Daily Bread

“Tragedy, no matter how sad, becomes boring to those not caught in its addictive caress.” – Maya Angelou, All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes

These past few weeks have been somewhat sobering as the once abundant flood of donations have slowed to a trickle. Every time I call a church to assess their needs the response remains the same. “We need bread,” they answer.

Yesterday ten loafs were delivered to the office for distribution and we were elated. Something as simple as a loaf of bread, six rand, less than a dollar - this is a basic of life that is mixed, kneaded, and baked into sun light and the smell of grandma’s kitchen. This is what we find coming up short within a few weeks following this terrible tragedy that has torn apart dreams and left thousands homeless.

Why are we – who are not caught in the addictive caress of tragedy – so quick to tired? Why are we so ready to return to the hum drum of weak morning coffee, traffic, cubicles, computers, more traffic, and TV dinners? Amazingly, I see this tendency not only in volunteers and donors, but in the SHADE administration as well.

Monday’s meeting – three weeks following the xenophobic violence in Cape Town – Mama Tembo looks around the room at the staff perched on the edge of their seats, waiting for a word from the General. “It is time to return to normal SHADE programming,” she said. Normal SHADE programming? I was disturbed by the idea of returning to programming that had been planned months earlier, before the attacks - to the youth camp, women’s conferences, and worksheets on how to stop a bully - when hundreds of Zimbabweans were still sleeping on the floor of a church hall. It seemed so offensive that we could or believed that we should move on with life as normal. But since I am only an intern, little more than a volunteer, I kept my mouth shut.

Since that meeting I’ve tried to both finish so-called normal programming tasks as well as spend several nights a week with the refugees. Fifty-one people remain at the shelter and, while the numbers are steadily diminishing, the donations seem to be doing the same – but at a far higher rate.

I once heard this phenomenon termed ‘volunteer burnout.’ I was told that people simply can’t sustain such a high level of emotional intensity for long. Understandable? Certainly. But even if it is understandable, we cannot forget those who do not have the luxury of returning to life as usual. We cannot forget those who find their dreams have been dashed upon the rocks of life and they are left to gather up what pieces remain.

We mustn’t put a time limit upon healing. Some refugees were ready to move back into their communities within a weeks’ time. Others are still afraid to step outside the church hall. Healing is not uniform and it mustn’t be coerced. So, for now, we wait, not until the food runs out, but until people are ready. For now, we pray: Lord, let us not become bored with the tragedy of our sisters and brothers. Instead, as the body of Christ, let us remember that when one member of the body weeps, we all weep. When one member rejoices, our laughter must resound throughout the nations, for we are a witness to the unity found in Christ.