Eyes to See

Isaiah 58:12 Some of you will rebuild… you will be called the repairer of broken walls, the restorer of streets where people live.

We sat at a café this morning sipping cappuccinos and a latte talking.  It might have been just another day in the life of this coffee loving girl except that Blanca was also drinking coffee (I knew we would eventually win her over), we were in Cape Town, and we sat across the table from an unusual man.

Last night as we neared the end of dinner, which included a surprisingly tasty enchilada the size of a burrito, Steven, the man who will be taking us into Zimbabwe, confirmed our desire to meet with Ryan in the morning.  He then simply told us to look for the white guy with tattoos.  We walked out of our hostel, immediately spotted him, and crossed the street to greet him.  Before little more than introductions were finished, guys and girls were shaking his hand in a much more complicated fashion than we had as he spoke animatedly with them in their own language.

Now this man with peace tattooed across his neck and a raccoon sunburn from his weekend camping trip stirred the froth of his cappuccino and shared how a Tennessee boy became fluent in Afrikaans, handshakes, and Cape Town street life.  This naturally wove into the stories of those he’s visited in prison or the hospital, spent days and even nights with on the avenues and boulevards of this city and those who have faded in and out of the street along with the changing red and green lights.

He paused in the middle of a thought and pointed out a known pedophile, who for years picked up street boys on corners, walking free with only the restriction of a cane.  Those here in Cape Town are largely calloused to the plight of these children in more ways than just this one.  He also told us of a fight that occurred right outside a private hospital.  One kid broke a bottle and ripped open the neck of the other who then punched him popping open previous stitches leading him into convulsions.  The medical staff at the hospital refused to do anything but provide a cloth for the first boy’s shredded neck leaving the other to convulse.  Then someone called Ryan.  They all seem to have his number…

Answering the question of what becomes of these children after they “grow up”, Ryan told us about China.  He eventually moved off the streets back into his community only to be falsely accused of robbing his neighbor’s house and brutally beaten for a crime he did not commit.  When he was physically able, he too called Ryan.

Please take time to read the full story here in Ryan’s words.

My nose is a sunburned after a day walking alongside this man in the world of soup kitchens and townships with a burn of his own.  I hope the day spent more permanently tattooed my heart making me a bit more unusual … eyes open to see those others choose not to… ears waiting for His call in theirs.

There’s so much more I could say, but that will have to wait for another post.  We leave for Zimbabwe tomorrow so please don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from us until we arrive in Turkey in about a week!

Also, we’ve added links to Ryan’s blog, as well as Ashley’s blog (she is one of the Harvesters nurses), under the Organizations section on the right.