The Story of a Tree

A few days before my departure, one of the radio stations in Pretoria did a brief interview with me regarding WetNose, the donkeys and the Camino.

It so happened that a retired reverend  heard the interview and phoned me shortly thereafter. He told me that a colleague of his, from Swellendam in the Cape, had done the Camino earlier in the year and that perhaps I should contact the reverend pilgrim.

I receive valuable information and tips from this fellow pilgrim.  He tells me that every year on his birthday, he has the tradition of planting a tree and that it could not have been different this year even if he was walking the Camino.  The tree he buys in one of the bigger towns in Spain and carries it for two days until he finds the right stop to plant it. The sign he had made in South Africa with the phrase 'Give a little water', in various languages, is posted next to the tree.

As so it is that I have a mission to go look for a tree, somewhere in Spain on the Camino de Santiago. 

He explains that the tree was planted just after one of the hills, on the flat section, not too far from a fuente, a fountain.  It is where the Camino and a farm road intersect, and that I should give her all my water for I can fill up at the fuente.

My hope is that when I find her, that she will be well, growing tall and strong, and lend her shade to wary pilgrims on the road.

And I think of the pilgrim from the tip of Africa who has kept his tradition in a foreign country and by doing so, be a blessing unto generations of pilgrims yet to come. 

Buen Camino!

Jovita 

30 September 2013

La Via Lactea

It is dark and raining as I take to the road for yet another day. As I come to an intersection, I can see no visible markings.  Another pilgrim joins me and together we find an arrow, made of stones in the grass, pointing to the right.  He is a young man from Catalonia, and as we chat, he reveals a little secret of the Camino.

He tells me that the road to Santiago, from Puente la Reina, where various routes come together,  is parallel to the Milky Lane.  The pale arm of the Milky Way points to the edge of the - then - known world, where the sun went down:  to Cape Finistere.

This I did not know and somehow it makes this journey even more special.  I think of three Wise Men that once followed a Star.

In the cathedral of Burgos I am in awe of the beauty it contains and  marvel the the architecture and detail of the building.  It is very busy with tourists and pilgrims, and I cannot still my mind. 

I meet a pilgrim at a water fountain.  He is Sergei, from Russia and cannot speak any other language.  As I say my name and stretch out my hand, he takes my hand and kisses it in the most chivalrously way!  What a most unexpected gesture! We communicate a little with sign language but he is, I think, desperate for some conversation, and tells me about the countries he has visited.  I can only make out the names. He tells me many stories - I just nod and smile. At the next village, I signal that I will sleep there, he smiles and shows and he will carry on walking. 

And so it is that some pilgrims are on our path for a brief moment, to reveal a secret of The Way, to show a lady that chivalry can be found in the most unusual of places, or just to listen to a pilgrim in need of companionship.

Buen Camino!

Jovita

29 September 2013

jovita.stander@gmail.com

+27 82 499 0173

A Pilgrim's Feast

As I walk into the pink shades of day break in the quietness of the early morning I search for the signs that mark the way. 

My thoughts wonder to the previous night where four of us shared a pilgrim's meal.  We had arrived at different times and each had, on his own, bought enough for a meal.  

When I walked through the little shop earlier in the day, the owner told me proudly that he makes the wine himself from his own vineyard.  And that the wine is good.  The bottles have no labels. The half bread I asked for is put on the counter, just like that, and after I paid,  it goes into the bag with the rest of my shopping.

In the evening, when we put all that we had bought on the table, it is a feast.  Introductions are on a first name basis and country of origin.  Titles and positions are of no consequence. We discuss the important things in life:  family, faith, and the reasons for doing the Camino.  We are just all pilgrims on the way.

As I pass the yellow fields of sunflowers ready for the harvest, my thoughts wonder home and I say a prayer for my loved ones. 

Later on, the fields of vegetables are being irrigated and I suddenly remember my early carefree childhood days where I would run under the sprinklers on the sugar cane farm and where the captain, Maputera, would cut the sweet cane for me to eat.  Happy days. 

