South African Conclusion

Two of the most meaningful communities in my time in South Africa have been Ethembeni Senior Service Centre and the After-School Program at the monastery. I have written about both several times before but the updates and reflections continue. I really came to like the guys I worked with at the after-school program. The Brown Bread Boys, as we dubbed the group, included Bongisani, Nyongayethu, Thembalani, Buzwe, as well as Matt (the regular teacher) and myself. Though there was the obvious teacher-student relationship in many ways, it was really a cool group and we were able to break many of the barriers that often come with that teacher-student relationship. From joking around with eachother to going horse riding at a local farm to doing homework to painting rocks, we had a good time. The kids are in a really loving and supportive environment (supported by the teachers and the Brothers at the monastery and themselves). I’ll miss them a lot, even if they give me their sass a lot of the time.
Over the month of June I spent 3 or 4 days a week at the senior centre in Joza. I know I’ve said it before, but that place is my South African family in so many ways. I could never fully articulate what all of the meaningful, awkward, educational, or funny experiences here meant to me and the community there, so I’m not really going to try. On my last day we had a whole lot of fanfare with an special lunch, gifts, lots of singing, and some very moving offerings of thanks and blessings. And yes, I cried a lot on my last day throughout the goodbyes. Somehow, I managed to find a home in a South African township, whether it was the oldies at the centre, the crowded mini-bus drivers that I befriended, or the preschool kids who occasionally shouted “Umlungu!” (white person) at me as I walked past them every day.
And now here I am, sitting at the airport preparing to fly home after 5 months here in the RSA. I am very excited for Bryan’s wedding, seeing my family and some friends, and finally getting to spend some time with Danielle. At the same time, I really want to be in South Africa. This country and its people have really sunk their teeth into me. With all the beauty and all the crap, I want to be a part of it. At the closing performance we had with the after-school program, one of the Brothers had this to say to Me, Matt, and Sarah (all from the US). ‘If you stay in Africa long enough to take off your shoes and touch the ground with your bare feet, the roots have already taken a firm hold in the ground.’ I don’t know how deep my roots are yet, but I know my feet aren’t coming up that easily.

Friends

My updates and reflections have not been nearly as detailed or frequent over the past month or so but the time has certainly been packed with experiences that were uplifting, heartbreaking, exciting, fun, challenging, and interesting. The month of June consisted of final exams, an adventure to Hogsback, much time at Ethembeni and the After-School Program, goodbyes, time with friends, and many interesting conversations and encounters with a very wide range of people.
Exams went over without a hitch. Right after my last exam I went on a three day weekend trip to Hogsback with a group of 5 other South African friends. It was an absolutely AMAZING weekend! We stayed with a friend, Helen, in two clay huts across from a farm in the middle of the woods in Hogsback. There were great conversations, many laughs, fantastic hikes, camp fires, singing, and encounters with some local kids who came along for our hikes. The free time of the exam and post-exam period allowed for much time spent at Ethembeni and the After-School Program (see next entry for more details). The past couple weeks has also been a steady stream of goodbyes to a wide range of people, from guys in res, to other US exchange student friends, to other local friends, to Ethembeni and the after-school program, to local street kids I had befriended. Goodbyes really suck. A lot. Anyway…I also had many opportunities for the exploration of Grahamstown and further connection with the community. I had thought about planning a cool trip for right after exams, but besides the fact that I am no good at logistical planning for that sort of thing, I really wanted to spend more time with local community. Though it may seem like a small and sleepy place on paper, the greater Grahamstown community has many interesting experiences to offer. One of the more moving parts of this for me was getting to know a number of the local street kids who are often in town hanging out or begging. Some are sincerely hungry and just honestly trying to put some food in their stomachs, some hang out in town because it’s what their friends do, some are trying to get enough money to buy their next fix. I definitely met some interesting kids. Though incredibly obvious issues of disparity and also suffering come up, I very much enjoyed establishing to at least a small degree a mutual friendship with these kids. The last 10 days of my time in South Africa I stayed with friends at their off-campus home. The six girls I stayed with have really become some of my closest South African friends and I have been incredibly blessed to have adventures with them, laugh with them, and talk about faith and justice and all that jazz.

Bread

Something I have come to realize in my time in South Africa is the importance of bread on so many levels. It can be important on a very small scale in that some people’s day to day existence is largely dictated by the pursuit of bread or any substantive food in general (though the scale of importance of bread in this case is huge to the people who pursue it). In my own personal experience, from eating bread and toast in the dining hall every day on campus to eating just bread as meals while traveling, bread in and of itself has taken on greater value. I suppose I always took bread for granted and generally associated it with sandwiches or with rolls before dinner out at a restaurant. Also, my own constant encounters with ‘beggars’ and people who were hungry (children and adults alike) made me more keenly aware of the value and necessity of bread. Very often people would ask for a few Rand (South Africa currency) to buy some bread or the bread itself. Often I would go into a store with someone I had met on the street or someone I knew from various conversations on the street and buy some bread. Whether or not this is the best immediate response to encounters with hunger I am still not sure. There were also many instances of my own avoidance or denial of people who claimed to be seeking only bread. The issue is also much more complex regarding issues concerning substance abuse, conflict, as well as more structural issues of hunger and poverty. The symbolism of bread also extends to the global scale in light of the recent sharp price increase in staple food items like bread. This has a direct impact on the daily survival of so many people around the world, including those in and around Grahamstown who seek bread for their daily survival. I guess bread is little more than something to make a sandwich out of or hold your appetite while waiting for a restaurant meal.

Beautifully F****d Up

My Anthropology professor described South Africa as “beautifully fucked up.” I think that’s a pretty good way to sum it up. There is an incredible amount of beauty and diversity and community activism and cool people. At the same time there is a lot of conflict and suffering and things that are not so beautiful (note: see news on recent Xenophobic and economic violence and the thousands of people displaced). I’ve been pretty blessed to experience some aspects of both of these sides of South Africa first-hand.
I’ve been spending more and more time up at Ethembeni in Joza in the township around Grahamstown. I know I write/talk about it all the time, but the place is SO formative for my entire South African experience. I was talking to Connie (aka Nobantu), the woman who is one of my ‘mamas’ and runs the kitchen, about what Grahamstown was like during Apartheid. For some reason, I would like to think that little old Grahamstown would be more peaceable that other places in South Africa during that time, but I guess I was wrong. Connie said that kids from a secondary school near her home would run to her house and change clothes quickly to avoid being harassed by the police. Connie would cover for them and tell the police that there weren’t any school kids around there and that they should stop bothering her. I’ve also talked with Grace about activism and apartheid and whatnot a bunch of times. One really striking thing she said to me: “We would sing and sing for hours. In big crowds of people all around town. I’d come home afterwards and my husband would say ‘Ya know, some day you’re going to get arrested and not come home after that.’ I told him it didn’t matter. We were fighting for freedom.” It is amazing to really know people who were involved so intimately in that history of South Africa. Since all of that apartheid nonsense, some things have obviously changed for the better. But at the same time, unemployment, increasing economic inequality, some corruption and inefficiency in government, and HIV/AIDS are creating a whole host of problems even since 1994 when apartheid ended and Mandela was elected. Oh yeah, and a side note on Mandela…his first name is not ‘Nelson,’ it’s ‘Rolihlahla.’ The name ‘Nelson’ was given to him by an English school teacher who probably couldn’t pronounce his real name.
I’ve become further distraught and confused over the ‘issue’ of street kids. I have befriended a few guys who are regularly at different points around town begging or trying to do random odd-jobs to make a few bucks. I’ve also learned more about the intensity of the drug problems with these guys. It’s pretty rough. Some 14, 15, and 16 year old guys are already at addict status. I always try to do my best to learn names and get to know people a little bit, but I think I’m really coming to believe that hand outs—especially when a bunch of the guys are looking to get high—don’t do the trick. As much as my conscience is strained, there are outlets at City Hall and a couple local churches for meals that can provide some food. But also, there’s nothing wrong with a good conversation and the occasional orange or some bread to share.
This is long….but on a quick note, I’ve also been blessed by meeting some really cool people and developing some pretty sweet relationships, some South Africans and local folks as well as people from the US. There are good conversation partners, taco night friends, and travel buddies who don’t always get the most mentions in my blog entries, but have been a major part of my experience here. So yeah, holler if ya hear me.

