Christmas Dream

I was startled from my sleep on Christmas Eve by an urge to do good deeds. I looked at the clock, 11:59pm, without even a thought, I jumped into my Green Lantern costume, ran to the front porch, and took off through the air towards my hometown, Jersey City, NJ.

As I flew over the church steeple of St. Patrick's Church on Bramhall Avenue, and the clock struck 12, I knew there was no time for complacency or sloth. There was just too much to do.

I first flew over all the corners where drugs were being sold and turned crack rocks into skittles! BUT not only that, I instantly enrolled the young entrepreneurs into small business owners classes and arranged for them to get grants to start their own businesses, provided they finished their coursework.

Next I waved my hand and everyone with an addiction was enrolled in a program to help them get clean and stay clean...

Next, I got all of Jersey City's great athletes, business owners, professionals, and celebrities who had made it out of poverty and had them start up job training programs, as well as, open businesses in the community that would not only put people to work, but would give them long term stability and security. Then I put them in contact with all of the unemployed, under employed, and those who had just given up, and told them to get to work... TOGETHER.

Next I identified all of the undernourished children and arranged for them to have healthy, nutritious meals 3 times a day. Part of this plan involved making sure that there were food stores in the community that sold healthy, fresh, affordable foods.

I also arranged for all of the children to have access to free, HIGH QUALITY healthcare...

Then I flew over every detention facility and "bam" they all had REAL rehabilitation programs that help ex offenders to enter back into society with REAL hope.

After that, I made a pact with every ex offender that they would speak in schools and community centers about the mistakes they had made, and implore others not to do the same.

Next I pulled every corrupt politician together and had them make retribution Zacchaeus style. Read it for yourself:

Luke 19:1-10
Zacchaeus the Tax Collector

1Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. 2A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. 3He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. 4So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
5When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today." 6So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.

7All the people saw this and began to mutter, "He has gone to be the guest of a 'sinner.'"

8But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, "Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount."

9Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. 10For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost."

From there I flew over every courthouse and decreed that JUSTICE would prevail in every situation. That all people, rich and poor, black, white, brown, yellow, or red would be ensured impartiality and fairness in every situation.

Next I flew over all of the schools, identified all of the underachieving TEACHERS and ADMINISTRATORS, and enrolled them in programs to bring them up to an elite standard. I also gifted every under resourced school with all of the resources it needed to give young people the best possible education, so that every child has the opportunity to go to college.

Then I flew over the projects and the sub standard housing, turning them into beautiful places to live, and making many of the people property owners. I also launched programs in every community that taught people to value their properties, how to keep them up, how to save money, and create wealth.

I also, built homeless shelters that were safe, clean, and packed with resources that would help people get back on their feet.

Next I visited every house of worship and confronted the leaders with the urgency of the day. I implored them to act with self-LESS-ness, to walk the walk even better than they talk the talk, and we all prayed and cried together vowing to do our part.

I know there was much more to do, but I only had a few hours, and besides, it was just a dream... BUT it's not impossible.

Christmas isn't just a day, in fact the day itself is only "symbolic" in every possible way (no way that Christ was born in December). The true spirit of Christmas should be expressed in how we serve those less fortunate; those in need; the "least of these."

Written by Frederick A Hanna

Best Christmas Memory

I grew up the only child of a single mom, and we were tighter than pantie hose 2 sizes small! Still are to this day. We accept each others flaws, hoping we both grow, but not judging the other less worthy because of our imperfections.

One Christmas, mommy got her Christmas club money out and we headed to Toys'R'Us to get your boy his Christmas wishes. We went in the store and shopped every isle. I was elated, then we got to the cash register, and something had gone wrong. The yellow envelope that mommy's money was in was gone. Seems it fell out of her pocketbook when we got out of the car to go into the store. We searched to no avail, so we left the store with me confused and mommy in tears.

Mommy was proud. She was/is the kind of woman who finds it hard to ever ask anyone for anything (a pathology we share), and so we were resolved to have a less than perfect Christmas... still, we had each other.

Well, just like old fabled St. Nicholas, my grandpop (God rest his soul) showed up on a snowy Christmas Eve. His nickname happened to be Nick too. He had a motto, "Say it with cash," and that's what he did. He heard what had happened and he came around with a little "ice cream money" for us!



My fondest Christmas memory is the one of me and my mother walking through Jersey City... up Monticello Ave, through McGinley Square, and into Journal Square, buying gifts all along the way on a snowy Christmas Eve. I don't remember what we bought, but I remember holding her hand, and I remember our footprints in the snow.



Do you have a favorite Christmas memory?

Images of Black Masculinity

Think with me! One of my dudes, a consummate thinker, commented that my new profile pic was very rap album-ish. I agree totally and found it quite funny. I also saw a lot of irony in the comparison when I thought of "typical" rap album images and messages they send about black masculinity. While all rappers do not portray themselves in the same manner, I think its safe to say that many people think of thugs, misogyny, and bling, when they think of rappers. I decided to post my picture side-by-side with one of these images and ask you all, "What ironies do you see?" and "What images (myth or reality) of black masculinity do you see in these pictures?"

What is the Mixtape of Your Life?

I heard a great talk yesterday at the Rutgers Camden Urban Youth Symposium (http://childhood.camden.rutgers.edu/urban_youth/schedule.php). The talk was led by English Professor James Peterson of Bucknell University. He writes and teaches in the areas of Africana Studies, Hip Hop Culture, Popular Culture, Media, African American Literature and Sociolinguistics. He talked about the influence of hip hop culture, and the significance of hip hop culture as something separate and distinct from other forms of culture. The hip hop aesthetic! He talked extensively about the literary potential of hip hop as a way of reading and interpreting culture, and he suggested that if Rutgers Camden had its own mixtape... a mixtape made up of 5 songs that tell the story of the school and perhaps more importantly the city of Camden... the 5 songs would be:

1. Lupe Fiasco – Put You on Game

2. Immortal Technique – Dance With the Devil

3. Jay Z - Meet the Parents

4. Grand Master Flash – The Message

5. Common - The Corner

I would have probably added Ghetto Bastard by Naughty, but you get the concept right?

If you take the time to listen to these songs, they paint a grim picture of Camden. I may have added a song that conveyed a stronger sense of hope and resilience, but maybe people do really perceive Camden as being devoid of hope. Peterson and his students, who are all outsiders to Camden, came up with this particular list. I wonder what songs would have been chosen by Camden natives?

Well, this all got me to thinking... If you had to construct a mixtape of 5 songs that told the story of your life... that if people listened to the tape and deconstructed the literary context of the lyrics, they would have a deeper sense and understanding of who you are... WHAT 5 SONGS WOULD YOU CHOOSE?

