What I’ll Miss the Most

Simple Beauty.

Eyes and Fun

I spent most of the day yesterday pulling students one by one out of their classes to record brief audio of them and snap a picture of their eyes. You would not believe the the span of feelings these pictures display.. I’m really excited to adapt it to the multimedia stuff Lauren and I have in mind and also do a crazy huge print that will melt souls.

I also thought I’d include a photo I took last week when the kids were playing up at Jon and Ivy’s house. Devout followers of this blog will know who I speak of when I say Jon, but for those of you who have been out of the loop Jon is the groundskeeper of the school and a mighty good man. If you ever find yourself saying “this guy really likes black and white photos” that would be a safe assumption. The real reason I’m using mostly B&W on this blog, though, is simply to prolong our Internet life. Here in South Africa you pay per gig for the amount of information exchanged while you’re online. However ridiculous this may be it’s actually been a great way to keep in mind the outrageous amount of time we spend on the Internet. Anyway, I’ll be “home” in two weeks, whatever that means.

Transplant

Over the weekend Lauren and I tagged along with Sarah to pick up two kids who live by themselves in a nearby township. Laurence and Cini will be living with Sarah on a trial basis, and if all goes well they’ll be returning to the school next year and setting up camp permanently here at the house. Here’s a couple photos of the day… I’m still in the midst of photographing how they adapt…. they’re beautiful kids and I’m really hoping they adjust well and can stick around.

I really can’t imagine the emotions they must have been experiencing the day we picked them up. I hope you are able to catch a glimpse from the photos.

Did I mention I never want to photograph a model or band ever again?

©natejohnsonphotography

An Indian

We would sit in the steaming waters of a hot tub for several minutes until our bodies became accustomed to the temperature. In the company of friends we would then race our way to the pool, jump in, submerge, then resurface with a quick gasp in breath, a momentary shiver and goosebumps in our bones. It was in this act that my friends and I showcased our instinctive joy and love of contrast, our desire to compare and experience momentary discomfort. It was inexhaustible. Executed over and over again and the chill still shocked us.

America, rural South Africa, Cape Town, rural South Africa, and soon back again, those childlike sensations return, only now accompanied by a mind wise enough to involve the heart. I have been angry at the rich for their blindness. I have been angry at the poor for their envy. I’ve pitied the rich for their illusions of happiness and rejoiced in the few poor that have found theirs outside of circumstance. I have rediscovered my childlike and HUMAN ability to feel, but have allowed myself to go beyond that and determine my response… which I intend to have end in action.

I’ll end with a little story and confirmation of the things I’ve felt in being here:

When my mother first asked me what it was I wanted to be when I grew up I told her I wanted to be an Indian. I know a lot of folks have cutesy stories like this but I like to think mine was an allusion to something and now holds some weight. I was thinking the other day about how I’d like to live if I could start it all over and change everything. And this may sound odd but I still resonate with my childhood fantasies of the life of an Indian. This would of course be prior to the white man’s devastation cast on them and I could do without their tribal wars and inhumane rituals. Living off the land, existing in community, not knowing the meaning of the word ‘gun.’ My point is I’d like to be living a very stripped down version of what it is I’m living now.. and live a little more like an Indian.

Scatter-brained.. but onto something.

The Newsies

Prior to their debut performance as blue collar Americans.

Update on Cape Town soon.

The Cape

Was it pilgrim settlers who out of spite for the crown decided they would pull carriages on the right side of the road? And was it then Henry Ford who played along and placed the steering wheel on the left side of the automobile without once thinking “hm, perhaps this is stupid and we’ll regret it one day.” You see, I have to drive five hours tomorrow on the left side of the road, shift with my left hand, judge my speed in kilometers per hour, fill the tank up with liters of petrol,  and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to figure out who it is to be blamed for this dramatic clash and confusion. Maybe this is why Americans have grown to be such horrible world citizens, what with their endless consumption and all. Some jerk got it in his head that the best way to measure distance would be by looking down at his foot, as though it would be some sort of universal scale, and in doing so birthed a severance that has now crept into the minds of an entire country.

