head tumbled, everywhere I looked there was need for help, hundreds of people looked at me, begging.
What can I do? How can we take here the fastest actions?
Together with some people of the youth house we drove to the community, hoping to get some clarity there. Nothing was less true. Nothing happened; nobody seemed to take things in hand.
I couldn’t look at it any longer.
Together with Max and Lindiwe (the two leaders of the youth house) we decided to open the youth centre for people who had lost their houses.
The frustration even got worse when I discovered that I had left my phone in the other car, and Lizzy was far gone. I had to start calling people.
I asked Precious to send a message to Lizzy. She had to come hereto with my phone as soon as possible.
It started to rain very hard again, we were soaking, I didn’t care.
I made up various scenarios in my head … so much had to be done.
Finally I ran into Lizzy. I yelled for my telephone, the tension was high.
We needed food, clothes, mattresses, medical care, people to cook, we needed a stove, gas bottles, blankets, washing-things, tooth-brushes, soap, water, electricity … yes we needed a generator
and much, much more …
Still phoning I drove to the youth house to prepare everything. In no time I had contacted all persons that could help us.
It was a snowball effect. I gave a short summary of the situation and all friends got into action.
After 2 to 3 hours we had most things in the youth centre. It was overwhelming how people offered help.
Together with Max and Lindiwe, Lizzy co-ordinated the actions in the youth house; they are a wonderful team.
I didn’t have to worry about the centre.
Back in the car, to the ravage. It was not to overlook, where do we have to start?
Suddenly I got a telephone call: “Hi Mr. Gunter, my name is Yusuf Arbee, I believe you are responsible for helping the people in the calamity area?”
I thought very quickly: “What? Me responsible?”
I told him friendly that I was not aware of that.
“Well, doesn’t matter, I have here fresh cooked food for 1500 people, where do I deliver?”
I didn’t know what I heard. Food for 1500 people?
I immediately planned that we would traverse the whole area and give people food.
Yusuf is a very friendly Indian. We talked a lot while we distributed the food.
He promised to serve 1 warm meal a day until people could cook themselves again.
A next Phone call: “Hoy Gunter, Brian from SACAN, can we meet?”
Less than 4 hours later I was taken up in a complete rescue team. We all got our tasks. The rescue operation had started.
Looking back at the last 7 days …
It is difficult to write down every step
It is difficult to describe what you think and feel
It is difficult to describe how much energy one has to keep this going
It is difficult to explain what it means to loose all your possessions in 7 minutes.
I am asking you, you as reader:
Just close your eyes, now …
Open your eyes and look around, look at all your things, what is in your room.
Imagine now, 7 minutes later … all gone.
The tornado blew over the area for 7 minutes, 7 minutes and the life of hundreds of families has drastically changed.
8 people died in this storm, 5 adults and 3 children.
1750 people are affected by the storm.
Hundreds of people from churches, organizations, private came into action, used their personal vehicles to offer help.
Even yesterday, a lady, poor, had walked an entire day to donate two bags with clothes to the youth centre.
She came to me, all sweating: “Gunter, I gathered some clothes and brought them.”
I knew that this lady lives in Mgababa, that is 5 kilometres from the valley and I also know that it is a very steep way and one of the most tiring to walk.
This lady, all by herself, came all that way to donate two little bags of her own stuff.
I want to tell so much more …
later ….
kiss
Gunter
Sunday, November 2, 2008
“Sleep well, enjoy your bed”.
It is night, around 9 p.m., dark, very foggy; I drive at a speed of 20 km in the mountains.
Fog … here in the mountains it feels like driving into a cloud. You can hardly see 2 meters; the way which is normally so familiar becomes completely strange.
Where was that one pit, where did the road turn … and before you know it, you are stuck in that pit and stand in the grass because you missed that one turn …
To Molweni, that’s where I have to be. After an emergency call of a woman from the village, I jumped into my car to examine the situation on the spot.
A man, a little boy of two sleeping on the back of a lady, a volunteer of Khulani Simunye and a third lady stood there, waiting for me in the dark, foggy road.
The man had been thrown out by his drunk and aggressive landlord. The wife of the landlord had said: “You don’t have to go; he won’t remember this in the morning.” But the man explained that the landlord had a gun and that all he could think was: “My son, I have to get out of here with my son.”
In the dark night, rain and fog he took his child and some of his stuff and went to the other side of the mountain to get help. He was looking for a place to spend the night, yes he worked, and he had a little bit of money, but not enough to pay the rent of a room. One room 2,5 meters on 1,5… R110-00 (EUR 9).