Written by Frederick A Hanna

The Problem With Exclusionary Discipline

Exclusionary Discipline

Students who experience academic failure are more likely to be pushed out of schools through exclusionary discipline practices. Exclusionary discipline practices are disciplinary measures that remove students from the learning process. These practices can be anything from timeouts, to suspensions, and expulsions. “Suspension and expulsion, the most common responses in discipline policies, are not effective in meeting the needs of any student and, ironically, exacerbate the very problems they are attempting to reduce” (Christle, 2007, p. 539). Any disciplinary act that separates a child from the educational experience could fit into the context of an exclusionary discipline practice, but zero tolerance policies have been most complicit in these practices. Zero tolerance policies demand punishment for violated school practices and policies, and often enact the most severe punitive response to any infraction of the rules. One of the dangers associated with zero tolerance policies is that students are singled out and severely punished for infractions that are commonly associated with adolescent immaturity. Acts like day dreaming, doodling, and talking out of turn are viewed as threats to the teacher’s authority, and certain students are repeatedly targeted with harsher consequences (Christle, 2007). These targeted students tend to be black and Latino males who are notoriously victimized by criminalization and stereotyping in America. As a result, zero tolerance policies that were put in place to curb inappropriate behavior may “exacerbate racial discrepancies” (Monroe, 2005, p47). Educators' unwillingness to draw distinctions between severe and minor offenses and the breadth with which zero tolerance approaches are applied appear to be primary sources of the problem (Skiba and Peterson 1999). The lack of practices that mediate discipline problems in the classroom can result in the victimization of the student. The emphasis on zero tolerance may also contribute to an “inattention to the value of working cooperatively with parents and communities to construct schools where disruption is minimized overall” (Monroe, 2005, p. 47). Once students are removed from the classroom, the process for the school to prison pipeline commences (Christle, 2007).


Modern day attempts at school reform linked to standardized tests can also have the affect of pushing children into the school to prison pipeline. When students are identified as not being able to meet academic standards, or as contributing to school failure, it is easier to eliminate them from the equation than to enact measures to assist them in meeting the standards. “These children are often identified by their apparent inability to acknowledge and follow the hidden curriculum of schools and their failure to acquire the skills necessary to successfully negotiate the school environment” (Fenning and Rose, 2007, p. 237). Schools can mask their failures by removing children that do not make the grade. This is exacerbated in schools located in areas of concentrated poverty that do not have the resources to undertake the kind of in school reforms that are necessary to counteract the historical inequalities related to American schools. High stakes testing associated with No Child Left Behind has done more to reinvent school inequality, than to undermine and correct it.

See NY Times Op-Ed article for more info: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/11/opinion/11wed2.html?th&emc=th

Written by Frederick A Hanna

The Church, Not the Public School... QUOTE

In reading about the Cincinnati Bible War today, which concerned the debate against teaching Protestant Christian religious lessons in public schools in the 1870's, I found this interesting quote from a staunch Calvinist Presbyterian elder who was also an attorney for the Cincinnati school board. He said this in defense of his position that "the church, not the public school was the proper agency" for religious education:

"Cannot the church send out it's ministers? Or are they too busy, day after day, in their studies, preparing to dole out dogmatic theology Sunday after Sunday, to the tired ears of their wearied congregations? Cannot they send out their Sunday School teachers? Cannot they send out their missionaries?...Must we say that the church has grown idle and lazy, and can only hobble on its crutches, and therefore that our school directors must set themselves up as teachers of religious truth? No! Let the church cease to depend upon any adventitious or external aids. Let her rely solely upon the strength of the Spirit of the Lord that is in it...Here is our work to evangelize, to save the lost and perishing crowd"

--Stanley Matthews--

I could site any number of local missions opportunities in this declaration that the modern church misses time and time again that would get people out of the pews... Compelling argument in my opinion.

King's Intertextuality

Today I found myself reflecting on some comments made by Bishop Jakes at a training I attended a few weeks ago. His comments were about the gulf that seems to exist between intellectualism and spirituality in the minds of so many church goers. This supposed gulf impacts me in a personal way as I attempt to write my dissertation which deals with emancipatory education and the Black Church. The other day, I was explaining to my peers at the Center for Race and Ethnicity that my work, in addition to embodying my own personal sense of agency, attempts to bridge intellectual and spiritual territories that are often disparate. As I contend in my work, this should never be.

In the course of my reflections, I recalled the first time I read King's Birmingham Jail Letter during my 1st year of seminary in my New Testament class. I was amazed at King's ability to weave the African American story into the narratives of the Bible so seamlessly. Their were times where you were so caught up in his explication of the plight of the Civil Rights movement that you didn't realize that he was discussing the ministry of the Apostle Paul. It was upon reading this letter that I realized for the first time that Dr. Martin Luther King was not just "a young black minister from Georgia" as President Obama so frequently likes to refer to him. King was in fact one of the best theologians, intellectuals, and preachers in the history of the United States.

In considering this fact, I enjoy the way one of my former professors, Dr. Hak Joon Lee says it in his book, "We Will Get to the Promised Land: MLK's Communal-Political Spirituality. Lee notes:

"King was a philosopher and systematic theologian by training. It was King's belief that religion should be socially active as well as intellectually respectable. To be intellectually respectable, religious ideals and principals need to be communicated through reasonable and sensible language, in terms that the public can understand. In formulating a plausible form of public theology for social change, King translated his particular religious language and symbols into public terms, identifying and interpreting in spiritual terms the challenges and problems of a society. A master of intertextuality, King freely interwove various spiritual, moral, and intellectual sources for the persuasion of the public. He creatively mixed spirituals, African American proverbs, and folklore with phrases from the Bible (e.g., the Exodus, wilderness, crucifixion, redemption, and eschaton), Western philosophies, theologies, and political documents, such as the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights, in making a public case for the freedom of African Americans."

Dr. King was indeed a minster from Georgia, but it was his God given intellectual prowess that separated him from the masses as an effective leader, that enhanced his ability to so profoundly articulate the gospel, and to encourage peoples' participation in the struggle, which for him was as much spiritual as it was political.

The next time you hear someone refer to King as simply a "young black minister from Georgia"... whisper in their ear that he was "much more than that." AND the next time someone tries to tell you that intelligence and spirituality can't coexist, remind them about a "young black minister from Georgia" who was really, really smart.

Written by Frederick A Hanna

The Power of Christ Crucified - A Church Revived

Exceprts from a sermon preached on October 8, 2009 at Cedar Park Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, PA by Rev. Frederick A Hanna.

