A Whole New World

A whole new world

Don't you dare close your eyes

A hundred thousand things to see

Hold your breath, it gets better

Before I came to South Africa, I had been familiar with a certain residential part of this country: the township. Admittedly, I fell into the trap of imagining that every township was composed of the tin-roof shanties that adorn the informal settlements in many township areas. However, my stay in Soweto during my weekend trip to Joburg showed me how I wrong I could be about the idea of a township. For that reason, I was slightly less apprehensive (at least I think so) than many of my friends at the prospect of our weekend homestay in Ocean View, a township with perhaps the most ironic title of any place I’ve been in South Africa. There is no view of the ocean. Instead, Ocean View is sandwiched in a small valley between mountains, and is comprised almost entirely of individuals who were forcibly removed from places like Simon’s Town, Noordhoek, and Sunnydale during the apartheid era. At the end of the weekend, most of my ideas were proved wrong, as I had a blast staying with my family.

Just as a small note, however, I am not going to be using their names, for reasons of privacy. I will just refer to them as their relation in our host family (i.e. host mother, host father, host grandmother, etc.)

Our weekend began when our busses left UCT at 5pm, departing for Ocean View High School. We got our nametags, each with a number corresponding to a table where our host families were waiting. Over dinner and performances from the local arts center (who completely showed up the Americans who performed, by the way), I and my housemate Akeem who was also staying with this family got to meet our host father and mother. They told us a little bit about themselves, including that they had 4 kids: a 6 year old boy, a 2 year old boy, and twin 7-month old girls. I was SO excited to be back around little kids!! It felt like working at camp all over again.

After dinner we went back to our host family’s home. It was modest, but a lot nicer than my initial notion of a township home was. Our host dad explained that he bought the house from his brother, who had bought his mother’s old house down the street. After a glass of tea, we proceeded to go meet the rest of the extended family, easily accomplished by walking down the street to our host aunt and uncle’s house. We were greeted exceptionally warmly, and made to feel immediately like members of the family. It was that night that I learned my family, like I imagine many other families in the township, has a rule: no empty glasses. Whenever, you are done with a drink, it’s time for another one. It was interesting to note, however, just how generous everyone was, for they would see empty glasses, pour a bunch of drinks, and pass them out, before finally serving themselves. They also began to teach us some words in Afrikaans, most of which unfortunately I’ve already forgotten.

That night I also got my first taste of the shebeen, of which some are legal and others are illegal. A shebeen is a liquor store. Unlike the liquor stores in Rondebosch, however, these stores are open 24/7. So, we drove over to the home of another uncle, and went with his son over to the shebeen to buy some brandy for the next day. There were a couple of teenagers hanging out outside, waiting for someone to offer to buy them something (felt kind of like being back in the US, except that they were drinking in the street).

From there, we went back to the party, where we ended up staying until about 2am. I received some great advice from my host uncle, my favorite piece of which was “all you need in life is to wake up happy”. Luckily, this guy liked me enough to give me this same piece of advice about 10 more times during the weekend. My host mother, pretty drunk by this point, also opened up about her past relationship abuse issues, and the loss of her first child. It really struck me that someone could be so open with someone they had just met, but I had to remember that these people weren’t just opening up to a stranger; we were people staying in their homes, joining their families for the weekend. Finally, we went back home, because we had to be awake at 6:15am for our Saturday outing.

We woke up at that ungodly hour, roused ourselves to get dressed and drink a glass of tea. The bus was supposed to leave at 7, but we didn’t make it there until about 8. Luckily this wasn’t a problem, however, because the park we were going to didn’t open until 9 anyway, so we were still waiting for about 20 minutes before the park gates opened. I spent some of my day chatting with the adults and with the 5 other Americans who had become members of this large extended family. However, most of my day, luckily, was spent playing with all the little kids. I learned a little bit about how to play cricket from a kid who I believe may have been my host cousin, but I’m not necessarily positive about that one. This kid, an 8 year old, also was the person with whom I had the most intellectual conversations the entire day; he was way smarter than his age would let on, and it actually reminded me why I’ve always liked working with kids so much.

