Angola Reflections

Morgan Fisher
Morgan Fisher
South Africa 2015

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It’s been nearly a month since I have returned from Angola and I have just now processed through everything I witnessed and the lessons I have learned from this experience.

First off, I want to thank Peter & Ann Pretorius for giving me the opportunity to go into the fields with the JAM Media Team to capture the stories of the local people. I know this was a rare opportunity and I am so grateful to have been able to join such a talented and wise group of people.

Secondly, I want to thank the team that I travelled with Darren, Chadrac,  Murray, Clint and Peter. Thank you for your patience, wisdom, and concern for me as I witnessed some of these things for the first time.

I tried to emotionally, spiritually, and physically prepare myself for Angola, but there truly is no way to prepare for the things that we saw.

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Visiting the malnutrition clinic was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. I remember Peter praying for a child to be healed and the week the team returned, we had heard news that the child passed. I was heartbroken. I have never seen such frail children in my life.

What I learned from witnessing this is that if God leads you to see something like this, you must use your voice to encourage others to feed and educate children so they do not end up in a malnutrition clinic like this one that we visited.

My most joyful moment in Angola was seeing JAM drill and hit water. The reaction of the local people was priceless! They say it is not how long you are in the desert, but what your attitude is in the desert. These people had been waiting for water their entire lives and witnessing their constant joy, even before the water was provided, inspired me.

Filming in the last village we visited, we captured some of the saddest stories I have ever heard. We listened to many stories of mothers losing children to malnutrition. As the night closed, we went to our campsite and I saw a box being carried by the locals. I asked what it was. It was a funeral happening right before our eyes. What got me through that moment was earlier in the day, Peter had said, we must bring these people food before we return to our campsite and we did. It was fulfilling to know that at least in the 24 hours we were there we could make an impact.

There is a selfless spirit. A spirit of humility instilled in African people. When we brought food, a little girl ran to her grandmother with utmost excitement to tell her there was food that could be shared.

From this experience, I hope to live life with the humility and selflessness of the people I encountered. I walked away from this trip heartbroken, yet inspired. For my entire life, I have something to fight for and I am grateful for JAM providing that opportunity for me.

 

With Love,

Morgan

A Story That is Not My Own

Savannah Johnson
Savannah Johnson
Kenya 2015

“I have been in Kenya for over two weeks and tonight is the first night that I am lying awake and not able to drift to sleep. Every night up to this one, I have fallen into a deep sleep within seconds of closing my eyes (or have fallen asleep with my book open beside me). I think my jet lag lingered and my body has still been adjusting to the equatorial climate. But tonight is different. I have been tossing and turning for hours past my usual bedtime. (On top of being restless, a toad was removed from my bed about 10 minutes ago. I was lying under my mosquito net forcing my eyes closed, begging for sleep when I felt a thud to the left of my head. I jumped off my top bunk thinking it was a bat (a bat was removed from bed two nights ago, but alas, it was a toad. I am not mad at the toad. If he or she would have been anywhere other than my bed I am sure I would have befriended it quite easily.) All that to say, I am wide-awake tonight and I feel the weight of my writers’ block has finally lifted itself from my fingertips.

I am glad my obligatory first post in Kenya is out of the way. (There is a lot of pressure writing about the “the big arrival.” Somewhere between touristy, and grateful, and curious, and overwhelmed, and tired, and so happy to be here, but still feeling like an observer, you risk sounding like a lot of things in that first post. Through all of those feelings, I forced out that first post. Thankfully, Esther made it worth reading.

It is 1:30 am and I am typing this on my iPhone from my top-bunk. I am no longer concerned about my bed-invading friends. Tonight I am concerned about how difficult it is to share about my experience here.”

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That was a few nights ago, and the same concern is lingering. I have so much in my head. Thoughts, ideas, and realizations that are all threading together day by day, but for some reason I cannot articulate it. It is difficult to write a story that is not my own.

I have always felt comfortable with the art of words. I love them. I am never more relieved than I am after I am able to create an convey meaning by gracefully, seamlessly threading together words. Since high school, I have worked to create art projects by only using words that I find beautiful and meaningful. I write incredibly small and in different fonts to shade and create replicates of portraits that have touched me. I can look at those pieces of art and remember what chapter of my life was unfolding during the months I spent meditating and praying over a work of art. These processes are very personal and meaningful to me and to my story. They also take time and practice and effort. Now that I am in a situation in which I am required to share about what I observe and experience, in the midst of other peoples’ stories, after being here for a short time, I am finding myself at a loss. I feel a great responsibility to be sensitive and highly aware of words I share of a story that is not my own.