You know as we open this 1st night of revival, I must confess that I have been thinking about this whole revival thing… I’ve been thinking about the meaning of the word “revival”, literally "to put life back into," and I’ve come to the conclusion that for one to say that one is having a revival is really a peculiar thing for a church to do…

Why? You ask… Well… looking back at the history of the Protestant church movement in America, you will certainly see the phenomena of revival… and history will tell you that a revival…
Was often held in a tent or during a camp meeting…
often involved a series of meetings over the course of days or nights and it
often involved preaching that was inspired… and was…
often held for the purpose of inspiring current church members to go out and seek new converts to the faith…

I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a good idea to me because...
We ought to always be doing whatever we can to win people for Christ…
We ought to always be doing whatever we can to see that souls get saved…
We ought to always be doing whatever we can to gain converts and to expand the Kingdom of God…

BUT… There is an interesting dilemma when we talk about REVIVAL… AND what REVIVAL means in a spiritual sense… AND The dilemma is that we will never truly have revival in our churches…
no matter how many wonderful preachers we invite…
no matter how many wonderful songs we sing…
no matter how many people we can pack into the sanctuary…
…unless God by the power of the Holy Spirit decides to show up, to meet us, and to revive us… We need the PRESENCE and the POWER of God if we are ever going to truly have revival…

AND today we need revival like never before…


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You see if we are ever going to be able to take the city for God, then we have to get out of a church mentality… We have got to expand our thinking until it explodes into a Kingdom mentality… we have got to begin to focus on the cross of Christ, and the cross of Christ is not about us as individuals… For the Son of God was not sent for JUST us… but the Son of God was sent that through Him, the world might be saved…

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BUT If we’re not careful… AND FAIL to rely on the Spirit… …we’ll become the church that…
…specializes in how to do church, but has no relevance in the community…
…talks loud but is silent when we need to be heard…
…occupies a corner on the street, but is irrelevant to the people on the street…

If we really want to see revival, we have got to remember the cross of Christ… and the power of the Holy Spirit tear down strongholds… and break the yoke of bondage… and set the captives free… we have got to remember what it means to be the church…


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We as the church have ONE SINGLE concern… and that is that the gospel be proclaimed through the weakness of human beings like us, such that the power of the Spirit begins to change lives… to change individuals… to change relationships… to change families… to change communities… to change cities… to alter the very fabric of civilization through an encounter with Jesus the Christ…

Our faith -- yours and mine, must never rest in the wisdom of a man, but in the power of God -- the power of the Holy Spirit… the power of Cross…

Written by Frederick A Hanna

Chicago Olympics

Sorry Pres, but when you and the wife were making your pitch for summer games in Chicago, I was shaking my head. A little boy is beaten to death in Chicago, and you are wasting money on jet fuel to fly to Copenhagen. Money that could be used to improve schools and housing, and any number of conditions that contribute to the well being of the city you love. Not to mention that you are, in your words, willing to put the full force of the United States behind protecting foreign citizens who come to the city for the games. Try protecting the U.S. citizens who live there. Yay Rio!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kevin-powell/chicago-obama-the-olympic_b_307564.html

Every Thought Captive

2 Corinthians 10

3 For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. 4 For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, 5 casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, 6 and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled.



What does it mean to bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ? Jesus once prayed "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." (Matthew 26:39) Jesus had taken every though captive. He was able to follow God so closely that his will and the Father's will were indistinguishable. He had disciplined himself to be the perfect example of obedience to God, and he is the model that we all aspire to.

The next time you feel the impulse to jump and act, take a minute to stop and think first... "Is this an act of determined obedience, or is this an act of human nature?" You can do a great deal of practical work that is good work for good reasons, "but true determination and zeal are found in obeying God, not in the inclination to serve Him that arises from our own undisciplined human nature. (Oswald Chambers)"

Take every thought captive!

Written by Frederick A Hanna

The Power of Images

I've got a joke for you! Listen...




Some people look at these images and find them to be little more than a harmless joke... an effort to get one's point across... a kind of political satire. Others look at these images and see hate... tasteless morbid humor and racism at its best.

Who's right?

The Jerry Dome

As a life long Cowboys fan, I have 2 comments about last night's game 1) "Boo for Tony Romo," terrible game; and 2) "Bigger Boo for Jerry Jones," what a waste of money that stadium is. It epitomizes America's lust for luxury and dismissal of thrift. "For a list of 20 major traded commodities, it (U.S.) takes the greatest share of 11 of them: corn, coffee, copper, lead, zinc, tin, aluminum, rubber, oil seeds, oil and natural gas. For many more it is the largest per-capita consumer." The next time you complain about an athlete's salary, think about how much we "invest" in our teams (tickets, jerseys, time, etc.). Too bad we don't invest as much in our communities, or better yet our teachers... monetarily and educationally. We worship our pets, our teams, our homes, & our cars... You should have renovated the old stadium and built 10 schools and 500 affordable homes Jerry, but that would be too unAmerican for the owner of America's team.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/21/sports/football/21giants.html?th&emc=th

Written by Frederick A Hanna

You need THE Paraclete? - When people aren't enough, you need a "Go-To-God."

Sometimes people fail you...

...They let you down.
...They aren't in place when you need them.
...They're not up to the task.
...They're flakes.
...They fall asleep on the job.
...They're not accountable.

If you think I'm being a pessimist, then you either haven't lived long enough or you don't like dealing with reality. Human beings are fallible, and even the best of us make mistakes and fall short. That's why you need the Paraclete!

Who's always on the job! Never sleeps or slumbers? Has your back, front, undersides, oversides, and insides? None BUT God!

Paraclete, translated as comforter is the word most often used to depict the Holy Spirit, but its also a word that Jesus used to refer to Himself.

The Holy Spirit is like a garment that God has given us to prepare us as we suit up to do battle with the forces of the world: racism, poverty, oppression, grief... Since we are wrestling with powers that are greater than our humanity, we need an Advocate who is greater than our humanity and greater than our adversaries. Jesus promised us that we would never be left alone in this battle.

"Our greatest asset is invisible and intangible. The Paraclete goes out into life's conflicts with us and protects not only our backs, but also our sides, our fronts, and our insides, the whole being!" L Sweet

The Paraclete imbues us with Confidence, Humility, and Courage:

Confidence... The confidence of the Paraclete means that your confidence is not in yourself, but in a hope that arises from a deep faith in the providence and protection of the Paraclete.

Humility... The humility of the Paraclete means that you have a monstrous modesty. "The disciple of Jesus stoops to conquer" (L Sweet). In the Bible, the path to exaltation is paved with humility.