More Grahamstown!

It’s been a while since my last official reflection/update, so here’s the logistical update for the past few weeks. I’ve finished up my courses for the semester. Ethnomusicology was somewhat interesting but kind of dry, except for the performance component where we learned Shona (Zimbabwe) songs and dances and performed them. That portion of the course was awesome. Anthropology finally got really interesting as we’ve spent the past few weeks learning about the political economy of Black Johannesburg and Soweto and really getting into some issues in South African society. And the class is a really diverse and interesting group of people. Xhosa has been fantastic. The teachers are very engaging and enthusiastic and I enjoy learning and using the language SO much! It has been incredibly valuable and interesting for talking with people in town, on the public mini-buses, and at Ethembeni. I’m just sad that once I leave South Africa the language will not have any relevance, but I think it has inspired me to want to develop other more relevant language skills. I went to an incredibly sweet church service at UMariya Mama weThemba Monastery just outside of Grahamstown. Beautiful music, interesting mix of people, and lots of hugs. I also took a weekend trip to Cintsa, a very small coastal town just outside of East London/iMonti. I went with PJ, Robin, Matt, and Sarah (PJ goes to BC, Robin is a US exchange student, Matt and Sarah are full time teachers/volunteers from the US) and we had a great weekend of outdoors beach fun and good conversations.
I’ve also really come to feel connected and integrated into the Grahamstown community. I’ve met so many cool and interesting people in town and around campus, from street kids to university students to the mini-bus drivers. I’ve also connected with people that I feel I would be very good friends with if I were here longer. Hey, I’ll make the best of it while I’m still here. And I’ve become more comfortable with the kids at the After-School Program. The most moving and loving community I feel a part of now is the senior centre, Ethembeni. I don’t know if I can accurately or appropriately convey what that place continues to mean to me in terms of relationships, conversations, learning about township life, being involved in the local community, and finding a home in South Africa. Abantu apho ngusapho lwam eSouth Africa. “The people there are my South African family.” Mantshibile aka Connie, the woman her runs the kitchen, referred to me as “Mtwana wam,” or “My child” the other day and I almost teared up. I was also given a Xhosa name, Sipho, which means “gift” in isiXhosa. And, with some money from BC, I bought a stereo and some CDs for the centre. It has been fantastic. Mr. Mabindisa, a 97-year old legend, offered a blessing and thanks in Xhosa (which was translated for me) that was very moving. I put in one of the gospel CDs that had been requested but a woman told me that they wanted to “jive” so, of course I popped in some Earth, Wind, and Fire and we had a senior centre style dance party. It was SO fun! I was so glad that people enjoyed the stereo and the music. Grace also stressed that it was good to have people up and moving to get some more exercise and stay active. That place is really something else. Though I don’t think I could have ever predicted it, I’ve managed to find a place I can call home in a senior centre in a township in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. Sweet.
On another note, I was sad not to be around Boston for the end of the year festivities and graduation with Danielle and many good friends. It’s weird, especially from such a distance, to have people and places that I feel so close to go through such changes. I think I’ve found a pretty good balance of staying connected to home as well as staying active and engaged here, though, so I guess I’m just going with the flow.

Xhosa Cultural Tradition

I was given an incredible honor and opportunity when Grace Ngcete, manager of Ethembeni and surrogate mother for me here in South Africa, invited me to a 3-day traditional Xhosa ceremony at her home Grahamstown. Grace’s husband died a little over two years ago. These ceremonies and festivities are a formal send-off for his spirits to be with the ancestors, according to Xhosa tradition. In addition to the large gathering of family, friends, and neighbors, the central focus of the tradition is a cow that is sacrificed. Let me just say…WOW. Though I did stick out just a little bit (aka stuck out a lot) as a white, English-speaking foreigner (though my Xhosa is improving and several people complimented my speaking ability), people were very welcoming and had me participate in everything as a friend.
We were in the backyard of Grace’s modest township home and the cow was tied to a post in the ground. Pretty much everyone gathered around and after several preacher-like proclamations from several men, including Grace’s son, and some herbal blessings, the men got to work on the cow. In the process of tying it up and taking it down, everybody waits for the cow to cry out. “Thetha! Thetha incomo!” Speak! Speak cow! The cow did let out a long and sorrowful groan much to the pleasure of the crowd as everybody began cheering. This crying out from the cow is a signal that the spirits are being sent up with the ancestors (I think that’s how it goes, please forgive my cursory and possibly inaccurate collection of these events. It is a very moving and exciting spiritual experience that I’m still trying to absorb/remember). Then the killing begins. I’ll spare the details for now, but let me just say it was intense. I’ve never seen anything like it before. And long story short, barely 45 minutes after the initial tie-up, we were eating cooked chunks of meat with our hands. They cook the meat right on the wood in a fire next to the cow body being sliced and diced so that every part is used well. Over the course of the three days after the killing of the cow, there was a whole lot of meat that was cooked and eaten, Umqombothi (traditional Xhosa beer), Brandy (still haven’t figured out where brandy fits in to the equation in the traditional sense), conversation, many blessings and proclamations from community and family members, and a celebration of Mr. Ngcete’s spirit being with the ancestors.
The whole ceremony over the course of a few days was a truly moving, interesting, sometimes awkward, and very educational experience for me. Though I was an outsider for obvious reasons, I was warmly welcomed and given the opportunity not only to observe, but to participate in a Xhosa cultural tradition. I was able to practice speaking Xhosa much (including a very brief half-English, half-Xhosa speech in front of a room of Grace’s family members as I left on the last day…yikes! It actually went well and garnered smiles and small applause for my efforts), meet so many interesting people, visit my first shebeen (township pub), eat a whole bunch of meat (including some parts that I still don’t think I could identify on the cow), and bear a little discomfort to take part in a totally memorable experience. And I was even given an official South African clan name: Thakwenda. Sweet.

