Cuttin' Rug

Most mission visits we do for this project all follow the same basic routine. We go and introduce ourselves, make our pitches, talk about what existing aid that particular mission has in place, take a tour of the areas that this aid benefits, then see where Servite HS can fit into the equation. The areas we have toured have all been similar as well: extreme poverty, shacks for housing, little to no sanitation, high crime, etc. Through it all, children have been always present, and it is usually them that offer up the easiest smiles and friendliest waves. These glimpses of friendliness are like little points of light in an otherwise foreboding setting, as most of the time everyone else just stares back vacantly or with extreme skepticism as a couple of white guys walk around the favelas with cameras and notepads. We have to be delicate with our movements and questions. Body language goes far here, the prospect of free housing even further, and this all affects the people we are surrounded by. The children seem oblivious to it all however, and their stoke and attitudes help ease us into a comfortable space as we tour around.
Well, if those little smiles and waves were just glimpses, we got to witness a full panorama of the spirit behind those gestures a week ago as we visited the Bishop Jose Luis Ponce de Leon who stays at the mission in Hlabisa, about an hour north of Mtubatuba. After being led to the town by a young local Servite student in the area named Sifiso, we met with Fr. Jose Luis to discuss possible sites for the communication arm of our project. After the meeting we took a tour of the adjoining primary school, and as we walked up the small slope that separates church and state (the school is government run but sits on mission property), we started to notice a growing din. Clapping singing, stomping, whistling; it all got clearer and exponentially louder the closer we walked towards this one classroom. By the time we got to the door, the noise was so loud none of us could hear the other talk. Once that same door opened to let us in, we were all physically jolted as we entered by a rush of sound and an air thick with sweat, dust and intensity.
Thats really the only word you can use to describe it. Intense intensity. We had stumbled upon (or so the Bishop maintains) a dance rehearsal by the local students of a performance they had been learning for the past week to use in a contest that Saturday. We entered the classroom and kind of just filtered off to the left side of the room since that was the only space not vibrating with students dancing, jumping and singing about. The dance was a mix of traditional Zulu moves and calls. We all sat there with dropped jaws and took in the unreal moves steps kids were doing. Backbends, high kicks, twists, yelling, getting gnarly; it was plain as day that these kids were having a ball performing for their guests, and their enthusiasm was contagious. By the time it was all over, you couldn't help but wipe at misty eyes and grin like an idiot. Or at the very least someone who just witnessed something very special. We filed out the door with the performers and through the Bishop speaking Zulu told them we were blessed with having seen them practice and wished them luck in competition. With that they erupted in hand clapping and high fives, and almost ripped our arms off with handshakes. Literally- just take a look at the pictures. It was the closest any of us will ever get to being "boy band" famous.
The tour of the school went on after that: we met with the principal, talked about how the one meal they served there was the only food the majority of the students ate all day, how most were orphans making the commitment to go to school against daunting odds etc. Our thoughts kept returning to what we had just witnessed though, and it was hard to concentrate on the conversations that followed. The vibe of the dance was just so antithesis to the hard and ugly reality of what these children faced on a daily basis that we almost couldn't wrap our heads around it. It is naive to reduce this country and it's problems down to such a simple idea, but you get the impression that if you could get to these kids before Life knocks them around a bit and jades them out like a lot of the adults, then the future would be a brighter one countrywide...

Words: Hamrock

Photos include: Radical b/w by Ryan, dance practice, smiles, laughter. Last Supper-esque lunch with the Bishop, Sifiso and the deacon Mandla, Students playing, students cleaning.

Photo creds from the top: C, H, H, C, C, C, C, H, H, H, H