A Dream is Born

10/3/08





Another dream has materialized in the past few days, and that dream is not my own. Michael Mathumbu, my host father has longed to build a church in the neighboring village for many years. He has hoped to bring religion to a village where self discipline is lacking in the absence of church. This dream has patiently awaited the appropriate time and resources when it could be manifested into a reality. That time has arrived, and a window of opportunity has availed itself.

I considered myself fortunate to partake in this experience to observe as an outsider, an organic project that is cultivated with patience and love in this rural, village setting. I hope to remain in close contact with this project throughout its varying developing stages. I strongly believe that I will learn a lot about how community resources are used and how people come together to see a project from its infancy stage to its visualized end result.

We began three days ago with nine men, an assortment of tools, and a budget of approximately 1,000 Rands (just over $100 USD) donated by Michael himself. The men ranged in age from 16 to the eldest 27 (myself), excluding Mr. Mathumbu of course. The church has united these boys throughout their childhood and teenage years despite differences in life choices, age, or other differences. Under the shelter of the church, they call one another brother.

The first day of labor entailed back breaking tasks including hole digging, rock breaking, ground leveling, bush clearing, wood sawing, foundation pole planning, and more. We broke ground shortly after 11 am, scurrying quickly with an array of tools strewn across our backs as we attempted to beat the sun as it rose in the sky. Bodies glistened with sweat in the arid 33 degree Celsius temperature.

We hacked with pick axes at a hardened termite hill to clear a path towards the entrance of our future place of worship. Each thundering blow sent waves of scampering termites in all directions. I bravely attempted to move one with my fingers when it suddenly grasped a pinch of skin with a vice grip clasp. I screamed and flailed my arms as if on fire and the boys around me fell to the floor with laughter. The scene offered a respite from the monotonous, toiling labor. We quickly returned to our grueling tasks at hand, digging eleven 1 meter holes for the supporting outer poles of our future structure. We worked tirelessly until four o’clock when we stopped for a series of self timed group photographs and huddled around the bakkie to enjoy a savory “meal” of three loaves of bread and three bottles of cold soda. Famished faces and dehydrated bodies moved in closer around the meal and arms reached in from every direction after a brief prayer. Less than two minutes elapsed when I turned to find three overturned bottles on the ground and the bread wrappers flapping carelessly in the wind, blowing with a gust of wind into the distance. Our bloated bodies returned to work sluggishly and lactic acid began to settled into our muscles we arose from our afternoon slumber on the bakkie. Pick axes continue to swing and clang on the ground and shovels moved in unison as hills were leveled and holes with filled with earth. By the sunset of the first day, the impressive foundation of the structure was raised, accented by an assortment of bright colors far off in the distance.



The following day we began our work late, due to logistical challenges and extra time spent attending to aching muscles and injuries from the day before. We were greeted by a stifling heat that sucked all moisture from the earth. Roasting radiation waves rose infinitely around us. By midday, the temperature had risen to 38 degrees Celsius or 100 degrees Fahrenheit! It was energy consuming to stand and blink my eyes, never the less engage in back breaking labor. I attempted to seek refuge under a tree with my counterparts, but I could not escape the heat in the shade, as vicious updrafts of hot, dry wind lashed up continuously. Sweat dripped off every orifice of my body, but was quickly evaporate by the intense radiation of the sun. The heat was sweltering and unbearable. It was hard to think and even more challenging to move. I was paralyzed. Each movement seemed like slow motion. Needless to say, after exhausting our bodies for five hours, we gather around the bakkie to enjoy another meal of four loaves of bread and four bottles of "cold drinkey". The lot of food disappeared faster than before, as handfuls of bread were shoved into mouths to free hands to grab more savagely. We worked well into the twilight hours spreading concrete with trowels, illuminated by the blinding headlamps of the bakkie. With raw skin, aching bodies, and skin covered in dust and debris, we piled into the truck and sped off into the darkness on the dusty road.

Appreciating the concrete slab and foundational poles on the third day was a powerful experience. I looked on in awe at the semblance of a structure that stood for so much. Just days before there laid n empty field with plentiful trash and rubbish. Today marks the beginning of a dream and a place of worship.