The little boy slept, breathing heavily and coughing now and then. “That little one needs to be in bed”, is the only thing I thought, “as soon as possible”.
We all stood there in and around the room, an empty room, no floor, no electricity, there was a little tap with water “somewhere”, no bed, only four bricks on the ground.
“Do you have blankets” one of the ladies asked.
“He cannot sit here with his child on the wet ground?”
As far as I could see, everybody nodded; I had only the small light of my telephone …
To my opinion, the man seemed very good-natured. I saw no evil at all in him. The love he showed for his son was so warm, so paternal. I couldn’t understand … a man with a two year old child …. the ladies told me that he takes his son everywhere he goes.
“He is a good man” and everyone nodded again.
“What to do now?
“I don’t know; I don’t know; I don’t know” … three times.
“We called you for help” one of them said.
“You know I really want to help, but what do you expect from me in this case?”
“I don’t know”: three times.
The man said that tomorrow he would get money from a lady for whom he built a house. Then he can pay the rent.
"But do you want to spend the night with your son here on the floor?”
“I have no other choice” he answered.
My heart cried. I saw real uprightness in the man’s eyes. He didn’t want this; he wanted things to be better for his son.
I decided!
“Tonight you and your son can spend the night with me, but only for 1 night”
One of the ladies started to cry: “Siyabonga kakhulu” (we are so grateful).
Together with the man and his little son I drove again into the dangerous dark fog. This time I didn’t drive into the pit nor did I miss the turn.
Once at home I took the sleeping boy out of the car and put him on the sofa.
A nice warm cup of tea, safely inside, and the man started to talk, told me his entire life.
How he also has two daughters, a twin,
Who live in a orphanage, they only speak English …
How his wife left him for drinking and all things relating to it.
She abandoned her children.
How he raised his little son from since he was only 2 months.
Washed his little cloths, taught him to walk, and taught him to talk
How he got into crime:
He had to steal to survive, he didn’t want to steal.
How he got into prison twice, convicted to 15 years, but released after 7 years.
That in prison he was maltreated and abused …
How he did little jobs for people.
He is good in electronics, is known for repairing refrigerators and TV’s.
How he sees his people, his own race, his own colour.
Black people are not good people, they maltreat and they abuse.
How he looks up at white people.
Whites have no traditional rituals, they do not abuse, they do not cut hearts out of bodies of children, they do not cut the skull open to cook the contents of the head, no, white people don’t do that.
How he wants to help.
He wants to talk, he wants to tell where he comes from, and he wants to say that crime is wrong.
how …
how …
The man talked and talked and talked for two hours.
I had an enormous respect for this special man. Now and then I got tears in my eyes.
Strong, powerful and yet very soft and kind, enormously respectful.
I offered him to take a shower before going to sleep. The little boy already slept deeply.
Meanwhile the cottage was ready and they could go to sleep. With the little one in my arms again into the dark night to the cottage.
The father affectionately took his son over from me and put him to bed.
“Sleep well, enjoy your bed”.
Fog … here in the mountains it feels like driving into a cloud. You can hardly see 2 meters; the way which is normally so familiar becomes completely strange.
Where was that one pit, where did the road turn … and before you know it, you are stuck in that pit and stand in the grass because you missed that one turn …
To Molweni, that’s where I have to be. After an emergency call of a woman from the village, I jumped into my car to examine the situation on the spot.
A man, a little boy of two sleeping on the back of a lady, a volunteer of Khulani Simunye and a third lady stood there, waiting for me in the dark, foggy road.
The man had been thrown out by his drunk and aggressive landlord. The wife of the landlord had said: “You don’t have to go; he won’t remember this in the morning.” But the man explained that the landlord had a gun and that all he could think was: “My son, I have to get out of here with my son.”
In the dark night, rain and fog he took his child and some of his stuff and went to the other side of the mountain to get help. He was looking for a place to spend the night, yes he worked, and he had a little bit of money, but not enough to pay the rent of a room. One room 2,5 meters on 1,5… R110-00 (EUR 9).
The little boy slept, breathing heavily and coughing now and then. “That little one needs to be in bed”, is the only thing I thought, “as soon as possible”.
We all stood there in and around the room, an empty room, no floor, no electricity, there was a little tap with water “somewhere”, no bed, only four bricks on the ground.
“Do you have blankets” one of the ladies asked.
“He cannot sit here with his child on the wet ground?”
As far as I could see, everybody nodded; I had only the small light of my telephone …
To my opinion, the man seemed very good-natured. I saw no evil at all in him. The love he showed for his son was so warm, so paternal. I couldn’t understand … a man with a two year old child …. the ladies told me that he takes his son everywhere he goes.
