Die raw, heart-breaking cries and anger probably echoed through every street. The despair and desolation of the events that night must have been heard on every town square. Is there anything worse and cruel than the tyranny of child murder? A power drunk, egoistic and cruel ruler that announced genocide without ceremony - a decree that would eradicate and tear apart the dreams and hearts of parents. It would close the life scripts of people with beautiful hopes and dreams by simply snapping his fingers. It would lead to disruption and leave words like loss and hate on the lips of people.

Christmas is not only a fairy-tale filled with bright stars and metaphors. It is a deeply entwined mirror image of our human experience. It is a story of Herods, a story of squashed dreams and a story of a broken world. it is a story of a Child that would end up on a cross... The heavenly stars seem to have brought not only light, but also cast shadows... In these shadows we find the true meaning of Christmas - in the deep dusk, where light and dark fight an eternal battle to win our souls. This is where the light of the Child in the manger bring about the possibility of a new beginning - in the midst of the hard realities of the world.

Ships also cast long shadows. Jimri and Fruson tell Nico, in Durban, of life lived in the deep dusk. They tell of heartbreak, power drunk Herods, of tragedy and crying. Danie in Gqeberha, on board a huge iron ore carrier is drawn into the shadows by a sailor paralysed by fear and passion... Our other Evangelists, André, Loffie and Chris each tells of men working at sea, fighting the dark with every fibre. So we spend our days - in the shadows.

But, the difference is the Child of the manger. Day after day this Light fights the shadows and dark. On one ship the impact is immediate and life-changing, but on another there is just enough light to help a man getting through the day.

Please do not underestimate for a second how much light your contribution gives. It is so immensely necessary and needed. For that we can only say, on behalf of each of the men working at sea, thank you.

But perhaps it is more than that. Perhaps you also lived in the shadows this year. We hope that you will also be deeply aware of the Light of the manger this Christmas and that you will find hope in that.

Blessed Christmas.

PS. Our bank details are: Christelike Seemansorganisasie. ABSA. Current. 1520-230-226.

The ship is rickety and rather modest. It is without pomp and glory, nothing luxurious and no glitter. A weathered rope lies on the deck and it seems as if the rust and dust that stick to everything have won the battle forever. The dining area is poorly lit, with a single globe that desperately tries to dissolve the darkness. 

This is where Danie is called aside, urgently by one of the men. His story is just like that of thousands of other men working at sea. He has the lowest rank on board. He is a nobody. He has no voice. No one sees him. He is not important. He has an anonymous face that does not warrant being named by most of the crew members. His story is about abuse and torture. On the open sea, there are no eyes watching whether rules are being adhered to. There you are the doormat, you do as you are told, because you are nobody. 

Similarly, the stable is rickety and quietly modest. There is also no pomp and glory, nothing luxurious and no glitter. A weathered rope lies on a bale of hay. It seems as if the rust and dust that stick to everything have won the battle forever. A single candle desperately tries to dissolve the darkness. But, that night was significantly different. A child was born and it is told that His mother wrapped Him in cloth, settling Him in a manger. 

Many probably walked past, because who pays attention to an unobtrusive stable? Could we hold those looking down at them responsible? They would have thought that someone born in a stable is simply a ‘nobody’. Who could have known that the Child is the Saviour and Prince of Peace? Who could have guessed that the Child in the simple stable would make each nobody a somebody?

Just so it is for the man sitting in front of Danie. The Child of the manger made him someone of value too. He is valuable enough for Danie to stop and not simply walk past him. It is necessary to stop in humility and empathetically to listen and remind him that the Child of the manger made him someone too. 

Now, with Christmas around the corner, our wish is that you experience love, care and empathy. You have value because the Child in the manger made each of us somebody. We, at the CSO, will continue without interruption, to remind those working at sea that feel they have no voice and consider themselves without value. Please consider helping us with this. A financial contribution can help strengthen our hands to reassure and remind each man working at sea, feeling like a nobody, about the Wonder of that night in the stable.

Blessed Christmas!

PS. Here is the link for the debit order: https://bit.ly/43khwDO  Please fill in and email back to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Our bank details are: Christelike Seemansorganisasie. ABSA. Current. 1520-230-226. Use your donor code as a reference. We keep praying for each other.

