Mentor memo one: Saint Paul from Ireland

BONO IN CONVERSATION:
Introducing another Saint Paul (Hewson aka Bono) [1]:

Born: May 10, 1960 in Dublin, Ireland, second and youngest son to their Protestant mother and Roman Catholic father. He lost his mom at age fourteen when she collapsed after coming home from her own father’s funeral. He attended an Ecumenical school, the first of its kind in Dublin.

Family: Bono married his high school sweetheart, Alison Steward in 1982 in an Anglican ceremony. They have four children: two girls: Jordan (1989), Memphis Eve (1991) and two boys: Elijah Bob Patricus Guggi Q (1999), and John Abraham (2001) and they are based in Killiney in south County Dublin and spend their ‘family month’ in Eze, France each year.

Occupations: Bono became the lead vocalist and song-writer for the rock band U2 started in 1976 (two years after the death of his mom). They believed that Rock ‘n Roll could change the world and they set out to do just that.

World changing mechanisms started by Bono and his team:
...2002: establishes DATA (debt AIDS trade Africa) with Bobby Shriver and other Jubilee 2000 Drop the Debt Campaign activists
What does DATA do?
[www.data.org] DATA publishes international policies affecting Africa and hold the world leaders who make them accountable to their promises regarding;
1)Debt,
2)AIDS, TB and Malaria,
3)Trade,
4)Development Assistance and Millennium Challenge,
5)The Global Fund,
6)US Federal Budget,
7)Commission for Africa,
8)G8 ,
9)the IMF World Bank and
10)the World Summit

...2005: joining in a venture with his wife and a New York based Irish fashion designer began EDUN (‘nude’ spelt backwards)
What does EDUN do?
[www.edun.ie] EDUN shifts the focus of the international world on Africa from aid to trade.
EDUN aims to create/highlight existing factories in Africa, South America and India that serve as examples for employment to developing countries by practicing fair wages, good business ethics which will encourage investment in those and other countries.

...2006: most recently Bobby Shriver and Bono teamed up again to launch another initiative called Product Red
What does Product Red do?
[www.joinred.com] PRODUCT RED raises money for the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria.
They have collaborated with companies such as American Express, Apple Computer, Converse, Motorola, The Gap and Georgio Armani who have created products with the Product Red logo and so channeling a percentage of their profits to buying medicine for Africa.

Most recent recognitions:
• nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2003, 2005 and 2006
• awarded the Pablo Neruda International Presidential Medal of Honour from the Government of Chile in 2004
• named by Time as one of the “100 Most Influential People” in their May 2004 special issue
• named by Time as a Person of the Year along with Bill and Melinda Gates in 2005
• named in the annual honours list as an honorary Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 2006 as he could not be knighted because he is Irish.

A bird’s eye view through this dialogue between Bono and Michka Assayas and how it reveals Bono's leadership style:

This book tells the story of a young boy who grew up with a frustrated father who lost his wife too early. They lived in a country torn by religion and politics enforced by a colonial regime in poverty which drove most men to alcoholism. This boy joined a band at the age of sixteen and expressed his frustrations through music and art.

One day their band played in a concert that collected money to pay for food needed in Ethiopia. Bono and his wife of three years decided to visit this foreign country and worked in an orphanage together for a month. They discovered that this poor country paid back double of the money their concert generated in old debt to the First World while their citizens were starving.
This experience changed their lives and they started investing their subsequent celebrity status (which they call ‘currency’) to get the reality of Africa into the hearts of the rest of the world.

Bono uses his fame on two basic levels: first on the least spectacular level through all the various groups and organizations they support, they empower individuals by educating them and giving them opportunities to get involved on a personal level. Secondly on the public stage, he works through the various public figures he has come to know through his ‘rock-star-status’ to gain access to world leaders on all the different tiers involved in solving the wide spectrum of challenges that Africa face by introducing them to Africa first-hand and encounter the realities he wants them to help him with.

