The dazzling black skin of the Tzu Chi Zulu volunteers compliments their dark-blue-and-white uniforms. The combination of colors represents a typical African landscape--the blue sky, the white clouds and the dark-colored soil that has nurtured countless lives.

The volunteers are remarkable in their dedication and enthusiasm, working without pause in the face of social unrest and persistent poverty. They enter the lives of people even poorer than themselves to provide food, critical services, and a lifeline of compassion and love. They encourage everyone they help with their personal experiences. Their message is that every person has an opportunity to change from a receiver of aid to a giver of hope.

Before dawn, several Zulu women--all over 60 years old--walked up and down the street. They were Tzu Chi volunteers, waiting for their ride to arrive and take them into the countryside to distribute food and relief supplies.

While waiting, they shared their Tzu Chi experiences with other pedestrians and invited them to join their efforts. Some people expressed interest and decided to join the women; it wouldn't take long for them to become volunteers too.

When the truck arrived, the volunteers hugged each other and squeezed into the back of the vehicle. The women held the handrails to steady themselves, so they wouldn't be flung from the truck when the vehicle made a turn. Once arranged and comfortable, they started singing their newly composed song, "iTaiwan iTaiwan, Wayeshilo uMaster, Wathi Sohlangana Khona Le iTaiwan--Taiwan, Taiwan, Follow the Master, Our Hearts Are Gathered in Taiwan."

As the truck pulled away from the curb, their voices floated over the paved roads and green grasses into the shantytown beyond.

Illnesses hidden in dark rooms

Tzu Chi volunteers regularly visit Malu-khazi, a district in the southern tip of Durban, South Africa. Located on the coast, Durban is the second most populous city in South Africa and a popular tourist destination. Malukhazi was originally an Indian district, but the Zulu started to move in after apartheid was abolished in 1994.

The variety of houses in Malukhazi reflect its diverse ethnic population. Traditional Zulu round houses are interspersed among make-shift shanties composed of corrugated metal sheets, bricks, and wooden planks. Each dwelling is shabby and worn out. The houses are small and stuffy with roofs held down with rocks and old tires. Gaping holes in the walls serve as windows. Residents, entangled by poverty and illness, are unable to afford the glass necessary to block out the cold wind in the winter and the rain in the rainy season.

As soon as the Tzu Chi volunteers disembarked from the back of the truck, they began preparing to distribute food supplies. They placed buckets of food on their heads, lined up, and marched forward, singing "uTzu Chi hamba ge genzinje--Tzu Chi moves forward, moves forward."

The hot weather and the rough roads did not deter their steady steps, and their songs resounded clearly in the morning air. A car sped by the women, the howling engine and pulsing electronic music almost drowning out their voices, but their song continued. It seemed that nothing could discourage the women from their mission of goodwill.

Each house they visited showed the plight caused by poverty and illness. In one home, a seven-month-old baby, his limbs as thin as sticks, laid unresponsively on a sofa. He suffered from tuberculosis, but his family was too poor to seek treatment for him. In another home, the volunteers found an elementary school student, suffering from injuries received when she was hit by a car. She was waiting for her parents to raise enough money to visit a doctor. Her parents sold bags of cookies for a living. Although a visit to the doctor would have only cost the family around four U.S. dollars, selling bags of cookies for 15 cents each made the medical visit a virtual impossibility.

In yet another home, volunteers discovered a 20-year-old mother lying feebly on her bed. Despite the heat, she was shivering under a blanket. Like many in South Africa, she was dying from AIDS. In another home, Liza Mbatha was curled up on her own bed. She was only seven, but suffered with another illness all too common: tuberculosis. She looked shyly at the volunteers and quietly ate a cookie given to her by one of the women.

The scorching sun had turned the metal house into an oven. The interior was made even more unbearable because the only window was closed, preventing any air circulation.

"You should open the window so that your daughter can breathe fresh air. That might help with her illness," a volunteer suggested. Liza's mother said helplessly, "The public security is very bad here; we have to keep our window closed to keep our things from being stolen."

The high price of crime and punishment

The volunteers zigzagged through the neighborhood, visiting houses with rice, songs and comfort.

Suddenly, Regine Moloe, a Tzu Chi volunteer, ran towards us. She was breathing heavily, and she was obviously distraught. She carried a laptop computer in her left hand and a projector in her right. As she spoke, we could see and hear that she was badly shaken, "Our truck was just robbed! The thieves were two middle-aged men. Fortunately, we caught them in the act and were able to wrestle our belongings back!"

