Part of the Team

Last Saturday I woke up at the ridiculous hour of 5:15am and got dressed to go and serve Kudu burgers with the Grahamstown Rotary Club at the PG Glass Mountain Drive half marathon. The morning started off catastrophically (as ridiculously early mornings usually do) as I stood outside my dorm with a cell phone that politely informed me that someone was trying to call, but rudely wouldn’t let me answer his call. I stood outside in the cold loosing feeling in my finger tips – despite my attempts to warm them up by dialling every number connected to a like-minded crazy person I could think of who perhaps would be up at this time. I was contemplating what to do when a lovely young lady walked by and let me use her much more amenable cell phone to call a Rotarian to come and pick me up a half an hour later than the time I was supposed to report for duty.

When I arrived a troop of Rotarians were already hard at work setting up the grille, hanging up signs and busily organizing the food to prepare. I tried to jump in and help as best I could, but didn’t find my niche until the lead Rotarian – Colin - asked if someone could make the sign indicating the prices of the Kudu Burger, the Egg and Bacon Roll, and the coffee that would be on sale this morning as part of our fundraising. A colouring champion since Elementary school, I knew I was the woman for the job. Two finger nails filed down to the skin and a pair of chalk-dusted trousers was the price I paid that morning to make my multicoloured beacon of enticement to draw the hungry runners, workers and spectators to our stand throughout the morning. It was worth it because not only did it serve as the price list and as the official “Open for Business Sign” letting the runners know that we were ready for their business; it also gave me the first tangible role of the morning and consequently led to my second role as burger preparer extraordinaire. This role took me back to my days in High School working at Godfathers Pizza. Adrenaline pumping I worked side by side with Les – the egg fryer; Eleanor – lettuce chopper and tomato slicer; Billy – bun preparer; James - money taker; Lynette -coffee maker, Dennis- onion fryer, Duncan – grille instructor, Harry – advertiser, and Wendy - master griller. Together we made 50 egg rolls, 140 kudu burgers and countless c ups of coffee. Under the director of Colin – lead organizer – the ten of us became a finely tuned fast food machine ready for the plethora of sweaty hungry customers that came our way in the morning and into the afternoon. When the machine was at high speed the only words spoken were directives like “Kudu burger no onions!;” “A roll with no toppings please” and “Sir, please purchase your ticket at the counter and then come back to the table to receive your order.” When the waves of customers subsided and the machine took a break the conversation shifted to politics, inquiries concerning personal lives, and jokes were made about my potential calling to work at McDonald’s upon my return home and Harry’s ability to produce an advertising call for Kudu burgers that was strikingly similar to those made for hot dogs at baseball games in the States.

When the morning was over I realized that I felt intently happy, content, and satisfied. Surprised at this feeling I didn’t really know what to do myself when it was time to quite working, clean up and go home. My partner in prep work – Lydia indicated that she was going straight to the store to buy a six pack of cold South African beer. That sounded nice, but I decided that I would take a hot shower and then a nap. Wendy gave me a ride home so that I could and it was great. As I awoke groggy in the afternoon a couple hours later, I started to analyse my feelings of euphoria from before. My mom always told me that when I feel depressed I should go and serve others. I always thought this was because by serving others one feels better about oneself and gives of oneself – simultaneously reminding him or her of the plethora of things we all have to give and the many things we have to be thankful for. This may be the case, but there is something more.

During my reflection, I think back to the times in my life where I have felt this way before... playing soccer in High School, travelling to Mexico for a mission trip in college, serving food at a soup kitchen, working at a pizza place, helping groups at a ropes course, living in Zambia… Interestingly these are not the most impressive things on my resume; nor are they things highlighted in my collection of scrap books. They are not even things in which I can claim as leadership experiences or moments that I would use as anecdotes during a job interview to show my skill in a certain area. They aren’t circumstances where I can claim victory – my soccer team always had a losing record and the best facilitator at a ropes course is the one not remembered. However, the similarity between all of these experiences is my involvement in a team – formal or informal – intentional or spontaneous. I was a helper, a worker, a player, a normal person trying to make sense of a complex situation – sometimes “getting it” and other times feeling so confused I have to take a deep breath and let it all go. However in the end I was involved and that was the most important part.

As a young person sorting out my future using my preferred method of guess and test (guessing at an occupation I think I would like to do and trying it out) I frequently get bombarded with the career and direction questions. Don’t get me wrong, these are important, but to be honest many times in response I find myself giving canned answers that I think people will want to hear and often which I want to believe myself – “I am focusing on my education so that I can focus on my career later.” “One day I hope to teach.” “I am going to DC to get a job at an NGO.” The truth is that I don’t really know what I will do – all of these things are options and all of them would be great. They scare me and excite me at the same time - I cherish them as dreams and hope that they will happen in the years to come … but really my hearts desire isn’t to have a title – the feeling of completeness isn’t there for me. My hearts desire it is to be part of it – the team, the mission, the community. I want to have a role – not necessarily a leadership role – just a role where I can be a part of something bigger than myself and reminds me of the power of people. I want to be a part of community that gets me up at 5:30 am to be stuck out in the cold and prepare to serve greasy burgers, get to know others, and realize that I matter – not as mastermind of some great event that people will speak of for years to come in which I will find my identity – but as a normal person with a role, an actor in a play written by a director much wiser than myself. Perhaps – in addition to the cognitive reminder of the ways in which we are all privileged – this is why serving is so powerful. It gives us each a role of equal significance and importance - a role not designed to give us individual benefits, but one that benefits the group, the collective, the team. In a time when individuals are in constant competition with each other, it is refreshing to find a place amidst friends, colleagues or even strangers where one can forget the competition between one another and focus instead on a mutual goal of achieving something larger that only a group working together could achieve- even if that goal is as simple as preparing fast food for hungry athletes.