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Press
Getting
life down to a fine martial art

A BATTERED silver kettle hissing on
a two-plate stove prompts Lerato Padi to rush to the small kitchen
of a tiny shack.
The 16-year-old quickly switches off
the plug and takes out two cups from a makeshift kitchen cupboard
to make coffee.
The coffee is hurriedly drunk to wash
down a meal of bread and butter, before Lerato and his 13-year-old
sister, Michelle, rush to a community centre for karate training.
This is where they are taught life skills and self-defence.
“We really love this training.
Although we haven’t done most of the stuff yet, we hope to
one day be the karate experts in our neighbourhood,” says
Lerato.
The two have been in the care of their
20-year-old brother since their mother died six years ago. The Motshehoa
home is one of many child-headed households in the poverty-stricken
Orange Farm community, south of Joburg.
But through programmes at the MaAfrika
Tikkun centre, youngsters are given a new lease on life.
“They know that there is someone
out there for them and this gives them hope,” says Sylvia
Selelekela, one of the caregivers at the centre.
A group of youngsters plays merrily
in the yard before karate instructor, Ouma Chaane, calls them into
a shipping container.
‘‘Makso! (meditate),’’
Chaane orders, as the youngsters form a circle on the floor, bringing
them to complete silence.
But soon there’s more shouting
as the youngsters perform their exercise routines, responding in
Japanese to Chaane’s instructions.
Chaane and Selelekela have just returned
from a two-month karate training course in New York.
“The training helped me to grow
spiritually and understand my inner-being. The gruelling sessions
taught me that I can achieve anything I want if I put my mind to
it and that’s exactly what we hope to impart to the orphans
and vulnerable children of our community,” she says.
For Selelekela, the training has taught
her self-discipline.
“What you put in is what you
get out. I learnt about self-love and, since we deal with a lot
of teenage pregnancies and school drop-outs, this has helped me
grow in dealing with children who have fallen into societal traps,”
Selelekela says.
As Chaane shouts “Yame!”
(stop), the children disperse and congregate outside one of the
rooms in the centre for a meal.
“For some, this is all they will
have for the whole day,” Selelekela says.
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