Mamelodi

Today I met you,
Nkulukulu Lord God,
In Mamelodi.

I made a friend in South Africa. Her name was Betty. Every day of the counseling course I took, she sat next to me. We laughed and cried and shared information together as work buddies. The last day of class, she invited me to go home with her and make some mealie-pap. So we hopped in a crammed taxi, and headed off to Mamelodi, an informal settlement on the outskirts of Tshwane. I didn't take my camera because Betty is not a novelty, she's a friend. (This picture was taken on the first day of our arrival in Pretoria, as we drove past Mamelodi on a car tour.)
Anyway, this woman invited me into her home--something that we in the US would call a shack--made of scraps of time, a car door or two, and a corrugated tin roof. And under the roof, we made the gummy mixture that is the staple of Africa, pap. And we laughed. And we danced. And we sang. And she offered me one of the three tomatoes she had lying around. And we ate that and the pap together.
Then she kicked me out.
Because it was getting dark, and it's dangerous for her even to walk her own streets at night. And it's dangerous for me to be there no matter what. And its dangerous for her to be there with me who is dangerous no matter what... you get the point.

I think that if Jesus lived in South Africa, we would find him in Mamelodi.