Bono on his passion: “ You become a single-issue protagonist. You represent a constituency that has no power, no vote, in the West, but whose lives are hugely affected by our body politic. Our clients are the people who are not in the president’s ear. My mouth, because of it, belongs to them.” (p104)

Bono about changing attitudes: “It turns out that a lot of things that you learn from being in a band are analogous to politics, even the so-called nasty old world of commerce, anywhere you’ve got to get your message across. I know much more than you’d expect about these things, just from trying to keep on top of U2’s business. We like to say our band is a gang of four, but a corporation of five. I understand economics. This is not all so difficult. U2 was art school, business school. It’s always the same attitude that wins the day: faith over fear. Know your subject, know your opponent. Don’t have an argument you can’t win. On the African stuff we can’t lose, because we’re putting our shoulder to a door God Almighty has already opened. We carry with us—this is something that’s important—the moral weight of an argument. That’s much bigger than the personalities having the debate. I might walk into an important office and people are looking at me as though I’m some sort of an exotic plant. But after a few minutes, they don’t see me. All they’re hearing is the argument, and the argument has some sort of moral force that they cannot deny. It’s bigger than you, and it’s bigger than them. And history has God on its side.” (p105-6)

Bono about himself: "I'm not saying I'm not good at the penthouse life--but I'm also good at the pavement. That's a source of pride for me, that I'm good at both. I'm good at the high life, I'm good at the low life. It's that middle where I lose it...No, I'm not a celebrity. I'm a scribbling, cigar-smoking, wine-drinking, Bible-reading band man. A show-off [laughs]...who loves to paint pictures of what I can't see. A husband, father, friend of the poor and sometimes the rich. An activist traveling salesman of ideas. Chess player, part-time rock-star, opera singer, in the loudest folk group in the world."

[1] Information assimilated from Kevin Byrne’s biography available at www.atu2.com, Wikipedea and the relevant biography by Mischka Assayas entitled 'Bono in conversation with Mischka Assayas', published by Riverhead Books (2006), 388 pages.

Dear Mr. Assayas and Mr. Hewson:
thank you for speaking this book into life,
it has changed mine forever,
for better.
Leani

Leani's Light

Out of Africa she came, her thoughts

Wrapped in film, vision imparted at age ten,

Emboldened to risk and to write—

To take arms against a sea of indifference

To sound alarm for her people

Esther again, “If I perish, I perish”

Before King America, trembling, kneeling

Interceding for her tribe

Mother inclusive, stretching to put arms around

Faces that have names

Bodies warm but worn

Heroic woman, no longer the girl

Symbol of a Dark Continent consigned to occupy shadows

Barricades to block, seas that separate

Strokes across maps, man’s boundaries etched on earth

Divisions invisible with visible effects

To segregate and relegate

Midday sun erases shadows; the world flattens in glaring light

To reach every hidden place

Theater images pale, celluloid details recede

Words fall off scripts, dialogues cease

Reality revealed at the Son’s Appearing

Whose breath sucks pride from heartless foes

Whose hand reaches for the least of these

Whose heart holds the whole weary world

All at once

Uneven, leveled

Life more than here or there

Mysteries of human connection, faint but real

Tethered to Beyond, centered in One

One Lord One Faith One Baptism

And for now, one friend who embodies a nation

Who personifies love reaching beyond the cinema

by Carol Fruge’ 2006

frozen roses

I saw my first real snow flakes yesterday
faerie stars blowing around my face
like watery seeds waiting to find the soil
dying as they landed on their destiny
– each one unrepeated for eternity.

I saw my first global dream take flight today
random faces introduced
dialects sharing secret ambitions
alike but now owned by all
American and African pilgrims
drawing their experiences together
– expecting crops next year.

I see my first place belonging with the lepers of today
forgotten souls
orphaned children raising families
without guidance or moral reference
God turning Africa’s fate around
needle by needle, pill by pill, hug by hug
– bearing fruit until we see Him again.

Ice-cube Jesus still in tact

'Ice-cube Joseph has lost his staff but Ice-cube Jesus is still intact.'
She stood next to the candy shelves in the book center holding what looked like a miniature swizzle-stick in her hand.
Staring perplexed from the unsuccessful packaging to Ice-cube Mary's husband.
Soon-to-be Christmas time in Texas.
November 2006

'They predict a wintry mix for Thursday!'
They skip past the front desk to the back where textbooks and winter-school-class-notes wait.
Boxes stuffed with fake orange leaves tower in redundancy.
Soon-to-be-forgotten Thanksgiving in Dallas.
November 2006

'A few days, not a few weeks,' Arthur reminds me.
Yesterday we ate Jesus in the church, KFC on the road and cream-cheese in Houston.
Drinking in every conversation like the last swallow from our hike-battered-water-bottle.
Soon-to-be-missed South African in Dallas.
November 2006

America's most powerful day

"By voting on November 7th, every American can get involved in the fight against global AIDS and extreme poverty, by exercising our most precious and fundamental right," said DNC Communications Director Karen Finney. "We're pleased to join in support of such an important issue and encourage every American to vote and make their voice heard on Election Day."

