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20 December 2019 | Story Igno van Niekerk | Photo Igno van Niekerk
Towers of Hope serves the needy

Picture a typical Free State winter’s night: Biting chills, blustery winds, and piercing cold. Now picture yourself outside, with the bare minimum of protection in the form of clothing or cover. For many in the city of Bloemfontein, this is their reality. This vulnerable community is the focus of service by the Towers of Hope congregation and foundation (ToH), which is housed on the historic grounds of the Tweetoringkerk (Two Towers Church) in the city centre. As their name suggests, this foundation provides an outlook for the future that uplifts the vulnerable, those who are in need of it most. Its vision? To transform communities from vulnerability to ability by helping them to realise their God-given dignity.

For seven years now, Towers of Hope has been providing both pastoral and practical help to the inner-city community of Bloemfontein for eleven years now, under the guidance of Rev De la Harpe le Roux. Their assistance programmes include a daily soup kitchen, Thessa Outreach for women who find themselves in difficult circumstances, the Proud Clean Bloemfontein job-preparation programme (sponsored by local businesses), support of elderly through needlework classes and monthly food packages, as well as partnerships with other trusts, NGOs, and sharing of resources with other non-profit organisations (NPOs).

Melissa Opperman, a second-year Theology student, often takes part in what is called the ‘Pastor’s Restaurant’ on a Thursday evening, as part of the Thessa Outreach. She says, “Here we provide the ladies working on the street with a nice cooked meal and occasionally medical services. We became so close with these ladies that they reach out to us and talk to us freely, even when we see them outside their usual environment; they gladly greet us and share their stories with us.” Melissa says this had a huge impact on her, both as a female student and as one studying Theology. She mentions that she has come to the realisation that women are often seen as inferior, but in this theological, pastoral space, there is equality. In addition, she notes: “Not only in this space are we equal; we as women are able to do anything if we put our minds to it. It is nice to hear how some of the ladies have stopped working at night and started developing their own skills. It just shows that a little hope can go a long way.”

In addition to sharing in a physical sense, there is also a sharing of knowledge. Students from the Department of Practical and Missional Theology in the UFS Faculty of Theology and Religion are given the opportunity to experience what is known in the field as ‘diaconia’: serving God by caring for one’s fellow creatures. Students are taught how to minister to those in the congregation and community, and especially to those in need. In this way, they are able to learn from the example of fine work being done here at ToH. Rev Le Roux says: “The whole exposure and engagement is aimed at taking the students out of their comfort zones of ‘nice urban middle and upper middle-class churches’, and guiding them to engage with the principles acquired through the lectures at the UFS, in the context of poverty.”

Naomi Smith, who works in the administrative office of ToH, says: “De la Harpe is the heart and compassion behind Towers of Hope. He is humble, but often reminds us that the purpose of the project is to be concerned about the person in front of you — that little face, their names, this individual.” She adds, “He constantly tells us to treat everyone here with love (especially the vulnerable), because they need it more than most.”

AJ’s story echoes many that come through the cramped office from which this entire non-profit operates: After decades as a homemaker and loyal wife, her husband left her and put her out on the street without a cent or other support. Rebecca de Wit, manager: operations, and Naomi Smith, office administrator, are not only compassionate to those who come knocking at ToH; they do their utmost to assist these desperately needful ones in some of the most basic ways: finding a place to stay, compiling and printing copies of their CVs, or finding someone’s qualification papers.Their drive and passion to make a difference embodies their organisation’s motto: Valuing the city, valuing the vulnerable, valuing empowerment.

The effect has been substantial: Based on ToH’s reputation, more than 600 people regularly turn up on 25 December for the annual Christmas dinner. This year will be the 12th such event, and it is also an occasion where the business community makes use of the opportunity to give back to Towers of Hope and the vulnerable ones served by these selfless workers and comforters. The meal ingredients are donated by local enterprises and prepared by volunteers from a number of Bloemfontein congregations, while practical gifts for needy children, women, and men are provided through corporate sponsorships.

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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