Alone

The Church and being a Christian is a huge part of my life at home and at my home university. Investing myself in those communities has been one of the most rewarding parts of my life to date. When I went to Cape Town, I thought why should it be any different here? I did research and picked a church out before I even left for the Mother City. The first week I dragged all my willing friends with me, and we had a good time, but none of them were as invested in it as I was, which was alright with me except that I had no idea how to make South African friends. When presented with uncomfortable or different situations, it is human nature to revert to what is comfortable, what we can control. The first few weeks in South Africa were a true testament to this. I was constantly surrounded by Americans, whether I sought them out or not, and as a moderate introvert, I did not have a huge desire to strike up a conversation with the first South African who crossed my path. Therefore, I stayed in the comfort of my American bubble, hoping some new friends would miraculously fall into my lap. 

            Flash forward a few weeks, and the church that I had been going to was having a weekend retreat. The retreat was 45 minutes away from Cape Town, overnight, and involved sleeping in tents. I had convinced one friend to go with me, but the day of she told me she was overwhelmed with school and couldn’t go. I contemplated all day if I should even go myself, because safety was a concern and I knew nobody and even though it was a church gathering you never know what could happen. I had never been anywhere in Cape Town alone. Everywhere I had gone, even to school, for the past five weeks, I was constantly in the company of my American friends. While I was scared at what being alone would mean, I was also incredibly certain of the fact that if I did not go on this retreat any hope at making meaningful South African friends and investing myself in this community would be gone. So, I went completely alone and nervous for what would come of it. 

            I stood by myself at the bus stop, waiting for what felt like an eternity and confused because the bus was now twenty minutes late. Maybe it had all been a mistake and I should just get on the next bus back to my dorm. Across the street I saw a girl, standing looking at her phone, and holding an overnight bag and a pillow. I decided in that moment that I had absolutely nothing left to lose and walked across the street. “Are you going on the retreat?” To be honest, I couldn’t decide if I wanted her to say yes or no. However, after this initial question, it was like all the pieces fell into place. We talked and laughed while we waited for the bus which was another hour late, we made a list of all the things I should do in Cape Town before I leave, she introduced me to everyone she knew once we arrived, and she invited me to sleep in her tent, barely leaving my side for the whole weekend. 

            I learned more that weekend about South Africa, it’s people, and myself than I think I could’ve ever learned had I not gone on the retreat. With the big blue sky spanning for miles without any obstruction and the cows mooing during deep talks about faith and life, I found a sort of clarity in the chaos that was Cape Town. I saw the beauty and the pain. I experienced the faith and the tenacity of a people who have been continuously beaten down in their fight for equality. In a room of a thousand people, I was the only American that I knew of. I was alone, yes, but I was experiencing what it meant to be South African, what it meant to have a faith that goes deeper than church on Sunday, and what it means to live that faith out. 

            This weekend, sleeping in tents and sitting through lectures in the ninety-degree heat, was hands down the best weekend I spent in Cape Town. I spent it alone, sure, but alone is exactly where I needed to be.