A fellow pilgrim reminded me that the Tswanas say that one must sometimes stop so that your spirit can catch up.  I think this is what happens on the Camino.

I have walked through the Basque country and the provinces of Navarra, La Rioja and have just crossed into Castilla y Leon.  The second phase is approaching.  

The Spaniards say that the first phase is the physical one, where your body gets used to the walk and the load; the second phase is through the flat plains where little changes in the landscape and where you have to be mentally strong; and the third phase is when you enter Galicia, where your body and spirit are one and a rebirth takes place.

For now, I will live in the moment of every day, and take each day as it comes for that is enough.

And yes, the wine was good indeed!

Buen Camino!  

Jovita

25 September 2013

Many Ways

As I walk alone my thoughts turn to the conversation I had, others that I listen to, and the reasons people do the Camino.  Some come in groups, others with a spouse, a man brings his dog, a Border Collie, others come alone, a young man to find his path in life, some come for donkeys, yet others come again. And it is a blessing to meet Igor, a donkey on his way with his French master.

The reasons are all different, but the path is one, and on the dirt road, through the forests and farmland we learn to value the more simple things in life - a hot bath, a soft bed, home cooked food.  That less is more and to be happy, little material possessions are needed.

I eat handfuls of berries that grow wild along the road - antioxidants on the go! And where a beautiful horse is close to the fence, I empty my two bottles of water into his water bucket for it is dry.

A young girl picks up rubbish on the path as she makes her way to Santiago - a random act of kindness.

When I walk through the streets of Pamplona, a priest  looks at my staff and I stop to talk to him. He is surprised to learn that I am from Africa.  He blesses me with the sign of the cross and puts his hand on my forehead and prays for protection on my way.  As I say goodbye he promises to keep me and my loved one in his prayers,  and the donkeys as well.  And just like that, amongst the traffic and people, a busy street of Pamplona became a church.

The Way makes me see things I had forgotten.  I walk slower now.  I stop often to smell the wild flowers, taste some of the ripe grapes in hues of dark purple hanging in the vineyards, sit for a moment besides an old water fountain, listen to the distant toll of the bells, and sing a song of praise.  

Buen Camino!  

Jovita

21 September 2013

Die Groot Trek

As I sit in the train from Paris-Bordeaux-Bayonne-St. Jean Pied-de-Port, a myriad of thoughts run through my mind.  Some of the landscape reminds me of the Swartland after the harvest.  In Bordeaux, the vineyards stretch as far as the eye can see.

Our hospitaleiro in St. Jean gives us valuable advise before our departure - drink enough water;  don't tie the last loop of the shoes; we will meet people along the way for a specific reason; the Camino will show it's secretes and teach us the lessons we need.

I walk most of the time in rain, wind and mud as I cross the 25 kilometres over the Pyrenees in ten and a half hours.   The fog is blessing as I can only see the next 100 metres and have no idea how steep and far I still need to go.  The only sound  is that of the bells from the cattle and the sheep nearby.  The only marking at the border between France and Spain in a fountain where I fill my bottles.

The hills are alive with the sound of silence as I walk alone from Zubiri towards Cizur Menor and I sing Hallelujahs and the Our Father out of tune but know that He won´t mind.

I take a detour to the church on top of the hill at Zabaldika.  The Gregorian chants fill the air and an elderly lady greets me at the door.  When she learns that I am from South Africa, she is pleased - tells me about the book she once read about the Groot Trek, Apartheid and Mandela. In the bell tower I read the Griekwa version of Psalm 121 out loud.  I toll the bells and the sound spread through the valley. 

As I prepare to leave Zabaldika, I give her a shell I brought from Africa and as she embraces me she whispers hermana, hermana.  When I am on my way, she call out to me:  El Camino es como el Groot Trek de la vida (The Camino is like the Groot Trek of life).  I am lost for words.

Buen Camino!

Jovita 

19 September 2013

1 000 km vir Wetnose se donkies

http://www.beeld.com/nuus/2013-09-10-1-000-km-vir-wetnose-se-donkies

Bueno Camino!