Courage...To face the world with confidence and humility, you will need courage. The Paraclete gives you the courage to live your life to the fullest, to stand toe-to-toe with your fears, to push through circumstances and situations that appear to be meant for your destruction, to be more than a conqueror!

John 14:26 (NKJV)
26 But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.

You need the Paraclete.

Written by Frederick A Hanna

Where is Your Place? - You need your own little Jerusalem (City of Peace).

Everyone needs a PLACE in life. Not necessarily a physical place, but a place where you feel grounded and secure, a place where you feel emotionally, mentally, spiritually at peace.

1. You need to FIND your place...
Is there a place that you long to return to? A place where you feel whole? A place where you feel completely at ease?

OR

Are you like many, "hopelessly searching for spiritual roots without earth to plant in?"

2. You need to live in your place...
Once your find you place, you've got to situate yourself in it. You've got to get accustomed to it and committed to it. You've got to understand its narratives, its traditions, its landscape, how it functions and how you function in it.

3. You need to speak the language of your place...
"When you speak, can people hear the personality of your place? Do you speak with an accent? Does your 'speech betray you,' as it did Peter with the servant girls?" (L. Sweet)

Never betray your heritage and lose your accent! Your accent isn't just in the twang in your tongue, or the local meanings of certain words and phrases, BUT in the spirit of where you come from. You speak with the accent of your heritage.

Martin Luther King made famous the words, "Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we're free at last," but those weren't his words. They come from a song called "I Shall Get Home Some Day" by Charles A Tindley, BUT when King spoke them with the accent of the black church... the pain, the struggle, the tension, the freedom, the power... The magnificence of the tradition of the black church that colored King's accent made these words immortal. What's your accent?

We all need to have a PLACE in the world. A place where we find the peace of God and the purpose of God for our lives.

Written by Frederick A Hanna

ABD (All But Dissertation) Baby!

I offer this not as a means of bragging or of pride, but as inspiration to my peers... This is the email I received from the Dean for Academic Affairs today. I had written somewhere in the neighborhood of 70 pages for this exam back in the March-April time frame, and was asked to revise 1 question. I am VERY happy, and hoping that my wife will treat me to a new bow tie as a congratulations!

Dear Reverend Hanna,

Congratulations! The ETPA department has informed me that you have passed satisfactorily the Qualifying Exam for the degree of Doctor of Education.

Please contact your advisor for further guidance. I would like to take this opportunity to offer my best wishes for continued success in your doctoral studies.

Sincerely,
Dr. William Firestone
Associate Dean for Academic Affairs

Almost there!!!

But I Will Trust in God…

Have you ever gotten down on yourself because you felt that your TRUST IN GOD was challenged? Did you think that you were alone in that place? That what you were experiencing was something unlike what other Christians experience?

Well, I read in Psalm 13 where King David said,

1 How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?

2 How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart daily?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

This was King David! The great king David... the mighty warrior, King David... God's chosen, King David...

A lot of churches today will tell you that if you’re feeling the way that David felt in Psalm 13, then you are a spiritual failure… your faith is weak… BUT the fact of the matter is that most of us can identify with David’s cries… Most of us have struggled with the fact that life isn’t always easy, and life isn’t always fair, and blessings don’t always look the way we think they should look… Have you ever heard that saying,

“that was a blessing in disguise?”

Well I don't know about you, but I don’t want all my blessings to be in disguise all the time! Sometimes I need a blessing that I can see coming! A blessing that I can Recognize… A blessing THAT LOOKS just like I prayed it would look…

I want you to know something today, I want you to know if that’s you… if that’s you… crying out like David… struggling with God… I want you to know that kind of cry does not indicate an absence of faith. In Fact it may very well be the most sincere expression of faith because it shows that you are involved in a process... A process that takes you on a path of moving forward in life… a process that takes you on a path of growing with God… …of learning to trust God… of learning to

“trust in the Lord, and to lean not on thine own understanding…”

Learning to TRUST in God can be a process, but the destination is sweet... "the peace that passes all understanding…"

An excerpt from a sermon preached on September 6, 2009 at Cedar Park Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, PA

Written by Frederick A Hanna

In the Midst of Adversity

John 16:33 “In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer. I have overcome the world.”

Some people think that becoming a Christian means that you will be delivered from adversity, but that’s not what it means. That lie has thrown too many of us off track. The truth of the matter is that being a Christian means we are delivered in adversity.

God doesn’t erase the tribulations, trials, and circumstances of the world. God gives you the power to stand in the midst of them. Psalm 91, “He who dwells in the secret place of the most high God, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, you are my refuge and my fortress, my God, in you I will trust.” When troubles come, we take refuge in the fortress of God, and we fight the good fight of faith because God has already given us victory over the world. Fear not people of God, for we have overcome the world by the blood of the lamb and by the word of our testimony!

“God does not give us the overcoming life, He gives us life as we overcome.” Oswald Chambers

Written by Frederick A Hanna

What Purpose Do Prisons Serve in America's Justice System?

The question has been raised again and again, "What purpose do prisons serve in America's justice system?" Is it to rehabilitate and reform, or is it simply a place to gain a stigma that will follow the offender throughout his or her life? A stigma that will tacitly deny the former offender opportunities to enjoy the liberties that many of us take for granted. To be labeled as a criminal, an offender, an ex-con is not something that goes away. Offenses stay on the offenders record, even offenses for charges that have been dismissed, and people make judgements based upon these offenses. The failures of a justice system that has disproportionately prosecuted and convicted poor minority offenders, often for minor infractions are magnified by high rates of recidivism and reports of atrocities in juvenile detention centers like those in New York state. These detention centers are now under fire for use of excessive force due to a federal investigation:

4 Youth Prisons in New York Used Excessive Force

While we cannot hold the entire penile system responsible for the repeat offenders, we must address the fact that prisons in the U.S. do very little to rehabilitate inmates. What purpose is served when a juvenile inmate is subjected to full prone restraint or has his teeth knocked out for sneaking an extra cookie? The four NY centers singled out in the federal report excessively used physical force, and they failed to provide adequate counseling and mental health treatment for a population of prisoners who often enter into the justice system because of misdiagnosed and undiagnosed mental health issues. Many (3/4) of the children entering New York’s youth justice system have a history of drug or alcohol problems, more than half have diagnosed psychological problems and a third have developmental disabilities, according to statistics published by Office of Children and Family Services.