“He is a good man” and everyone nodded again.
“What to do now?
“I don’t know; I don’t know; I don’t know” … three times.
“We called you for help” one of them said.
“You know I really want to help, but what do you expect from me in this case?”
“I don’t know”: three times.
The man said that tomorrow he would get money from a lady for whom he built a house. Then he can pay the rent.
"But do you want to spend the night with your son here on the floor?”
“I have no other choice” he answered.
My heart cried. I saw real uprightness in the man’s eyes. He didn’t want this; he wanted things to be better for his son.
I decided!
“Tonight you and your son can spend the night with me, but only for 1 night”
One of the ladies started to cry: “Siyabonga kakhulu” (we are so grateful).
Together with the man and his little son I drove again into the dangerous dark fog. This time I didn’t drive into the pit nor did I miss the turn.
Once at home I took the sleeping boy out of the car and put him on the sofa.
A nice warm cup of tea, safely inside, and the man started to talk, told me his entire life.
How he also has two daughters, a twin,
Who live in a orphanage, they only speak English …
How his wife left him for drinking and all things relating to it.
She abandoned her children.
How he raised his little son from since he was only 2 months.
Washed his little cloths, taught him to walk, and taught him to talk
How he got into crime:
He had to steal to survive, he didn’t want to steal.
How he got into prison twice, convicted to 15 years, but released after 7 years.
That in prison he was maltreated and abused …
How he did little jobs for people.
He is good in electronics, is known for repairing refrigerators and TV’s.
How he sees his people, his own race, his own colour.
Black people are not good people, they maltreat and they abuse.
How he looks up at white people.
Whites have no traditional rituals, they do not abuse, they do not cut hearts out of bodies of children, they do not cut the skull open to cook the contents of the head, no, white people don’t do that.
How he wants to help.
He wants to talk, he wants to tell where he comes from, and he wants to say that crime is wrong.
how …
how …
The man talked and talked and talked for two hours.
I had an enormous respect for this special man. Now and then I got tears in my eyes.
Strong, powerful and yet very soft and kind, enormously respectful.
I offered him to take a shower before going to sleep. The little boy already slept deeply.
Meanwhile the cottage was ready and they could go to sleep. With the little one in my arms again into the dark night to the cottage.
The father affectionately took his son over from me and put him to bed.
“Sleep well, enjoy your bed”.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Poor, poorer, poorest
Or is it poorest, poorer, poor?
In which order do you help poor people.
The poverty line … how is it determined? Based on the income? Or on what people possess?
Or on the fact, that there is enough food every day.
Poor; and I speak of physical poverty.
Just like there are differences amongst the rich, there are also poverty lines amongst the poor.
Are people that have a TV richer than people who don’t?
You live in a mud hut, roof partly blown open, and no money to buy new nails to repair the roof. You own a one pit oil fire and have to walk
There is no money for new cloths, no money for soap to wash you daily. Your kids are just hanging around a bit and complain all day that they are hungry.
Are you poor?
You have four children, one grandson of 2 and your mother who lives in the house. You have AIDS and often you are too weak to come out of bed. You have no job, but you are quite willing to help people because you have been helped yourself.
A small brick two-room house for seven people. You have two beds and a sofa, so everybody can find some space to lie down. The electricity is drawn off from the neighbours and you are lucky that your neighbor is so friendly to allow you to plug in, in his house.
You are ill, you don’t have the strength or the money to go and get food for your four kids and your grandchild, and you just lie down. The children come to your bed to ask for food, you are too weak, you want to sleep.
It is already two days that you feel too weak to come out of bed, you know that there is no food in the house and that the children haven’t eaten for two days, you get sad and the hunger makes you fall asleep again.
The third day you feel even weaker than the days before, but yet somewhere in your head is a little bell ringing: “think of your children”. You gather all your forces and ask your eldest son to go and get some help….
A 13 year old boy has to go to the “whites” to ask for food for his mother… The shame, the powerlessness for that boy…
Are you poor?
Two children, 8 and 10 years, live under steel plates. A small dirty space where rests of cloths lie on a pile, a knife on the ground, a dirty iron wash-up sink, a tray with the last remainder of a candle, matches next to it.
The oldest wears a red pullover with two big holes at his shoulders, a nice smile, feet without shoes and trousers he probably got when he was 6.
The second one only wears short trousers and a black string around his neck.
The more I visit them, the more I become aware of the details. The last time they had a slice of bread was 4 days ago. 4 days!!!!! The boys can still stand up and find the strength to smile.
