Day 6: Cecil's Soup Kitchen

Wednesday morning started as all the others. Poured my first cup of coffee down the front of my shirt, but made it to my mouth on the second try. Then I woke up. After scarfing a fantastic breakfast (much thanks Luzanne), we all headed out to Plankies to begin our work day. Mark, Shannon, John, Jen, Kathy, Matt and I worked  for about an hour then piled into the Mosaic van. Jen skillfully navigated the traffic, regardless of the fact that the vehicle had a manual transmission, she was driving in the wrong side of the van, and everybody else was driving on the wrong side of the road. Figure that one out. Anyway, we arrived at H.O.P.E ministry in good time and were warmly greeted by Cecil Begby, the spoon-head of souperation. After being given a short history of the ministry, we walked into the garage-turned-soup kitchen and began chopping vegetables.

Mark was dubbed the “leek ninja,” John was our DJ, Matt sliced and diced with careful method, Kathy (being a vegetarian) was in euphoria, and I, of course was labeled “the redneck” because I savagely attacked the cabbage with my hunting knife. While we were busy destroying the roughage, Jen and Shannon were professionally blending, washing, and generally keeping things in control. Eventually, our concoction was created and ready to be served. We loaded the pots into the back of a matchbox-pickup and drove across the road to a crowd of people, waiting for their daily sustenance. I was given the joyful duty of serving the soup and found it a privilege to feed these hungry men, women and children. The gratitude in their voices was unmistakable; the smiles, genuine. The children plopped down onto the ground, slurping and spilling, the women gathered, laughing with each other and giving their babies little bits of potato or carrot. The men shuffled around, munching the bread and muttering in Afrikaans “danke” (thank you), or “Parsley? Really?” After this group was fed, we drove to a close-by neighborhood and repeated the process. Shannon and I served the soup, Mark supplied the bread and Matt distributed it, Kathy handed out cups with John and Jen kept the peace. Cecil was also there, speaking kindly to the children and keeping order in the line.

On our final soup stop, I found myself standing around, not serving or distributing, and decided to introduce myself to the younger population, ages ranging from about 2 to maybe 13. I got a ripple of giggles when I crossed my eyes, and disturbingly, even more when I uncrossed them. I challenged the quickest of them to a footrace and lost, with a good deal of semantics. By the end of the footrace business, the entire younger population was stampeding up and down the street, yelling with delight and having a grand time out-running the much-winded, cross-eyed American. Before we left, I called all the children around me and dropped to a knee. “Ok everybody”, I said, “I would like to pray with you! So fold your hands, close your eyes and bow your heads. Lets pray.” Thirty little heads, bowed and sixty tiny hands folded, and I prayed. It was time to leave. I reluctantly stepped into the van, waving goodbye to the children and crossing my eyes for good measure. As we drove away, a crowd of young ones chased after us, waving, yelling and laughing, their little bellies full of H.O.P.E  soup. A small piece of my heart is gonna stay on that dirty street, with those boys and girls. And, I’m gladdened to remember that theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Will Gondy