Instead of being astonished and appalled by the size of America's inmate population, we seem to grow more accepting of it. Prison after all is big business. The United States spends an estimated $60 billion on corrections each year. We cannot continue to allow poor policy and poor implementation to circumvent programs and activities that would discourage recidivism and promote real rehabilitation, nor can we allow state and federal funds to be funneled toward community and non profit based organizations who have found that recidivism programs are the latest way to pimp the misfortunes of the poor. The problems in our prisons, much like the problems in our schools, start long before the offender enters the system. Conditions of poverty and oppression create feelings of desperation that often result in illegal activity and acts of violence. Don't think that I am attempting to justify acts of lawlessness as being acceptable under certain conditions. The importance of individual responsibility must be asserted, but we must also strive to understand the conditions that often precede criminal activity. Working to correct social inequalities would go a long way towards decreasing our future inmate populations. We must also be concerned about the disproportionate number of African-Americans and Latinos involved in the justice system and what this says about the color of American justice. Until we address how justice is meted out, we will continue to see this disproportionality. Inside of prisons, we must have improved mental health care, medical care, and education and literacy programs. Having a prison system that houses over 2 million inmates on a given day, 60% of whom will return as repeat offenders is just not acceptable.

Written by Frederick A Hanna

Who's Your Rhoda? - You need a little one.

Who is Rhoda you ask? Rhoda was a doorkeeper at the house of Mary in Jerusalem. She was the servant girl who answered the door when Peter knocked after being released from prison.

Acts 12:

12 So, when he had considered this, he came to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose surname was Mark, where many were gathered together praying. 13 And as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a girl named Rhoda came to answer. 14 When she recognized Peter’s voice, because of her gladness she did not open the gate, but ran in and announced that Peter stood before the gate. 15 But they said to her, “You are beside yourself!” Yet she kept insisting that it was so.

When all of the prayer warriors were focused on the task of praying, it was Rhoda who was able to break away and see that their prayers had already been answered. It took Rhoda's persistence, the persistence of a child... a little one who was willing to imagine that Peter's presence wasn't just her imagination.

Sometimes it takes a child to point out the obvious... to "lead us" to see God. Why is it that Jesus always points to a child when He wants us to see the truest example of discipleship?

Because children are innocent? pure? unjaded? Nope... Nope... Nope!

Those are modern day depictions of children and childhood, but they are not consistent with biblical depictions of children. Children were considered to be of the lowest status in Jesus' day. The reason that "Jeeeesus loves the little chiiildren" is because in the kingdom of God, the last shall be first and the first shall be last... BUT still, we can learn a lot from the little ones.

A few reasons why you need a Little One in your life:
1. Rhoda's keep you dreaming. For some of us whose dreams have long since faded, little ones allow us to dream through them. As we dream of all that we hope they will be, our dreams are given new life... even if its only in our hopes that their dreams will come true.

2. Rhoda's help us to remember our nightlites. My nightlite comforted me when the lights were turned off at bedtime as a child. I now know that there was nothing there in the dark that would harm me, but the imagination of a child is still capable of wondering what's out there.

3. Rhoda's keep us small. Have you ever watched a child play with a new toy? OR watch the same movie over and over and laugh at the same parts each time. I'm always amazed at the power of stickers with children. Children love stickers! I'm not sure why, but I vaguely remember loving stickers too. Little ones help us to remember the meaning and significance of the small things.

4. Rhoda's keep you light. If you ever start taking yourself too seriously, hang out with some children. The don't play for entertainment or because their bored. They play because its fun.

Who's your Rhoda? Who keeps you dreaming... keeps your imagination alive... helps you to remember the importance of the little things... and helps you to NOT take yourself too seriously?

Written by Frederick A Hanna

Working While Waiting

Luke 24:49 (NKJV)
49 "Behold, I send the Promise of My Father upon you; but tarry in the city of Jerusalem until you are endued with power from on high.”

Have you ever been in a place where you felt God had told you to go... AND you expected that when you got to that place there would be some kind of reward... ONLY instead of a reward there was nothing... JUST more waiting?

In Luke 24:49, Jesus instructs His disciples to go and wait, BUT tarry -or kathizō in Greek- doesn't simply mean to wait. It has the connotation of patience or sojourning. As if to say that this waiting is part of your journey; part of your process. Sometimes God requires us to just wait until the "promise" comes. In this text the promise is the Holy Spirit, so what God really wants us to wait on is Him.

"He works where He sends us to wait" Oswald Chambers

Written by Frederick A Hanna

South Africa – Day 18, Going Home-Leaving Home

Well, what do you say after spending nearly three weeks doing something you have dreamed about all of your life? I remember watching the movie Roots as a child, and being fascinated with the prospect of finding my own ancestors in Africa one day. I remember the black consciousness movement during the late 80’s when we were all listening to Public Enemy, X-Clan, The Jungle Brothers, and other conscious hip-hoppers. We all wore our “Africa Pieces.” “I wear no gold around my neck, juuuussst black medallions… (Jungle Brothers—Straight Out the Jungle)” These were leather, metal, and stone medallions bearing images of Africa—hanging from leather strings or wooden beads—in colors like green, black, red, and gold—“The red’s for the blood, and the blacks for the man, the green is the color that stands for the land… Africa! Talkin’ ‘bout Mother Africa…” I finally got to experience it for myself, and I was able to come during a time of personal growth that allowed me to look below the surface, beyond my fascination with Africa to see the struggles of a people, a nation, a continent. The struggles made even more telling, more complex, and more indelible as viewed through the lens of a country still emerging from Apartheid.



As we disembarked our first flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg en route home, Heather overheard a coloured fight attendant say, “All these Americans look coloured.” If I had heard her make this statement, I would have told her, “We are.” We haven’t gone so far as to create a separate classification in order to define ourselves as separate from other blacks. If we did, we would likely all be categorized as coloured. I recently began work on my family tree and found out that my paternal great grandfather was Cuban; my maternal great grandfather was a mulatto (white and black parents); my paternal great-great grandmother was a Cuban immigrant; another paternal great-great grandfather was a Seminole Indian; my great-great-great grandfather was a slave whose mother was African and whose father was a white slave master. So yes, “I am coloured” according to Apartheid. I would be quite amazed to find any descendants of African slaves in the U.S. whose blood remained purely African, let alone of a single tribe. As I told the students at Bergendal, African slaves in America were separated into groups who didn’t speak the same language, were not from the same tribe, didn’t practice the same traditions; families were separated; slaves were raped, escaped and married Native Americans, etc. This explains our many hues, and it explains our deep desire to find out who we are and where we come from. It explains why Africa beckons us to “come home.” The question now is, “How do I just go back home, when a big piece of my heart was left in Africa?”

