Lending a helping hand

Personal email sent to financial sponsors on April 4, 2014 12:28pm

Friend—

We have left Cape Town, South Africa and all I can say is wow. I’ve had some incredible experiences in this amazing country.

Here are some of the highlights: I visited the Institute for Justice And Reconciliation; learning about Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the role of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission post Apartheid. I walked through District Six; where hundreds of thousands were relocated during apartheid simply because of the color of their skin. I saw, through performance the effects of Apartheid from the stage play Missing; written by John Kani at the University of Cape Town’s Baxter Theater (a beautiful campus and state of the art facility). I visited Robben Island; where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned during Apartheid. I placed shoes on the foots of school children living in Townships during a TOMS Shoe Drop—in collaboration with Rotary International. I experience the local culture with some friends, leaving the country with a new name: Matla—which means strength, deriving from my American name—Brian, meaning strength and honor. I hiked to the top of Signal Hill, and Table Mountain. While all of these experiences were great I’d like to share with you a story of my most memorable moment in Cape Town, South Africa.

I was hungry, and my local friends and I had stopped at a McDonalds—per my request—so that I might grab something to eat. I ordered my food, and while waiting for it I noticed three little boys sitting near the door of the restaurant. These boys couldn’t have been no more than 6 or 7 years old. I concluded from their clothes and mannerisms that they were poor. They sat next to the door sharing a drink from one cup. My food had arrived and I began to take my first bite. But before I could proceed any further I stopped and went up to the three boys. I asked them their names. Ethan, Jeremiah, and Samil (if I remember correctly-although I think I am generalizing what I heard with American names). I asked them if they were hungry. They said yes. I told them to follow me. I took them to the register and I asked them what they wanted to eat. I told them to tell the cashier what you want, and that they could get anything. They were so happy. Their smiles moved me. They ordered 3 big Mac Meals. The cashier told me—as I was paying for their meals—that “God is going to bless you.” There food was no more than 10USD.

While waiting for their food. I sat and talked with them, laughed with them, and kept them company. My friends were shocked and couldn’t believe what I did. I was simply lending a helping hand. Their food arrived and I got them settled in at a table. At first I wanted to take a picture with them so that I could have it to remember, but then I told my friend no, I didn’t want to take a picture, I told him, I’ll  remember their faces. My friends couldn’t understand what was happening but I tell you this story because this is what I felt:

While leaving the McDonalds and waiving to three boys in the window, I struggled to hold back my tears. I lent them a helping hand, not because I had much to give, but because I know what it is like to have nothing. When I was in the 5^th grade, not much older than these three boys, I dropped out of elementary school. I had been moving back in forth so much that I just stopped going. My mom had gone back on the streets and I had virtually no one looking after me or to be accountable to—so I just survived as I could. I lived liked these three boys. I went to a McDonalds one day and pulled out all of the UNICEF boxes that I could out of the trash from other peoples happy meals. At the time, UNICEF had partnered with McDonalds and included little boxes for kids to take with them when they went trick-or-treating during Halloween to collect money (often coins) and then place the box in the mail to send back to UNICEF. This is how I survived for two weeks. I kept the money and used it to eat and live off of until something happened. One day after coming back from a 4 hour day of “work” with approximately $42.00 in my boxes, my older sister told me that “some white man came looking for you” and that he was “from the school” and that “I think he said his name was Mr. BeBeau.” When I heard that name I dropped my boxed, I got scared, and I packed up whatever clothes I had and walked approximately 2 miles to another community where I my aunt lived.

Mr. BeBeau was my elementary school Principal. We had a relationship; primarily because throughout my years in elementary school, I frequented his office on many occasions. It got so bad that my school teachers bypassed time out, and the referral process and sent me straight to Mr. BeBeau’s office. He really cared for me. I’d like to believe he understood my cry for attention, my need for love, and just a chance to succeed. And it showed that day my sister told me he came looking for me. He had noticed that I had stopped coming to school, and came to find me. Needless to say I started going back to school. What Mr. BeBeau did for me, is what I hope I did for those three boys. Although it was just a meal, I hope they felt as though they were worth enough for someone, anyone to care about them. It seemed so small for my friends to understand but for me it was a reality that I had lived.

Friend, I want you to know, you have helped me too. You have lent me a helping hand, and I am so thankful for that. I have to tell you this for my sanity because I truly am grateful for everything you have done for me; to allow me to experience what I am experiencing.

If I were to ask you to do anything it would be to find a way to continue to lend a helping hand. This experience has opened my eyes to so many horrors of the world, but from experience, I know the impact from someone simply lending a helping hand.

Best,

--Brian