To the Wild Coast

I have become further convinced that South Africa is an incredibly diverse place. Last weekend we traveled up the Wild Coast towards Durban and spent some time in very rural regions. Traditional homes made of thick mud covered with various brightly colored exteriors and usually a thatched roof were scattered over the breathtaking countryside. These areas stretched for kilometers and were truly in the middle of nowhere. Much of the region, formerly known as the Transkei, was part of the forced removals and limited land distribution to blacks during colonial rule. We stayed for a couple days in a coastal rural area known as Mdumbi at a Backpackers. We were clearly wealthy outsider tourists, but it was a beautiful and interesting area to see, and the backpackers has a local education centre and non-profit in attempts to engage the community rather than close off from it. I got the impression that many people in the area live very materially simple lives and live one illness or bad crop away from tragedy. We met some interesting people, had a sweet drum jam session around a fire, kayaked along the beautiful Mdumbi river, and enjoyed the scenery.
I also played some soccer. At first I was just kicking a ball around on the dirt path outside the backpackers with a young local boy. It was really fun. He was shy and didn’t really respond to my conversation prompts in either English or Xhosa. I was wearing sneakers, cargo shorts, and a reasonably new t-shirt. The boy, whose name I never got, was barefoot, wearing a ripped and dirty shirt and ripped brown shorts. In one sense it was pretty cool because no matter the fact that he and I came from incredibly different places in life, we were both just enjoying kicking a soccer ball around. In another sense, it was like socioeconomic disparity slapping me right in the face. It was a very striking and memorable experience. A little later that same day I began kicking a ball around with five other local boys, probably all around 9 to 11 years old. PJ came out and then the seven of us went to a nearby field that was reasonably flat and had wooden goal posts standing freely in the field. We played barefoot soccer for a solid hour and a half. It was SO fun. And I was not slacking during the game by any means. They were really good and I had to hustle to keep up with them. Such a phenomenal experience. The interactions culminated with laughs and high-fives and then also with the boys asking us for some food or money. I gave them a couple of my cans of beans to share. I never know what to do in those situations. Oh yeah, and poverty still sucks. But I don’t know if the popular response of economic development is the appropriate answer.
Then we headed up to Port St. Johns, which is a beautiful pseudo-tropical coastal area. After one night there the rest of my traveling crew continued up to Durban and I met a Belgian/South African couple in their late 20s who gave me a lift all the way to King William’s town, about 5 hours away. They were really cool and had some really cool experiences in their life and interesting things to talk about. I was actually kind of sad when we said our goodbyes when I got off in KWT. Then I found the taxi rank in town and took a crowded bus filled with middle-aged Xhosa women back to Grahamstown that night. I love encountering all sorts of interesting people all the time. Whether it’s a 29 year old white South African traveler/surfer giving me a lift or a 50-something black South African women that’s curious as to why a white kid from the US is taking a mini-bus, I’m meeting really cool people all the time. And being safe, Mom and Dad. Nothing to worry about. J

Grahamstown

I’ve been back in Grahamstown for almost two weeks now after my traveling adventures. Besides being settled again and having regular access to means of communication back home, the absolute best part about being back in Grahamstown is spending more time at Ethembeni (Senior Centre in the township around Grahamstown, see previous entries). Though I am still an outsider for obvious reasons, the place really feels like another home for me. I love the atmosphere and the people. I love taking the mini-bus up into the township with local people. I love trying to speak a little bit of Xhosa. I love meeting friendly people around the area of Ethembeni. This past week our adviser Geoff organized a group of students from the US, including PJ and Brittney from BC and a few rotary scholars, to come up and have lunch with me and the rest of the crew of Ethembeni. Everybody was so welcoming. It was really great. I’m glad other people got to see a different area of the township and see the place I talk about so much. Grace Ngcete, the woman who runs the centre is pretty much my new idol, also invited me to a traditional Xhosa ceremony celebrating the life and death of her husband, who passed away a couple of years ago. That’s in a couple of weeks and there will surely be a story about that. She also let me borrow a scrapbook she had put together with pictures and news articles from around the time of Steve Biko’s death in 1977. Steve Biko was a leader, organizer, and prophet. See the movie CRY FREEDOM. Intense.
Had an interesting trip with my Anthropology class the other day. We went to a rural area outside of Queenstown for an event to commemorate the opening of a National Liberation Heritage Trail. There were around 6,000 people there and a number of performances and speakers. Most of the speeches were in Xhosa, so I couldn’t understand much at all, but it was still pretty exciting. At one point, people on stage and most people in the crowd began singing. The song ended with the rally cry of “Amandla!” and the crowd response of “Awethu!” Together they mean “Power to the people!” That was a significant rally cry during the anti-apartheid struggle. Pretty cool to hear that. There was also something there that has been stuck in my mind since the trip on Thursday. There were a few trucks set up as mobile clinics right outside the event tents and stage. There were HUGE lines of people from the area lining up to get quick medical check-ups. Many of the people walked hours to get to the clinics to wait hours in line for a brief check-up. I suppose it’s a good thing that the mobile clinics are getting out there at all, but yikes, that’s some tough stuff. So many positive things have been achieved but the liberation struggle ain’t done yet.

Outdoor Adventures

In the second week of our holiday from school we made our way back towards Grahamstown along the Garden Route, which runs along the southern coast of South Africa between Cape Town and Port Elizabeth. Through our travels we stopped in Mossel Bay, Wilderness, Knysna, and Tsitsikamma. Throughout our travels on the Baz Bus (a door-to-door bus for backpackers in South Africa) and stays in several backpackers lodges we met a bunch of interesting people from all over the world. Though we didn’t meet too many South Africans, it was totally interesting to meet people from the US, Argentina, South Korea, Germany, Sweden, England, France, and probably a couple other places that I’ve forgotten. There were some people traveling solo, some in groups, some for two weeks, some for two years, some just for fun, and some for research. At one point in Tsitsikamma we were playing a game of pick-up barefoot soccer outside our backpackers lodge. There were four people from the US, two guys from Argentina, and two guys from Germany playing in a mixed four-on-four game. It was pretty cool and international.
The outdoorsy adventures included beaches, hiking, more hiking, waterfall rock jumping (an incredibly rush…Amazing!), kayaking, and mountain biking. There are some incredibly beautiful landscapes in South Africa and I have been totally blessed and fortunate to have the opportunity to explore some of them. One cool story from the mountain biking…PJ and I were nearing the end of our 22km biking adventure around some beautiful trails and mountains in the Tsitsikamma area (so fun!) when we ran into some baboons. At first we just thought it was a couple of them, but then we realized that 6 or 7 of them were scattered across the path ahead of us blocking our way through. And then we noticed that there were probably 8 or 9 more in the woods on our left. They were eyeing us pretty suspiciously and started to make some really loud, awkward, and aggressive yells. So here we were, in the middle of nowhere in the mountainous woods along the southern coast of South Africa, stopped dead in our tracks by a whole bunch of baboons. It was pretty wild. We stayed basically still for about 20 minutes, after which they had all gone into the woods far enough away from the trail that we weren’t too worried. Somewhat scary at the time but really funny looking back. Overall I’d say the two week adventure was a success. I met a lot of diverse and interesting people, learned more about the social conditions in different parts of South Africa, saw a bunch of cool sights, had some fun outdoors adventures, and traveled with a great group of people. I think in future endeavors I may try to find the insider’s perspective on exploring South Africa (I don’t exactly know what that means, but we’ll see) but this was a really solid trip.

