A Walk on the Streets

I can still smell the faint flavour of what I assume to be cigarette smoke emanating from my shirt. My hands are now washed, but were sticky and coarse just five minutes ago. My feet are still throbbing after a return from a walk up the road to a way of life that is dramatically different from my own life experience. An area filled with desperate people who are swimming in the fading hope that their lives would be better in South Africa than in their own country. The words of a new friend are still reverberating in my head from our brief conversation, finished not even twenty minutes ago, "Why am I here? Why am I Themba??? I'm a good guy. I'm not....saying I'm better than them. But I'm different."

The Oxford dictionary defines 'just' (as in 'justice') as "Based on or behaving according to what is morally right and fair". (Ok, it wasn't the Oxford dictionary. It was my phone's definition. Don't hate.) This past weekend I spent some time on the streets in the closest poverty hit area in walking distance from my house. It really opened my eyes to a whole new side of justice that I'd only ever been told about before. The people that I met on the street (prostitutes, teens, drug dealers) were aware of the injustice in their lives, and all they seemed to want from me was someone to talk to about the purpose of this injustice. It was humbling to see that the people on the street have strikingly similar quests to make their lives meaningful as the people on the other end of the financial spectrum. They feel like their choice in this pursuit has been taken away from them, like there is no other way to live at the moment than to go from one day to the next, just living. However, I know many middle class people who could say just the same thing.

I don't think I am in any better a situation, philosophically speaking, as any of the people I met on Saturday. I just think that there have been times where I've busied my life so much so that I can avoid the question of purpose. There have been times where I've learnt to kill that voice of my conscience that cries out asking "Why??", but just because I ignore it, doesn't mean it isn't a very real challenge.

Speaking to Themba on the street:

T: "Why am I here? Why am I Themba??"

Moment of silence

G: (pulling out my remote) "If you found this on the ground and didn't know why it was created, you'd look for whoever created it so that you could ask them. The same thing works with us. If we want to know why we were created, we need to find out who created us."

T: "God?"

G: "We need to find out who He is."

For an update on my move to Brazil: I've received the forms to apply as a volunteer at the ABBA organization there. There are pretty hardcore questions in there. My Portuguese DVD's arrived early, so I've done a couple of those lessons. I've also begun the process of enrolling at Mackenzie University in Sao Paulo. So the ball is definitely rolling.

Every week seems different to the last. One week I feel confident in this vision to wrecklessly serve the helpless and needy, and the next week I feel like I am making a huge mistake. Your support definitely makes up the difference.