My mind is in constant motion sorting through questions of value, equality, privilege, purpose, faith, and joy. In time, reflection will feel more organic and appropriate—I am just not quite there yet. To compensate, here are a few photos that represent the past few weeks better than my elusive explanation of why I can’t articulate a real blog post.

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Volca. Volca is in Form 4. She wants to be a psychologist. After last weeks’ House Meeting I asked her where should we like to travel in the world. She quickly moved over and touched China.

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Lake Victoria. This is the best view I have had yet. Our group climbed the small cliffs that extend beyond the caves of the lake.

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Idda. Idda is in Form 1 and sits beside me during most meals. Today, I was explaining to a group of Form 1s that they would have to take care of me when the Duke students leave. Ida looked at me and said, “Savannah, I am already taking care of you.”

 

 

People Warm Up Eventually

David Gal-Chis
David Gal-Chis
Romania 2015

The heat. The sweltering heat. It’s everywhere. You can’t escape it. You can’t abate it. You can’t pretend like it doesn’t exist. Combined with the epidemic lack of AC in this country, you have a bit of a problem on your hands. Especially now that the grand days of summer have finally arrived in Romania. It’s morning: it’s hot. It’s night: it’s hot. It’s midday, and you realize that you grew up for most of your youth in a place where you never were able to fully understand what it means to really sweat. It’s unlike anything that I’ve ever known. Summer has different definitions in different parts of the world. It’s a completely different way of life. If your brain doesn’t overheat immediately and your body gets accustomed to temperature, you’ll probably live, but it’ll be a different kind of pleasant than you might be used to. The people here have windows and doors that open two ways by design: one for people and the other for the air to circulate. There are even different positions for the knobs: it’s great. But it’s a beautiful land. I still can’t get over how beautiful Romania is. It just requires the inhabitants to be drenched several times a day, whether by nature or by design. It’s a wonderful thing. I actually have grown to enjoy it. Sometimes it’s unbearable, but if it’s always hot, you get over yourself eventually. It’s a good feeling.

However, what is heat? What people call heat is the jiggling of tiny particles. The more they are moving, the “hotter” something is considered to be. The less they are moving, the “colder” something is considered to be. And what needs to happen for this heat to move from one object to another? Contact, a connection. So what happens when a hot object and a cold object come into contact with each other? The hot object cools off and the cold object warms up until they both reach the same temperature. (I actually used to be the mascot for my middle school at certain events. The rule of thumb was that you have to be at least two times as excited as you want the audience to be. The same rule applies here, because that’s just how energy transfer works.) But if the hot object and the cold object reach the same temperature, then the cold object will not experience another raise in temperature until the other object touching it becomes warm again, at a temperature greater than that of the previously cold object. However, for the temperature change to continue to occur in the cold object, there must be some outside force that continues to heat up the hot object, without which the hot object would soon become useless towards any further temperature change.

Some of you may think that I am weird for making a science metaphor, or a nerd, or just plain goofy, and you may be right on all counts, but I’m ok with that, because this metaphor is literally my life here in Romania and one of the huge things that I am getting to experience. And not just as a description of the lovely weather, though it surely provides an attractive insight into it for those scientifically minded. No, this is one of the great truths that I need to keep in mind to be able to stay in a place where I can continue to pour out into the children, to pour out love, and patience, and forgiveness, and mercy, and kindness, and goodness, and encouragement, and joy, and balance, and wisdom, and helpfulness, and responsibility, and the desire to learn, and the desire to not waste their lives, and respect, and thoughtfulness, and everything else that I can in efforts to help them grow and mature into learned whole mature well-rounded people. I can’t pretend to fill the roles in these people’s lives that they lack, but I can help them, as best I can, continue to grow and develop in spite of the difficulties and struggles that they have experienced in life. Sometimes that means creating a new role in these people’s lives that can help them in a way that none of the others have so far. Sometimes that means working to help the people gain a healthy perspective on life. But the point is having someone that is pouring out into them. However, one of the most important things, which is necessary for this to occur but often forgotten, is that the hot object continue to get heated. In this scenario everyone that does work of a similar nature to mine represents the heated object and the people that we are working with are the cold object. I have made the connection, and now I must give, but also receive. To continue to heat up the cold object, the other object must have a source of energy. I find that in Jesus. Everything that I am comes from that. All of those good characteristics that I am trying to pour out into these kids come from that and that serves as my constant source of love, joy, peace, etc. It’s really great too, because it’s always constant and always refreshing and always invigorating so through that the work that I do is able to be the best that it can be. And I so love the way that the children have responded to the way that I treat them, and relate to them, and express how I love them.