Township Life

Me, PJ, and Robin decided to do a “township tour.” Just in case…townships are all black and coloured areas around cities and towns. Some of the townships were created through forced removals during Apartheid, some are squatter settlements, and some developed through general segregation policies. They are vibrant communities that range from densely populated tin and wooden shacks to densely populated dorm-style housing to neighborhoods with modest but nice houses. There are certainly issues with access to electricity and running water and residential space and unemployment and economic poverty in certain areas of the townships, but despite many commonly held conceptions, they are interesting and friendly communities worthy of attention.
I had a number of hesitations going into exploring these parts of Cape Town on a guided tour. It seems like it could be more of an outsider tourist experience rather than an immersion experience, and also I really did not feel comfortable about the “voyeurism into the life of the poor” sound it had to it. I decided to go for it for a few reasons. The townships were a part of Cape Town that I really wanted to see. I was able to see the waterfront, and Robben Island, and Table Mountain, which are all parts of Cape Town, so why shouldn’t I also see Langa, and Gugulethu, and Khayelitsha, or other parts of the townships? Also, the group is very small (it was five of us) with a tour company that is owned and operated by people who live in the townships. I also thought it would be interesting and very educational.
After the experience itself I think a lot of my predictions came out to be essentially accurate. There were times where I felt like an invasive, voyeuristic outsider, but overall it was a very interesting and informative and valuable experience. People are totally friendly and I got to surprise a few folks when I was able to greet them in Xhosa. In addition to meeting some people and physically seeing the neighborhoods, our guide Zoliswa told us a lot about issues of squatter settlements, and apartheid-era forced removals, and current progress (or lack thereof in some cases) on housing rehabilitation and development. I don’t have any pictures, but just do an image search online for Langa, or Gugulethu, or Khayelitsha to see some general pictures of the area if you feel inspired.
This was also definitely one of those identity-questioning experiences as in my head I was running back and forth between where I come from and where I live and then the dorm style housing in Langa where three families (yes, three FAMILIES) lived in a room hardly bigger than my double in my first year at BC. Poverty sucks in a lot of ways. Though in a lot of ways, capitalistic economic development might get rid of some of the best parts of the townships in their sense of communal living and friendly interaction as opposed to individual property and private space. Again, I don’t know what to do, but I don’t think I’ll forget that experience for a long time. It’s also interesting to compare township life in Cape Town and township life in Grahamstown. I spend two days a week up in the township here, and though I’m still obviously somewhat of an outsider, I’ve really got a community that feels like a home in Ethembeni Senior Centre (see previous entries).

Cape Town Encounters

On our fourth day in Cape Town I decided to go on a solo adventure around the city on foot. A lot of the touristy things we had been doing were definitely a lot of fun, I just really enjoy seeing a city by foot and meeting random people and wandering. It was really exciting to be in such a big city with all of the diverse people and activity and things to see. Probably the most interesting part of my adventure was meeting three individuals separately throughout the day. Here’s a little bit about each of them.

Edward (I mentioned him earlier in the View from Long St. entry)
Edward is an 11 year old 4th grader who I ran into on a number of occasions while we were staying in Cape Town. One of the days he had one shoe on his feet. The other days he didn’t have anything on his feet. Every night we were there he was zipping around Long St. asking people for money or food. It’s never easy to know how to respond to this. So Edward came up to me while I was walking and we began to chat. What a kid! He was so charming and smart and fun to talk to. I asked him about his school and where he sleeps and if his parents were around. He said he was in 4th grade at a school for street kids nearby and that his parents are no longer around. It’s difficult to verify these stories, but whatever, he was interesting to talk to regardless. We went into a convenience store and got something to drink and a sandwich. He said he was going to save half of it to share with his friend who was at another part of the street ‘working the crowds.’ Talk about friendship, eh? I think we all need friendship to survive, but needing friendship to survive by just getting food into your stomach is another level. We ran into each other a few more times over the next couple days and we chatted and I gave him some peanut butter sandwiches. I still know so little about where he comes from or what his life is like every day, but I don’t imagine he’ll have the most illustrious educational or economic opportunities (or even nutritional opportunities for that matter). I don’t know what to do. But I don’t think I’ll forget that kid for a long time.

Leonard
Somewhat of a different experience from Edward, Leonard is a 40-something man who runs a sustainable income development company. He travels around to different parts of South Africa and tries to identify marketable skills in people in more economically poor areas. For example, if a group of women have a skill in making bead necklaces, Leonard might work with them to have them make more business practical products with their bead work. Then he works to get orders for their goods and the income goes back to the people. Sounds really interesting. We talked for a while about poverty and development and apartheid and the pros and cons of volunteerism. He said he was part of the more open-minded crowd back in the day and his mixed race parties would get busted by the police, as mixed parties weren’t allowed. Cool guy.

Fahim
Fahim is a 50-something flower vendor in Cape Town. I was just sitting on the curb in a market area and he was walking past selling flowers. We greeted each other casually and then he stopped and thanked me for greeting him in return with a smile. And then somehow that turned into a 30 minute exchange about human interaction and faith and God and being friendly. We were both talking about the notion that belief in God must be manifested in how we treat people, strangers and family alike. It was very interesting because about 20 minutes into the conversation we still hadn’t made any reference to any specific denomination or religious classification. Then I said that much of my understanding comes from a Christian background and he said that he is a pretty devout Muslim. We both agreed that it would be nice if people could remember some of the basics on a larger scale and decide to work together in peace no matter what their religious background. Though we did have a few minor discrepancies in understanding self-centered small actions in relation to larger social problems coming out of religious faith, we both seemed to think we were headed up to the same mountain top.

View from Long Street

During a two week holiday from classes in the second half of March I adventured to Cape Town with PJ and Brittney from BC, and our friends Will, Robin, and Jane who are also US exchange students at Rhodes. Our adventures included meeting up with several of our other friends from BC who are at the University of Cape Town, visiting Robben Island, where Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years of political imprisonment, climbing Table Mountain, wandering the streets of Cape Town on foot, and exploring the townships of Langa and Gugulethu. Instead of doing a chronology of events, I’m going to write about a few particularly striking experiences from our travels in three separate entries.
First, the view from Long St…
For several days during our time in Cape Town we stayed at a Backpackers Lodge on Long St., which is a hub of bars and stores and social activity. Right outside of our room we had a balcony from which we could view much of the activity on the street from above. The diversity of people and interactions was mesmerizing. It was also an interesting microcosm of the diversity and inequality in South Africa. Some of the sights and sounds…
- Loud music bumping from The Dubliner, a bar next door
- One-way traffic
- People of all ages and colors walking both ways on the sidewalks, some in suits, some begging, some carrying groceries, some heading into bars, some in groups, some alone.
- Edward, a 4th grader and street kid, bouncing around asking people for money or food
- A bunch of people sitting at tables outside of a café having drinks (and generally ignoring people asking for food or money)
- 30-something man selling beaded crafts
- A 20-something woman zipping back and forth across the street asking for food or money
- Taxis and taxi drivers
- Another grade school age boy searching for food or money
- On two adjacent stoops…on the left a black male teen alone who had been wandering the area for a while occasionally asking for food or money…on the right two white female teens in dresses who had just left The Dubliner, a bar.