Written by Frederick A Hanna

South Africa – Day 17, Last Day and Bergendal, 2nd Visit to Vlakte Brick and Farewells

Today is our last full day in South Africa, and I am not looking forward to saying goodbye. I have arranged for someone from the staff at Bergendal School to take Monique over to Vlakte Brick Farm. I wanted her to go as a physician in hopes that she might be able to advise the people who live in a tiny village where everyone has tuberculosis, and in order for her to experience what I experienced there. It was a feeling of utter helplessness that words just could not express.

We started off the day with our normal ritual of morning devotion before I spent some time outside just loving on the kids and letting them love on me. I sought out some of my little friends to enjoy some laughs and smiles on what would be a difficult day of goodbyes.




Soon it was time to go over to Vlakte Brick. As we drove over, I tried to prepare Monique and Gay for what they would see, but again words seemed to fail me. As we drove in, we were greeted by the village matriarch, Rhoda. We chatted a little, and I asked Rhoda if she could take us into one of the houses so that everyone could see the living conditions. We had driven passed a number of informal settlements during our trip, but had never been able to go inside. Most people advised us that going into an informal settlement was far too dangerous a thing to do. Visiting this farm community gave us a chance to go into the living quarters of some of South Africa’s poor and get a sense of what it is like to actually live in these cramped inhumane conditions. The home that Rhoda took us into was actually a bit better than the first one I visited a few days prior. The dimensions of the space were the same, but only 3 families lived in this unit. It was also a little cleaner than the first unit I visited, and there was a homemade bed in one of the rooms as opposed to blankets on the floor.

Still it was unimaginable that people were living like this. Monique would later say that she felt as though she had entered a time warp and traveled 200 years back in time to a slave plantation. While Monique and Gay talked to Rhoda, I decided to walk around and take some pictures. I spotted a friend from my last visit and went to greet her. She took me over to the building that had the water spout on the side. This is where all 48 families must get their water. She told me that there were bathing facilities in the building. She also showed me the drains where they must empty the contents of the Porta-Potties. The drains are at the same site where the clean water spout is located, and my friend expressed to me that the people were sure that their water was contaminated by the waste. Across a span of about 20 yards from where we stood in front of the water building was the farm owner’s office. On my last visit, I asked if I could talk to the owner and I was told that he was in there with his gun and would probably be “happy” to see me. Well, “momma didn’t raise no fool,” so I elected not to go over and visit that day. As I noticed customers and trucks going in and out of the office area, I turned to my friend and asked her, “Is the owner there now?” She replied that she did not know. As we talked, I noticed that there was another building adjoining the water building. I asked my friend what was inside, and she said, “that is the church.” She then asked, “Would you like to see it? Shall I get the key?”

The church was locked up. Just like many churches in America, closed and locked up most of the time. I’m so tired of irrelevant churches that haven’t figured out how in infect communities with the gospel message by seeing the church as a vehicle for social transformation, not just a place to Bible thump on Sunday’s and one other day when Bible study is held… BUT that’s another blog post… BACK to business… As she ran off to get the key, I started my steady determined walk to the owner’s office half wondering if these would be my last steps.

I walked confidently into the little building where I was greeted by a receptionist. It was a brightly lit, clean, well kept office, and it seemed that business was good.

Keep in mind that the people of the village had all told me that the farm had been sold and that the clay (brick making) business had been shut down as a result of the sale. This was the reason they had all lost their jobs. I was perplexed by what I saw, and figured that there must be more to the story. I walked up to the counter and was greeted warmly by the receptionist. She asked how she could help me. I said, “I am a pastor from the United States and I would like to speak to the owner about the living conditions of the people on the farm.” I was hoping he might not shoot a clergyman. The woman said, “I will see if he is available,” and to my surprise he agreed to speak with me. I walked into the office to see a rugged looking, forty-something white male sitting in front of his computer and talking on his PDA phone. He told me that he was not the owner, but the manager (the owner’s son-in-law). I asked him what had happened with the business and why the people had not been paid their severance. His response to me was that the business was broke. I asked him about the trucks going in and out and he forcefully replied that he could show me the books that business was down 85%. He stated that the recession had killed the clay business. This is a fact which I had pointed out to the people of the village the day before. I asked him if the farm had in fact been sold (as the people had told me) and he said that it had not been sold, it had all but failed and that’s why the people lost their jobs in December of 2008. He also informed me that there are 2 businesses on the farm: a clay (brick) factory and a cement factory. The cement factory was still running and about 5 of the people in the village were employed there. This was news to me, but it still didn’t explain the living conditions of the people in the village. I asked this man if the people would be paid their severance, and he said that he didn’t have money to pay them… even though the farm owner owns several other farms in the area. I asked him if he had seen their living conditions and if he knew that they often didn’t have food to eat (farm owners provide and maintain housing for their employees on these farms).

He said to me, “Look man, I don’t lose any sleep over that. I don’t have a guilty conscience. That place wasn’t like that when those people moved in!”

I replied, “But you underpaid them for years, and you did no upkeep on the property. Of course it doesn’t look the same.”

He said, “Would you like me to take you into town to one of the compounds man? Can I show you how they live there?”

I replied, “I have been to those settlements. They are horrible. BUT you are not responsible for those settlements. You are responsible for the housing here on this farm.”

He replied, “There is a housing problem all over South Africa man!”

I replied, “That’s true. BUT you are not responsible for all of South Africa. You are responsible for the housing here on this farm.”

He responded, “Pastor, I am going to have to ask you to leave,” as he stood up from his desk.

I said, “You have to be accountable to those people.”

He responded, “Pastor, I am going to have to ask you to leave,” as he walked me towards the door.”

I said, “The living conditions are deplorable.”

He responded, “Pastor, I am going to have to ask you to leave,” as he walked me over the threshold of the door.”

I said, “Don’t you care about their children?”

He closed the door and locked it as I stood outside facing him.

I walked back to the church building in disbelief. The door was open and my friend rushed over to find out what happened in the owner’s office. An older woman accompanied her. They stared at me, but wouldn’t ask the lingering question… “What did he say?”

I told them that he said the farm wasn’t sold, and that their job loss was due to a decline in business. I also told them that he said he was broke, and that he had no plans of paying them any severance. I didn’t believe that he was broke, but it didn’t matter because that’s what he had said, and it was obvious that he had no plans to pay any of those people a dime. “He doesn’t care about you,” I said. “If you dropped dead on this farm, he would be happy. You have to leave this place. There’s nothing here for you. He doesn’t care.” They nodded in agreement. Easy for me to say (well not really), but some of them have lived on that farm for 30 years. The prospect of leaving can’t be easy.