With the Romi (gypsy) children in Tileagd that I am working with, that is made especially clear. Many of them come from environments where love is not really present and there aren’t really a lot of people which make time for them, which care about them, which pour out into them. Oftentimes that is very evident. However, the respect with which they treat me is something that totally caught me off guard. I mean, I knew about the general respect with which students culturally show teachers in Romania, with the usual title Domn Profesor translating to Lord Professor or Sir Professor or Mister Professor, but this was definitely more than that. Sure, they called me the usual titles of respect, which I didn’t really expect, but as early as the first few meetings, I noticed that these kids were oftentimes wearing their best clothes to these meetings, and I knew what their best clothes were, because I saw what the people in the community looked like. But even beyond that, pretty soon, I very rarely had to even say much to keep order in the classroom. The kids kept each other in order and tried to keep each other paying attention and making sure that they weren’t being disrespectful. Some of the children that I am working with that come from way better environments come nowhere near that level of respect. The closest thing that I have ever seen to the way that these children have reacted to me is how, in the movies, children from the ghetto respond to that one teacher that really cares about them and invests in them and changes their life, you’ve seen those, right? But with these kids, it’s even more than that, because not only am I not paid for this, and they have never had anyone take the time to invest in them like this, but I’m also trying to be their friend, to form that weird balance between peer and friend and teacher and help them as best I can. But it’s just so humbling to think that I might be that person in their lives that impacts them in that way. Whew. It’s a little bit overwhelming. And I’m just so thankful for all of it, from this opportunity, to these people, to Charis, of course to Lumos, and just all of it. I’m constantly astounded by it all. My capacity to wonder has definitely grown on this trip. The threshold has gone down, but the capacity has gone up, which I think is the way that it should be.

But yeah, WHOOHOO, awesome kids! Loving my time in Tileagd! We are learning English both indoors and out. Every time I go, we have English lessons inside, teaching them vocabulary, grammar rules, common phrases, and such, then we have music lessons, beginning with teaching them classic simple Romanian songs. Soon, we are going to learn the English versions of them and hopefully soon we will get to songs that are purely in English. It’s really interesting though, because there is such a wide range of ages, so I have to really individualize every child’s education, while trying to keep everyone involved. So, sometimes, the older children are reviewing some English that they have learned in the past, and sometimes they are learning the basic grammar concepts and phrases that they never knew before. It’s also always fun, because you can’t just do boring simple words with the little kids. The boys want to know how to say leopard and tiger and the girls want to know how to say flower and butterfly and lipstick. Sometimes useful, sometimes fun, but you have to combine both to keep the kids interested and involved. But yes! It’s a great time, and then after the music lessons, we oftentimes go outside and I have the children tell me to teach them how to say everything that they want to say. Why? Because those English words that they see or think of when outside are probably the ones that they will tend to use the most. Of course, there is always the one kid who asks how to say universe or math, so the children get a good range of words in. But it’s also a good method because the kids not only get time to remember the word while in the environment, thus sealing the memory better, but they also get to learn the words that they are interested in saying, that they do and will say, thus they learn way more words that end up being used more and thus remembered even better. Also, we do a lot of review together, because repetition is key to remembering the words: whether that be through use, reminding, or making connections because of the environment. But it’s a great time, and I really love my time with them! In fact, I can hardly wait to get back! 🙂

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Until the next fantastic time!! 🙂

~David Gal-Chis

Context

Mary Elizabeth Vance
Mary Elizabeth Vance
Reykjavik, Iceland 2015

It has been strange undertaking work in such a unique place as this: far from home but still a home-like setting.  Daily life feels like research and has the quality of adventure – going to the grocery store even an exercise in cultural exploration. I feel very lucky to have been able to contribute to the artistic culture here and understand where all the inspiration comes from.

At the end of this experience, I am tired. But it is the weariness that comes with months of asking difficult questions of myself and my surroundings, and working hard to create some suitable response (I will be updating my website with some video projects as artifacts).

Up until the last point, I felt nervous about leaving. But the last group exhibition of my work in Iceland, seeing pieces of the sum of all my work here – allowed me to see the trajectory of my working process in a holistic way, a way benefitting from hindsight. I tried my hand at some new media and made some pieces I am really proud of, shared those pieces with others. What comes next is seeing what this work means, for myself and others, in new contexts. How I will use my new knowledge of certain processes and media in new contexts – beyond the first forms I have made. It’s the opportune time for a next phase of that creation and exploration.