Are you poor?
Loud music comes out of the house, there is singing and dancing in the house at the side of the road, just before the ravine. A little fire burns in front of the door and children run in and out. They all have a piece of chicken and bread in their hands, it is festival.
In the house you have to scream and yell to be heard above the music. A sofa kept in balance on bricks, a little table missing one leg, a TV showing some grey snow, a refrigerator with a broken plug, a little light at the sealing of which I doubt if it works, a brown old cupboard with trays and plastic flowers, a picture frame with a black-and-white photo of a man with a big mustache.
It’s a party … the chicken was slaughtered today and the children have brought some bread “from somewhere”. “From somewhere”? got it? stole it? one does not ask, there is food so there is a party.
Are you poor?
It is your own feeling, your own interpretation, your own sniffed smell, your own experience that determines for you what is poorer than poor…
When you ask them if they are poor, many of them will say “No, because my neighbour is doing much worse than I”. Nice, but this is not how to help yourself. Poverty is a strange animal, it gets you, you go into a trance, you become blind, and you become depressed, you start feeling sorry for yourself; you don’t find the power anymore.
What do you do when you don’t have a penny and you look into 8 eyes begging for some food … you turn your eyes away, you take your blanket and try to find peace in your dreams…
Gunter
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Continued: an unexpected meeting
Between the days we met Apollo and now, a lot already happened.
This man is really very special. He literally gives his life for the wellbeing of the children.
Not only did he open his house for 23 street children, started a workshop to teach them auto mechanics, but is also in charge of the Youth Centre in Molweni.
I only discovered that this week.
We knew the Youth Centre from passing by, but we never took the initiative to walk in there.
It didn’t feel right to me, just to walk in without having been invited …
Apollo asked us yesterday to pass by and we didn’t let him offer it twice.
Dance, music, laughter and listening… A wonderful house with different rooms and activities in each room.
The children all enjoyed themselves tremendously, really great to see.
The house is situated in Molweni and is bought by the Rotary Hillcrest. It is completely tidied up and in good condition.
The first thing that struck me was that all rooms were empty, no furniture, nothing.
I asked Apollo how it comes that there is completely nothing in the house. Answer: “Money”. They bought this beautiful house and we can use it entirely but we have no funds to buy the simplest things. Finding the money for electricity is already quite a task every month.
Gosh … what a pity, finally there is a place where the younger can go to and where activities are offered and then there is no money to buy even a simple chair.
Next week I have a meeting with the members running the house with the sole intention to listen to them and to see what their aims are. It looks fascinating to hear their ideas.
Next to this nice discovery, I was surprised by something very special.
Since a while we are in contact with Wade Wood of the organization “Hart 4 Africa”.
This organization stands for the wellbeing of each individual. They have various workshops and development programmes.
I told Wade of this project “Help Street Kids” and also of the project that is very dear to me: "Sithembakuye" in Kwanyuswa.
Wade listened very carefully to my story and told me that he would think about it.
The same evening, Russell of Sithembakuye phoned to thank me. Completely surprised I asked him why.
Wade had visited them and had donated a lot of food for the children and would come back the next day with some professionals to replace all windows and the locks of the doors.
I was overwhelmed, 1 conversation with Wade and suddenly so much response.
Just look at www.sithembakuye.co.za for a moment.
But a next surprise was already waiting for me.
In the afternoon I got a phone call from Wade:”Just to hear if you are home, I am passing by.”
Completely ignorant I waited for Wade.
Half an hour later he arrived with a truck full of food parcels.
I had told him about 4 families in need that we support and of the boys of Apollo, the street children.
I didn’t know how and what to feel.
Some time ago someone told me that I am a “natural talent” in convincing people … would he be right after all?
Warm hug
Gunter
This man is really very special. He literally gives his life for the wellbeing of the children.
Not only did he open his house for 23 street children, started a workshop to teach them auto mechanics, but is also in charge of the Youth Centre in Molweni.
I only discovered that this week.
We knew the Youth Centre from passing by, but we never took the initiative to walk in there.
It didn’t feel right to me, just to walk in without having been invited …
Apollo asked us yesterday to pass by and we didn’t let him offer it twice.
Dance, music, laughter and listening… A wonderful house with different rooms and activities in each room.
The children all enjoyed themselves tremendously, really great to see.
The house is situated in Molweni and is bought by the Rotary Hillcrest. It is completely tidied up and in good condition.
The first thing that struck me was that all rooms were empty, no furniture, nothing.
