By Craig Brown (Australia)

How do you describe an “Amahoro” experience?  Do you simply focus on the mouth dropping moments, when reconciliation and healing take place in front of you?  The moments when a phrase of truth is uttered and it releases in you a new way of seeing (“suffering that is not transformed is transmitted”, for example)?  Or do you simply revel in the hospitality that is extended to you and, even though you felt you had nothing to offer, unprompted you are told that your mere presence is a ministry?  And, suddenly, you feel welcomed and at one with everyone else. 

So, as you can see, I could probably write a series of reflections on Amahoro, drenched in moments of clarity, tears and laughter.

Perhaps I am a narcissistic Westerner…but what I want to talk about is what Amahoro did to me.  I could dwell on the fantastic moments I mentioned above, but I can’t guarantee I’ll do them justice, and they won’t be replicated in the same way at next year’s Amahoro.  It’ll have its own unique feel, so let’s look forward to that.

It is a cliché but a salient truth: I came back from Amahoro different to when I arrived, bug eyed and grasping my first fistful of African soil.  I had long said I had a “heart” for Africa, going back to when I first found Christ and I was called to the Democratic Republic of the Congo.  A series of civil wars got in the way of that call, and slowly the idea of ministering in the Congo dwindled to having a “heart” for Africa. 

Listening, participating and reflecting at Amahoro, it struck me pretty hard one night that it is easy to have a heart for Africa.  It is harder, more sacrificial, and so much more beneficial to Africa, to be a friend to Africa.  A friend means to be a listener, it means doing my bit to wind back outdated and colonial attitudes, it means being a partner in ministry, in prayer, and in advocacy.  It means instead of going and doing it over there, you find ways of supporting those who are already equipping the church and transforming their communities.

I realised that I had not been that kind of friend. 

So now, thanks to Amahoro, I am wrestling with how to be that friend.  What does that mean? What does that look like? Where does it incarnate? But I am comfortable with the questions because once raised, they are hard to silence…and as it was said at Amahoro, “statements lead to states, questions lead to quests”.

I am on a quest to find my place in the bigger story of Africa, and the bigger story of the Kingdom of God.  And that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to Amahoro. 

Reflections on The Amahoro Gathering 2009 - South Africa

Submitted by Mike Todd, Canada

© 2009 Jaimi Kercher Photography

Trying to put words to the Amahoro Gathering is a tall order. South Africa was the third such gathering, and personally my second, and while it might be too early to accurately label what is happening at these events, there is no doubt that it is something very special.

First, a confession: The first night of the Gathering I was struck by the same crisis of confidence  I experienced last year in Rwanda:

Why was I there?

The theme this year was The African Reformation. Upon reflection, I realized I was there because there is something about the continent of Africa that pulls at my heart and refuses to let me go. I was there because I believe the church of Jesus Christ is desperately in need of reformation. And I was there because I have the unbending belief that Africa is somehow going to save the west, and not the other way around. Given these views, I'm still not sure what I can add to the conversation, but I want to be witness to it. As I often say to my friends, I go to Africa to stay sane, and I come home to bang my head against the brick wall.

By the end of the first full day my crisis had passed. Here are just a few thoughts that I heard to help orient me again:

+ We talked about the traditional way of African thinking. In the west when we meet "the other", we dissect them, analyze them, compare them to ourselves and look for the faults in them. In Africa when they meet the other, they dance with them. They see themselves as coming alive in them and through them. If Africa can teach us this posture, this way of being, then that is one way they will help to save us.

+ Ubuntu is the African idea that we are all connected. When you hurt, I hurt. When you are humiliated, I am humiliated. When you are hungry, I am not satisfied. My well-being is tied up in your well-being. This is community in its truest sense, and if Africa can teach it to us, this is another way they will help save us.

