Monday, March 14, 2011

Volmoed: Full of Courage and Hope

Friday before last, my housemates and I piled into the 16 passenger bus with Pearnel (our driver extraordinaire) and set out for Hermanus, a small coastal town about an hour away. We took the scenic route, and for most of the ride I could see the brilliant blue ocean from one window and the craggy  mountains from another. We spent the weekend at Volmoed, a retreat center in the mountains whose name means "full of courage and hope" in Afrikaans. Honestly, no pictures or words could fully describe the peace, tranquility, and beauty of that place. It was the first time I was completely alone in over a month, and I have never appreciated solitude so much in my life.

Walking through the valley and the meadows, sitting on a large rock beside the river, I realized that I've truly become a mountain woman. I miss seeing those friendly Blue Ridge Mountains every day and the stars every night. Cape Town is a spectacular place to live, but I found that going to Volmoed was like coming up for air after a long time underwater. I quickly became attached to the stillness and peace of that place, a deep connection that made it very difficult to leave for home on Sunday afternoon.



However, this retreat was not all about personal reflection and the freeing joy of being outside. We were also there to meet with theologian John de Gruchy, the author of Reconciliation: Restoring Justice. I was not a huge fan of the book to begin with, as it seemed to argue that reconciliation must be rooted in Christianity exclusively.  I was apprehensive about our discussions, but it turns out that John's book is a poor representation of his inclusive, open-minded views.

John argued that we must meet others on a basic human level before religion can enter the equation, especially in regard to effective reconciliation. Essentially, simply being human supersedes religion, allowing people from all walks of life to find common ground. We are all human first, and everything else comes second. We also spent some time discussing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which implemented restorative justice as a means to heal at least some of the societal wounds of apartheid. While the injustices of the past can't be undone, divided societies can attempt to come together through restoring relationships, not just prosecuting those responsible for the injustice. Reconciliation is a fight against dehumanization: when we restore justice, we restore humanity, we restore our commonality.

This week I was also privileged to meet one of the key players in the struggle against apartheid and a leader of the TRC, Archbishop Desmond Tutu. He is retiring as the Chancellor of University of the Western Cape, and we attended his last annual lecture as well as a morning Eucharist. Archbishop Tutu has an electrifying stage presence that pulls together every member of an audience and forms them into a community. He also has the most infectious giggle I've ever heard. He spoke about many things in his lecture, but his overreaching message was a hopeful invocation: a challenge to UWC and to all of South Africa to continue fighting for a better country, a place where everyone matters, and every person knows that they matter.


So, needless to say, I've been thinking about reconciliation a lot this week. My time at Volmoed gave me a chance to step back and contemplate the hope and courage required to reconcile with my own fears and shortcomings, as well as helping others to reconcile, to find peace with one another and within themselves. At Dance for All, I have to find a way to counsel and encourage teenage girls dealing with situations I can't begin to comprehend. One young woman told me that she wants to be a pilot, to fly away from the difficult life she must lead. Another girl who just lost her mother told me the place she most wants to be is the top of Table Mountain, so that she can see and understand her world.

Hope is a privilege. It's something that I've had as a constant in my life, while many of the young men and women I've met through Dance for All have had so little, forced to grow up and deal with situations far beyond their years. Dance for All is a small touch of hope in their lives, a chance to become truly good at something, and a chance to sit down and talk to someone who may not be able to fix anything, but who is completely willing to listen.

I've taken up a Lenten resolution: to carry the peace I found in Volmoed with me, and to share it in whatever way I can. Walking through the Hemel-en-Aarde Valley at sunset, Jean Ritchie's "Now is the Cool of the Day" jumped into my head, and it fit perfectly. I leave you with a beautiful version by Daniel Martin Moore:

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