Spring Cleaning

In Cape Town right now the weather is turning to South Africa's version of Fall, but life feels a bit more like Spring. The freshness, the new starts, the opportunity, the growth - like flowers popping up rather than leaves falling down.

I graduated the School of Field Journalism yesterday morning. After a couple hours of debriefing, a squeezed in meeting, a celebration dinner and one last movie, the end was official. Following a lot of personal contemplation, prayer and general stubbornness, I have committed to staying in Cape Town for field assignment instead of venturing to Uganda and the various other locations other members of the school may find themselves in. This was a heavily weighed decision, but has become very exciting in the meantime. One other student will be staying with me, Marie, who I am sure I will be writing about a lot in the coming months as we have many joint adventures planned. Today we sat on the roof of our soon-to-be ex-home and brainstormed all the possibilities of the coming 7 weeks. Three pages later it looks like it could be a very fantastic time!

We started a co-blog to record all of our journalist pursuits and general silliness. Be sure to subscribe as we are both avid bloggers - thanksadoublelatte.blogspot.com.

Four days and counting until the move into a sweet two bedroom with a great kitchen and loads of gratefulness to Evelien for letting us stay there while she travels the African Continent.

So many possibilities!!!!!

Diet of Champions

In the last few months I have eaten my body weight in the following:

• Peanut Butter
• Cadbury Chocolate
• Various Cheeses

I have eaten twice my body weight in pasta.

I have had more apples than my grandma's apple pies.

More than a few pizzas and pastries.

Needless to say, I feel great.

Start Being Real

I remember watching The Real World on MTV when I was a teenager. The opening said, ". . . to see what happens when people stop being polite and start being real," and the whole show was based on the premise that eventually there is conflict when people are living together. The show made sure of this by throwing six or seven strong personalities into a house where they had to share rooms, live together, eat together and had a contant supply of alcohol to keep them going. My university supplies four out of the five above mentioned criteria - pretty much asking for the same result as the average Real World episode. While The Real World banked on the disruption of relationships, my university seems to only know how to deal with conflict in one, cookie-cutter way - plead with us to be examples of the scripture, "and they will know you are my disciples by your love for one another."
Of course I want to love my roommates and the people I live around. Of course I want to be an example of relationship working well. Of course I want to see friendships and relationships build on a great foundation of trust and truth. But, how the heck do we do this?
Over the last few months I have noticed, again, the gradual slide from politeness to realness. It is especially heightened in a cross-cultural setting where people really don't understand the other person, or their behavior, for no other reason than they come from different places on earth and just flat do things differently. There are different expectations, different assumptions, different experiences that all lend to either a vast sharing and learning experience or a clash of worlds. The Bible is actually very clear about dealing with conflict, but how often do we see it played out? I more often see leaders hide their feelings or make sarcastic remarks, then go to a person in love and try to work on the issue humbly. I more often see people lose their tempers, make a jabbing comment towards another person and exult their own idea of what is 'right' then humbly work together for an agreeable solution. I hardly ever see someone start a tough conversation excited about a positive outcome and in good spirits because we have the opportunity to "do the hard work of getting along" that James talks about. And, unfortunatly I see a lot of people respond in disrespect to the other person right off the bat, thus throwing a lot of possibility of resolution out the window.
I fall into every one of the horrible scenarios I just mentioned. I tend to be very passive agressive. I am more likely to give the silent treatment, harbor negative feelings, or write a note then confront an issue. I am more likely to make a "below the belt" accusation then work at understanding. I am most likely to just walk away from a conflict and sit in my room until I have wrestled it through then tell you how I am feeling. I would rather be able to love and learn the skills of conflict resolution. I would rather be humble and know that I, too, can change. I would rather open the door for reconciliation by my attitude, then shut it by my harsh words.
What have you learned about conflict resolution?

Through Others

A story of today as I told it to my mom over facebook chat: (excuse the grammatical errors, please :0)

Today was AMAZING. I will start telling you the story. . .

I have been getting pretty frustrated about not knowing what to do for the field assignment, it has been a really strange situation and caused a lot of questions to come up. I was trying to be strong, but just couldn't do it anymore
So this morning we had a big worship session (like we do every Friday morning) and I was sitting in the church and praying and I just said "God! Really! I need to know what is going on! I am so tired of this!!!!"
and just at that moment a guy got up on stage and started saying that while we were worshipping he saw that there were a bunch of "arrows" in the audience that were being sharpened, but there was no bow
so the arrows couldn't be sent out. The man encouraged the staff here to be a bow and send people out to the destinations God would reveal to them.
Just as he was talking I knew that was me. I have been going through the pressure and testing, like when you make an arrow, but I was frustrated because i couldn't be sent out.
Then a little while later another man got up and said that he really felt like he wanted to encourage people to just keep looking, that what you are looking for WILL be revealed. And I knew that was for me, too. I have been so tired of looking, but KNOW that I am just waiting for the revelation and there is nothing wrong with being "on hold" in God's eyes

THEN (as if that wasn't enough) another man got up and said that he felt like there were people that were being led to learn another language and he wanted to encourage them to do it and not be lazy about it. Which was for me too because I was just wondering if I had waited too long to start learning the languages I think I should learn.
Not to mention that two of the languages I want to learn were the native languages of two of the three men that came up and the third man is a base leader where I want to go.