+ We also talked a lot about redemptive suffering. The statement was made that redemption only seems to happen through some form of suffering. This is virtually identical to something we've been saying in our community for some time now: There is no growth without pain. In the west, we spend our lives, our energy, and our resources trying to avoid pain. In order to transform our own suffering and the suffering of the world into something redemptive we must stop fighting it. Well, nobody knows how to suffer like the Africans. If they can teach us how to suffer, then that too will help to save us.

+ Brian McLaren shared with us some thoughts from his next book, A New Kind of Christianity. Brian is no stranger to criticism, and as I sat and listened I looked around the room and marveled. Brian was saying things that will bring the heat he receives from "fellow Christians" to a whole new level, and yet the only sounds emanating from the group were ones of careful consideration and affirmation. In the west we have already settled the question; we follow the Jesus who blesses our comfortable lives. My African friends cannot afford to do that. That Jesus does not work in Africa.

Amahoro is a gathering of family. There is a sense of joy and camaraderie, but also of urgency. There is not much time for small talk. We are there to learn from each other, to encourage each other, and to share with each other. I am constantly amazed at the generosity of my friends at Amahoro.

I can't end these thoughts without reflecting on the setting for this year's Gathering - South Africa. It is like no other African country that I have visited. It is an enigma. Following the Gathering I spent a week in Johannesburg, and one incident was particularly formative for me. My friend Arnie Sweiger, country director for Oasisza.co, drove me by one of the most expensive developments in Joburg. High walls, electric fences, and gates staffed by heavily armed guards. From these multi-million dollar homes you can actually see one of the informal settlements, home to tens of thousands of people living in squalor. In fact, this particular camp is being moved because the same developer owns the land the camp is on and wants to expand the wealthy development.

We then stopped for coffee and had a long theological and philosophical conversation about this bizarre country of outrageous contrasts. We both agreed that although things seem completely crazy here, in fact South Africa is simply a microcosm for the entire globe. We in the west are those rich folks behind the fences, and Africa (and other places of extreme poverty in the world) is the squatter’s camp we can see just down the road a bit. In South Africa the two extremes are in physical proximity; they are literally right next to each other. In the global example we are in virtual proximity.

This is obviously a simplistic look at things, but I think it’s fairly accurate. In an age of instant communication, we are in virtual proximity to those places in the world where suffering is a way of life. It would be easy for me to sit in Arnie’s car and condemn those uncaring people behind the fences, but the reality is I am one of them. And no, I don’t have any answers for what we do about that situation, other than to echo our friend Brian McLaren and confess that everything must change.

We need a new theology of development. We need a new theology of community. Quite frankly we need a new theology of Jesus, because the one I grew up with seems to only work in a world where virtual proximity does not exist, and where distance allows for ignorance. We need to work through what it means to love our neighbour when everyone on the planet lives next door. My friends at Amahoro are helping me do that.

Let me end this thought with a plea: More of us in the west need to go to Africa, to Amahoro. Yes, to participate in the conversation, to add our own perspectives collective wisdom to the group, but more importantly to learn. As I’ve already said I’ve had a feeling for a while now that Africa is going to save the west, and not the other way around. At the beginning of this trip I would have admitted that I didn’t have a clue what that actually meant, it was just something I felt. I’m still not clear on it, but I’m growing more and more convinced that I might be on to something. As Africa works its way through some of these mammoth issues, our sisters and brothers there will have much to teach us, if we are willing to listen.

Father of justice and love

You call your Church to witness

That you are reconciling the world to yourself:

Help us to proclaim boldly the good news of your love

That all who hear it may be reconciled to you

And work together for peace and justice;

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

One God, now and for ever, Amen.

 

Collect from the service at St. George's Cathedral in Cape Town. 

