For many years I imagined what it would be like to take a trip to Africa. The seemingly endless plains, mountains, oceans, abundant wildlife, and vastly different lifestyles have intrigued me since before I even learned how to read. For years, I read book after book about the geography and wildlife and watched television programs depicting the beauty of this far away continent. When I first heard about the possibility that St. John’s had a trip to South Africa in the works, I immediately decided that I would do everything in my power to get there and finally see in person all that I learned about as a young, inquisitive child. The majesty and power exuded by the country struck me immediately once I arrived, and I knew in an instant that an undeniably life changing experience was unfolding in front of me. As the days during the trip continued, I tossed and turned between feelings of awe and disbelief, as I kept trying to picture where on the globe I was actually standing. Since returning home, I am still in the process of coming to terms with exactly what I saw and experienced on the trip. I have full confidence that as time passes, I will continue to reflect on this journey and discover even more about myself as a person and as an educator. 

I can undoubtedly say that my experiences in South Africa have changed the way I look at the world. To say that I have become a different person is somewhat premature, as I am still trying to fully understand the magnitude of the effect that the people and the culture as a whole had on me. What I can say with absolute certainty is that I have a renewed appreciation for many of the privileges I am lucky enough to have. I will never forget the small bedroom that housed three whole families, or the intensity of the faces on young children who were consuming what was most likely the only meal they would eat that day. I was humbled by the simplicity of a woman’s wish to “only have her family all together” despite the fact that she lived in cramped, uncomfortable conditions. There were many points where I felt ashamed at my comparatively extravagant lifestyle, where I have freely complained about the lack of space in a dorm room or thrown away restaurant leftovers without a second thought.            

I was particularly struck with sadness and humility when we went to Mandisa’s church on Sunday, May 27. Although it was at first uncomfortable to sit facing the congregation, I was quickly mesmerized by the music coming from them, and felt at ease within minutes. Once I felt more comfortable, I was free to search the faces of the congregation as they sang and swayed, and I found myself unable to keep my eyes dry –the pain and suffering was unmistakable on so many faces, and it was so clear in their eyes that many of these people were truly connecting with God. Their cries out to God when praying gave me chills, and at times, I could hardly stand to keep my eyes open because I was so moved by their passionate cries of prayer. I was reminded of Sundays in my past where I counted the minutes until mass was over or skipped church altogether. How little have I appreciated so many of the things in my life that I’ll resist giving a few hours a week to give thanks for them? Although this experience at church was one of the hardest to come to terms with, my desire to grow in my relationship with God is renewed, and I am extremely thankful for that.            

One of the other powerful memories from the trip stems from a visit on the last day of service. I spent a few wonderful hours with the two and three year olds, but my connection with one young boy in particular has stayed with me since I returned home. This young boy and I spent hours reading a book about dinosaurs over and over again. At every page turn, he tapped me on the leg to make sure I was paying attention, and patiently waited for me to say the name and color of the dinosaur. Even after the hundredth time doing so, he would laugh and quickly turn to the next page. After reaching the end of the book, he flipped it over and started again without wasting any time at all.

Upon leaving him at the end of the day, I was struck with such sadness that the odds were high against him ever pursuing a career in archaeology or evolution or anything else related to dinosaurs whatsoever. In fact, the chances are low that he will ever leave the township he comes from –but at that moment, his thirst for learning was so great that none of that even mattered. I wish so deeply to be able to send books, posters, microscope kits, interesting videos, and other fun, educational toys to those children to spark and maintain their curiosity and love of learning. Although this day care center did have some posters and books available for the students, these children would benefit so much from other stimulating toys and supplies.

In addition, this center had very few women taking care of the children in ratio to how many students attended the center every day. If I had the power to do so, I would love to go back and bring people with me to volunteer at the center in order for the children to get much deserved and much needed attention and affection. I found that across the cities we traveled to and the centers we visited, almost all of the children were in desperate need of an adult to pay attention to them –I was amazed at how even children on the street would run up to us just for a hug, just for a minute of our time. It saddened me deeply that their needs were so simple, so easy to give, yet there are not enough adults to go around who are willing and able to satisfy these needs.

It is hard for me to know what grade I deserve, as I can’t say that my experience in South Africa was anything like a class I’ve taken before. However, I can truthfully say that I immersed myself in the children, the culture, and the experience as a whole…particularly when eating that sheep’s head on the side of the road and talking to the adults who have lived their entire lives in those townships. I am so thankful for the irreplaceable memories that I have made, and will certainly never forget the faces of many of those children. They have touched my heart and my life forever.