These observations are pretty inconclusive and in no way speak to the full experience of any of the people I saw. They are really just my observations. In attempting to acknowledge the contrast of experience that exists here for the people of South Africa, it is unavoidable for me to question my own identity and experience. Where do I fit in to the picture? Very generally I suppose I am a wealthy white tourist from the United States. My general identity is not the issue because I can not change where I come from. I think experiences that make us question our identity, or experience, or vocation, or (at least in my case) privilege are important for determining, both in the immediate and the long-term, how we choose to live our lives. In the immediate, these questioning experiences should force us (“us” meaning everybody, I’m not trying to set up an “us” vs. “them” kind of thing here) to examine who we choose to greet with a friendly smile, how we choose to respond to a 10-year old begging for food, what parts of town we choose to spend our time in, or who we vote for. In the long term, I think these questioning experiences are valuable for determining where we want to live and what kind of work we want to do with our lives (that is, of course, if we have any luxury of personal choice in the matter of practical vocations.) Ok, I’m ranting and not making that much sense anymore. The view from the balcony just made me think a lot about who I am and what I’m doing.

Poverty and Politics

The other day I was chilling out on the steps of the cathedral in town and a man approached me and sat down next to me. We greeted each other in Xhosa (I’m getting a little better at least at using the greetings naturally with making it sound forced). I told him my name was Jeremy and he told me his English name was Patrick. We started talking for a little bit and he told me he was poor, hungry, and HIV+, and asked if I could help him out with some money or food. And then he said, “I come to you because you are white, and then you are a rich man.” I guess you could say he was making assumptions, but with the socioeconomic distribution here he is making a very safe assumption of at least decent financial comfort. And I think he also gathered that I was from the United States, which brings along some more assumptions about wealth and status. Talk about raising even more questions about my own identity and privilege. Geez. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, in regards to my wealth and racial privilege and language and a number of things, but being called out on it right to my face provides a bit of a jolt. He also said, on somewhat of a different note, “If you believe in God, you will help me out, Jeremy.” Now that is definitely a loaded statement. That could be the subject of books and conversations and public services for years, let alone the subject of one brief chat and a subsequent blog entry in the comforts of my dorm room. I didn’t really know how to respond to either of those things that he said so I just kind of kept listening. I gave him the few bucks I had on me and a cereal bar that I had in my pocket. We continued chatting for a little while about nice people, and rude people, and the nature of community. There was a little bit of language barrier for me trying to understand his English, but we both ran with it. Interesting people. Tough situations.
On a less personal, but nonetheless relevant political note, the president of the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) spoke on campus the other night as part of Human Rights Awareness Week on campus here at Rhodes. The PAC was originally a liberation movement organization that challenged apartheid throughout the second half of the 20th century. Check it out online, there’s some really interesting history there. Now the PAC is a minority political party. The president of the party had a very active role in the formation and action of the movement over the last several decades. He spoke of a number of criticisms of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and called for much more practical and material healing, in addition to more spiritual healing out of the oppression and violence that persisted during apartheid. He noted that you can not legislate forgiveness, but you can in different ways legislate land redistribution, wealth redistribution, and the creation of housing and jobs. Social change always has to be PRACTICAL, in addition to SPIRITUAL. He also encouraged us to stand FOR freedom and justice, and not always just AGAINST oppression. A self-identified atheist after coming from a Christian background, he said that so often Christianity was used to subjugate his people and also that the liberation of women in South Africa and the world can not come from such a male-centered socio-religious structure like Christianity. That was kind of just informative and impersonal, but it’s food for thought and action, I suppose.

Hogsback and Tutoring

Molweni!

It’s really interesting to try to string together such a variety of moving experiences. Some aspects of my life here (speaking specifically of South African experiences, obviously I’m still very connected to many of my roots and relationships back home) are exciting and cool, some are disheartening and frustrating, some are inspiring. Some cause smiles, some cause yawning, some cause anger. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with such a variety of experiences. I think in some senses it is helping me to understand the diversity of experiences we all share, whether it’s in South Africa, or Boston, or Rochester. Anyway…
One of those experiences was a weekend trip to Hogsback, which is a tiny town situated in the middle of some awesome mountains and cool outdoorsy stuff. The place is BEAUTIFUL! Almost 15 hours of hiking over two days, waterfalls, amateur rock climbing, campfires, meeting new people at the backpacker joint, sunrises over the mountains, and just general natural beauty made for a cool weekend. There are some pictures up on the site, though the pictures in no way do any justice to the physical beauty of the place. Sweeeetttt. I guess I would say that Hogsback was one of the fun, cool, and inspiring experiences.
Yesterday I went with Matt and Sarah (two full time volunteers/teachers from the United States…they RULE!) to an after-school program they teach at up in the middle of the mountains/hills around Grahamstown at a Benedictine monastery. I’ll be doing a little tutoring and hanging out with the kids for a couple hours every Tuesday. Yesterday I spent most of the time working one-on-one with Bongisani, an eighth-grader, on outlining an essay on trade unions in South Africa. It seemed to be a pretty heavy topic for a student in eighth grade, but I think it is totally cool that such an important and practical aspect of the history and identity of South Africa would be an essay topic. I also got to apply some of my knowledge of the role of unions in organizing workers and challenging apartheid from my South African History and Politics course last semester at BC. I think we’ve still got a ways to go on the English and writing skills, but we got a decent outline to start.
That brings up another thing. The whole teaching English aspect. Education and literacy is such an incredibly valuable tool for every person. Around here, it is very difficult to get any sort of job (if there are even any available with such a high unemployment rate) without speaking English well. So one way to work on that issue is to teach English to students and other people so they are better equipped themselves to grasp the language of business and public relations here. In one sense this is a good thing representing positive progress in educating and empowering people, but it also seems to be an extension of neo-colonialism with English as the dominating language. English is a second or even third language for the vast majority of indigenous Africans and also some Afrikaner people. I suppose that you have to work with what you’ve got, though. And multi-lingualism is pretty sweet. A lot of the young kids are better multi-lingual speakers than I am. Although it’s only a couple hours a week, I’m pretty excited to keep working with them.

