In keeping with International Women’s Day that was celebrated at the beginning of the month, I’d like to tell you about the women I know…
The Social worker who day after day comes into work smiling. Her job is to help those disregarded by society, put their lives back together.
The friend who moved to Cape Town to start a new life, after being cheated on and basically thrown from her house.
Our lives come to a standstill with load shedding: phones die, no wifi, no traffic lights working, we buy dinner – because, cold food. And we make sure everyone knows we have load shedding.
Life becomes difficult.
Last week, Japie Krige, the Manager at Tshepo Community Development Initiative spoke on RSG (100 – 104FM) about being homeless: at Tshepo we service and help the homeless community to incorporate into life, again. Or for many, for the first time.
I’m not sure when we became so entitled.
We deserve. We can. We have.
I just watched a short video on the protection of the sea turtle in Watamu, on the Kenyan coast. The eggs are laid and take two months to hatch. It is said that only one in a thousand will survive into adulthood.
The green topic is a heavy one. How do we, as humans, clean up the mess that we’ve made over the past decades. The selling point of plastics, years ago my mum told me, is that it is indestructible and that it lasts forever. Now look at it.
I read a Facebook message that hit be right between the eye. Normally Facebook is a blur of images, community groups, service delivery issues and a quirky memes in between.
This Facebook post was a short sermon about how when we live a life to celebrate God, it doesn’t matter what we do for a living.
I don’t necessarily like my job: I’m good at it and I have ten years’ experience in the field, but I can now, ten years later, think of other career paths that might be more suitable.
We all have people who believe in us, who support us, who offer us comfort and love when life happens.
The people who love us, love us, despite of what they know about us.
The ones that makes us feel loved, wanted and ok.
We at Tshepo, work very hard, to be that place for the individuals that walk through our door.
The rain, to me, means peace. It means grace. It means my prayers have been answered. It means our dams get fuller.
I climb in my car, run into my apartment and know for sure that I will have a warm, dry bed to sleep in at night.
For the homeless, rain means issues: more than they already have…
It means not necessarily having a dry bed.
It means they have nowhere to go to stay dry.