This picnic, however, did have a slightly sour element to it. I can safely say that I now understand what people mean when they say that townships have a very distinct drinking culture. Whatever may have caused it, there is no denying that people from the townships drink heavier than anyone else I’ve ever encountered. Most host mom, albeit only on 2 hours of sleep, spent some time sleeping, but immediately after sleeping (while still drunk) managed to reach a point of intoxication that I’m not used to seeing in adults. While she happened to be an extreme case, there were many around who were approaching that level. While I can safely say that I had a buzz for almost the entirety of the time I was there (because it was uncomfortable to say no to any drinks I was poured), there was no chance that any of us Americans were anywhere close to the level of drunkenness that our host parents achieved.

From there, I noticed some very scary things beginning to happen that made my a little bit uncomfortable. When we got back on the bus to return home, I sat with my host family towards the back of the bus. Upon looking over, I saw that my host mother was being yelled at for hitting one of the other children on the bus, and her response was “he hit me first!” For an adult to say something like that was truly frightening, knowing that it came from a real place of seriousness. Then, I was surrounding by 10 middle-aged coloured women literally screaming church songs, banging on the back and roof of the bus, literally blasted and outrageous. Finally, we got home, and I was able to take a nap. The saddest and scariest part of my weekend, however, was when my mother’s sister-in-law and her best friend each took away one of one of the 7-month old babies. While I cannot safely say why this happened, my best guesstimation is that they took the babies away because she couldn’t handle taking care of them in the state she was in.

After our nap we were again invited back down to the aunt and uncle’s house for a braai. I was immediately greeted warmly by the family again, and was fed some of the best fish that I’ve had since I’ve been in South Africa. First I ate some snoek, and then I had angelfish. Both were absolutely superb. Then, finally, the TV was working, and we were able to really partake in the reason we were there: KARAOKE! This family was crazy about their karaoke. Unfortunately, there were no microphones for us to use, so karaoke was basically just us yelling and dancing together while watching words on a screen. Oddly enough, the first video we watched was actually a Playboy karaoke video… definitely an interesting experience to say the least. All of us Americans spent the entire time just laughing at the absurdity of that. The rest of the night was a repeat of the night before… just dancing, laughing, drinking, and enjoying ourselves. I learned a new kind of dance called the “jazz” which was kind of like salsa (thus I had problems doing it because I just kept doing salsa moves). We also managed to do an entire karaoke CD of just ‘Nysnc music, bringing us all back to our childhoods. Finally, around midnight I had to go to bed, so I left and went back home to sleep.

Sunday morning we just lazily woke up whenever we wanted, and then hung out at home for a little bit. My host dad taught Akeem and me how to DJ on this cool computer system that he had, which was totally awesome because it’s the same system that most major DJs in the world use. After that, we went to my host grandmother’s house, because it was her birthday. I thought it would be a simple hello, happy birthday, goodbye kind of situation. Instead, we were there for a couple of hours, during which time a toothless woman sporadically jumped out of her comatose state (from drinking, I assume) to yell “DANCE” at me…which made me very uncomfortable. Because of that, I spent most of my time outside with my host dad, who was awesome and talking to us about the differences between the US and the South African education system, and about the township itself. I also spent a lot of time again playing with the kids, who I did not at all want to say goodbye to. After heading back home, we grabbed our stuff, and made one more trip to our host aunt and uncle’s house, where we found out that one of the kids on our program had actually appeared in a music video that was really popular in South Africa, and thus the family had dragged him back over to their house to take pictures with him. From that house, we said our many goodbyes, and went back to Ocean View High School to say goodbye to our families for the last time. It was bittersweet, especially to say goodbye to the kids, who just wanted me to hug them over and over and over, but I was slightly relieved to be getting back to my normal routine.

None of the above statements in any way imply that I disliked my time in Ocean View. I think that the community is a vibrant, historical, and incredible place to have been. I probably learned more from my weekend in Ocean View than I have about the apartheid era in my entire life. However, the strange things I had to go through, not par for the course for this homestay, did manage to make my experience a little bit less of a good memory than I hoped it would be. I do not, though, have any regrets about the weekend, and am so glad that I had the opportunity to live in a township, even if just for a weekend.

Frequently Changing Frequencies

Before I begin, I have to first give credit for this to my friend Alex. She, after hearing our dance instructor say this, made a mental note to write a blog entry about it, so I borrowed her mental note, because I wanted to share all of this with everyone at home too!

