The greatest transformation in my life began when God called me to join the Peace Corps at age 40. Working as a programmer for an insurance company was becoming mundane. So, during work I often searched the internet for alternatives. One day I clicked on the Peace Corps web page for no particular reason. While browsing through the Peace Corps information, I became teary eyed. I felt an overwhelming need to participate in the things on the web page. That day God was calling. It was a strange call. As a 40-year-old professional with friends, mortgage, church, and family nearby, how could God expect me to just change everything and go without knowing the plan? But go I did.
That day I started the application process. When it came time for references, I asked my boss and two friends for letters of recommendation. My boss reluctantly agreed. I got my fingerprints made at the local police station. Visited my doctors for health reports. I did the things the Peace Corps said not to do. Gave away or sold most of my possessions. Cashed in my 401K and pension plan. Sold my house and moved into a small apartment. Quit my job and waited for the Peace Corps approval. I was going. I was convinced.
The approval came. I volunteered to go across the big pond to anywhere in Africa. I was qualified as a computer person from my job experience, a math teacher from my minor in college, and an agriculture specialist from my backyard vegetable gardening. The Peace Corps assigned me as a computer resource for elementary schools in South Africa. I reduced my possessions down to three suitcases, filled with items recommended by the Peace Corps for the next 27 months. My mother and brother took me to the airport, and it was off to Washington D.C. to begin a new adventure.
During the application process, as friends and family learned of my plans there were two reactions. The first reaction consisted of these statements. WHY? ARE YOU CRAZY? Do you know that some people in Africa do not have toothbrushes? You will meet the darkest black people you have ever seen. You will miss the next few years of your young nephews’ precious lives. The other reactions were these types of statements. That is so exciting. I always wanted to do that but was afraid. You will never be the same. Oh my God, you’ve are called by God. Will you allow us to hold a special church blessing for your journey? In the Bible, Paul could heal people just by walking past them. Yes really. I was compared to Paul.
First there were a few days in Washington D.C. for training and shots. Then loaded onto a commercial flight through Zurich to South Africa with thirty other volunteers. In South Africa, we were meet at the airport and bused a few hours north to stay a in a nice hotel. Gradually the luxuries decreased, and we went further into the poverty areas with dirt roads, out houses, and public taxis.
For three months, I lived in a cement block house with Lizzie, and her two children, Natasha and Matthews. I slept in her daughter’s room, while she began sleeping with her mother.
Each day I walked a mile to an elementary school where all the volunteers continued our training. We received language lessons, South Africa has eleven official languages. Each person learned a language but collectively we learned several languages. We receive a constant series of shots to protect us from every known disease and several booster shots, just in case. We briefly learned self-defense. There were lectures on South Africa’s history, government, and school system. We ate the local food, visited the local shops, grocery stores, and drinking spots. One local man opened an internet café for us so we could email home.
The town was split with a average to wealthy income, mostly white side. And a poor, dirt roads, and out houses black side. We all lived on the black side with local families. I was grateful my family had indoor plumbing, electricity, a stove, and a freezer. Of course, the city water system had not worked for three years. Water had to be hauled into the house and stored in large plastic barrels. I paid someone to do my laundry by hand. Once or twice the water magically started running to the houses. The residence ran home to fill all the barrels and contains they owned before the water stopped flowing for another undetermined length of time. It was always a mystery why the water was so sporadic.
After training we were transported to our host families where we would live for the next two years. Principal Mr. Chilwane picked me up and drove me to my new family and home in Driekop. It was a former white farmer’s house with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, dining room and kitchen. The property was fenced, with a night guard, small store, smaller café, and several exterior rental rooms. An older black couple lived there with one adult son. The husband had three wives and six children. The wives lived in separate houses and villages, while he visited them whenever he chose. They were part of the Bapedi tribe and spoke Sepedi, the African language used in the movie The Lion King. The Bapedi believe the woman controls the house, finances, and businesses.
South Africa has eleven official languages. Most people spoke multiple languages. This was in 1999, after Apartheid was change to Democracy. Now English was the language taught in schools and textbooks after grade three. I was assigned to be a teacher’s resources at four elementary schools. Peace Corp volunteers are taught to use their skills to help the community in any way they are able, of course without using money. Jobs were so scarce for the local population that the government forbad volunteers from being teachers. High school students said, “We are being educated for unemployment.” But I could assist the teachers and help them learn new skills.