"This is something all Americans can do together," said RNC Spokeswoman Tracey Schmitt. "We are happy to play a part in the critical battle to eradicate poverty and global AIDS."

"ONE Vote" brings together Matt Damon, Julia Roberts, George Clooney, Don Cheadle, New England Patriots Quarterback Tom Brady, singer songwriter Toby Keith, Alfre Woodard, journalist Nick Clooney, faith leaders Pastor Rick Warren and Bishop Charles E. Blake, Democratic and Republican Strategists Mike McCurry and Jack Oliver and even Shayne Moore, a stay-at-home Mom and ONE supporter from Wheaton, Illinois.

"This is a first step toward making fighting global poverty a growing priority for American voters," said Damon, who narrates the spot. "It's not a Republican or Democrat issue, that's the great thing about it. When I was in Zambia recently, I saw faith-based, non faith-based, far right, far left, all working side by side. Everybody is working together to try to solve these issues because there really is only one side."

In the spot, all join together with over 2.4 million supporters of the ONE Campaign to "pledge ONE vote" not for a candidate or party - but instead to help fight global AIDS and extreme poverty and make a better, safer world for us all.

"I feel that we're all called to make a difference in this world." I've been blessed with so many opportunities, and I think about all the things that we as Americans take for granted -- not many people are as fortunate as us," said Tom Brady, Quarterback of the New England Patriots. "Not only sports fans, but all people, all Americans, can get involved - go to ONE.org, pledge your vote, and pledge to learn more about what's going on and see what more you can do."

"AIDS and poverty will never be solved by one group alone, it takes government, it takes churches, and it takes business - and each of them have a role," said Pastor Rick Warren and author of "Purpose Driven Life" "The ONE campaign is mobilizing people to vote and to start to show that we care, so that it gets on the agendas of the people who make our laws and decide how to spend our funding."

"In every village, in every city, and in every nation that I've visited on the continent of Africa, I've observed people who have the ambition, the desire, and the longing, but they don't have the resources," said Bishop Charles E. Blake. "We must join together to make some of those resources available to people who want to do better, who want to help themselves, but who don't have the ability to do so because of lack of resources.

ONE supporters sneak previewed "ONE Vote" at over 676 local events and "house parties" in all 50 states on Sunday, October 15th. As airwaves are filled with campaign ads asking Americans for their vote, ONE is coming to American voters with a bipartisan, hopeful message that ONE is a campaign in which Americans do not have to take a side - there is only ONE side in the fight against global AIDS and extreme poverty.

America's greatest strength is our compassion and willingness to be engaged on the world stage," said Oliver. "ONE's 'base' is really both bases--Republicans and Democrats can come together to make sure that the voices of the billion people who live on less than $1 a day are heard both in this election and the 2008 presidential cycle."

"This is something all Americans can do together across party lines,"; said McCurry. "For the first time, we have real solutions that work in the fight against global AIDS and extreme poverty, and America can help lead the world in saving and changing lives."

ONE: THE CAMPAIGN TO MAKE POVERTY HISTORY is a new effort by Americans to rally Americans -- ONE by ONE -- to fight the emergency of global AIDS and extreme poverty. ONE is a coalition of over 2.4 million people and 100 of the nation's leading relief, humanitarian and advocacy organizations. For more information, please visit: www.one.org

(all of the above are selected clips from their website)

free market my foot

looking

red

Angry gut-reaction. Flesh is weak. Assuming, misjudging, weary of giving, giving, giving. Cutting whispers creep from dark corners, “You get what you tolerate. Stand up for yourself, because no One else does.” Swirling vortex of circular argument. Biting, tearing, drawing blood. “I do not do what I want. I do what I do not want. Who will free me from this body of death!?”

Red-flashing prayer signals, “Help!”
Red-letter Bible says, “Come to Me.”

His blood encrusts the rough-hewn beam—poured out to save my neck from sin’s guillotine. Viscous liquid douses my fiery mood; smoothes the tatters of my war-torn heart; assures me that One does stand up for me, died for me, lives in me, rescues me.