So, we’re in the middle of our African Dance (for semester study abroad students, making it a lot easier for us to just let loose and not worry because it’s new to all of us) class, and we were doing some across the floor combinations. The instructor, for the first couple of lines, would be doing the steps just as he taught them. Oddly enough, though, as he continued going with more lines, he would start improvising and moving in whatever way he felt like moving. Some were disconcerted & confused, as they were relying on him to follow the steps that they weren’t exactly understanding (African Dance – pretty different from anything you do in the States). So, he came over, and said this to us:

“I’m in a different mode… Or what is it you say… frequency? Yes, I’m on another frequency.”

One of my favorite things about this African Dance class is that we are constantly reminded just to let go. Central to the dance form we are learning is an appreciation of the music, of how the dance is just an extension of the music, and how dance is interactive and fun for an audience. Too many times we, as students, are caught up in the intricacies of footwork, of arm placement, and of distance being traveled. Too much worry breeds an inability to focus on expressing yourself; instead, you’re just trying to become perfect (a la Nina Sawyer in Black Swan). We are all guilty at times of partially driving ourselves mad trying to impress ourselves by nailing a step. However, what that statement tells me is that there is something missing in that style of dancing: there’s no fun.

African Dance (whatever that may be – in our lecture we have debated the idea of what is African Dance, but for all intents and purposes here I’m just using African Dance as a generally name for the specific styles we’re learning) is about fun. That’s why we need to let ourselves go – we need to be able to get out of our own heads and enjoy the dance. Our focus was all in the wrong place, and once that was pointed out, everything changed for me. No longer was I trying to be one of the few who can nail a combination, to show that I was paying attention and caring. I let go yesterday. And while I did end up making some slight mistakes on some of the combinations, I didn’t care. That’s brand new for me. All I did was have fun, and the feelings, the expression, and the energy began to flow. I think my instructor could sense it, because he was feeding off the energy as well. African Dance is about an exchange of energies, and I finally got to the place where my energy is ready to be exchanged (as strange as that sounds).

Although this lesson mostly applies to African Dance, I think it’s a perfect metaphor for how Cape Town is changing me. I used to be slightly anal retentive, paranoid about doing something wrong, always worried that I was going to be unable to live up to expectations in school, with friends, and in other aspects of my life. After coming to Cape Town, I’ve learned perhaps the most important lesson I needed to learn: chill. There’s no need to be rushing around everywhere, and no need to be psyching myself out about acing an exam.  While I am here to learn, I’m also here to take advantage of everything Cape Town has to offer me. So while that may mean skipping class every once in a while to go to the beach, or missing out on some hanging out with friends to go volunteer, I’m no longer worried about what I could be doing, or what I should be doing better.

Thank you Cape Town, for finally making me see that I just need to live on the frequency of the music, need to just do what naturally comes to me, need to embrace every opportunity that comes my way. But most importantly, thank you for throwing some black swan into my white swan’d self.

**Side note: Two Black Swan references in one blog post? I’d call that a major success.

Golden Dream

Restless one in a world of change

Keeping dreams aloft in the rain

Spirit free, soaring through the clouds


Of time, of time

I’m glad I have a chance right now to just sit down and write. It’s been getting pretty hectic between school and just getting more and more acclimated to life in Cape Town. I have honestly just been forgetting to write down everything. Seeing as I plan on using this as a memory resource when I return, I’m regretting not documenting everything, but I think that I’m having more fun just living in the moment than sitting in my room and writing down everything I do! Rather than discussing the monotonies or school (or not so monotonies, seeing as there are so many issues in class every day that I’ve just learned to chill out and accept everything for what it is), I’ll just hit the highlights of the last two weeks.

Last weekend was pretty cramped; CIEE brought us back to the Spier winery in Stellenbosch for a wine tasting. Although I had been looking forward to this for a while, I was slightly disappointed as there were mainly red wines, and since I don’t really like the taste of red wine, I stuck with tasting just a couple of white wines that the winery made. I ended up buying a bottle of this delicious wine that I loved (it was a Chauvignon Blanc), and as much as I would have loved to bring it home as a souvenir, it wasn’t going to be possible, so I have already drunk it. Sorry to anyone who wanted to try!

The next day we went to the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens to see a summer concert. It felt like seeing an outdoor concert back in the States, except that directly behind the stage was Table Mountain, and there’s nothing in the U.S. that can compare to that view. The concert was pretty cool, a bunch of local South African musicians, so it was nice to get to see what South African music actually sounds like, since at clubs and bars they really only play American music.