I asked Apollo how it comes that there is completely nothing in the house. Answer: “Money”. They bought this beautiful house and we can use it entirely but we have no funds to buy the simplest things. Finding the money for electricity is already quite a task every month.
Gosh … what a pity, finally there is a place where the younger can go to and where activities are offered and then there is no money to buy even a simple chair.
Next week I have a meeting with the members running the house with the sole intention to listen to them and to see what their aims are. It looks fascinating to hear their ideas.
Next to this nice discovery, I was surprised by something very special.
Since a while we are in contact with Wade Wood of the organization “Hart 4 Africa”.
This organization stands for the wellbeing of each individual. They have various workshops and development programmes.
I told Wade of this project “Help Street Kids” and also of the project that is very dear to me: "Sithembakuye" in Kwanyuswa.
Wade listened very carefully to my story and told me that he would think about it.
The same evening, Russell of Sithembakuye phoned to thank me. Completely surprised I asked him why.
Wade had visited them and had donated a lot of food for the children and would come back the next day with some professionals to replace all windows and the locks of the doors.
I was overwhelmed, 1 conversation with Wade and suddenly so much response.
Just look at www.sithembakuye.co.za for a moment.
But a next surprise was already waiting for me.
In the afternoon I got a phone call from Wade:”Just to hear if you are home, I am passing by.”
Completely ignorant I waited for Wade.
Half an hour later he arrived with a truck full of food parcels.
I had told him about 4 families in need that we support and of the boys of Apollo, the street children.
I didn’t know how and what to feel.
Some time ago someone told me that I am a “natural talent” in convincing people … would he be right after all?
Warm hug
Gunter
Continued: an unexpected meeting
Between the days we met Apollo and now, a lot already happened.
This man is really very special. He literally gives his life for the well being of the children.
Not only did he open his house for 23 street children, started a workshop to teach them auto mechanics, but is also in charge of the Youth Center in Molweni.
I only discovered that this week.
We knew the Youth Center from passing by, but we never took the initiative to walk in there.
It didn’t feel right to me, just to walk in without having been invited …
Apollo asked us yesterday to pass by and we didn’t let him offer it twice.
Dance, music, laughter and listening… A wonderful house with different rooms and activities in each room.
The children all enjoyed themselves tremendously, really great to see.
The house is situated in Molweni and is bought by the Rotary Hillcrest. It is completely tidied up and in good condition.
The first thing that struck me was that all rooms were empty, no furniture, nothing.
I asked Apollo how it comes that there is completely nothing in the house. Answer: “Money”. They bought this beautiful house and we can use it entirely but we have no funds to buy the simplest things. Finding the money for electricity is already quite a task every month.
Gosh … what a pity, finally there is a place where the younger can go to and where activities are offered and then there is no money to buy even a simple chair.
Next week I have a meeting with the members running the house with the sole intention to listen to them and to see what their aims are. It looks fascinating to hear their ideas.
Next to this nice discovery, I was surprised by something very special.
Since a while we are in contact with Wade Wood of the organization “Hart 4 Africa”.
This organization stands for the well being of each individual. They have various workshops and development programmes.
I told Wade of this project “Help Street Kids” and also of the project that is very dear to me: "Sithembakuye" in Kwanyuswa.
Wade listened very carefully to my story and told me that he would think about it.
The same evening, Russell of Sithembakuye phoned to thank me. Completely surprised I asked him why.
Wade had visited them and had donated a lot of food for the children and would come back the next day with some professionals to replace all windows and the locks of the doors.
I was overwhelmed, 1 conversation with Wade and suddenly so much response.
Just look at www.sithembakuye.co.za for a moment.
But a next surprise was already waiting for me.
In the afternoon I got a phone call from Wade:”Just to hear if you are home, I am passing by.”
Completely ignorant I waited for Wade.
Half an hour later he arrived with a truck full of food parcels.
I had told him about 4 families in need that we support and of the boys of Apollo, the street children.
Some time ago someone told me that I am a “natural talent” in convincing people … would he be right after all?
Warm hug
Gunter
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
An unexpected meeting
A few weeks ago I got a phone call from Monique, our guest who staid with us for 2 weeks.
She informed me that three men stood at the gate and asked for help. She also told that these men take care of street kids. They would come back the next day to talk to me.
At 10 a.m. the next day I sat at the table with 4 men of Molweni. The English was poor but we understood each other well.
One of the men had opened his house for boys who don’t have a home. He told me he drives around and when he sees boys ‘roaming around’; he addresses them and asks if they have a home.
He tries to keep these boys off the street and to offer them a home. He also teaches them the value of life and tries to keep them away from all kinds of drugs.