This is, of course, just a theory but I think I may be on to something. Long story short, I’m off to Cape Town tomorrow and it should be fun!

The Shack

Each night when I’ve prepared for bed I exit the large house where Sarah, Lauren, and a couple of the kids stay and make my way twenty meter (yeah, I’m getting used to the metric system) journey in darkness to the little house where I sleep. I’ve found that my unfamiliarity with my surroundings make this walk somewhat frightening, with not knowing what ravenous creatures lurk in the darkness and depending souly on a reading light to guide me. Thus far I’ve only heard noises in the bushes that line the yard with no actual sightings of the lurking man-eaters, but I’m not even halfway through my trip, so there is still plenty of time for a brutal attack. But that’s all beside the point.

This house that I speak of has become a place of solace for me, somewhere I can go to escape the noisy children, to gather my thoughts, to read, to pray, to recap the day and really allow myself and my thoughts to exist uninterrupted. The contents of the house are built around one sole theme: necessity, and in turn, beauty. You enter the front door and step into a white walled room with a single red recliner, looking up you’ll find no ceiling, but rather, rafters and a tin roof with small holes that allow afternoon sunlight to penetrate like bullet holes. A quick turn to the right and a step up leads you to the second and final room in which lies a twin sized bed, a wicker chair, an end table, a curtain-less shower, sink, and toilet. Of my possessions I keep there with me a pen and journal, bible, and a borrowed Wendell Berry book.

The flesh and meat stripped away, for the past three weeks I have lived in the bones; a quaint, unassuming place that echoes and whispers back at my prayers and hears my doubts, keeping them there without cables and frequencies to relay them to the world. The cracks in the windows and roof let in the weather as though it is their intent to remind me I was never meant to fully escape a humid night or frigid morning. Before I sleep I memorize the sounds and the life outside the walls, a gusting of wind or a fallen tree branch, so I am less likely to be startled in the night. It has quickly been revealed to me that it has not been God’s intention for some time to cater to the skin and the nerves, to moderate perfectly the 98.6 degrees, to condition the air or to close off the ceiling. It has quickly been revealed to me that in an imperfect space,  simplified and stripped of luxury, a perfection exists that comforts, clothes, and addresses directly the well-being of the soul.

Lightning

Lauren and I just finished watching one of the most beautiful thunder storms I’ve ever had the chance to witness. I’m not sure South Africans would have paid much mind to its passing but there’s something about witnessing nature in a new place that changes its effects on the soul.I’m also extremely excited because this most likely means we’ll have a break in the outrageously hot weather, maybe trade it in for a couple cool, breezy days. I’ll be cautiously optimistic.

The Handyman

Let me introduce you visually to the two girls I’ve been spending this trip with: ladies and gentlemen, the lovely Lauren Stonestreet (left) and Sarah Haver (right). We spent both Friday and Saturday of this weekend going to a nearby hotel/lodge to allow the kids that stay with Sarah to get some swimming accomplished. The place was really nice and I’m sure I’ll be posting photos of it later as we spend more HOT weekends poolside.

The handsome man you see in the above photograph goes by the name of Jon. He’s the handyman around Pfunanane and also one of the nicest men I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Lauren and I spent about an hour today photographing him in his church going attire. I think he was a little thrown off by the magnitude of the picture taking. It was a small little shoot by my standards but the people here expect a quick snapshot when they are going to have their picture taken. Luckily Jon is a very easy going guy and was more than happy to  humor us in our attempt to capture a nice photograph of him, which I think we succeeded in doing (you’ll see the outcome eventually).

Anyway, school is tomorrow which means Lauren and I will be back at painting backdrops for the childrens’ concert which is actually in just over a week. We’ve got a TON of work to do. This past week absolutely flew by! It’s crazy and I’m loving it. Stay tuned.