Ethembeni Family

I spent some more time at Etembheni Senior Service Centre up in the Joza area of the township this week. What an incredible place! The people continue to be warm and welcoming and also appreciate my less-than-proficient efforts at speaking Xhosa with them. I tried to hold down a conversation in Xhosa with a woman while sitting out front on a bench. Once we got past greetings and asking where we were from, she kept talking and I got totally lost. I think I’m making a little bit of progress, though. A very interesting man, Mr. Madolo, told me to bring a notebook next time so I could write down some words and phrases that he will teach me. He also told me that he would teach me some more of the language through song. Very often he will just spontaneously break out into song, sometimes in English, sometimes in Xhosa. I got a little better at the card games some of the men had taught me last week and am slowly becoming a little more comfortable hanging out with everybody. I’ll also be trying to call on my natural inheritance of gardening skills from my dad as I do some work on the small vegetable gardens out front of the place. It is such a blessing to be welcomed into that community. I’ll probably continue to rant about how cool the place is in future blogs.
Today Brittney, PJ, and I went to visit the Raphael Centre in town, which offers free HIV/AIDS testing, counseling, and educational services. We wanted to talk with some people there and see what, if any, role we could have in volunteering or helping out. We kind of just jumped in on a meeting between the Centre’s manager, a student representative from SHARC (Student HIV/AIDS Resistance Campaign), and another woman. They were planning a march and celebration as part of the Human Rights day/week holiday. We got to listen in on the meeting and even participate a little bit in the discussion and planning. We have a little petition-making project for the march and celebration. Again, ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it. I don’t know exactly what the goal of the event is, but I suppose it’s an opportunity to demonstrate support for HIV/AIDS services in the community and create some awareness about issues regarding the epidemic. Also, we’ll be working with our friend Will on some appeals to organizations for funding for the centre. Will is the relative expert in that regard, but hopefully we can help out a little bit.
There are definitely some cool opportunities here, but I think the blog tends to leave out some more of the day-to-day things that take up most of my time. There are still classes, homework (though not much of it at all really, at least for me), logistical errands, hangouts on the front lawns of campus, meals in the dining hall, and solo down time where I tend to nap, miss people from home A LOT, write emails, and write these blogs.

Poverty and Other Thoughts

I’ve had some pretty cool adventures of late. A day trip to Port Alfred provided many hilarious moments, solid relaxation, meeting some cool new people, and navigating the taxi system to get there. It’s not like US taxis, but more like crowded, sometimes unmarked vans that do not cost very much. Totally solid experience for traveling. We also had an evening trip to Makwande game reserve where we saw a whole bunch of Kudu, Zebra, Giraffe, and even a Rhino. It was pretty sweet. There was also a party put on by OutRhodes, a student organization promoting the interests of GLBT and allied students on the Rhodes campus. As South Africa is in so many ways a place of extremes and contrasts, it has extremes in terms of how the people regard queer issues. In the country as a whole, same-sex marriage is legal, but in many places cultural acceptance of queer sexual identities is very hard to find. At Rhodes, OutRhodes has the second largest membership of any student group on campus, but there are many students who have much less appreciative attitudes about openness and queer sexual identities. At least there are a good number of people who are down with the movement, ya know.
On a complete change of pace…I was talking with Geoff, our adviser, who is an economics professor at Rhodes. We were talking about the high unemployment rate and lack of economic infrastructure and wages and poverty in Grahamstown and South Africa. I mentioned earlier that the unemployment rate is often quoted at close to 70% in Grahamstown. It’s actually closer to 35 – 40% when a stricter economic definition is applied, but nonetheless, it is still close to 70% who struggle with where their income might come from and getting by day to day financially. Government pensions for elderly folk and some others certainly help a little bit, but they don’t quite do the trick for housing or jobs. I’ve started to think that it might be nice to have a Nike or Polo or Hanes factory in Grahamstown (obviously not a rights-violating sweatshop, but one that at least conformed to wage and work laws of South Africa) to provide more jobs for people in the community. At least it would be a source of income for more people. I know there’s more that goes into that type of thing economically, but it was just a thought. A pretty difficult thought to grapple with, though as I’ve often felt very negative about companies that have manufacturing overseas.

On more personal aspects of poverty in Grahamstown, it’s really awful observing and talking with kids who are begging for money and/or food. Kids?! Kids did absolutely nothing to ask for broken homes (not all families or homes that are impoverished are broken, obviously, but the kids that I talked to on the street go to Amasango, which is a school for street children) or other day-to-day struggles. It rings true of something from Liberation Theology that says we are not born into sin necessarily because of biblical original sin, but because we are born into a world where debilitating poverty, racism, sexism, war, violence, and other issues strip away the dignity of so many. I don’t have any idea how to respond to something like that when it hits you in the face in reality. Maybe sometimes giving out some money, maybe sometimes going with a person to get some food, maybe sometimes just a conversation or polite greeting and passing. I hope I never ignore it or avoid it, though, whether consciously or unconsciously. It’s pretty easy to exercise privilege and just avoid it.

After visiting several places with our adviser, Geoff, I am super excited to begin hanging out and working with people at a couple of different places in Grahamstown. I’ll be spending a few hours every Monday and Friday at Etembheni Senior Service Centre. Wow, what an incredible place! Just at a spontaneous visit today the people were loving and welcoming and appreciated my attempts at greeting them in isiXhosa. The centre is located kind of in the back corner of the townships east of campus and the main part of town. A number of elderly folk in the area go to the centre to chat with people, get a meal or two, and do some other activities. My man Jonny Guatemala spent a lot of time at the centre a couple years ago and the people remember him very fondly! When Jonny came up in conversation, I mentioned to the woman who runs the centre that I am a close friend of Jonny’s and she immediately gave me a big hug. They certainly loved him there as a number of people’s faces lit up at the mention of his name. The place seems very simple and does not really have anything materially flashy to boast of by any means, but sometimes people spending time together in a loving environment is the flashiest thing we could ask for.
Also, if we can organize ourselves well enough, Brittney, PJ, and myself would like to do some work with the Raphael Centre, a counseling and testing centre for HIV/AIDS, located in a residential area somewhat near campus. The woman who runs the centre said she has had much trouble with fundraising and grant-writing and would love some extra hands and minds to help out. The three of us thought it would be a good project to put together our resources and writing skills to work on those fundraising issues in at least some small way. It all seems great and cool in theory, but we’ll see how it all works out. Service and social justice and all that jazz seems really inspiring and cool to talk about, but there are so many issues in reality that are more difficult to fully grasp. But I suppose we can’t let doubt overwhelm and paralyze us (in fact, doubting and questioning probably motivates us to act, as certainty is more likely to lead to stagnation). Where do we find TRUTH, though? Real and practical TRUTH in our actions and beliefs and social structures? When Eve Ensler came to BC last spring she said, “Truth lies in ambiguity.” As much as that might be complicating and frustrating sometimes, I suppose it’s the truth.

Out,
Jeremy

Speaking Xhosa

Molweni bahlobo bam! Hello, my friends!