Danie is still catching his breath after climbing the stepladder to the deck of the ship when the young man joins him. No one knows whether the young man’s quick and eager reaction is due to the jacket with the embroidered Cross, or the loud announcement that someone from the ‘mission’ is on board.

‘I miss my family’ are his opening words, without any introduction. Those are his only words, fired like a gun salvo into nothing. There is nothing else. There is no context or explanation. It is an emergency call.  It is raw. It is as if he has kept it inside, silently and heavy, like a glowing coal that threatens to destroy him for months. It is as if he cannot endure it for one second more. The four words unmistakably expose his dejection and brokenness. 

Danie’s practiced ear needs no context. ‘I miss my family’ says everything. What could be worse? Put it in the context of working at sea and the story writes itself...

Danie thinks the young man is only about seventeen, eighteen years old. He has just grown out of complete childhood, but only just. As they find a quiet spot, Danie’s suspicions are confirmed. It is the first ship that Carlos works on. It is the first time away from home. Home is far away and it is a long time to be separated from friends, family and all familiar things. It is overwhelming. Each day the longing etches deeper. 

That is why the CSO is here - for Carlos and other men like him. Each Carlos that we meet in the harbours needs someone to listen, to pray with them. They need to hear that God holds them closely in His hand. It is for each of these men that the CSO exists. 

Carlos and Danie talk for a long time - about longing and belonging, about breathing deeply and also about the God that transcends all. Eventually Carlos finds a little more courage and straightens his shoulders. He returns to the inner workings of the ship holding a Tagalog Bible that Danie could offer.   

Let us not pretend, for a moment, that we are saviours. What is true, is that sometimes, we are in a God Moment at the right place at the right time to help the men working at sea to breathe once more. Another breath is everything. A single breath is often all that we need for life.  

Your donation allows us to care for each Carlos working at sea, every day. Thank you so much for that.       

In more than two decades of working on ships, Nico has seen the heart-breaking story repeatedly, perhaps hundreds of times... The mixed emotions of a man working at sea that becomes a father while doing back-breaking work on a ship somewhere, thousands of kilometres from home. He works to provide for his family. There is nothing strange about it and it is nothing new. Yet, each time, even after twenty years, the situation touches you deeply. 

With the arrival of a new baby far away, while you are working at sea, there is always euphoria and tragedy in the air. It is a fight to the death between powers that compete for the heart of a seaman. Nico has seen victims of both possibilities. Sometimes the euphoria of the moment is enough to carry the man through the situation, but at times tragedy wins and then the man finds himself in an existential crisis. In the midst of such a spinning situation you often ask yourself, ‘Why am I doing this work?’ or, ‘What kind of father is not there for his wife and child?’ These questions tend to draw you deeper into the spinning and dangerous spiral of thoughts. Oliver is a third officer. His travels through this work at sea are marked by a certain inevitability. It was definitely not his first choice. Just like many others that try to eke out a life in a country with limited options, you have to find something within those limitations. You take what you can get, irrespective of the price. 

When Nico meets him, the weight of the grim reality bears heavily on his shoulders. He tells how the combination of long, merciless hours and the fact that he has not been able to hold his two-month-old baby often threaten to pull the rug from under him. His expectations are almost tangible. He makes no secret of the fact that he now wishes for the end of his contract.  But he already thinks about the next farewell. The Christmas and New Year celebrations will be short indeed. He will have to pack and prepare for joining a new vessel. He will miss hearing the first words of his son. He will miss the first steps. Yet, he knows he has to provide for his family. He has to do what he must...

This morning, in the Durban harbour, Nico’s visit is a miracle. The timing is perfect. There seems to be a bigger Hand operating here. Oliver needs, at this moment someone to care for him with understanding and Christ-love. That is why Nico is there, at the right place and time, ‘by accident’. At the CSO we care for seamen whose lives on board the ships are grim realities. We do this every day. They cannot escape from their realities. 

We care, knowing that there are no ‘coincidences’. We know that those that cross our paths need to experience the love, hope and mercy that the Cross brings.  Your financial contribution can help us to continue serving and caring for the men working at sea every day. Our plea is that you consider supporting us with what we do.

PS. Here is the link for the debit order: https://bit.ly/43khwDO  Please fill in and email back to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Our bank details are: Christelike Seemansorganisasie. ABSA. Current. 1520-230-226. Use your donor code as a reference. We keep praying for each other.