Pan Ming-shui, another volunteer, was just grateful that Regine had not been harmed in the robbery attempt. He patted her shoulders and exclaimed gratefully, "We're lucky to have you! You're a heroine today!"

Much later, another volunteer, Gladys, gravely informed us that the two would-be thieves had attacked a woman and robbed her of her purse. This robbery attempt also ended unsuccessfully for the men; before they could run away, they were caught by some locals and badly beaten. One of the men was beaten to death, the other was seriously injured.

The news of the two thieves depressed everyone. Life is cheap here. Without the protection of law, vigilante justice often determines whether one lives or dies. People don't tolerate crime, but the extreme violence often employed to stop it is just as disheartening. Human lives have become worthless. Sometimes, individuals seem to disappear without reason.

Pan Ming-shui said with a sigh, "It's this kind of society that requires Tzu Chi to work harder. We must try harder to dissolve the violence with love."

Kwa Mashu is a district in the northern part of Durban. Over 600,000 Zulu residents must get by without running water or electricity. Kwa Mashu also boasts a very frightening nickname; in English it means "Kill until he dies." The horrible nickname derives from the high murder rate in the district. The victims are usually non-locals. They become targets of the local population and are murdered without rhyme or reason.

Several years ago, the dire conditions of the area caught the attention of Tzu Chi volunteers. They began making plans to visit the area and bring relief supplies. The first distribution of food took place in 2005. Due to the high crime rate, the local police precinct kindly dispatched some police officers to offer protection to the volunteers.

Tzu Chi volunteers distributed wheelchairs during one such trip to Kwa Mashu. One house needed two: one for a 50-year-old woman whose right foot was paralyzed from a stroke, and another for a woman paralyzed from a car accident. The two women weren't related, but lived together like a family. Tragic circumstances had led to their living arrangement. When the younger of the two women was paralyzed in a car accident, she lost her ability to work and became homeless. The 50-year-old woman offered her a place to live, despite the financial burden from the addition of another member of the household.

The home had no TV or books, and the two women seldom had any visitors. Their lives were dreadful and tedious. When the older woman saw the volunteers arrive with the wheelchairs, tears filled her eyes and she became very emotional. One volunteer, Doris, tried to comfort her and patted her shoulders as though trying to coax a child not to cry.

The volunteers helped the two women into their new chairs and pushed them outside into the fresh air. Although they were surrounded by small, shabby houses, by poverty and illness, their ability to move more freely was liberating for the women. They enjoyed the fresh air, the sunshine, and the expansive landscape.

In southern Durban, Zulu volunteers recently set up 40 hot food stations. The volunteers purchase food and cook it in their homes, then deliver the hot meals to needy people in the community from the food stations. It is very difficult for volunteers to maintain such stations. Many of them don't even have jobs themselves. They receive 680 rand (US$94) a month from the government to help operate the stations.

After visiting needy families, volunteer Mkhize choked back her tears and said, "My heart really broke when I saw those sick people." Someone next to her added, "They are indeed pitiful! But our broken hearts can't help them." Mkhize immediately thrust out her chest and said, "You're right! We need to transform our compassion into concrete action and invite more people to join us and give to our community."

Regaining self-esteem

Siyabonga is young, tall and skinny. He sticks out among the elderly female volunteers. In old gray clothes and a pair of shoes cracked open at the toes, he helps to distribute relief goods to AIDS patients.

During the tenth volunteer training seminar in July 2006, Siyabonga put on a Tzu Chi volunteer uniform. A broad smile, revealing a missing tooth, spread across his face. Speaking with the aid of a microphone, he announced to the audience: "Before, I was discriminated against because I was an AIDS patient. I was ashamed of myself, and I hid myself from the public. But the care of Tzu Chi volunteers opened my heart. Now I can face myself and others." Now he's serving and inspiring other AIDS patients with his personal experience.

The Tzu Chi Zulu volunteers in South Africa don't have much opportunity to read Tzu Chi publications, watch Tzu Chi Great Love TV programs, or listen to Master Cheng Yen's lectures in person. But through the Tzu Chi training seminars held twice a year by Taiwanese volunteers, they have discovered that the most sincere compassion from the bottom of their hearts matches the Master's compassion. When they put on their Tzu Chi uniforms, they use their resounding voices and caring hands to open up a broader Path of the Bodhisattvas.