I’m slowly picking up some of the greetings and phrases of isiXhosa, the language/dialect of the Xhosa people in the eastern cape region of South Africa. I am taking the introductory course in Xhosa at Rhodes. It’s really exciting to be learning such a new language that has such an interesting culture behind it. Though I still feel a little out of place using the phrases I have picked up, I hope it will continue to be a valuable learning experience in the classroom to complement my interactions with real people in Grahamstown and on campus. It’s amazing how many people are at least bilingual if not multilingual. Granted, I guess I studied some foreign language in school, but diversity and appreciation of language skills should really be valued and practiced in the United States more, I think. Difference and diversity should be a value, not a burden. I’m also taking courses in Ethnomusicology and Anthropology. The Ethnomusicology has a performance component that could be really cool. We’re going to be learning about different instruments and music styles of people indigenous to the eastern cape area. The lecture part of the course is a little more theory-oriented, but still reasonably interesting. I’m not so sure about Anthropology yet. For a subject area that is so engaged with culture and personal practices and interactions, it is starting off somewhat above reality. Sometimes that is really frustrating about academia. No matter how personal the basis for understanding is, I feel like so much academic writing remains wordy and theoretical and above reality. I’m still not totally convinced, but I suppose it can instigate more of our own engagement with real people and real organizations. I think experience has SO much more educational value than a lot of academic areas (at least in my areas of social science and politics and sociology and whatnot) but hopefully academics serve as a good complement to my interactions with people on campus, in Grahamstown, and volunteering and whatnot.
The marimba ensemble was an awesome “action-not-theory” experience. I showed up, met some really cool people, and then the teacher just showed us our parts and we started jamming. Just pure jamming. It was AMAZING. No reflection, no theoretical explanation, and no too-long articles. Just music. Not that those other things don’t have their place in our lives in other ways on occasion, but it was totally cool to just play. Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it.

Everything,
Jeremy

One day in the life

Today was SWEET. Many adventures. I normally don’t like to do a chronological account of a day, but it might be fitting once in a while. Here goes…

07:45 Xhosa 1 (Xhosa is an African language in the Eastern Cape of SA.)

08:40 Anthropology 3 (Class is kind of slow and theoretical, but really awesome people in the class)

10:30 Ethnomusicology 1 (Sweet jams and culture together!)

11:00 Adventure through the Botanical Gardens right on campus. Beautiful!

13:00 Lunch at the Dining Hall

13:45 Became an official member of the African Drum Society. Chyuh!

14:15 Anthropology 3, double lecture

16:15 Barefoot soccer game with a bunch of guys from PJ’s res

18:00 Zimbabwean Marimba Ensemble (Possibly the sweetest thing I have ever been a part of. About 7 of us played two full songs on a bunch of African marimbas and a couple drums. One song was called “Chaminingwa,” a Zimbabwean tune. SOOOOO GOOD!! The people are really cool and the coolest thing is that I’m actually playing in it and not just observing!)

20:00 Another barefoot soccer game with some guys from my res (I need to work on my skills)

Though the depth and closeness of relationships is much different than at home and in Boston (and to think they would be the same or equal in connection would be silly for sure), I am getting somewhat more comfortable around campus. There are some more familiar faces popping up. More pick-up soccer games. More jam sessions. It’s coming along in a pretty cool way. I am so looking forward to be a little more engaged in the larger community of Grahamstown. I am not sure where I will be directly volunteering on a regular basis, but that should come by next week. I hope to learn more about the socioeconomic situation in the area, as the devastating unemployment rate, high HIV+ rate, and large gap between rich and poor are major actors in determining the identity, culture, and struggle of people in the area. I don’t know exactly what would be done about some of the struggles, but hopefully I can learn some stuff, meet some interesting people, and celebrate the Eastern Cape culture. Meeting people and celebrating culture might not be the most effective way to develop infrastructure and battle disease, but it sure is an important part of life no matter what your socioeconomic background may be.

Uxholo (“peace” in isiXhosa),
Jeremy

Race and the Beggar Dilemma

This place is pretty incredible. I am having multiple moving experiences each day, which is how life should be no matter where you are, I hope. Some of these moving experiences are inspiring, some are disheartening and sad, some are just plain cool. I’m beginning to become a little more acclimated to the environment and becoming more comfortable with people around campus, mostly the guys in my res. The social racial segregation is already apparent in the res and dining hall. Everybody seems to get along totally fine, but there is clearly separation among people hanging out. This is not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, especially in this country where cultural, class, and language backgrounds tend to move people towards getting closer with people of a similar background. Very often (actually pretty much all the time) I find myself as the only white kid at my table at the dining hall or in the common room watching soccer. It seems to have happened naturally as I’ve just connected with certain kids in my res and they happen to be black. Maybe I shouldn’t think about this stuff as much as I do, but either way I’m just chilling with people. We’re all breathing the same air. I just hope the separation doesn’t become exclusive or negative as the semester progresses. We’ll see.
From playing frisbee with guys who had never played frisbee before, to hiking in the beautiful mountains around Grahamstown, to playing rugby, to jamming with the African Drum Society, to talking about South African politics in the dining hall, to hanging out at the Old Gaol, there are some really cool opportunities here. The environment is really exciting. Sometimes the excitement isn’t always easy to enjoy. Some of the moving experiences are much more challenging to grasp and live with. I met a guy named Bryan (at least that was his English name, he didn’t trust me with pronouncing his African name) on High St., which is the main street in “downtown” Grahamstown. He was asking me if I had any money I could spare. Similar to in the United States, it’s a difficult situation to respond to. I honestly didn’t have much money on me, but I did have 50 rand (about 7 dollars) so I asked him if he wanted to go to Checkers, the local grocery store, and get some stuff. He was a really nice guy. There was a little bit of a language barrier but we managed. He got some bread and milk and chicken to bring home. He was very grateful and we parted ways outside of the store. Some people say not to do this because it creates dependency or on another end it’s just a totally free handout. But it just got used on groceries. I don’t really know. I mean, I’m wealthy, plain and simple. I have a lot of resources and there are a lot of people in the area who don’t. Is this one way to respond? Maybe. I don’t know. The situation is much different than talking with “beggars” (that sounds kind of dehumanizing, but for lack of a better word) in the U.S. because here there is a 70% unemployment rate in this area. I repeat 70% UNEMPLOYMENT RATE. That’s ridiculous. What are people supposed to do? There is such little infrastructure or opportunity for job creation in the area. Even if a lot of the schools weren’t understaffed and undersupplied, the people would have a really hard time to find something to do with their education unless they work one of the too few wage jobs, become an academic, or leave the area.
I don’t know who this is addressed to, but have you ever seen a 7 year old kid looking through a trash bin for something valuable or edible? SHIT. Sorry for the cursing, but sometimes I feel like it’s the only thing that comes close to conveying the confusion and frustration and lack of facility for responding effectively in the short or long term. What should my response be? What should the response of the people of Grahamstown, rich and poor, be? What should the response of the government be? I suppose in one sense I can’t do anything in the immediate, but I’m sure I will continue to meet people and learn when I begin volunteering regularly. And also I guess the money I spend in Grahamstown is going into the local economy, however small its impact it might be, it’s money that wasn’t here before that is here now.
Ohhh life…

Interesting People

Note to self: This doesn’t include every single thing that I’ve done, just more of the times when emotion is pulled in a certain direction the most.