Most of these street children are addicted to glue, a very dangerous product. Sniffing glue is an addiction that slowly attacks the nervous system with irreversible effect.
It’s painful to see how many young people are addicted to this stuff.
I was enormously impressed by what the man told me, not the fact that there are so many street children, but the fact that an elderly man, of the community, comes up so passionately for “his” street children.
This was the first time that I saw a Zulu man do this work.
I was immediately listening with much interest and wanted to know more.
After we both talked about our missions, he invited me to come and have a look at the place where the boys live. He didn’t have to ask that twice.
At some 3 km from Crestholme where we live, the boys live in a large house next to the local school.
When I entered the house, I was surprised by the “order”: to have 23 street children in 1 house trained that the house must be kept neat and clean seems quite a task to me.
The house is old and could use a new coat of paint. Also the plaster work comes off the wall here and there, but the floor is clean and the house smells fresh.
The kitchen is old and worn out. The man told me that only 1 cooking element of the two cookers is working.
I immediately thought that I’ll have to provide for a cooker because it cannot be that they have only 1 element to cook on for 23 boys.
The house had further a big room with some 12 staple-beds put against each other, thus seeming like a two layer giant mattress.
The beds were neatly made and you could still smell the sleeping-odour but also here everything was clean.
There was another smaller room with a double bed, in which they sometimes sleep with 4.
The bathroom was a “no go”, but still I walked in. Apparently the decency was nevertheless present because there was a boy cleaning the bathroom with haste; they had not foreseen this unexpected visit.
A last door was opened and we walked into a fitness room with all old, cast off fitness apparatus.
“When the boys come off the street, I forbid them to further use drugs and then they get stressed”, the man told me. “Here they can get rid of their stress; they go in for sports and loose their stress.”
That was certainly good thinking of the man.
After the visit to the house, he wanted to show me his workshop.
Workshop? I was curious.
We went back in the car and drove some 2 km back to a place where wrecks of cars stood.
Here the man thought the boys to repair cars.
Marvellous ! From the scrap lying there, they made new cars.
I was enormously impressed.
This man deserves to get support. At that moment I didn’t know yet how but I felt very strongly that we would work together in the future.
…. To be continued …
Gunter
She informed me that three men stood at the gate and asked for help. She also told that these men take care of street kids. They would come back the next day to talk to me.
At 10 a.m. the next day I sat at the table with 4 men of Molweni. The English was poor but we understood each other well.
One of the men had opened his house for boys who don’t have a home. He told me he drives around and when he sees boys ‘roaming around’; he addresses them and asks if they have a home.
He tries to keep these boys off the street and to offer them a home. He also teaches them the value of life and tries to keep them away from all kinds of drugs.
Most of these street children are addicted to glue, a very dangerous product. Sniffing glue is an addiction that slowly attacks the nervous system with irreversible effect.
It’s painful to see how many young people are addicted to this stuff.
I was enormously impressed by what the man told me, not the fact that there are so many street children, but the fact that an elderly man, of the community, comes up so passionately for “his” street children.
This was the first time that I saw a Zulu man do this work.
I was immediately listening with much interest and wanted to know more.
After we both talked about our missions, he invited me to come and have a look at the place where the boys live. He didn’t have to ask that twice.
At some 3 km from Crestholme where we live, the boys live in a large house next to the local school.
When I entered the house, I was surprised by the “order”: to have 23 street children in 1 house trained that the house must be kept neat and clean seems quite a task to me.
The house is old and could use a new coat of paint. Also the plaster work comes off the wall here and there, but the floor is clean and the house smells fresh.
The kitchen is old and worn out. The man told me that only 1 cooking element of the two cookers is working.
I immediately thought that I’ll have to provide for a cooker because it cannot be that they have only 1 element to cook on for 23 boys.
The house had further a big room with some 12 staple-beds put against each other, thus seeming like a two layer giant mattress.
The beds were neatly made and you could still smell the sleeping-odour but also here everything was clean.
There was another smaller room with a double bed, in which they sometimes sleep with 4.
The bathroom was a “no go”, but still I walked in. Apparently the decency was nevertheless present because there was a boy cleaning the bathroom with haste; they had not foreseen this unexpected visit.
A last door was opened and we walked into a fitness room with all old, cast off fitness apparatus.
“When the boys come off the street, I forbid them to further use drugs and then they get stressed”, the man told me. “Here they can get rid of their stress; they go in for sports and loose their stress.”
That was certainly good thinking of the man.
After the visit to the house, he wanted to show me his workshop.
Workshop? I was curious.