Photoshop Project 2

Look, I am getting better at photoshop! I know it looks simple, but that is the point. The goal of this was to be a current news page in a magazine we are designing.

I just thought I would share this old time photo. I am the one with the dark hair, if it is not obvious. The adorable blond is my little sister (who is still adorable, but red-headed) and the little boy is my mom's friends kid, Christopher. AHHHHHHH, come on, say it with me, "AHHHHH . . . "

Elucidate

The dictionary.com word of the day today is elucidate: to make clear or manifest.

That is exactly what I need God to do today - to elucidate the path before me.
To elucidate the blank canvas I seem to be staring at.
To elucidate himself and his workings in my life.

Yes, Lord, I will seek you until my life is elucidated. . .

About Failing Fasting

I am a horrible faster. Truly. I try and take on these big goals with all these great intentions and expect the heavens to open . . . for about 2 hours. Then, my body starts shaking, I crave things I never eat, I feel like I am going to die and no amount of motivative speech can help me. I have even been known to seek out food during a fast that I wouldn't normally, in an effort to apparently rebel against the spiritual discipline.
Take today for instance. I was only going to fast for part of the day. Part of the day turned into a smaller part - just the morning. That turned into just a meal - lunch. Now it is 11:33 and I am wondering how SOON after "lunch" the fast could possibly end. . . even though I just ate half a muffin. (One of the best muffins I have ever had, actually. If ever in Muizenberg go to the Artisian Organic Bakery - but that's not the point).
I once did a really long fast. Realizing I may "lose my reward" by sharing this, I think it is worth the story. This fast lasted 40 days, and it is said that the last couple weeks were "questionable" because I ate mashed potatoes (my favorite food), cheesecake shakes (a beautiful invention of my brother-in-law), and various kinds of blended soup. However, living off this limited menu was perfectly hard enough to be considered fast worthy.
Before I started my lental withholding I made a book of goals and verses and general things that would keep me focused and pressing on. I also had a group of people praying for me every day and would send out daily updates on how I felt and how they could pray. But one thing in particular marked this long fast that I am lacking today: Grace.
I had LOADS of grace during the long fast of '05. I felt like I was held up the whole time - that God wanted me to succeed because he called me to it.
Today, I am fasting out of my own weak strength, and that isn't good for anyone, or creating any treasure in heaven. Actually, I am just failing. Where is the other half of that muffin????

Photoshop Project 1

I am just learning photoshop, so in an effort to track my vast improvement here is my first masterpiece.

Weather or not . . .

The weather here is schizophrenic. Cold, hot, ice, sun, wind, wind, wind. Apparently it is getting closer to winter in the Cape. Darn it! I was enjoying my own, personal, endless summer.

The weather matches my mood, actually. In the last week I have woken up, pressed on, gotten tired, felt overwhelmed, steadied myself on the verge of confusion, tried to encourage others, been tested, found parts of me that were lost, lost parts of me I need to find . . . where is my umbrella?

This week our field assignment team was supposed to purchase plane tickets to Uganda. Not a single student going on field assignment has the money to do this. I find this interesting and in the midst of the question mark floating around my head I realize something about my heart - that there is a part of me that wants to be somewhere else. I even went online today to look and look for something that would jump out at me, allowing me to make my move.

After discussing this with another person I realized that I was not alone and began to wonder if the common feeling in this area partly stemmed from the refugee/displaced persons community. Afterall, I am literally surrounded by people who do not call Muizenberg home for various reasons. This growing feeling sometimes makes me want to just run away, and as the what ifs blow around, I search for plane tickets, think about visiting friends who may need to see me, factor the cost of already bought plane tickets and try and find the right answer like the right sweater on a cold day.