Red, not white, means peace—with God, with man.
Praise the name of Christ, our Redeemer.



...written by my long-suffering roommate, Rose Ann, after having her first bridal breakdown yesterday...

(she looks stunning in red by the way...
...as does our living-room)

Africa Calling ONE

Experience the Truth for yourself…

“There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to walk through the valley of shadow again and again before we reach the mountain tops of our desires.”
– Nelson Mandela, September 1953 –

for Aaron and his new baby Leani in Zimbabwe

Today, a telephone ringing at 7:00a woke me to a clean, rain-washed morning in Texas.

My mom's excited voice could barely contain her joy - "dad has something to tell you" - Aaron, the builder from Mutare, Zimbabwe, and his team of four had finished the new little church building in Manica, Mozambique so far that they could start on the roof this week.
This was almost too good to be true!
I had one tick-bite and my dad - two to show, from setting out the piece of wild veld together with these men in July this year. Shoooing cattle and curious goats away from our boundary markers, I chopped out weeds and dead branches with my manchetti.
Aaron came to look for work in Mozambique almost a year ago in hope of providing better for his wife and little child still living in Zimbabwe. He got to see them perhaps once in every two weeks if things were going well enough for him to travel.

But there was more to rejoice about this morning:
My dad received a phonecall from this meticulous artist with the quiet smile and gentle voice, that works magic with clay and cement when given a chance.
Fourty kilometers away from his small, rented room, probably by candle light in their humble two-room-home without running water, in a country strangled without any medical services under the tiranny of a mad murderer, his precious wife gave birth, alone, to their new baby girl and they named her Leani.

I saw God today

Axel screeched about needing some time alone
as we drove south before sunrise in our own October rain.
Michelle was early and my omelet late
but we still shared it with smiles
along with her prayed-for-raise she heard about last night.
Lisa from Main had lunch with me today
she had something to say, so she finally said:
I apologize on behalf of my country to you,
for not really caring about Africa and her people like you do.
You see, we still believe in this dream,
that if they just work and learn and try hard enough,
they will get to live in heaven, just like we get to do right now.
“Thank you,” I said,
“I’ll cancel my appointment with your president.”

Turning north on the seventy-five,
alone in my eighty-eight Civic at half past nine,
the four-lane highway toward the holy of holies shone slippery and wet
Passing through this first-world Parthenon
their sky-scraping-statue-colonnade, fed by blind fornicators,
exhausted, hungry, missing dinner with their wives and their kids.
A red sign up ahead beckons: hotel.com
two eighteen-wheelers pass me at once, from both sides,
offerings to impatient idols,
transporting more temptations to choose lesser loves.
Their square, rigid gods, barely noticed around here,
only seen from their navels downward,
their feet planted firmly in once-oil-drenched-clay-ground.
All heads and shoulders will eventually bow to this cloud.
Beyond the high-five, I try to stick to the limit, but can't
now at sixty-seven miles an hour, we pass beyond the outer court.
Chinese car dealerships display cheap birds, perfect for a ransom sacrifice.
Far away and all around I see, invisible lampposts casting their cones of yellow light,
hovering halos shine brightly beneath the heaviness of this mist,
like angelic beings leading me along in rapturous delight.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come.

Who am I to recognize His glory?
What am I?
A mere white, woman, formed form red African dust?
That the One who made the stars
should remember me tonight?
If I should receive that most treasured of gifts,
a father for and from him,
a sweet baby girl,
to feed, to bathe and to dress,
smelling of lavender and chamomile tea,
rocking her down-feathery-soft-head in my palm,
swaddled warm against my breathing chest,
I shall choose this name for her;
Lena Emmanuelle.

lunacy

20:27

Friday night

Still out of milk

Met with God, my roommate and I

worked through some familiar fears

reminding ourselves about our dignity

Putting on mascara side by side

She’s cooking Mexican,

mediating prenuptial misunderstandings

Alone at peace at 40 miles an hour west down Legacy Lane

Solitary parking space on level three kept just for me

Live Cuban tunes hug my shoulders as I cross the street

Same place, another time, I’d sit myself down, have a Pink Martini.

21:09

Lost in Bono’s teenage memories of Dublin

“Because my definition of art started with:

you put your hands under your skin, you break your breastbone,

you rip open your rib cage…”

Determined to dedicate my blood to the word

Asking strangers for the time at the Angelika

“…If you really wanna write, that’s what you ought to do.