On my way to the bus station I was a little upset but my taxi driver told me that his father was one of the founding members of SIM – he also said that when you really want to be somewhere you will be, even if not when you think you need to be – and the conversation felt reassuring somehow. And for now it does feel complete, like I accomplished what I came for, and understood better what that even was by the time I left.

I can’t say for sure but I’ll be back, but I know this place has taken the role of a very important bridge in my life – a place of learning, about people, about what I really want to be doing with my art and with my life, and how to do it – I believe I could find myself back here again for it to serve a similar purpose. Iceland was, is pivotal – a place I forgot about time and focused on the shape of things around me – places, people, ideas.

Before this opportunity through Lumos, I never thought Iceland itself was accessible to me. Being here has given me insight into why this place has inspired me from a distance for so much of my life – now firsthand, where the art and the music is made. Iceland, small as it is, taught me much about the role of art in political culture, in all areas of culture, of art outside the gallery space and not only interacting with but integrated seamless into everyday life.

One unique thing about this experience in Iceland is how it has meant so many different and unexpected things – not only art, but the way a group of people can form, can change the climate of a place entirely; how the systems of people interact with the systems of nature but how that relationship is constantly evolving and involving different sets of causes and effects at every turn. What I have learned here can hardly be boiled down to “one thing” – there were certain days I could not even be sure I was still in the same country because of some new weather pattern or new government policy changing how the people I encountered interacted with one another. Iceland’s identity is complex; it holds strong traditions, but is still constantly reshaping its social and political structures. Each month, and often each week was a stage; different weather, different lighting, different places or materials or conversations. The whole of my time here it was changing – and as was I. Daily, I made something, I took something apart, I became something – cycles with no clear systems attached always taking me into literal and figurative places I could never have imagined going before.

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One last midnight sunset.

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Heima (at home)

Mary Elizabeth Vance
Mary Elizabeth Vance
Reykjavik, Iceland 2015

After being in a place so long it begins to feel like home – even a place as committed to consistently challenging one’s expectations as Iceland. The deep stillness of the landscape. The endless state of flux of that same landscape.

There is an island just off the mainland in the south called Heimaey. Heimaey, like the island before her, is volcanic, and surrounded by another string of smaller volcanic islands – known as the Westman Islands – floating quietly from a distance. The islands disappear on a cloudy day, or a tumultuous one. You can reach Heimaey by ferry, take a smaller boat to explore the others, spend hours driving around dramatic valleys of ash and wildflowers and green fields that I am told stay colorful all year, unlike the rest of Iceland. Her name is taken from the Icelandic word for home, heim.

The first word that comes to mind when I consider Heimaey is resilience. Only a few decades ago, this island was engulfed in lava – one its main peaks, Eldfell decided to erupt. Half the island; many, many homes included; were lost to lava and sulfur – but the people wouldn’t stay away. The site of great tragedy is now a beautiful if somber park where people camp and hike – the rest of the town shifted just to the side. The inhabitants of Heimaey managed to save all but one life, and the majority of the town before the lava spread further – and for the most part were not afraid to rebuild what they were left with into something beautiful and new, even the reminder embedded in the landscape of what had happened before.

My last week in Iceland, my friend Clara and I made a trip here, and we both agreed we could see why they stayed. The island is incredibly beautiful – we had two days but wished we had more. One can circle the island by car in an hour, but one could spend months exploring its mountainous terrain and treacherous coastline. I also had a couple specific projects I planned to work on here, in particular one involving one of the surrounding Westman Islands called Heimaey, one of the youngest islands in the world which scientists are seeing remains uninhabited for the sake of research regarding how land masses form and are populated by vegetation and animal life – here and on a macrocosmic scale. I have been fascinated by Surtsey in particular for sometime, this island already featured in some of my creative writings before the whole Iceland trip was a possibility. And now it has a feature in some of my visual art work.

It was a significant last adventure. I took a boat trip around the island for some better views and video recordings of Surtsey and the Heimaey coast, also overcame some fear of heights and climbed the now quiet Eldfell.

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Surtsey from the water.

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Atop Eldfell.

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Pirate Cove, Heimaey.

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Heimaey from the volcano.

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A few Westman Islands.

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Volcanic landscape.

Meet the Coaches!

