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February 1, 2004, You’re Never Too Old, by Chris
How old is too old to? It seems that 85 - almost 86 - is not too old. Two weeks ago my mother arrived alone from Victoria B.C. determined to volunteer for Edzimkulu. We booked two nights in a bed and breakfast in Johannesburg to allow her a day to recover from the fatigue of a twenty-five hour flight before making the six hour trip in our bakkie to get from Jo'burg to Underberg. As it turns out we needn't have worried. Instead of spending the day in bed, Mom wanted to see the city and get a few chores out of the way. She purchased an overlocker (known in Canada as a serger) for the organization so that women making crafts can do a more professional job and better meet the quality demands of overseas markets as well as picking up odds and ends that she thought she would need here. We finally convinced her to have a short nap before supper!
My mother is not frail, but she weighs at most 100 pounds and cannot walk without a cane and some assistance - the result of a broken hip almost thirty years ago. In addition she suffered through a root canal, subsequent tooth extraction and dry socket in the month before she arrived. This doesn't seem to stop her. Even the glass of unidentified insects floating in her water she accidentally ingested brought only momentary panic. Since she has arrived she has organized space for volunteers, mended our second hand sofa, and sewn sheets for the beds. We are expecting up to eight volunteers by April and getting ready for them is no small job.
A few days ago we went to Ndawana to meet with five young people to start to plan in detail our activities there. Mom insisted on going along even though it is 35 kms away much of which is over very rough road. At Ndwana we sat at a plastic table in the shade in front of the bottle store - think of a liquor store combined with a drinking establishment - eight of us sharing excitedly the possibilities for bringing development and medical aid to the community. Two bottles of warm soda were presented along with six drinking glasses. Remember that there is no running water, no sanitation, no electricity and that 50% of the people there are HIV positive. Mom or Ngogo as she is known in Zulu, graciously accepted the glass of grapefruit pop, dutifully draining her glass over the two hour meeting.
As we said our goodbyes, having solidified plans, and agreeing to meet again with the chief to get his approval, hugs and complex Zulu handshakes were exchanged, the most generous being reserved for Ngogo. The image of my tiny 85 year old mother, white hair blowing in the wind, being embraced by several big very black men will live forever in my heart. I hope all our volunteers are as robust.
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