Are you ready for that?”

Chilled beers beg me to take them along for the movie

I opt for a hotdog

and a cherry red cupcake with whipped cream on instead

Bloody Bible belt.

23:52

Credits roll over the Isle of Man

Rowan Atkinson quotes Solomon as the music begins.

Leaving last

tarry in the darkness a minute longer

Dreading reality outside on the sidewalk

I pass a Muslim father walking five steps ahead of his wife

She tightens her black silk scarf beneath her lifted chin

Her young son holds on to her bright orange cuff

Solitude screams when she looks me in the eye,

wordless exchange, I search for the moon

Almost completely full, but not quite yet.

“Desire comes out of wanting what is yours,

and still wanting it even if it’s not there, but it is not envy.”

Good night to U2

And we still have no milk.

message from pluto

houston - this is zebra - come in - over

zebra - this is houston - we copy - over

houston - negative on communications - I repeat: NO INTERNET IN PLANO - please confirm - over

copy that zebra - confirm life-support-system ready to go? - over

affirmative houston - departure date still 14 december 2006 - status of tap-water, granola bars and sleeping pills according to schedule - any news from home? - over

negative zebra - over

oh - over?

negative zebra - maintain standard procedure - pack for summer, loose 30pounds, remember bug-spray, read 6000 pages and finish 12 papers - send for light literature if boredom results - over

affirmative houston - wasting time when doing laundry - requesting any biographical material on winston churchill or bono or eve - end of message - over

affirmative zebra - dehidrated version en route - UPS routing number 123456 - now go to bed!

africa rides a bicycle

Her ankles elegantly crossed, her spine upright
Frelimo skirt flaps bright reds, yellows, proud liberty
Sitting behind her husband she faces east, he peddles south
Nursing their baby rocking at her breast they travel to the market
Carrying an empty plastic can for 5 litres of kerosene to light their lantern tonight

His pearled brow squints against the sun with every stride
Korean trucks stir dust toward the morphing road works
Tied to his metal stallion he returns to his children with this catch
Tiger fish from the Rio Reveu for sale to ladies carrying bundles on their heads
Smiling to tourist cameras, surprised by a hand full of Metticais, shouting:gracis Deus

His legs barely reach the ground on his father’s steel chariot
Negotiating peak-traffic in Chimoio, he weaves across paved arteries of humanity
Slowing down in front of our parked cars, he pulls in behind the other bike
He’s early too, thirty minutes at least before the pump-attendant shows up
Two ten year olds, patiently in a grown-up life at five’o clock in Mozambique

joy wat wyk

vanoggend was ek swanger
twee maande ver
vanmiddag is ek nie
vroeë bloed onheilspellend
vreemde doktervingers vroetel

“piepie asseblief weer in die bekertjie, mevrou…
…dit is mevrou, nê?”
urine sê “ja”
sonar sê “nee”
verwys na die en dan na daai
ek ryg deur groue grys gange wat eggo as ek loop
verdwaal in die buise of dalk ‘n gewas?
die gyne se oë kyk myne mis
drie steteskope bondel om my baarmoeder
“ek sien dan niks nie, mis ek iets?”

terug op die plastiek laken met my bene oop
sneeu lê ge-ys op die pieke deur die venster
koue jellie bied min verligting
alles skeur
sy’s weg
of was dit dalk ‘n laaitie?
my menswees verdwyn in ‘n silver bakkie
weggespoel oppad rioolplaas toe

Wie maak die berge wat om Ceres troon?
Wie besluit of ek mag ma wees of nie?
Wie laat die varkore langs die vrugteboorde blom?
Ag Jirre, my hart en lyf is stukkend!

(vir Joy Van Wyk op 7 Augustus 2006)

departing joy

this morning I was pregnant
two months along
this afternoon I am not
premature blood bad premonition
foreign doctor-fingers fidget

“please wee in this little cup for us, Mrs…
…it is Mrs, isn’t it?”
urine says “yes”
sonar says ”no”
referred to here and then to there
I weave down dreary hallways that echo when I walk
lost in the tubes or perhaps a tumour?
the gyne’s eyes avoid mine
three stereoscopes convene around my womb
“I can’t see anything, am I missing something?”

back on the plastic sheet with my legs open
snow lie frozen on the peaks through the window
cold jelly provide little comfort
everything tears
she’s gone
or was perhaps a son?
my humanity disappears in a silver kidney bowl
washed away toward the sewerage yard

