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    GROWING HOPE

    • ABOUT
    • BLOG
    • MISSIONS 
      • Mission 2023
      • Mission 2022
      • Sponsors
    • RESOURCES 
      • Educational Series
      • Permaculture Links
    • CONTACT
    • …  
      • ABOUT
      • BLOG
      • MISSIONS 
        • Mission 2023
        • Mission 2022
        • Sponsors
      • RESOURCES 
        • Educational Series
        • Permaculture Links
      • CONTACT
      SPONSOR
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      How South Africa Broke Me Open

      The experience, the poem, that started it all.

      Poetry,Blog

      It was the stranger on Whatsapp 

      Who was begging for assistance

      Asking for someone to help her

      Siphon fuel from her car

      When the petrol stations ran out

      So she could drive and give it to a friend in need.

      It was the Zulu grandmother

      Who I called after only 2 days 

      Who was sitting in the dark and bitter cold, alone

      With no electricity, no gas

      Who softly and humbly answered "nothing ma'am" 

      When I asked her if she had food to eat.

      It was a friend with MS who answered

      Another community member's call for food for their children

      Giving what he had to spare

      Even knowing he too might soon be without

      And offered it freely.

      It was a young African lady

      Who I saw drive to a Pet food shop that was closed

      And watching her drive away on the verge of crying

      Hopeless and helpless.

      It was the local small farmers and businesses

      Who banded together 

      To create pop-up markets

      To feed their communities

      Hundreds of people volunteering 

      Their time and energy.

      It was the lady who worked tirelessly

      To try to secure food

      For an elderly home of 200 

      Who couldn't find bread

      Or even simple things like milk and eggs 

      But she continued.

      It was local bakers I know

      Who worked over 18 hours a day

      To make bread for their community

      Losing sleep to help others eat.

      It was a 22-year-old skate boarder

      Who offered to do errands for people

      Volunteering to clean up

      Be on guard duty

      Do deliveries

      To help in any way he could.

      It was the friends who contacted me from abroad

      To ask if I was doing ok, if I was safe

      Who asked me "what can I do?"

      And I said Pray for Peace, and if you can send money 

      So I can feed a few more people

      And they did!

      It was the desperate mothers 

      Looking for formula and nappies for their babies

      And watching others share

      And work tirelessly to find solutions.

      It was the men and women who I saw

      coming together every night, all night

      To stand guard on their neighborhood streets

      In almost zero degree weather

      To protect their children and homes.

      It was the hundreds of people 

      I saw on social media

      Cleaning up the streets

      Helping each other

      Choosing to act constructively

      After such destruction.

      It was the kindness and the sacrifices

      It was the care and love

      The generosity I have seen in the past days

      In the face of danger, fear, uncertainty and even possible death

      That broke me down to tears

      It broke away my fears, my panic, my anger, my judgments

      And rather than running away

      To a "safer place"

      Or hiding in my house 

      Hoping I would be safe and have enough 

      I was broken open 

      And invited silently

      Unknowingly

      To join a Revolution of Love

      To find ways to help others

      And in so doing 

      Forgetting all my worries.

       

      Written 16 July 2021 

      Jacqueline du Plessis, Founder of Growing Hope. 

      Can You Help Us Grow A Little Hope?

       

       

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