We (meaning myself, PJ, and Brittney—who are AWESOME, by the way) met a really cool guy named Isias right at the edge of campus. He was selling bags and jewelry and shirts that he had made with cool images of Mandela, Biko, Bob Marley, and the African continent on them. He was from Mozambique and left for SA during the Mozambican civil war in the 80’s. Before saying he was Mozambican he said “I call myself a human being.” I told him I could totally dig that and he said, “There’s one oxygen, brother, one oxygen. We’re breathing the same air.” He was SO cool. He spoke of hope and conflict and peace and surviving cross bullet fire in his hometown. PJ and I chilled with him for a little bit the next day. There was some more solid conversation.
It’s been incredibly interesting talking with a bunch of the guys, black and white and from different places, in my house (aka res aka dorm) about life in the United States and life in South Africa. Some guys were very surprised to learn that there are over 700,000 homeless people in the United States and gun violence and gangs and poverty. They only see music videos and mainstream TV shows and movies that dominate the South African media scene. I also tried to get across the diversity of experience and people there are in the United States and how often those popular media portrayals don’t do a good job of getting the whole picture across. A couple kids asked if I knew or came across any of the celebrities often. It was interesting trying to explain the size and social lay out of my own country. That is definitely a test of how you understand your own country when you have to explain it in your own words to someone who has little substantive background about it. Some of the guys also talked about what common conceptions of Africa are in general in the United States. Generally they are not very informed conceptions, with visions of tribal dances, lions, elephants, civil war, corruption, and starving children. Granted, all of those things form some part of the social and cultural environment in the vast continent, but they are no where near the whole, or even common picture of the diverse societies of Africa. I’m also trying to pick up sweet new South African phrases and sayings and habits. Culture is such an awesome thing. What an experience to become immersed in new cultures and people. Amazing.
One in four people in South Africa are HIV+ or have AIDS. Shit. So many people, even regardless of educational status or race or employment have off-color and inaccurate perceptions of the reality of the epidemic, how to prevent it, and how harrowing its effects are. There is a cool group on campus that promotes HIV/AIDS awareness, practical knowledge about safe sex and abstinence, and some political activism regarding the epidemic. This stuff is a reality in the country for EVERYBODY, no matter their race or background or educational status, and totally affects students at Rhodes, too.

Peace,
Jeremy

Beginnings

Landed in Jo’burg. Amazing. After so much talk and more talk and planning I have finally set foot in South Africa. Kind of overwhelmed and intensely missing people, but nonetheless exciting. I met up with PJ and we just bounced around the airport for a while meeting some really nice and interesting people. We found a room in the airport that we could stay in with our bags for the night. It was semi-sketchy, but hey, it all worked out. At one point, around 2:30am South African time, we were awaken by some intense snoring. It was me, PJ, two people from Spain, and four South African men in the room and everyone had waken up from the snoring. Though none of us knew each other at all and it was a totally random situation, we all just started laughing. One of the South African men in the corner of the room kept murmuring funny ways to stifle the snoring and we all bonded. We made a friend named Juan from Spain, who was traveling to Port Elizabeth to spend time with his son. Nice guy.

I have arrived in Grahamstown after some sweet adventures and am slowly getting my wits and heart about me. Though still generally totally lost, I am beginning to become physically acclimated. It's so weird to think I'm not at BC or home for all the hanging out and events and adventures and laughter and conversation.

I'm in a mixed state of confusion/excitement/overwhelmingness/fun/adventurism/totally missing people. I would so much like to be nearer to certain people back home and at BC but at the same time am realizing that this is going to be a pretty special place after some of the awkwardness subsides. I've already had several moving experiences that I'm trying to wrap my head around. I have met a whole bunch of people from all over southern africa from a number of cultural backgrounds. Sometimes it seems like stereotypical college in that people want to drink a lot and hook up (both scenes seem to be much more intense in that regard than I expected, weird) and at some other points it seems clear to me that I'm in South AFRICA. And that I'm SO white, in many common conceptions of the word from skin color to wealth. And have an accent. And have SO much to learn about anything from language to poverty to race to music.

We went on a tour of the whole town with a professor who is kind of our adviser/friend while we're here. Prof. Antrobus is AWESOME. He will be a major asset and opportunity-maker for us during the trip. He'll be setting us up with our volunteer placements for the semester. I don’t know where I’ll be yet, but I am excited for a semester commitment that will no doubt be moving, ruining, and inspiring all at the same time. I hope. Anyway…we drove through some nicer areas of the town (those areas and the campus are BEAUTIFUL. It's the most beautiful and unique campus I've ever been on) and then we went to the east side of town and I saw the most intense poverty I have ever seen in person. It really messed with my head. Not that I'm pitying people or feeling like I need to save them or anything like that, but just amazed at the diversity of experience there is in humanity and trying to combat what might be feelings of helplessness. Through our placements, though, I think at least to some degree we'll be able to do more than gawk at tiny tin shacks and rubbish and immerse ourselves with real people. I hope the pretty campus and academic culture don’t create too much of a bubble separating certain parts of the reality of Grahamstown.

South Africa RULES in positive and negative ways that move the heart. People are nice. Conversations are so interesting. And I'm doing something new and real and exciting every hour it seems like. I miss everybody so much, though, especially since I haven't been able to verbally talk to anybody yet. It will work out, though.

On my way...

Hi Friends!

I have no idea who will be reading this (if anybody) and it may end up just being a journal of thoughts and people for myself over the course of the next 5 months. Anyway…here are some thoughts as to where my head and heart are at right now.
I’m on the plane right now, seat 52F, somewhere between Dakar, Senegal and Johannesburg, South Africa. I think it’s hour 11 of the 17 hour plane trip. Yeahhh…it’s not too bad, though. Good time to journal/read/watch movies/think. There is a group of people on the plane, mostly white middle aged males, all wearing shirts that say “Service International: Honor God, help people.” Thinking cynically, there’s a chance the group raised and/or spent 15 to 20-some thousand dollars to do work that people could certainly do themselves. Thinking optimistically, it’s a sweet organization that works to educate people in different parts of the world and offer meaningful, valuable experiences. These types of experiences seem to be very humbling and ruining and inspiring, but I feel like economic justice for nations suffering from debilitating poverty has to be widespread and market-based, and pat-on-the-back service won’t do the trick. That’s not to say that these experiences are bad by any means, it’s just that justice is such a different conversation. A complicated one which I’m not too sure of how to arrive at. You don’t need the ideal vision of justice (a vision that I’m pretty sure nobody has down for sure) to work against obvious injustice and suffering, but sometimes even the first steps can be difficult to figure out.
My heart is pretty torn right now about this whole adventure. In one sense I’m SO excited. I will be in such a new place with interesting people and a chance to learn a lot and have many fun and challenging experiences. It’s truly a rare opportunity that I hope I can take good advantage of. South Africa just seems so interesting. There is such a rich history of conflict, oppression, uprising, social movements, and a clash of peoples, and such an interesting and diverse contemporary society. At the same time, there’s a beautiful culture of unity and diversity existing together. In another sense, though, I’m nervous and anxious. I’m leaving behind a number of people who I really love and care about, some of whom I’ll keep in touch with and see when I get back, some of whom I’ll keep in touch with and not see when I get back, and even some people who I may never see again. It’s difficult, but it’s only so because of blessings and opportunities. I’m so blessed to have people who I care about enough to really miss. Here’s a good quote that Danielle gave me: “Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course, we wouldn’t fall in love, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go. But it’s comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.” There just ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it, right?

peace and everything,
Jeremy