Jeanette Morelan
Jeanette Morelan
South Africa 2015

Some of our coaches cheering on our rugby players at Derby Day!

I can’t believe that five weeks ago, these people were just strangers to me. During my time in South Africa, I’ve not only had the chance to fall in love with a new nation and people, I’ve also been able to make an impact with these incredible folks from all around the world. And they’ve been so kind as to let me in on a few reflections from their coaching experiences!

Why did you decide to volunteer with United Through Sport?

I decided to volunteer at UTS because I fully believe in their goals and wanted them to help reach them at 100%. By placing children in the townships in the center of the attention, United Through Sport is taking care of the future of South Africa. —Julian S.

I’ve always wanted to do sport-related volunteering, and United Through Sport really stood out to me. After seeing a video and some photos of the kids that UTS was working with, it sounded incredible and described everything I wanted to do as a volunteer. —Jess T. 

Katie and Imi attempting candids on a coaching day.

Continue reading

Looking for Lekker

Morgan Fisher
Morgan Fisher
South Africa 2015

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending Neighbour Goods Market in Braamfontein with my friend Chane & her husband Chris. Before we left for the market Chane & Chris told me they had a surprise for me in the car. I asked if it was Rodriguez Sugarman (a musical legend in South Africa originally from Detroit). If you have not seen the film Searching for Sugarman, I highly recommend it as it is one of the most unbelievable stories I have ever encountered. What they had for me was not Rodriguez, but something not too far off. They brought me a record player to borrow for my time here! I was holding back tears! The joy was next level! I remember having to pack up my records and record player in Nashville and send them off with my family in Detroit. It was a very difficult farewell for my records and I. I cannot fathom to you the joy that this simple machine brings to my heart. It’s like a little piece of home and myself back in my hands. I am so grateful.

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Neighbour Goods market was an absolute dream come true. I was overwhelmed by the options for food! Everything looked incredible and had an aroma that made you linger near the table a bit longer than one is welcome to. We settled on some of the best gumbo I have ever had in my life. I had some good laughs with Chane, Chris, and their friend Dylan. They are all such creative minds as Chane is a graphic designer here at JAM, her husband Chris works in television, and their friend Dylan is a musician.

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I was telling Chane & Chris that I taught a friend back in the states the Afrikaans slang word, “Lekker,” which means, “Nice”..”Cool”..”Rad.” As my mind tends to wander into these absurd visions, I began to wonder what it would look like if Lekker caught on in America. Since the film Searching for Sugarman was such a success, I pondered the idea of creating a film called, “Looking for Lekker.” How did this word travel from South Africa to America? This is a serious possibility. Just waiting for the word to spread like wildfire. So my American friends, do your duty and start implementing this into our vocabulary.

One of my favorite finds at the market was Bamboo Revolution. I bought an incredible bamboo watch (photo below). I was so keen to support this company as this vision was a result of a postgraduate entrepreneurship program at University of Cape Town. I have such a heart for entrepreneurship, socially conscious products, and unique products. You can read more about their incredible story if you click on the Bamboo Revolution link above.

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Sunday was another epic day! I started off the day having breakfast with my sweet friend Mischa and her family. They were such a kind hearted, loving family. I truly enjoyed my conversation with them learning more about how their family ended up at JAM, what their lives looked like before JAM, and their wonderful sense of humor. Mischa and I then continued on to the mall to meet with her lovely friend Denise. We stocked up for a picnic and headed to the Walter Sisulu Botanical Gardens to catch the Matthew Mole & Shortstraw gig. I met both of these artists last time I was here in South Africa, but never had the opportunity to see them perform live. It was really epic to finally witness the South African music I am listening to through my headphones in Nashville firsthand here inJohannesburg.shortstraw

I’ve been praying for community and with patience and trust, I know my God’s love never fails me. He has sent me wonderful, selfless, kind hearted, people that have brought so much joy to my heart. I am so thankful to have had plans this weekend! Plans that took me to places I fell in love with. Plans with people that made me laugh, smile, dance, and find joy in the simple things of life. I am so thankful for the people God has placed in my life here in South Africa. I trust that this is just the beginning!

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Here’s a photo my friend Dan took. He’s my pal teaching me an Afrikaans phrase every day. Unfortunately, I accidentally told him he looks like a garden gnome in Afrikaans (Sorry Dan). If you’d like to tell someone they look like a garden gnome too, this is how you say it, “Jy wil soos n tuin kabouter”

With love from Joburg,

Morgan