Who makes the mountains that reign around Ceres?
Who decides if I may mother a child?
Who allows the wild flowers to grow next to the orchards?
Oh God, my heart and body is broken!

patat

Patat se hand hou myne vas
as ons saam verby die wingerde jaag
Ons loer na die son wat oor miswolke dans
dan volg ons weer die maan wat uit sy broek se sak wil val

Patat se spens hou wag in die nag
langs die Witzenberge swoeg hy as ander siele slaap
Smôrens ry hy zoep-zoep oor die dorp se rivier
na waar rye mense langs Namakwa-Daisies vir hom wag

Patat se hart is so diep soos die hemel
met miljoene sterre wat vir siek kindertjies brand
Met sy glimlagte en inkleurboekpersente
hou hy einas en erge uiteindes so lank as moontlik weg

Patat se oog sien mooigoed raak
waar sneeuklokkies teen die winterreëns buig
Hy verf sy spoke en drome teen groot doeke vas
maar verberg dit onder sy wasgoed en onoopgemaakte pos

Patat se skouers hou myne regop en sterk
as my rugstring wil knak en my moed begin sak
Saam hoop ons vir genade en nog sonskyn in die môre
want Hy hou ons gipsbesmeerde hande elke oomblik in Syne vas

cereal communications

Two friends floated down a current one day—Snap and Crackle.
They ran into a third later that afternoon—Pop.
After months of drifting in a sea of organic 2% fat free milk Snap found the elusive silver spoon.
“I’m taking this break,” he said and hopped out.
Still trying to stay afloat, Crackle and Pop wished him well and blessed him on his new journey.
Shortly after their friend’s departure, Crackle and Pop got separated in unexpected white-water.
Soon they could not see each other any more as the rapids won the battle for control.
Crackle fired one of her two flares in hope of a rescue.
Seeing Pop’s signal fade in the distance she grew terrified.
“Hang on, Pop!” she yelled but couldn’t do anything for herself either.
Suddenly Snap appeared, tossing a life-jacket, calling to Crackle from the edge of the spoon.
“Here…grab this!”
Crackle caught the bright orange floating device, calming down as Snap reeled her into safety.
“Good,” said Snap, offering Crackle some glucose and a space blanket.
“Thanks,” said Crackle “what about Pop?”
“He’s fine by himself. He’s a strong swimmer,” and up he ran along the spoon.
Revived but sad, Crackle zipped up the wet cushion vest and dived back into the white swells.
Swimming as hard as she could, she edged toward where Pop’s LED flashed now-and-then.
Tying him to the life-jacket, she fired her last flare from whence she came.
Snap came running down again as soon as Pop pulled himself out to sit up on the edge of the spoon.
“Why did you waste your last flare like that?” Snap asked Crackle.
“Because I wanted to let you know that I found him.”

●●● — — — ●●●

in praise of an ordinary guy with an extraordinary heart

Dear Mr. Cooper,
I discovered your existence last week Tuesday. A fellow writing-student gave me your book as a gift to enjoy during my summer back home. Not knowing anything about you, I wanted to verify the source of this enticing story, so I researched all I could find out about you. While calling in to my parents between connecting flights, I recognized you in action for the first time on a quick trailer of this interview from a public phone on Concourse B in Hartsfield, Atlanta.
This trip home was my third since I came to the States to study the art of story-telling two years ago. I exchanged my life as a licensed architect building clinics, school and border posts in rural Africa for the First World with the hope of exposing more people to Africa’s needs as well as her courage.
I manage to arrange for the recording of your interview (4:00CAT) before I hit a jet-lag-coma and watched it on the 20th—how appropriate—I felt like I saw my wildest dream come true listening to you and Ms. Jolie share your experiences. Last night, I read an unflattering review about it on the web that lead me to respond on this blog-entry.
It doesn’t take a genius to criticize somebody, but I wanted to tell you how much I respect your work and admire the guts it took to expose your heart in your book. I’m only on p151, past the pictures and I don’t want it to end. Next week Wednesday, I leave on an outreach mission to a community in central Mozambique—barely 15miles east from the Zimbabwean border. We won’t drive through Zim like we did last year because it has become too dangerous but I’m taking my still and video cameras along and plan to document stories of braver people than me when we get there.
Today I received a phone call from a friend in Namibia who also gave birth to a girl last week. She only had praise for Ms. Jolie and Mr. Pitt’s discreet visit and charity work to the medical facilities in her country.
Your work inspires me. You have blessed Africa and her people in so many ways already and personify a motto in my life: do justice, love kindness and walk humbly. Hang in there and keep moving!