We went back in the car and drove some 2 km back to a place where wrecks of cars stood.
Here the man thought the boys to repair cars.
Marvellous ! From the scrap lying there, they made new cars.
I was enormously impressed.
This man deserves to get support. At that moment I didn’t know yet how but I felt very strongly that we would work together in the future.
…. To be continued …
Gunter
Monday, August 25, 2008
A moment of peace
Time goes by and does not stand still. That’s what is being said so often. But what is time? Also a question that is frequently been asked.
Strange though … time is the axe in most people’s life and nobody really understands what it is.
The whole organised world is based on time.
1 second, 60 seconds 1 minute, 60 minutes 1 hour, 12 hours half a day, 24 hours and the clock went round …
And meanwhile 15 seconds are gone while writing this text.
Take time for yourself, another thing that is often said … but? What is time? And than, even take some time for yourself?
Come home in time, something fathers often say …but? What is time? And what is “in time”?
It is time to leave, something that is said daily … but? What is time? And what is time to?
I read hundreds of pages on the theory of time, but not a single expert could satisfy me.
Time is universal … time is a term … time is invented … time does not exist … name it.
Whether you want it or not, your are taken up in the “time”.
And that is exactly what is so beautiful … you are taken up …
Whether it is time of life or the universe … you are taken up. Taken up in the things you observe, experience, feel and do in life.
We are growing wiser every day, there is more input, whether you like it or not, you can not stop it.
To live here in a country that is rich on input is a gift that I would like to give to everyone.
From inhuman, degrading to deepest love, from one sentiment to the other, that’s really what this country can offer.
From absolute incomprehensibility to acceptance of the course of things is a difficult matter to many people.
Almost 3 years in South-Africa feels like it is barely a year but I got 10 years older (wiser).
Even in understanding the western world, strange as this may sound as I lived there for 37 years.
On distance things become more clearly, while near, you sit in the middle of it. The combination of both is a good balance.
But sometimes that balance is difficult to find.
How can you find a balance between a family without food and a restaurant where the refuse-bin contains surpluses of food?
How can you find a balance between a child that just broke his leg but for whom the ambulance cannot come because of too busy while for a man who simply stumbles, fire-brigade, police and ambulance appear in no time.
And then I only mention two simple things, if you can rightly call these simple.
The most difficult is to find the right balance in helping.
I ask myself daily:
“Do I give food? Do I give money? Or none of both?”
And often I come to the conclusion that I have to choose the last option.
The mission I live for sits so deep and also works from the deepest inner,
helping is not to give a piece of bread
helping is not to give a glass of water
helping is not to give money
helping is not to go to the beach for a while with “the poor little children”
helping is not to go to the cinema for one night.
It hurts me so much to see how people, with all the best intentions, help people in an obstinate way.
I often see people help others from a wrong perspective. It sounds hard to say but it’s better to say “no” if you’re not completely sure.
A no is clear and a yes creates expectations that can often not be fulfilled.
It is better to say no and come up with a solution afterwards to surprise them than to say yes and not keep the promise.
I do not pretend that I know everything, not at all, but I do like to express the things that I experience.
It is and will remain difficult. The longer I live here, the more I realize that it goes wrong on various levels.
And then the word “wrong” may even be misused for, who am I to say that something is wrong.
My son often says: “Just be yourself and enjoy life” and that comes out of a boy who has already seen quite a lot.
I often think about this and though it is difficult to accept things, I sometimes think:
“Would it not be wonderful if I knew less, were a bit more naïve. It might make it all a bit simpler.”
But then of course comes the question: “Would it indeed be easier… ? and then it starts again (hahaha).
I notice that I am not writing this posting in clear language, but don’t be worried. I am still here, I only write too little.
There is so much I want to tell, so much that should be told, but there are so many things happening and to be done.
To be active for and with the people and to sit behind a computer do not match, and in between you still need to find some time for yourself.
And to be honest, I did not find that yet, I don’t have a clue what time is…
Big kiss
I miss you
Gunter
PS: Do not forget to visit www.khulanisimunye.org.
Strange though … time is the axe in most people’s life and nobody really understands what it is.
The whole organised world is based on time.
1 second, 60 seconds 1 minute, 60 minutes 1 hour, 12 hours half a day, 24 hours and the clock went round …
And meanwhile 15 seconds are gone while writing this text.
Take time for yourself, another thing that is often said … but? What is time? And than, even take some time for yourself?
Come home in time, something fathers often say …but? What is time? And what is “in time”?
It is time to leave, something that is said daily … but? What is time? And what is time to?