The rest of the week still seems like a kind of a blur. Everyone realized that they were slowly but surely starting to fall behind on schoolwork, so at Devonshire everyone’s really been cramping down and making sure that they get on top of their game before UCT gets the best of them. However, I did play the fun-over-education card last Tuesday, when we went to Muizenberg and I had the intention of returning in time for African Dance class. Unfortunately, we decided instead to stay on the beach for longer and go out for dinner at this place in St. James called Octopus’s Garden (named after the Beatles song, so I got the ‘Beatle’s Burger’) which was delicious. It also was one of the hottest days here thus far on that day, and I didn’t want to dance in a very hot dance studio (there are hardly any air conditioners in South Africa), so I felt I could justify the choice. I plan and not missing (m)any more!

But, now on the most important part of this entry: my trip to Johannesburg (or, as they called it here, “Jo’burg” or “Jozi”), South Africa’s “City of Gold” and Pretoria!

Friday morning (after going out on Thursday… poor choice on my part) we had to be ready to leave at 7:30AM. Quinton (our Resident Director, who was accompanying my seminar class on the trip) called me at 7:31 to tell me that he was at Devonshire to pick me up… but unfortunately the sliding glass door out of the courtyard was off the track, so I struggled very hard to make it out. Remy had to come downstairs and open it for me, so that kind of set us back a little timewise, which would probably have mattered to a U.S. itinerary, but not in South Africa, where everything is on African time. After we picked everyone up and went to the airport, we went over to the gate and got breakfast (I got Wimpy, literally the most disgusting fast food ever but the only place that had bacon & egg sandwiches), and flew off to Joburg! After landing at O.R. Tambo International Airport, we grabbed some lunch (I ate at Kuaui, which is phenomenal, and conveniently located at home right across the street with the best apple juice I’ve ever had), and headed off to the Apartheid Museum.

One funny thing about the Apartheid Museum is that it is located on the same grounds at the Gold Reef City amusement park. One thing Quinton told us was that Joburg happens to be a city controlled by contradiction, and this was one of the more blaring ones. The museum was absolutely powerful. I can only compare its gravity with the Holocaust Museum in DC. The two hours we had at the museum were not nearly enough to appreciate every artifact, every image, and every piece of text placed throughout the museum. Unfortunately, the day was made a little soured by the fact that my friend Ashley had her camera stolen at the museum. Although it was sad, it was something that we’ve all come to accept as somewhat normal; if left slightly unattended, there is a very real possibility that something will be stolen. One of the stranger sights, though, was the condom that we found on a bench at the end of the museum. Call me crazy, but I don’t think that apartheid really turns anyone on, so while we joked about it, at the same time I felt it was very disrespectful for anyone to even think that was either funny or to have actually engaged in behavior requiring a condom, which would be an outright affront to the sanctity of the museum.

From there, we drove to Soweto, where we were to say. Soweto (pronounced “so-way-too”) is a grouping of 13 townships, comprising about 4 million people. Soweto is also the home of Nelson Mandela (whose house I was staying a mere two blocks from), Desmond Tutu, and the riots that erupted in 1976 that reignited the anti-apartheid struggle. There, we were split into groups, and assigned the Bed & Breakfasts we would be staying in. I stayed at Dakalo Bed & Breakfast, a very quaint house situated in Orlando West, where we were greeted with fresh orange/mango blend juice and a chance to relax in the bedroom before we went back out.

From Soweto, we went out to dinner in Rosebank, one of the more posh neighborhoods of Joburg. One thing I learned about Joburg simply from dinner is that the people are dressed to the 9’s at all times. Additionally, the service was much quicker than at restaurants in Cape Town, indicative of the fact that the culture of Joburg is much more fast-paced than chill Cape Town. Joburg is referred to often as the “New York of Africa”, a very apt comparison, while I would place Cape Town as similar to California culture. After dinner at a lovely pizza place, we went off to the Grand Hyatt Johannesburg to see a fashion show! The show was being put on by a company, Design for Style, started by a member of the CIEE Staff. DFS provides a platform for designers, ranging from clothing to accessory to makeup to hair, to showcase their work in front of potential investors, clients, and buyers. The room was small and intimate, and my friends Rachel, Ashley, and I managed to sit at the couch right at the end of the runway, and thus had incredible views. The show, supposed to start at 9, started at 9 on African time, meaning 9:45. It was totally worth the wait, though, to be able to see what a South African fashion show was like. It was incredibly cool to be able to see what the modern South African perception of beauty is, as well as to see how the designs differed from what you would see on an American runway. After the show was over, because we were all so tired, we drove back to Soweto, and went to bed.