I started an English club in one school, creating posters of crossword puzzles for the kids to practice their English skills. Held science equipment workshops for teachers. Discussed new disciple techniques to replace the common practice of hitting a child with a plastic ruler for bad behavior. Started a small library in a storage room with donated books from American friends. Created puzzles from empty detergent boxes to help math teachers teach shapes and creativity. Ate lunch with the teachers and talked about their lives and problems.
The most significant work was teaching a group of young people, in their 20s, about HIV/AIDs. For two years I held weekly meetings to discuss the disease. At the beginning the young people were writing poetry about the monster AIDS and talking about AIDS as an acronym for America’s Idea to Destroy Sex. After two years they were holding workshops in schools, discussing the disease, the early and later symptoms, and the need for safe sexual practices. I found a cache of government HIV/AIDS booklets written in Sepedi stored in the central school office. We used these as learning aids to help young people understand and discuss the disease.
Near the end of my Peace Corps time, HIV/AIDS medicine was becoming available, and condoms were being given out at the government pharmacy. The condoms were free, but the medicine was equivalent to $1 a day. A cost few people could afford. Many people struggled just to feed their family. Any cost for medicine was not possible.
A report from 2009-2014 states that there were 3.4 million AIDS orphans in South Africa. I lived in South Africa from 1998-2003. During this time, it was estimated that one third of all 15-year-olds would contract the HIV virus during their lifetime. The funeral industry was growing rapidly. I went to more funeral in South Africa in five years than in my 66 years in U.S.A.
Many people lived in corrugated metal sheds with minimal furniture and dirt floors. Many people slept on a blanket on the dirt floor. Some sheds were larger with furniture, electricity, stoves, and TVs. Others lived in cement block houses with more furniture, electricity, and appliances. Few had indoor plumbing, outhouses were everywhere.
The common food was pap. A type of corn meal cooked with water and reduced to thick cereal. Bananas, avocados, bologna, cheese, cokes, beer, and loaves of bread were sold in small local stores. Chicken and beef were available for those with money from jobs.
There were two small towns a taxi ride away with mostly white people, larger grocery stores, bank, car dealership, church, even a pizzeria. The town, Burgersfort, was a mile long strip of asphalt road with stores on both sides. A few additional asphalt roads ran out from the main road. The main asphalt road was a 93-mile-long road from Polokwane through a constant stream of offshoot dirt roads where thousands of black people lived until reaching Burgersfort and continuing on towards Lydenburg, another white town. Driekop was 12 miles from Burgersfort. It is where I lived for 2 years as a Peace Corps volunteer. At the end of my Peace Corps assignment, I decided to stay in the area, renting a two-bedroom apartment in Burgersfort. It had electricity, indoor plumbing, bathtub, stove, covered carport, and outdoor clothesline. I bought furniture, refrigerator, washer and a truck.
I continued working with the young adults on HIV/AIDS education. I started week-long after school programs for preteens, using Christian material to instill hope, and future planning. I worked with Burgersfort’s one church to educate rural churches concerning orphans in their communities. I gave out condoms. Some people thought I was promoting promiscuity. But with so many people dying young and leaving orphans behind, I was just trying to keep people alive long enough to raise their children and become Christians.
Friends asked if I was making a difference in the HIV/AIDS deaths, poverty, or education. I honestly did not know. My work was intended to change behaviors and beliefs. I could not go home with everyone, on peek into their windows to determine if changes were happening. I was just one woman in a country torn apart by Apartheid’s violence and racism, then ravaged by HIV/AID deaths and orphans.
There was a day, after almost five years. I drove my truck over a hill and saw the landscape spread out before me. The tangle of red dirt roads, the shacks, the concrete block houses, the outhouses, the chickens, goats, cows, and the next mountain in the distance. I told God, I was home. This was the place where I would spend the rest of my life, helping these people. I knew I had made mistakes and there would be more struggles ahead. But I was fully committed to continue working with God for the good of this place, these people. Twenty years later, I can still feel that same emotion in my heart, my soul, for those people, for that part of Africa.
But God had a different plan. My money ran out. Doors began to close. I was not given a choice. I gave away my few possessions. Said goodbye to friends. Sold my car to buy a plan ticket home. Even back in Alabama, I tried to find a way to get back to South Africa. God kept the doors tightly closed. I returned to my previous job as a computer programmer. Returned to my same church. Began to rebuild my American lifestyle. Now I am just another American trying to make a difference by following God’s lead. But now, I understand God differently. I have felt a small part of his love, of his sacrifice to help the helpless. I understand more intimately what it is to make a sacrifice for the good of others. Jesus’ sacrifice has become less of a story and more of a heartbeat. It colors everything I do.