Adventures of a Soggy Sandwich

If Culture Shock is defined as the traumatic flipping-out of a displaced person in view of all the differences between their current location and where they call "home" - I don't do that. However, I will admit that there are some things I just flat miss and/or dislike . . .
I miss being able to go get coffee 24-7
I miss having a kitchen where I can keep and cook my own delicious gourmet foods
I miss hanging out with my friends at Trinity Brewing Co.
I miss being able to text/call when I am thinking about someone
I dislike time changes and feeling like my friends are sleeping when I am awake
I dislike communicating with my mom mostly over email instead of voice to voice
I dislike that most things here seem to have pork included - which I don't like eating
I miss good Nepali food
I dislike that my room is forever in a state of growing mold
I dislike ants
These things are very minor irritations and make up a few, isolated fragments of frustration. Overall, there are many things I love - I have decided to call this phenomenom Culture Thrill. That is the act of enjoying bits of the culture you are in that are not present at "home".
I like the cadence of African accents
I like the beach
I like the town of Kalk Bay with its eclectic shops
I like the local hang out spots
I like fresh baked goods and the organic shop up the street
I like the artistic flare
I like riding the train to go places
I like the exchange rate
I like praying on the roof of the building I live in
I like having roommates from Venezuela and Uganda
I like laughing at Scrubs with a Swede
I like believing I could go anywhere from here
I like that I don't feel stuck
I like Zimbabweans and Nigerians and South Africans and Argentinians (who make up my class)
I like the surprises of the circular mindset
I like walking to the grocery just to buy lunch, walking back in the rain while eating a cheese and tomato sandwich on crushed wheat and thinking about all the things I like about being here.

Standing Room Only: A book signing, an observation and a debate on South African politics

Such is my Saturday night:

Author Piper Green sat in the quant Kalk Bay Books shop surrounded by red wine, hors d'oeuvres and the social atmosphere that accompanies older, well off, white folk to speak on her new book Choice, Not Fate, a biography on the much respected Trevor Manuel, the Minister of Finance here in South Africa. In the small, crowded room ladies and gentlemen crammed too many to a couch, filled the available chairs and assembled themselves on the Turkish rug centered before the speaker. I rested myself against a bookshelf occupied by African history and overflowing with non-fiction disguised as fiction so as not to upset people too badly.

The three of us that had travelled the two train stops from False Bay to Kalk Bay made up the youngest of the audience and found ourselves listening to Green talk about the four years of hard work she put in to the work and answer questions about her conclusions and findings. Along with being the youngest, we also made up the majority of diversity situated in that room. I can reasonably say I was the only American, representing a drilled-in belief in democracy and the arrogance of a nation constantly in the lime-light. Marie was the only Swede and sadly battling a runny nose throughout the evening and Solomon, the one and only black person in the room, single-handedly held the rest of Sub-Saharan Africa’s thoughts in his hands.

I must admit that the conditions gave way to feeling a bit out of place from the start. The thought rolled through my head that I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be asking for a glass of South African red wine. I shouldn’t be filling my paper plate with small meatballs stabbed with toothpicks. I shouldn’t be taking up precious floor space that could be used as a resting spot for a lady wearing expensive clothes and sandals beaded by women living in a nearby township.

While these thoughts tumbled amidst book titles and authors I have yet to read, I listened and learned from this journalist turned book author and found the evening quite relevant. I caught glimpses of her humor and personal investment in the book and insight into interviewing and gaining access to documents, like police files, which help tell a story.

We mused around afterwards, reading the backs of books and making mental lists of what to read in the future until it was time to walk back to our humble Muizenberg home. It was during the ensuing conversation I realized how high my political-soap box stood. It seems I do not understand South African politics at all. Solomon and I debated the possibility of South Africa falling to pieces to resemble Zimbabwe. I on the side that it could happen and him opposing my view. His equation did not add up to me, but I have never been that great at math so perhaps it was simply my own ignorance. I still maintain that if the majority of a country feels it must vote on party lines, despite the leader representing the party, then the country is not truly free, and if that is the case, they then cannot stand up to measures that would destroy their livelihood, protecting them from the horrors of bad government. He felt the youth especially would not allow such a thing, claiming their continuing political education and prominence would be powerful enough, but be it that they are still a minority, it is hard for me to imagine them making any difference if the sheep kept going towards the cliff in front of them.

My Saturday night, therefore, was a cultural mish-mash of high-class South African think tank, Nigerian commentary on politics and Zimbabwe, my own American political worldview, and all set along the ocean-front view that makes up my current locale. While I still do not have a solid stance on any of the issues presented over this casual weekend, I find my mind triggered and thoughts wondering new directions, which is the dream of the writer anyhow.

March, Zimbabwe and Life in General

The last update letter I sent out:

Where to start, where to start?