The next morning we began what was to be an incredibly jam-packed day. First, we had a bus tour of almost the whole of Soweto. Starting in Diepkloof Extension (the Beverly Hills of Soweto), we were able to see just how wealthy portions of the township are. But, we were also able to drive by the neighborhood of Kilptown, as well as some informal settlements, to see how poverty is still alive and well in the townships. Kliptown was an interesting place, though, because that was where the Freedom Charter was signed, so we went to the Freedom Charter monument, where you can read the document, as well as shop at a small market, where I bought a really cool brass bracelet. We also during the course of the tour stumbled across a park where our guide recognized a wedding was taking place, so we went to see the photos being taken. We also, unfortunately, saw many more funeral processions. Our guide informed us that it is often joked that you’re foolish if you can’t find a free meal in Soweto on the weekends, because so many people are dying from HIV. We did learn, however, about South African township funeral culture, where people get dressed up incredibly well to show off to each other, and also where they race after the burial back to sight of the meal, in order to avoid the long lines that form. We finished the tour of Soweto at the restaurant run by our guide, Alina, where we were treated to some incredibly South African cuisine.

After the meal at Alina’s restaurant, we began the trek up to Pretoria. We were all in food comas, and thus slept a fair amount on the way there, but were roused by Quinton once approaching Pretoria. The encroachment to Pretoria is dominated by the massive Voortrekker Monument, our first stop in Pretoria. The monument is dedicated to the Voortrekkers, the Afrikaner population who made the Great Trek from the lands of the eastern portion of the Cape Colony to escape British rule. The formal reason for the monument was to commemorate the Battle of Blood River, the battle where the Voortrekkers beat the Zulu nation, ending the mfecane. From there, some trekkers went up to Pretoria, now the Administrative capital of South Africa, but also a stronghold of Afrikaner pride. It was strange to be there, having just been to the Apartheid Museum, knowing that there are celebrations still every year at this living monument to, essentially, the history of Apartheid. I felt very uneasy the entire time I was there, and although I was glad to learn about Afrikaner history and culture, I cannot truthfully say I wasn’t somewhat excited to leave.

Our next stop, on our big school bus, was a gated community in Pretoria, the home of Dr. Sam Khalileni (I believe that’s his last name, forgive me for forgetting!), a friend of Quinton’s who agreed to host a braai at his beautiful home for us. It was great to get to see how people who were once oppressed by the apartheid regime have quickly risen in new society, and this home was a testament to that. Perhaps the best thing about this braai was that Dr. Sam invited one of his friends, a high level member of the current ANC government. It was absolutely amazing to be able to talk to someone of such importance, for we are just American college students visiting Pretoria for one day. We wound up just sitting in a circle for about an hour, discussing politics. They were all very interested to hear what we had to say, especially when it came to discussing American sentiments about Obama today. I have to say I learned a lot about the thought processes of the upper echelons of the ANC, and I cannot believe I had that opportunity. We had a rushed meal (albeit, another incredibly delicious one), where we were exposed to some Tanzanian and Kenyan food as well as some traditional South African cuisine. It was only rushed because we had another stop make that day.

That stop was Loftus Verfeld Stadium, to see the Blue Bulls play against the Highlanders. The Blue Bulls are the reigning Super 15 Rugby champions, and I was incredibly excited to see a professional caliber rugby game, as rugby is one of the sports in which South Africa excels. The culture was perhaps what I was most interested in, for rugby is the be-all and end-all of Afrikaner existence, and Pretoria was the perfect place to be exposed to this culture. The celebrations were much less muted than at the soccer game I’d been to two weeks before, which was surprising, for I though Afrikaners were very into rugby (although I realized later this was just because the Bulls were losing the entire time, and ended up losing). Perhaps most disconcertingly, my friend Taylor said that she ended up being uncomfortable where she was sitting, because the drunk guys in front of her were being to spout racist remarks. I learned that one of the most popular expressions among some people here is “I’m not racist, but…”. It’s fairly horrifying that racism still persists in this country, which professes to be the “Rainbow Nation”, but I guess 17 years truly isn’t enough time to wipe out an entire racist philosophy that has persisted for centuries. After leaving Pretoria to return to Soweto, a couple of us went out to Sakhumzi, the local bar in Orlando West, where we were the only white people. This is where I really started to figure out just how powerful the differences are between Johannesburg/Soweto and Pretoria. They are two different worlds only 30 minutes apart.

