A huge problem in Cape Town is hopelessness. No, you wouldn't say that if you visit Blouberg Strand (a beautiful beach), or when you shop in Canal Walk (a big shoppingmall.)
Hopelessness is a big problem in the poor area's. There are lots of townships (de krottenwijken) in the Western Cape. Townships are places where lots people live. They have built their own shack out of all kind of rest material. (In Afrikaans people call if often 'hok'. Een hok in Nederland link je met dieren, niet met mensen.)
A lot of touristic companies are organizing excursions through the townships. This is very popular under tourists. But still, even then, you will only see how poverty looks on the outside. You will only understand a little what it means to live in those circumstances, if you build up close relationships with people who are living it every single day!
Die krag van Hoop
When I think about poverty, I think about people. Unique individuals like you and me.
I think about Hanny*, who had to sleep outside of her shack, while she was very sick of AIDS. Her husband slept around, infected her with the virus. And while he was still walking around and getting drunk every evening, Hanny was very sick. For him, she was laying in the way, so he parked her, in an old bed, outside. I remember the hours sitting next to her bed, (we moved it inside again) while I was cleaning her infected wounds. She was testifying that she was looking forward to go to Jesus (her face was full of light), but she was also worried about her daughters who didn't wanted to go to school anymore. Later on her daughter of 15 got pregnant.
I think about Jan*, always joking, but in the meantime struggling with his alcohol problem. The pain in his heart is unbearable. Once sexual abused, he was never able to talk about it and started drinking and turned violent. His family broke apart. Short after that his ex wife died. He lived with the burden that it was all his fault. Till today he is still drinking. Sometimes I see him, when he is totally drunk. I still have hope for him, he trusts me. But I wonder if he still has hope?
I think about Jeanette*, standing in the evening on the streets, in the hope she get a client. Her twins are now 2 months old, but she is not able to nurse them. She needs money that she is able to buy milk for her twins.
I think about Jolina*, having TB and is coughing blood. But still not willing to go to the clinic to get treatment. She rather goes to the drugs-dealer in order to get some Christal Meth. She simply lost hope for her future and want to escape of her pain in the here and now.
I think about Sandra*, in prison for the third time, because of her involvement in robbery. She never finished her school and is helping her boyfriend with stealing, so they can survive.
I remember sitting in the hospital, next to Hesther*, who was busy dying, because of TB in her brain. She could hardly speak anymore, but I sensed she was terrified. We were able to pray for her and minister her. The next day she was gone.
I remember Carla*, showing me her arm... the teeth of her husband were still visible... He is addicted to glue and when he is high, he is aggressive.
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Poverty is affecting individuals, but the cause is found in communities and in generations. A lot of ladies we work with, never got love of their mother, those mothers also never got love of their mothers. Their emotional needs are so huge that their only hope is drugs, or a boyfriend who is 'loving' them. A lot of guys we work with, grew up without a father. The are graving that feeling of belonging, so they join a gang. They get stuck in crime and prison life. The consequence: Their sons are growing up without a father. Their daughters got raped because there was no father to protect them.
So hopelessness goes through the generations.The young generation lost hope, that they will ever get a better life than their parents. So instead of making right decisions out of hope (positive expectation of the future, out of a good self esteem) they make wrong decisions, to make at least the here and now a little better... Wyn, tik, dagga (drugs), becoming a number (joining one of the number gangs in Cape Town) stealing, rape.... When will the circle ends?
When I look to broken communities, I do feel hopeless: How is it possible to bring lasting change? It must be possible, but how? I spent my first years in South Africa trying to fix communities. I had a plan, I had strategies. But all I got was a burn out. No, I am not able to bring change on that level.
But I am able to love Sandra*, and pay her a visit in prison, while I bring some snacks and a good book with.
I am able to love Hesther*, holding her hand, while she is fighting to stay alive. I can hold Jolina*, when she comes in tears to me, confessing that she used drugs again. She is coughing and very sick, but in such a deep need for love and forgiveness. I feel her slowly relaxing when I minister her in prayer. I can do small things. And these small things are actually big things. I give glimpses of hope: I believe in you. I invest in you. I care about you. Hold on. And this are glimpses of hope in a dark community.