Life in South Africa has been an exciting mix of challenges, revelation, and inspiration. I wouldn't have expected such a large amount of life changing understanding to be crammed into so short a time frame! I am amazed at the way the world looks from this angle. So often Africa is seen as a dangerously needy continent in a constant state of turmoil. AIDS, poverty, hunger, disease, war, corruption . . . the list goes on and a quick scan of news headlines proves it all right. But I have seen a different and admittedly surprising side of Africa!

I just got back from a 4 day trip to Zimbabwe. This country could, perhaps, be seen as a worst case scenario for a once thriving and prosperous land. Many books have been written on its tumultuous history and the key players in inspiring those gruesome stories are still on the scene. The president, Robert Mugabe, is still in the habit of blaming the British for all things wrong in the country and has even recently threatened all the remaining white farmers in a public address. I mistakingly thought all this was just a part of history, but his ongoing seizure of farmland for "redistribution", his corrupt government, the distroyed infrastructure of the country, the fact that nearly a quarter of the country has AIDS and cholera is sweeping through high-density areas is what the people of Zimbabwe are dealing with every day. I couldn't have a conversation in the country without someone mentioning how an aid agency was the only way they were continuing to survive, and those are a source of corruption, too. Despite all this, the conversations I had were heavily weighted in hope for the rebuilding of Africa's "bread basket" and the possibility of change. Life is moving forward.

You know that classic question,"If you could have dinner with anyone in the world who would it be?" After this short trip to Zimbabwe I know my answer. Friday night we sat around a large dining room table surrounded by poets and artists, musicians and philosophers all planted in Zimbabwe. Some of them locals who were contemplating the revolution of the country through thier message and the balance of free expression in an oppressed land. Others transplants who had found their current home in this fertile land and dedicated themselves to the well being of the people. I find it hard to express just what I was thinking and have been thinking about since these long finished conversations and question sessions. It could probably all be summed up in a simple question. What if?

What if people rose up for what is right and just?
What if we saw each other as valuable and lived our lives accordingly?
What if our voices were the powerful weapons we longed for?
What if this day was the last day of suffering and the first day of rebuilding?
And that is why I am here. To learn the questions, knowing I may never know or see the answers. I am right where I am supposed to be and there are many stories to be told.

Upcoming Travel
I am in Cape Town until the end of this month, then the plan is to be off to Uganda and Rwanda to discover what people are talking about there and gather up the vision to be dispursed to all who will read it. Those travels should take me to the end of May. In June I will fly to Dublin and spend two weeks in the country of my ancestors, digging deeper and experiencing great things. I get back to Colorado June 17th.

Communication
darcienolan.blogspot.com for random thoughts, rambles and photos
noland@sfreserves.org for secure emails
darcie.lynns@gmail.com for all emails
PO BOX 129, Muizenberg 7950, South Africa for snail mail

Finances
Checks made out to Darcie Nolan, sent to: 5458 Majestic Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80919. Upcoming travel expenses are much needed as Zimbabwe cost more than expected and a surprise required purchase of Microsoft Student and Office 2007 hit the account (can't have my computer freeze up mid story!) I want to say thank you to everyone who has given this year. I am amazed that each part of the journey has been covered and I feel very supported in prayer and well taken care of. Thank you so much for your generosity.

So much love to all of you!
Darcie Nolan

Where? What? Huh?

I don't know where to start. I feel like if I let the flood gates open of all things simmering in my mind I will not be able to stop until I have written the longest blog in the history of man or managed to make such a mess of my thoughts that getting things back in order would take longer then the initial spillage. (Oh, Lord, help me!)

Life is beautiful. I feel more alive today than I did yesterday. I feel deeper than I did last week and less like I have anything figured out than ever before. God has shocked me yet again.

Zimbabwe was amazing, truly. I didn't know what I would end up with and in the end it was more precious and more real than I could have thought. The reluctant contrast of suffering and hope, of past and future, of assumption and humility, of wonder and despair . . . the human heart is capable of so much. Daily we make the choices that determine which side of the photo we will be in, the shadow or the light. This weekend I encountered both.

In the midst of death I witnessed the faith of a rural pastor.

In the midst of growth I heard the despair of those who held-on to the past alone.

In the midst of possibility I saw the hearts of the revolutionaries, wounded but still beating.

Now what? What do I do with all this new information? The testimonies and the questions? The grace and fear? The future and the unbroken cycle?

I am discovering that life cannot ever go back to normal as I see the things God has granted me permission to see. I am too small to change things alone. I am too weak to undertake it. But the patterns and cycles that are hindering people, driving them down instead of lifting them up, need to be shattered. So now I endeavor to write something that others will find purpose in . . . I do not know what will come of it, but I suspect you will be the first to know.

the photo of the road was taken by me, the other two by Michaela Wilson, our fantastic photographer.