“Hug your neighbor”

Cape Town is starting to feel more and more like home. I am beginning to learn its rhythms, recognize familiar faces, and move through the city with confidence. However, it is much more than just being comfortable here. This week I have felt truly welcomed and have found myself moved by the power of community.

This past Wednesday was spent running errands with one of SACTWU’s organizers. We visited six factories over the course of the day, attending meetings, meeting shop stewards and going on tours. One of the factories was on its lunch break and a pastor was there giving a sermon. During the sermon a couple women standing near us came up and warmly introduced themselves and explained they were having a sermon during work because “people had hardships and they didn’t want to talk about them, but praying helped.” At the end of the sermon he led them in song, their harmonies soaring to the high factory roof. He then asked the audience to do one more thing; “hug your neighbor.” I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the women who had introduced themselves to us a few minutes earlier turned towards us, smiling, arms outstretched. We received strong hugs from 10 different women. I left the factory moved by their happiness, gratitude and warmth in the middle of their mind-numbingly repetitive work day.

On Thursday night I again found myself welcomed and inspired when the group attended a vigil for the victims of the recent massacre in Orlando. It was incredibly moving, due both to the context and content, but also because Cape Town is a long way from Orlando. I doubt that many of the people in attendance were personally connected to anyone affected, yet there they all were; taking time out of their week to stand in the cold dusk and mourn people who live—lived—7,803 miles away.

An American flag flapped in the brisk winter breeze as 400 people lit their neighbor’s candles. We sang somewhere over the rainbow. We listened to a list of the victim’s names. People cried. I cried. We prayed together, probably to many different gods, for strength and healing and love. I didn’t talk much to the other people there, yet I felt incredibly close to those standing around me. I felt inspired by their support and their courage, because in the wake of such violence coming together at the one Pride shelter on the African continent was an act of bravery.

It is so easy to feel cynical about the state of the world and the people who occupy it. But just pause, summon up some small amount of optimism, and reconsider. There were two vigils held in Cape Town alone. For this one mass shooting, innumerable vigils are taking place all over the world where hate and violence are being condemned, and where love and hope are being reaffirmed. There is a community of people supporting and caring for you whom you have never met. Somewhere, voices are raised in song.

This week, I have been reminded that a smile is the fastest and most universal tool I have to connect to others, that the human experience unites us far more than we often consider or imagine, and that being open and deliberately coming together actually can create community.