The Amahoro family of friends just celebrated our third annual gathering together.  This year we convened, conversed and connected in Johannesburg, hosted by our South African friends.  Over 200 Africans (and some non-Africans) traveled from across the continent to engage in rich conversation together about Reformation and what that might mean for our African communities.  Friends from Australia, North America and Latin America (just to name a few) also participated in the discussion and deepening of friendships across national lines, sharing the gift of their presence.  This gathering was our most diverse yet, as we had a wide swath of South Africans represented as well as many from East Africa, Mozambique, Zimbabwe and even Ghana.  We came together in the spirit of Jesus, reflecting the rich texture of the Kingdom!

Our first day together felt like a family reunion, as friends embraced after a year’s absence.  Now there is a growing sense of shared history and so much to catch up on when we are reunited.  But part of the beauty of The Gathering is that our friends are bringing their friends and introducing them to others, and so the family is really growing in amazing ways.  Reunions are sweet and new friends are equally embraced in the spirit of Amahoro!  When we are generous with our friendships so many wonderful things happen, and that was certainly true of our times together this week in South Africa.

Edward Simiyu (Kenya) opened our time with a reflection on the Ministry of Presence that assured us that our very physical presence with one another was a blessing and that our openness and availability to one another would only deepen our gathering.  Claude Nikondeha (Burundi) then shared about Transfiguration and the Spirituality of Transformation, two themes articulated by South Africa’s elder Desmond Tutu (the transcript is posted on the Amahoro website).  He reminded us as transformational leaders to cultivate a way of life (as Brian McLaren defines spirituality) to sustain our day-to-day work in our communities as we work toward God’s healing of the world.  Our opening night started our collective thinking about reformation.

We had stimulating conversations led by Mabila Kenzo (DR Congo) and Brian McLaren (USA) that really challenged those gathered in their thinking about post-colonialism across Africa and the kind of questions that are needed for The Quest ahead. We heard from other South African voices, as well as words from our Latin American  and Western friends.  Our Amahoro Board hosted a discussion on the nature of friendships and partnerships.  They shared stories about partnerships developed from within the Amahoro family in the past years, but also shared best practices and pitfalls to avoid as we work together in cross-cultural collaborations.  All these conversations seem to stimulate great conversation around the table during meal times... we have so much to learn together!

There was a stunning moment of reconciliation that took us by surprise, challenged us and humbled us all at once.  Adriaan Vlok was the former Minister of Police in South Africa during the days of Apartheid.  He was the one who enforced the law that suppressed, harassed and brutalized so many.  In recent years he has come to Christ in a transforming way, and evidence is his desire to wash the feet of those who he has harmed.  Most often it is black faces that come to mind.  Sitting silently next to him was a white South African man.  He finally found the words to say about his experience as a South African.  He was conscripted to join a death squad, to deliver unjust injury to his countrymen.  And for the past 15 years he has suffered PTSD for his involvement in the struggle.  Since a system cannot be blamed, since a system cannot offer forgiveness, he was counseled to chose a person who personified the evil of the system.  He chose Adriaan Vlok.  He used his name as a curse word around his home.  And having said that… he turned to Adriaan and asked for forgiveness.  Adriaan’s response was to ask for this young man’s forgiveness and to ask if he could wash his feet.  And there, before our eyes, these two men of South Africa took off their shoes, and using a nearby bottle of water, washed one another’s feet in forgiveness.  They held one another in a long embrace that seemed to include us all… we were all pulled into this deeply holy moment.  When you witness God healing the world, it takes your breath away.  It was not long before other South African men crowded around Vlok to embrace him and be embraced by him… to welcome reconciliation into this dark place in their past.  God is restoring and healing all the relationships in South Africa… not just those between black and white.  Wherever there is a rift, He is bringing healing to those brave enough to embrace it. 

