Dear friends,
Matthew and I have the privilege and pleasure of writing to you from South Africa, as we visit some of our projects.
This trip has affirmed in our minds just how difficult life is for people in this corner of the world. As doctors, we are acutely aware of the struggles that people have in their lives. The struggle may be seen, many times it remains unseen. We walk alongside, and bear witness to, countless people as they live out physical, emotional and mental pain. The burdens we see in these impoverished towns though, are so much more accentuated.
Let me explain. The electricity is erratic, and it often surges. At times, the red dust blows ferociously, making our eyes weep and sneeze. Our skin itches. The drought has killed a lot of the livestock and the farmers’ rivers are dry. Cattle are starving on the drought-stricken land, as they are in our own barren land. Unemployment is crippling and there is a pervasive uncertainty in government decision making pertaining to this. Personal safety is at times compromised due to the desperate need of some of the locals. There is a sensory overwhelm of poverty.
And yet in amongst all this, there is a unique oasis created by AAF. A patch of green, cultivated over many years by the generosity of donors like you, shelters underneath a massive mulberry tree where you can hear a rich cacophony of birds singing. The mulberry tree has generous green leaves and rich smelling fruit. As you stand under the tree, the sound of vibrant Zulu laughter arrests your attention, and all feels well with the world.
The locals tell us that they are aware of aid agencies in other towns that sometimes supply people with food. We passionately believe though, that people need more than the temporary relief gained through filling bellies. True it is that AAF provides food, but we give more than food: we give hope, we teach skills and importantly we inspire purpose. The deep roots of that mulberry tree are a robust symbol of the roots of our Foundation, forged and growing since 1975.
Yesterday we walked a forgotten back street in a town racked by unemployment. The town sat heavy with the regret of apartheid, and the littered streets spoke of the absence of any care or pride. Matthew and I had our personal safety radars activated. A ute carrying some rowdy men approached us, and I stiffened in anticipation of trouble. One of the youths (pictured above) tumbled out into our path and exuberantly asked in Zulu about our sons by name. He then begged in English that we tell our boys to celebrate. The young man declared “I have a job, I have a job, and now I have hope… I am transformed by the hope you Aussies have loved me with… I have abandoned the filth of my life, I have a job because I am a man and I must work”. We were struck in that moment by the legacy of the Foundation, and we immediately gave thanks.
We gave thanks for all our supporters: past, present and future.
We gave thanks for the deep roots of our Foundation, embedded by my parents 45 years ago.
We gave thanks for the labour of tireless custodians over many decades, through many dirty, dusty, dry years.
We gave thanks that, like our towering mulberry tree, there is vibrant and abundant fruit emerging.
Friends, the fruit is rich, and oh so sweet…
Will you join us on this journey to grow yet more branches on our tree of hope?
With warmest regards from the field,
Jane and Matthew
AAF board member and AAF ambassador