I looked at the makeshift church, and rejoined the group. As we drove away, those who had visited for the first time were visibly shaken. As we contemplated what we had just seen and heard, I began to explain how the people as laborers on the farm are tied to those properties, which they don’t own, and can be evicted from at any time. If they gripe about anything, they have to worry about being kicked out. I also began to share that the schools on farms, like Bergendal, had to play a political game of chess with the farm owners who actually own the schools. These kinds of schools were built by farmers to educate the children of the farm laborers. It was obviously in their best personal interest to educate the children only to the point that they would be the next generation of farm laborers. The farm owner’s wife would have been the schoolmarm at one time. Eventually, schools like this were leased to the government, but principals must still play nice with the owners. Ultimately, the farm schools belong to the farm owners. Now that’s power. Employment, housing, and education all in the hands of one man… This is the case for countless farm laborers in this part of South Africa.

I also began to share that all farm owners weren’t so heartless. I had heard that the owner of the Bergendal School was known to be generous, and to take good care of his workers. Adele (a teacher at Bergenadal and our escort) began to expand on this. She took us to the Seidelberg Wine Estate. Mr. Seider is the owner of the estate, the Bergendal School, and the Fairview homes. Mr. Seider has paid for some renovations at the school, secured donations of coats for the children, and recently held a jazz concert where the proceeds were donated to the school, and more (more info here: http://www.seidelberg.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=24&Itemid=49). We stopped at the estate, and had a look at their glass blowing operation. There is a store on the site where beautiful glass art pieces blown on the site are sold.



From there we went back to the school which is right next door. I decided to take Monique on a walk through the Fairview homes located just next door to the school for comparison to Flakte Brick. We found a couple of students who lived at Fairview and they took us on a quick tour. It was a thousand times better that Flakte Brick.

Monique’s comment was, “So it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Exactly,” I said.

Truth be told, the whole farm laborer/farm owner relationship needs to be overhauled, as it does in many parts of the world including the U.S., but people should be treated like their lives matter.



We spent the rest of the day hanging out with the kids… laughing, dancing, singing… it was a great time. It was capped off with a few songs from the Bergendal Gospel Choir, and boy are they good. I mean they are fantastic. We each said our farewells, Tristian wowed them with a quick Que Dawg step show, I told them my life story, we prayed, we all cried, hugged, blessed, ate, exchanged gifts and eventually tore ourselves away. Two words, “life changing.”






We finished the day with several celebrations, food, reflections, a visit to 2 churches, words of encouragement and affirmation. One thing that was interesting for me is that they let me speak and pray as a minister on several occasions. I usually try to keep the clergy and the academic separate, but they allowed me to be both with no censoring. I’m saddened to say goodbye to my new family.




Written by Frederick A Hanna

South Africa – Day 16, Stellenbosch, Amstelhof, Madiba House and Dennegeur

A day ago I received a message that I would not be back at Bergendal on Thursday. Today, Claude de Jager was to pick me up spend a little time giving me his perspective on South Africa, education, poverty, and the issues that impact the schools in Paarl. Claude is the principal of Amstelhof Primary and is very knowledgable about the local school sytem. We started off by taking a ride to the University of Stellenbosch. I had heard about this university the night prior from Mr. Thomas. He was talking to me about accessibility to South African universities, and whether or not blacks and coloureds could get a fair shake at “university.” Regarding Stellenbosch he said (paraphrasing), “How could one expect to get a fair chance sitting in classroom with the same professors who had told them that blacks and coloureds did not belong in schools with whites because they lacked the mental capacities... the same professors who had voted for Apartheid?” Mr. Thomas said that if perhaps, on the long mile to freedom, they had each walked a half mile he could make sense of it, but since blacks and coloureds had walked a half mile and whites had only walked a few meters, it didn’t make sense.



So with these thoughts in mind I arrived at the University of Stellenbosch, which would simply be a site to set the stage for my day with Claude. We went there to have coffee and to begin a dialogue. Having been in the midst of the impoverished sections of Paarl and inundated with the narratives of the children for the last few days, driving through the streets around the university was a bit surreal. It could have been almost any university in almost any U.S. city… beautiful buildings, students hurrying to and from classes, signs about upcoming functions, and very few students of color. The school is priced out of consideration for most non white South Africans. Stellenbosch is one of South Africa’s former all white institutions and the powers that be have fought to maintain its cultural heritage; thus, the primary language of education is still Afrikaans. Afrikaans was used in schools in South Africa very much in the same way that English was used throughout America’s history. It was used to exclude and prevent certain groups from both attending schools and from achieving in schools. Some could forcefully argue that the English language is still used for exclusion and subordination in American schools today. Claude’s own daughter attended Stellenbosch. For Claude, his daughter’s attending and graduating from Stellenbosch was a way of conquering a myth that students of color couldn’t compete with whites at the university level. It was a way of “showing them” that we were/are every bit as good as they are. This narrative echoes those of many African Americans who desired to prove to whites that they were/are every bit as intelligent as whites and able to compete academically at the best universities. Claude also discussed South Africa’s educational legacy… that blacks were to be educated as laborers, coloureds were to be educated as artisans, and whites were to be educated to be society’s elites. At one time it was against the law for a black man to pick up a hammer or a trowel in South Africa. The black man’s tool was the shovel. This subordination was perpetuated in the schools through the Bantu laws, and substandard curricula for black and coloured schools… the different teacher student ratios: 1:20 for whites, 1:50 for coloureds, and 1:Whatever for blacks. A black school could have 100 learners and 1 teacher. Blacks were typically educated to a 5th grade level, coloureds to a 9th grade level… reminiscent of industrialized education for blacks in the Jim Crow era… actually worse. Keep in mind that South Africa today has approximately 49 million people: about 4 mil white, 5 mil coloured, 1 mil Asian, and the rest black. A hierarchy was set up which even taught the coloured man to fear the black man. Can you see what was happening? All of this was designed to keep the majority at bay while this small group of immigrants, who now claim to be indigenous people, raped the land of its resources, became filthy rich, and took ownership of the land. It was genius in its insidiousness. It was so powerful that it continues to manifest 15 years after Apartheid. According to Claude, whites in South Africa still own 87.5% of the land. This against the backdrop of informal settlements (squatter camps or shanty towns), and inadequate housing throughout the country which are inhabited by blacks and coloureds. LAND equals WEALTH equals POWER. So even though you have a black government in charge in South Africa, the prevailing question is “Who really has the power?” To most South Africans, the answer to this question is obvious.