I read hundreds of pages on the theory of time, but not a single expert could satisfy me.
Time is universal … time is a term … time is invented … time does not exist … name it.
Whether you want it or not, your are taken up in the “time”.
And that is exactly what is so beautiful … you are taken up …
Whether it is time of life or the universe … you are taken up. Taken up in the things you observe, experience, feel and do in life.
We are growing wiser every day, there is more input, whether you like it or not, you can not stop it.
To live here in a country that is rich on input is a gift that I would like to give to everyone.
From inhuman, degrading to deepest love, from one sentiment to the other, that’s really what this country can offer.
From absolute incomprehensibility to acceptance of the course of things is a difficult matter to many people.
Almost 3 years in South-Africa feels like it is barely a year but I got 10 years older (wiser).
Even in understanding the western world, strange as this may sound as I lived there for 37 years.
On distance things become more clearly, while near, you sit in the middle of it. The combination of both is a good balance.
But sometimes that balance is difficult to find.
How can you find a balance between a family without food and a restaurant where the refuse-bin contains surpluses of food?
How can you find a balance between a child that just broke his leg but for whom the ambulance cannot come because of too busy while for a man who simply stumbles, fire-brigade, police and ambulance appear in no time.
And then I only mention two simple things, if you can rightly call these simple.
The most difficult is to find the right balance in helping.
I ask myself daily:
“Do I give food? Do I give money? Or none of both?”
And often I come to the conclusion that I have to choose the last option.
The mission I live for sits so deep and also works from the deepest inner,
helping is not to give a piece of bread
helping is not to give a glass of water
helping is not to give money
helping is not to go to the beach for a while with “the poor little children”
helping is not to go to the cinema for one night.
It hurts me so much to see how people, with all the best intentions, help people in an obstinate way.
I often see people help others from a wrong perspective. It sounds hard to say but it’s better to say “no” if you’re not completely sure.
A no is clear and a yes creates expectations that can often not be fulfilled.
It is better to say no and come up with a solution afterwards to surprise them than to say yes and not keep the promise.
I do not pretend that I know everything, not at all, but I do like to express the things that I experience.
It is and will remain difficult. The longer I live here, the more I realize that it goes wrong on various levels.
And then the word “wrong” may even be misused for, who am I to say that something is wrong.
My son often says: “Just be yourself and enjoy life” and that comes out of a boy who has already seen quite a lot.
I often think about this and though it is difficult to accept things, I sometimes think:
“Would it not be wonderful if I knew less, were a bit more naïve. It might make it all a bit simpler.”
But then of course comes the question: “Would it indeed be easier… ? and then it starts again (hahaha).
I notice that I am not writing this posting in clear language, but don’t be worried. I am still here, I only write too little.
There is so much I want to tell, so much that should be told, but there are so many things happening and to be done.
To be active for and with the people and to sit behind a computer do not match, and in between you still need to find some time for yourself.
And to be honest, I did not find that yet, I don’t have a clue what time is…
Big kiss
I miss you
Gunter
PS: Do not forget to visit www.khulanisimunye.org.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Looking for support
On Monday, July 21 Khulani Simunye started with the first course in weaving.
Aim of this course is to stimulate people to start with a weaving production.
An experienced professional weaver guides them hereby to teach them the tricks of the trade.
The demand for original handmade weaving products is growing. South-Africa was in the past a market leader in weaving products. By the introduction of mechanical production, the handwork fell into oblivion.
Khulani Simunye wants to reanimate this business. Handwork is always original. Each piece has its own identity and we want to place that identity in the spot-light. Each person will be followed during the training and later on during the production and a story will be written about the person of each piece of work.
As soon as people are well aware of the technique, we want to show their work and sell it. This is a way to create an income for these people.
The first course will be financed with personal money of the members of
Khulani Simunye. When this starting course extends, we will need more financial support.
To train a starting weaver we need to invest EUR 18 per week.
As soon as this weaver grows into a skilled weaver, she will come into consideration to start up a production. Via this production, Khulani Simunye hopes to regain the investment, in order to train again new people.
If you feel that you want to support Khulani Simunye with this initiative, please mail us:
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Speech about the Agape kids at ICC
I received some reactions on a previous posting.
To protect people, unfortunately, I had to take away the posting from the web log.
According what was written in the reactions; The information written in the previous posting was not correct, .
"Never is been said that the children are AIDS/HIV positive and never is been said that the orphanage never had financial help."
:according what was written in the reactions
I really hope that it is not been said and that what I have heard, and the information I received, is wrong.
If I, indeed, didn't give the right information, than I want to apologize extremely.
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