Rene August (South Africa) shared about the role of women in transforming communities.  She broke open her own life as an example of the vulnerability that women can offer the church.  Their transparency can be a catalyst for the communities of the church.  She challenged the women to speak, saying ‘My silence robs you and your silence robs me.’  She observed that women can make people feel bigger than they are, breathing life into others.   She also noted that women can read systems and know how to work them.  Women also intuitively know how to create space – even around the dinner table.  And then another demonstration… she made space for others to share.  She noted that those under 25 years of age had not been given much of a voice in the conversation yet.  And so she invited three friends to share with us – Curtis (South Africa), Muhindo (DR Congo) and Coretta (America).  Theirs stories captivated and challenged us!  We would have certainly been diminished had we missed out on their observations, experiences and words of admonishment.  Rene  modeled what women can bring to the community, and the others showcased what the next generation has to offer us as a church.  Another amazing time together!

We closed our time with communion, lead by Maggie (Kenya) and Carolyn (Australia).  These women lead us in collective remembrance of Christ and His body broken for us.  The service was simple, and yet amid our great diversity we felt as one body.  There was richness to our worship and remembrance.  The Amahoro Family is growing, maturing together as a community of transformers. 

We have been walking together for three years now.  We have met in Uganda, Rwanda and South Africa.  But we have also formed friendships and given birth to partnerships that have kept us moving in and out of each other’s homes and countries in the months between gatherings.  We are friends following Christ together, conversing along the way as we dream with God about His Kingdom manifest across Africa (and beyond).  An African proverb comes to mind:  “If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together.”  This is Amahoro Africa, we want to go the distance together.  We hunger for God’s transfiguration in our home communities and countries… and we learn together what that looks like!

Amahoro!

P.S. Next year our Kenyan friends in Nairobi will host The Gathering on May 3-10.  Mark your calendars now – it is a family reunion!

 

 

 

The Gathering will commence in two days.  As I write, there are friends who have already landed in South Africa and have jumped into conversations about the old apartheid theology and new expressions of justice over lunch.  Many are in transit coming from Australia, the Hague, New Zealand and the US.  Tomorrow the Africans will come from Kenya, Burundi, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Malawi, Ghana, etc… all to join our South African hosts in the shadow of Johannesburg.  There will be the reunion of old friends and the joy of striking up new friendships as we engage in conversations together for the next set of days.
Those who will be assembled for The Gathering are on a trajectory of transformation in their communities and countries.  They are working for something more than the salvation of the soul, but investing in the restoration of all things.  They are working for change on the ground, be it in Kenya, Mozambique, South Africa or the Dominican Republic.  They understand that the work they do is their response to the Gospel imperative, to bring good news to the poor and broken of the earth.

But our good works and good efforts need roots and nourishment to sustain us in our Gospel-inspired work.  To do the work of transformation without the accompanying spirituality is to run on empty.  Desmond Tutu speaks of the Principle of Transfiguration and The Spirituality of Transformation, both instructive foundations for our conversation.  According to Tutu, a spirituality that will sustain us has (1) a redemptive understanding of suffering, (2) embraces ubuntu as the rightful understanding of persons and (3) a contemplative stance toward God.  These are elements that help us cultivate a spiritual life that is viable, sustainable and meaningful for those working toward transformation in our home communities.

What is ‘the spirituality of transformation’ that sustains us from beginning to glorious end?  I think the African Reformation has to do with this very question.  How have we been sustained thus far and how will we find nourishment in the season to come? What are the spiritual resources that will fund our transforming endeavors?  This is what I hope we will explore together at The Gathering.  How do African innovators understand the spiritual life, how do they develop and nourish it so that they are able to be present to God and to their tasks and communities? As we imagine an African Reformation, what would the basic tenets be for an African perspective on spirituality, engagement with God and perspective on the world we are called to love?  This is what I hope we will explore together in the days ahead.

I am hoping to post one story a day here for this coming week so please watch this space.

Amahoro,

Claude Nikondeha

We heard from our Amahoro friends in Eastern Congo confirming that the situation is increasingly brutal. Our friends visited camps and communities in the north and south of Goma and their findings reveal that civilians continue to face widespread brutality after they have fled from the heart of the fighting.

In camps across North Kivu women have been raped while searching for food and firewood, children are being separated from their families and recruited into armed groups.

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