Tilly's Trek

"Most mornings we walk laps on the top parking level of the local mall. The air is fresh and the view spectacular. A chilling wind pressed against our day-break walk. When we rounded the bend and walked with the wind we quickened our pace. However, what goes around comes around and every other lap found us struggling against the cold wind.

Unbeknown to us, Tilly, a thin African woman shared her meager morsels with her two children and headed out on her long journey to our Employment Resource Center. She pressed against the same bone-chilling wind with a miniscule growth of hair insufficient to warm her head. Her pressed hair jetted out nearly to her shoulders when she first attended our Career Workshop but she shaved it off in favor of what she felt was a more professional image and more compatible with her job search.

As we continued our exercise walk against the wind, I paused at a metal railing with chipped paint and pigeon poop. I found a clear spot and clutched the makeshift barre and tentatively did some ballet exercises. It felt great to stretch some muscles whose memory “yarn” had long since lost its memory. My audience was the surrounding apartment buildings with people, no doubt peering in disbelief at the waddling wannabe ballerina. The large parking lot provided the largest practice room I had ever occupied. The sky was the curtain. There was no applause!

Tilly kept her pace without stopping. For three hours she walked “full-steam” ahead with an empty “fuel tank.” With no money for “transport,” she walked mile after mile, as most black people do here.

Chuck and I returned home from our early morning work-out, had a warm bowl of oatmeal with plump raisins and prepared for the day. Tilly kept walking.

We gathered our work supplies and unlocked the bars that secure our flat. For some reason, I turned back and grasped a gray, crocheted cap. I tucked it into our computer case and rushed to summon the lift. Tilly kept walking.

We drove to the Area Offices in our new blue car with the steering wheel on the wrong side. We were rested and renewed for another day of the Lord’s work. Who could we help today? We entered our pleasant work environment and reviewed our schedules. Mine took me out the front door and down to the gray brick road. I walked right into Tilly. She looked pale (well, as pale as a black person can look) discouraged and exhausted after her three hour walk. Her thin jacket was wrapped around her thinner body and seemed to do little to warm her. We walked inside and listened sympathetically to her story of profound poverty. Poor in Africa seems very different than poor in America. Her husband’s eye had looked elsewhere and his body followed. Tilly remained behind and fell under the title of “Single Mother.” As a refugee, she hails from a country where many work conditions are described as “pathetic, abusive and inhumane.” The natives perceive it as a beautiful country but without much opportunity for employment, outside of mining. Many forward thinking natives with desires to provide more for their posterity migrate to South Africa with visions of grandeur. Disappointment sets in when they discover that the depressed economy here understandably offers any available jobs mostly to South African citizens. So capable, well educated Tilly walks and searches for work to feed her children. She has no money to purchase a spiral notebook and pencil for her daughter to have for school. It is late summer here and time to go back to school after their longest holiday time of the year.

After settling in at the office, I invited Tilly to our desk. She was still shivering from her cold morning’s tiring trek. From our briefcase, I pulled a handful of gray yarn that Melia had lovingly fashioned into a warm cap and I offered it to Tilly. She shrieked with joy and put it right on her head. Her down-trodden, weary expression magically turned upside down and her gratitude was profound. I showed her Melia’s photo that was displayed at our desk and she sighed and exclaimed, “She’s beautiful!” Then Sister Savage produced a bag with spiral notebooks for Tilly’s daughter and the Savages also provided some food for the family. That reminded me that I had a bag of school supplies that Heather had sent. I offered them to Tilly and she stared at them in amazement. Chuck opened his wallet and slipped a couple hundred rands into my hand that was a gift from Bryan. I added it to some books, toys and treats I keep stashed in the cupboard by my desk and found a colorful drawstring bag from Sister Nielsen to house the little hoard from many hands. Tilly really needs a computer but that was beyond our ability to give so we provided what we could.

Thank goodness Tilly was raised in a culture that walks and carries things on their heads. She left with a “head-full,” hands full and heart full of love. Most importantly, she left with hope . . . and a smile. Next to being a mother, I think that this may be the only job I know of that has long hours, no salary and costs lots of money and energy just for the privilege of working . . . and yet we feel overpaid. “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.”

Tilly’s dream is to be a lawyer. “Someday I will speak in Parliament,” she reminds me as she balances her gifts of love and heads home to feed her children. God bless Tilly’s Trek through life." - Sister Basso

"When I skyped my mom after this happened, I was so very happy and tears came to my eyes to see the hat I made be given to Tilly. I knew someone would receive it when I put it in the mail and it had a long journey to Africa, but to hear the story and the inspiration that my mom felt about it just touched my heart. It also makes me want to get my hands busy and make more hats so that anytime there is a need, Sister Basso will have a source to go to give. So here's my plea, would you help me make hats to warm the heads of your brothers and sisters in South Africa? Sacrifice your time crocheting them and put your love into the creation of them? Can you warm just one more head as we try and spread the love of the Savior when he said, "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me?" (Matthew 5:40) I know just as my parents are being blessed as they serve in Africa so can you and I share in a portion of their journey to bring a smile, hope and strength to those in need. Please contact me at mrioslazo@yahoo.com to see how you can help! Thanks Mom and Dad for letting me share in the 'joy' of your mission!" - Melia