D-day: a day for sunflowers

for the eleventh time in my eleven years of school, I missed school that day, it was a Tuesday too
I stayed at home because I had a silly cold
he lay coughing in our parents’ bedroom reminding mom about his afternoon medication
she asked me to bring it to her in the family room keeping my germs away from him
complaining that today I was the patient and that he should bring me something
I fetched the infamous box clutching his deathly drugs

by sunset I had wrapped my sore throat up in a white scarf
matching our school uniforms demanding skirts despite June’s freezing chills
afraid that he might throw up while I try to hug him or get sick because of me
I stood at the door, my heart aching, the metal frame stinging against my left cheek
‘sien jou more*,’ I whispered, he strained to look up from the pillow, smiling
nodding at me with his eyes only, we said goodbye in silence

lining up outside the spooky school buildings our entire class waited in the dark
I climbed on the bus for the compulsory attendance of Animal Farm at the State Theatre
the story was over too quickly and Mr. Owen left me feeling sad and depressed
stepping off the bus I saw mom waiting in the silver Mercedes
walking towards her, I knew Derek was not at home any more
dad would never let her wait out here so late unless there was trouble

we drove the four kilometers home in familiar sighs accepting the unknown again
the one point six litres of bone marrow I gave on Good Friday did not help him
dad would be sleeping on an extra gurney in the ever-recurring isolation ward tonight
instead of waiting three days until the weekend and I could make the visiting hours
I immediately wrote Derek a long letter for mom to take to the hospital tomorrow morning
telling him that I’m tired of this too I tried to encourage him for our nineteenth month under siege

I got to school by myself with mom leaving for Johannesburg before I woke up
I decided to skip assembly and my loyal friend, Marisa, hid out with me in the art class
confessing my selfishness to her, I told her that something’s wrong about this time
hugging my shoulders where we sat on the table, her comforting words painted hope around my heart helping me into the day
after three hours,in the second period of 'library-use' the dreaded announcement fell through the wall into my classroom
somebody was waiting for me at the office to take me to the hospital

family friends tried to smile and look brave as we all piled into the Volkswagen Kombi
driving the same sixty odd kilometers mom, dad and I had done for four months on end
I lead them through the giant buildings without thinking, oncology, turn left over there, smelling the pink sanitizing soap everywhere
walking past the nurses’ station to the isolation wards, I didn’t see my sobbing parents
he lay perfectly still, his arms folded on his motionless chest, like a pharaoh, immortal
I put my hands on his, laid my head down on the linen sheet, feeling sad but joyful

through the huge north-facing window the morning sun cut a strong single ray into the room
‘jy kan my sien jou bliksem!**' I thought, smiling back at his innocent face, I rejoiced
at his funeral, the church packed to its capacity filled up with praises to our Triune God
wearing his favourite colour, yellow, I stood singing, joining him with heaven’s chorus
his body died after thirteen years on earth but his soul went ahead to meet Christ face to face
this morning I asked God to hug my folks for me and a stranger brought them an armful of sunflowers

*see you tomorrow
**you can see me

...lees vir my, Mamma

Donderdag
min het ons geweet dat ambulaansmanne my vyf ure later na die hospitaal toe sou moes ry, maar al wat ek wou hoor is haar stem teen my oor, ‘n bewussyn van haar gebede,
soos kleintyd se maagkrame in die middel van die nag,
het haar soet woorde weer al my vrese kom weggejaag

Sewe tydsones wes van haar skoot,
lê my kop in kouekoors geweek,
alleen in my woonstel stoei ek teen onsigbare spoke wat al my are leeg tap,
“psalm-een-en-negentig”
“ek het nie my bril op nie, skat”
“maak nie saak nie, lees dit net ‘seblief”
stadig fluister sy tydlose smekinge

Moedersdag vandag
volmaan in Dallas, sy maak reg vir die eerste oggenddiens in Pretoria, bel die drie-en-twintig-nommers om weer dankie vir alles te sê
“hi mamma, dis ek”
“hallo, pop”
ek hoor haar glimlag
vrede
sy maak alles beter