My name is Giovanni Ryno Mally born in Manenberg the youngest of four siblings I was raised by my mom. Dad had his own thing going. He was a gang member of high rank in the number gang.
When I was younger, watching Ed, Edd, and Eddy on Cartoon Network, I was struck by a line flippantly delivered by Eddy: “You know what they say, a little childhood trauma builds character.” I figured that it was okay; whatever I was going through would make me interesting with a wicked sense of humour. And while that was true, looking back over my life, I have seen the ugly underside of that pearl of cartoon wisdom.
I first heard Sarah's theology of ‘The Beautiful Withness’ earlier this summer. A week later, fascist riots broke out across my nation. My immediate thought was, “Here we go” bracing as if for physical impact, though miles away from the violence at the time.
My name is Vincynthia and I come from Atlantis in the Western Cape of South Africa. I now live in Manenberg with my five children and husband. Looking back over past memories of what was, I get a glimpse of experiencing a withness that I later in life named uMoya – meaning wind or spirit in Xhosa and Zulu.
My name is Sikelelwa. I am writing from the Eastern Cape where I grew up. I was fortunate that my grandparents from both sides of my family raised us up in the Lord. I was born in a world where we did not ask if God existed but as children we debated what God was like.
We are entering into the Christmas season, preparing for the celebrating and remembering of the arrival of Jesus into the world, Emmanuel, God with us. Learning the person of Jesus who is Emmanuel, has really been the story of my life and so as my way of honouring this God who is with us, I want to remember Him and share some of my story with you.
We were mid worship set when the electricity ran out. The guest worship leader didn’t miss a beat, we just switched to a cappella and kept going. Us. Our unlikely community from so many different walks of life, singing as one, full of joy and gratitude.
“Don’t get attached”, they say. “Keep your emotional boundaries”, they say. “You will get hurt”, they say. “Don’t get taken advantage of’, they say.
For eleven months after my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I believed for her healing. I prayed, I declared, I prophesied. We travelled the world to places where people were healed, either supernaturally or through medical intervention. We recorded her test results, harrowing as they were, so that one day, when she was healed, we’d have proof that she was ever sick at all.
Grief hovers within, moving like a continual presence. The shape of loss, a vacuum absorbing all else. Lost dreams, lost people, Lost loves, lost hope.
Grief is a riptide. When they die, you feel as if you did too. Like the churn of an angry wave about to break on land. Suspended for a moment with the force of rage behind you, But a moment, is all you have. thrown against the sand in a winding, bruising, slam.
I take the journey to where I knew you best, The best you. Sweet memories flicker in between fractures of brokenness. Johannesburg Sterlizia’. Gorgeous, orange diving bird of paradise. Red sand and rocks. Familiar yet foreign.