A cry out of Africa

Sometimes in the mail a letter from the other side of the world arrives whose contents helps put my Tasmanian experience into a global perspective.

What I would like to share are excerpts from such a letter plus a poem sent to me yesterday by my friend, Bev Reeler, who now lives in exile in South Africa after having had to leave her home in Zimbabwe because of death threats to her husband.

Unlike some of us in Tasmania who would put all our efforts into one issue (refugees or old growth forests), Bev has worked continuously and tirelessly over the years as an activist for both social and environmental justice because she firmly believes that the two are inextricably linked and that to resolve either issue requires the resolution of the other.

Bev Reeler’s main work is offering Deep Ecology workshops to victims of torture and social injustice.

November 1, 2003
Dear Peter,

During this week’s Tree of Life workshop we were visited by the South African National Intelligence Agency and a local white farmer. This followed two visits during the previous week’s workshop when 5 hours of our precious two and a half days were spent being interviewed by the South African Police on two separate visits: one from the police in Groot Marico and one from Zeerust. They were responding to the complaint from the farmer who had seen ‘new blacks in the area’- they said they were investigating a MDC training camp (run by 3 grey haired white women!).

Today I have felt overwhelmed by the task of healing in an environment that is designed to prevent it. By the unending attrition that seems bent on keeping the victims, victims.

By the phone call from Qulani telling me of the hundreds of refugees being camped outside the home office last Tuesday, trying to get asylum – their once a week try at getting legal – only to be told that they are taking only 4 people and the office will now be closed till December.

Overwhelmed by the phone call from Nkotaso who had got his papers and had been excited at the chance of a job as a waiter – at last. He had needed shoes for the interview – I wrote him a reference. “They said I couldn’t have a job because Zimbabweans are dishonest.”

Uncomprehending at the lack of empathy or sanctuary, in a country which was given solidarity during the South African struggle for democracy and freedom.

Overwhelmed by the constant rhetoric from the African leaders that Mugabe is a hero going through a difficult time.

Writing about the workshop in the following poem, “Late October – New Moon in Groot Marico”, has brought me back from my anger, rage and tears – to remember that there is – floating down a river towards the Limpopo, a small spark of hope.

much love, Bev

Late October -New Moon in Groot Marico

I sit in a circle with a group of young men
-some the age of my son
young bright faces
marred and scarred 
by torture and violation

Young intelligent eyes
dimmed and darting
weary and fearful

young lives used as tools
in another’s battle for power

Sitting in a circle
with both perpetrators and victims
all in refuge in a foreign country
for the same reason

We sit in this circle
-with the intention of healing

A silent line of people
walking out into a deep green valley
following a river of pure mountain water

walking our mother earth
asking for healing
asking for help in this enormous journey

touching the trees
the rocky sandstone cliffs
asking for healing
for the courage to tell our stories

back to the circle
to remember our roots
– our ancestors, grandmothers, totems
– our stories of childhood
of the hopes and fun and hardships
how the small seed grew into this tree

we walk to the river
asking for healing
the courage to remember
and let go
the courage to forgive

back to the circle
to tell the stories of the reasons for our leaving our home
the mothers,
the predawn stars
as they let out the cattle

We hear of the torture
and the unseen scars
of the burnt homes
of the violence committed
the raiding of townships which housed their relatives
the torment
the running away

different tribes
same tribe
different side
same sides
perpetrator and victim
random selection
look across the room

trust that they have heard the stories
that the suffering was the same
that this can change

We sit in a circle
reaping the fruits that these young seeds
have been able to gather on this awesome journey

They sit higher
bodies lighter
their eyes begin to meet

they speak of their courage
their ability to endure
their adaptability
their learning to trust
to talk to people of other tribes
the courage to stand alongside themselves
to survive a foreign country
of God
of hope

Hearing their wisdom

A silent line weaves its way down to the river
and meets in the tall green forest

On a small fire
we burn symbols of what the would like to leave behind
fear/distrust/abused friendships

a silent line stands by the river
each one throws a symbol of our hope for the future
ash from our evening fire
small flowers and leaves floating down the river
one day to join the Limpopo
to our home

Bev Reeler