In terms of teachers… teachers in South Africa were once educated to an 8th grade standard, and required to attend a teacher’s institute for 2 years to attain a teaching certificate—again similar to what was happening with rural teachers trained at places like Hampton Institute in the U.S.—many of these South African teachers did not receive the proper academic training in subjects like math, and some of them are still in the classroom today. Eventually the requirement was extended to make grade 12 matriculation a requirement, but for many teachers already in the system, this amounted to little more than writing an essay. Then they extended the requirement to demand 3 years of training beyond matriculation which could be done in the form of a correspondence course. According to Claude, this ended up being more of an on paper requirement, than one requiring elevation of teaching skills. “He/She is now 45 years old, completing a correspondence course, and still struggling in the classroom.” So today many of South Africa’s teachers can say that they have met the 12th grade matriculation plus 3 years post requirements and hold all of the appropriate credentials although they have not been in a formal educational institution since age fifteen. In all fairness, the people who are taking this circuitous route have full time jobs, families, other responsibilities, and live great distances from the universities. It would be impossible for most of them to just put their lives on hold to go and fulfill these requirements any other way. Its probably worth mentioning that the same low standards did not apply for white teachers in South Africa.

“I hope you see this whole spiral of reasons why we are struggling in our schools.”
Claude de Jager

The question going forward, "So how do you lift the standards in the schools with this backdrop?"


From Stellenbosch, Claude took me on a tour of his pride and joy, Amstelhof Primary School where he is the principal. Before we went to the school, we drove through the neighborhoods where the children who attend the school live. It is painfully plain to see that the conditions for learning begin to take shape well before the student enters the classroom. At Amstelhof Primary one need only look through the schoolyard gate into the adjoining informal settlement… shacks, people with no jobs, no healthcare, little food, trash, drugs, gangsters, squalor, and abject poverty all intersecting right there for all to see. The teachers here can’t deny the harsh realities of their students’ lives.








As we drive at a slow crawl through the settlement adjacent to the school, Claude speaks to everyone. A teacher is still respected in many places here and Claude has been an educator for over 30 years. It rained yesterday and the sun is shining bright today. These are the perfect conditions for clothes washing in a place where everyone still washes by hand and dries on a clothes line (clothes dryers are a commodity, even for working class people), thus the community is bustling with clothes washing activity. Women pump water at a communal tap, as though they were living in a rural village, not in the heart of an urban area.




They scrub clothes in plastic basins, and carry the clothes back to their homes where they hang them on clothes lines. We drive pass a set of communal toilets. They look like permanent Porta-Potties made of concrete with sinks adjacent.



Lots of children scurry about. Some are school aged children who should be in school at the time we are driving through. Many more are preschool aged children who would benefit from early childhood development centers.



Many are unemployed or hustling… selling candy or other goods from their homes, selling an illegal home brewed alcohol, drugs, doing hair, etc. Julius Wilson documents similar practices in the ghettos of Chicago in “The Disappearance of Work.” One of the things that has always amazed me about poor people is their resourcefulness.

It takes great resolve, courage, and oftentimes genius to hustle and survive in the throngs of poverty. Many of these poor people display the same kind of leadership qualities and ingenuity that it takes to be successful in the corporate world. These are some of the realities that the children of Amstelhof face everyday before they even get to school.

Once at school, I am told that the children of Amstelhof engage in practices that are designed to build basic math, writing, and reading skills before they enter into a more formal class schedule. Claude likes to point out that on one side of the school are the informal settlements and on the other side of the school is the highway—metaphorically the highway to the world beyond the throngs of poverty—. The school, or EDUCATION, then serves as “the pathway to the world.” Great concept made concrete by the fact that you can stand outside of the front door of the school and see both sides.



Amstelhof would be more consistent with what I would call an urban school. Though I am able to clearly see differences between the urban schools and the farm schools (like Bergendal), what’s most telling are the similarities. The students and the teachers are fighting the same war on different terrains. It is essential that the educators at these schools understand their terrain, and the sources of opposition they must face in these environments. They must also align themselves to share each others successes and failures in order to better implement best practices. Claude showed me around and explained to me how he leverages resources, and how the generosity of many contributes to his unending efforts to provide the best education possible for the students of Amstelhof. He demonstrates that good leadership is a key to the success of schools. Research has shown this time and time again. School leaders who are tough, determined, committed, and inspired can make a difference. Claude is clearly a man of great faith.




Mandela (Madiba) House
Next we visited the house that Nelson Mandela stayed in during his final months of incarceration. The house remains largely intact and helps to tell the story of his continued movement towards an amicable negotiation of the end of Apartheid. This was the last prison that would ever house Mandela, and the gates we walked out of were the same gates he walked through as he strode to freedom.





Visting a place where such an incredible human being lived was nice. Personally, I was mentally preoccupied with what I had seen over the last few days, and I was struggling to keep being a tourist on this trip. I was processing, and praying and wishing I could help people. Taking pictures at Madiba House just didn’t seem important.

To that end, I was treated to a trip to a development that was committed to making a difference for the families of Farm laborers in South Africa… Dennegeur…

Dennegeur is a community built for local farm laborers with donated monies. The idea of Dennegeur shows that situations like Flakte Brick farm do not have to be… There are other paths that farm owners can take to ensure the well being of their employees, and to repay them for their decades of hard work by ensuring that they have adequate housing and resources that position them to give their children a better future. Dennegeur was paradise for a farm laborer compared to what I had seen so far. In addition to a rugby field, basketball court, pavilion, huge swimming pool, health center, daycare center, and educational/spiritual training facility, they are growing their own food and installing tunnels for tunnel farming. The community is clean, with green backyards and beautiful gardens in the front yards. Its secure and it feels safe. It has rules to foster social cohesion. It is night and day from the housing that I have seen for most poor South Africans up until now. In addition, the people will own these properties and pass them on to their children. This is a a far cry from living on a farm where your employment is directly tied to your housing and the education of your children. More info here: http://www.la-motte.com/index.cfm?event=centralContent&intCentralContentID=7957

From Dennegeur we took a quick ride up to a French village amongst the Paarl mountains called FRANSCHEOK. It’s a quaint little town that looks like its for the wealthy. We grabbed a cup of Rooibos tea there before heading back to the bed and breakfast.



We finished off the day at our final dinner with the Bergendal staff. The restaurant, De Kelder, boasted a “Bottomless Ribs” special on Thursday nights. We ended up cleaning out their ribs… SERIOUSLY! Most of us were on our 3rd slab of babybacks when the waiter told us that they only had 3 slabs left. I wanted to come back later and vandalized their sign so that it would read “LESS Ribs,” but that’s not why I was in South Africa. It was another excellent time of fun and fellowship. Bergendal really adopted us, and loved on us. They made Tristian and I feel very special. Great day.

Written by Frederick A Hanna