This note is written to the man I met in the barber shop a few days before I left on deployment in September. I rushed into the barber shop after work for my last proper haircut for the next six months. As I joined the queue there was a man already sitting having his hair cut who noticed my chaplain's purple beret and remarked glibly, “Oh, so you're the soul tiffie!” I'm sure he meant it in good faith as normal barber shop banter but at that moment I took offence and ignored the man. At the time I wasn't entirely sure as to why I had taken such offence: I put it down to the last minute pressure of the pre-deployment arrangements, but after some thought I realised it was more than just that. I owe him and myself an explanation.
This is why I don't like it and why I take offence at being called a “soul tiffie.”
The term itself belongs to the past, to the days of the SADF and white conscription. In the new SANDF it is a term that is not used. The mere use of the term brings up associations with the ignominious past of the SADF that was used to gird an oppressive regime. The SADF too had its own way of oppressing and exploiting those unfortunate enough to be conscripted into it. Things are very different in the SANDF. We are a voluntary force representing the demographics of our country. There are many challenges: we are underpaid, under-resourced and short-staffed. The atmosphere however is completely and profoundly different. In the SADF the corporal was expected to swear at and to insult the troops; the corporal who tries to do that today will be dismissed. So at one level then, using the term “soul tiffie” is a symbol of our shameful past and hampers our efforts to move forward as a nation.
The term “soul tiffie” is problematic at a theological and epistemological level too. The term “soul” belongs to a dualistic world view that separates the “body” from the “soul.” It is easy to subscribe to this world view if one believes that the earth is flat and that heaven is up and hell is down. In this dualistic world view when one dies the soul leaves the body and depending on the requisite virtues or vices of the previous incumbent of the body, the soul will either float blissfully heavenward or fall heavily down to hell. Modern thinking has changed all that. Modern theologians do not subscribe to this simple dualism and will speak circumspectly and carefully when it comes to the “soul.” What then exactly is the job description of a “soul tiffie?” What is it we are supposed to do? The question becomes obfuscated further when the so-called “soul tiffie” does not subscribe to the dualistic world view elucidated above and does not believe in this concept of a “soul.”
For the sake of the man in the barber shop however, let's assume that “soul tiffie” means dealing with matters that concern the “soul” without becoming too philosophical about it. To most this means dealing with religious and spiritual matters only. It is assumed that the “soul tiffie” will be concerned with matters of worship, devotion and prayer. It is exactly this kind of thinking that led to the cry during Apartheid that the Church must stay out of politics. We forget that the Church was at the forefront of the struggle against Apartheid because in fact religion has everything to do with politics. Religion is how we connect to God, to one another and to ourselves. Politics is the way we live and the way we order our society. It is the responsibility of religion to be pointing society to a better way of living and engaging with one another. It is the responsibility of religion to be speaking out against oppression and against any system that dehumanises or brutalises people. The chaplain has the task within the organisation to be speaking out against all that which dehumanises and oppresses, to be pointing those in the organisation to a better way. There are times when this voice of conscience is welcomed, but at other times it is met with resistance and/or disdain. The chaplain must bear this responsibility with fortitude and dedication in spite of opposition or attempts to thwart the message. I submit to the man in the barber shop that this understanding of the role of the chaplain is not inherent or intended in the term “soul tiffie.”
Let us however bring this discussion to the level where it matters the most, to the human level. “Soul tiffie” implies a very narrow job description of who a chaplain is and what he or she does. It ignores some of the important tasks and responsibilities being a chaplain entails. I am the person to whom that young man or woman will come to seek advice concerning a problem back at home. I am the one to whom that soldier who can no longer take the pressure comes and who needs to vent or to cry. I am the one who listens to the stories of human lives and who seeks to be a guide and a comforter. I am the one who will hold the hand of the soldier who has been injured and who will make him or her feel that there is another human being who loves and cares: I stand there in the place of the family at home who cannot be there. I am the one to whom that soldier says, “Please tell my husband/wife/mother/child that I love them” as they are taken away for further treatment. I too am the one who has the responsibility to knock at the door of the family to tell them that their husband/wife/son/daughter has been injured or killed. To call me a “soul tiffie” in this context disparages what I do and who I am. To the man in the barber shop this really is the bottom line and is the main reason I took offence: I felt disparaged. I wonder if you would have been so glib in your remark had it been your loved one's hand I held as he or she lay dying? I wonder if you would have been so glib had I been the one knocking at your door to bring you the devastating news of the loss of your loved one? I don't think so.
To the man in the barber shop I am sorry I took offence so quickly. I owed you an explanation. I hope this explanation is adequate.
“Soul tiffie?” I don't think so...
Chaplain Andrew Treu