Jovita

14 September 2013

The Donkey Ambassador

As I am about to embark on this journey, a thought has been nagging me:  how could I use this journey to bless others? 

The answer came in the form of WetNose, a ‘right to life’ animal rescue centre, which is a place of safety for about 300 abused, abandoned and neglected domestic animals in need of rehabilitation and re-homing (www.wetnose.org.za).

I have always had a soft spot for donkeys.  These humble animals have been instrumental to the development of South Africa in days gone by.  Today, donkeys are used by rural communities who depend heavily on these animals for their day-to-day survival where they are used to pull carts carrying heavy loads of fire wood, water and other goods over long distances and harsh terrain, and although they are an integral part of these communities, they often suffer abused and neglect.

A campaign has been launched whereby donations can be made for each kilometre I walk and the funds will be used by WetNose to rescue abused and neglected donkeys and to continue with the good work they do.  Visit their Facebook page to find out more.  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wetnose-Animal-Rescue-Centre/273994562065.

To receive the ‘Compostela’ certificate, pilgrims complete the Camino by either walking, cycling or on horseback and there is a book about a pilgrim who has taken a donkey along.  I can only smile at the thought of what it must have been like to have such a travel companion.

As I sat in the study on Spring Day, 1^st of September, thinking about all the possibilities of this fund raiser, the tiny speckle of doubt dissipated as I wrote down a figure in my diary, and I realised how special donkeys are, for in the Old Testament, God speaks through Balaam’s donkey in the book of Numbers.  In the New Testament, Mary is carried by a donkey to Bethlehem to give birth to the Messiah, and He, amongst all the animals, chose a donkey to enter Jerusalem.

And this is enough to be the proud Ambassador for these noble animals.

Bueno Camino!

  

Jovita

+27 82 499 0173

jovita.stander@gmail.com

10 September 2013

A journey of a thousand miles...

A journey of a thousand miles...

... started with a single step about 7 years ago when the Camino became part of my bucket list.  From all the things that I still dream of, the Camino’s fire burnt the highest through the years.

The Camino, the way, is a network of ancient pilgrimage paths through the Spanish, Portuguese and continental European countryside, which ends at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, supposedly the burial site of the apostle St. James the Greater, who was martyred around 44 AD.  The route has been walked for centuries by thousands of pilgrims.  The first pilgrims were recorded around 950 AD. (source:  www.csjofsa.za.org).

Having decided on the Camino Francés route, starting at St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France to Santiago de Compostela and then from there on to Finisterre, the end of the world, this is a journey of a thousand kilometres.  The most precious commodity in today’s world is what I need most.  I have the good fortune of working for a fair and reasonable manager despite his failed attempts at multi-tasking and somewhat being on his own planet, who has afforded me the time to follow this dream.  For this, I will put up with most of his nonsense.

As mid-September rapidly approaches my to-do-list needs some serious ticking off and all I can really lay claim on is a good pair of hiking boots, already walked in; a back pack, a sleeping back; a jacket; my Pilgrim’s Passport; and a walking stick.  Overwhelmed is an understatement.

Lao-tzu literally said 'A journey of a thousand leagues begins beneath one's feet' and whether the measurement is a league, a mile or a kilometre, a thousand is still a faraway place to reach. My walking stick is a beautiful shepherd’s crook, a gift from my husband and his way of blessing this journey of mine.  I had a section decorated with beads in true African style, to be a constant reminder of the soil of Africa where my loved ones are, and the single place on this whole earth that I always long for.  It will take me along the mountains and valleys of the Pyrenees, the flat plains of the Maseta Central of Castille y Leon and up to Finisterre in Galicia.  Here, in the waters of the Atlantic, I will cast an African shell and give thanks to the One who guides me.

The first step has been taken and I look forward to the many more that lie ahead for 'through walking I find joy - through walking I find peace - every step a new discovery.  My heart is filled with gratitude' (Susanne Schubert).

Bueno Camino!

Jovita

29 August 2013