This morning we woke up and went to the Nelson Mandela museum, located at his former home, 8115 Orlando West. The museum was nothing exceptional, however there was something to be said for being in the home of black South Africa’s emotional leader. We did then a little bit more shopping from street-side vendors, and then returned home to pack. From there, we went to the airport, to find out our plane was delayed, so we went to a nice meal and finally our flight back to Cape Town.

What a whirlwind of a weekend! I’m excited to just relax for tonight, seeing as tomorrow is the UCT/Stellenbosch rugby game! This is the biggest rivalry game of the season, and it promises to be an incredible display of school spirit, which I’m really excited for!

Culture Shock

I used to lament every time GW had a study abroad event, like the pre-departure orientation and other similar events. Why? Because all the talked about was culture shock. Here I was, apparently feeling invincible to the inevitable effects of culture shock. How wrong I was. However, I’m lucky enough that (for now) the effects are not debilitating. There are just a couple things I want to vent about Cape Town; these things are not necessarily problems that cannot be overcome, just things that I want to air my grievances about.

1) Air conditioning is exceedingly rare in South Africa. Currently, it is 11:30 PM, and it is 75 degrees Fahrenheit outside. My room is always about 10 degrees hotter. What this means is that, while I want to go to sleep tonight, I will wake up just as sweaty as I was when I went to bed, which right now is scary, because everyone knows I sweat more than your average human, and this is becoming unbearable even as I type.

2) There are no dryers (or as they call them here, “tumblers”) anywhere close by. I have to air dry my clothes. Which means that laundry is not just an afternoon (although I complain about spending 2 hours doing laundry at GW, I’d trade that in a heartbeat) endeavor, it takes at least an entire day.

3) One of my classes had a paper due on Thursday about a reading that we were never given. When we asked our tutor about it, she said she knew nothing about it. There is hardly conversation between the tutors and the professor. To make matters worse, my professor is only our professor until next week. After that, she has no idea who is teaching our class. So, we have no idea what we are going to discuss after that, nor who is going to teach, nor if there will even be people to teach us.

4) In order to go on my spring break trip, I am going to have to buy malaria pills that give me hallucinogenic dreams. Although I anticipated this upon signing up, given that everyone in Cape Town seems to have nightmares more than they have at home, I’m somewhat frightened about the prospect of dealing with these scary dreams.

5) There are no TVs here. All I want to do is watch an episode of Modern Family or The Bad Girls Club.

6) As a secondary problem to that, we have to pay for our internet usage, which is charged per megabyte. Downloading and/or streaming any video is absurdly expensive, so I haven’t even been able to watch any TV online. Combine that with the fact that I have a lot more free time now that classes have started, I am getting slowly more and more irritated when I get bored.

7) My house has become infested with bugs. Whether they be the ants that torment our kitchen, or the mosquitoes that always find a way into everyone’s bedrooms, we all now have bug bites left and right that we cannot get rid of.

8) The most random items are expensive for no reason. I spent $15 today on shampoo because it was the cheapest they had. Where is my 99cent shampoo when I need it!

9) Juices don’t come without pulp. I HATE pulp.

I hope no one reading this thinks that I’m not enjoying my time here. These are just literally the most minor of things that have been becoming slightly grating on my experience here, but things I just like to share to remind myself of what I’m doing here. I’m sure when I get home I will think differently.

Also, I am talking to Parul right now, and just got the best piece of advice: “you just have to not compare it to here (the US) and you’ll be fine”. I think I need to remind myself of that. We all have been so privileged to have exceedingly comfortable lives, while there are people who live in even less lucky circumstances than we do here in Rondebosch.

In other news, I’m going to have a great time this weekend when my seminar class goes to Johannesburg! I’ve wanted to go to Joburg for a long time, and so now we’ll finally have the chance to go! The seminar that went last week raved about their trip, so hopefully ours will be just as awesome. We’re also going to be planning our spring break trip soon, so I’m planning on being fortunate enough to have the time to go to some great countries in southern Africa, and to do some INCREDIBLE things!

On a More Serious Note..

Normally, I use this blog as a platform to tell everyone back at home about all the awesome things that I get to do in Cape Town. Unfortunately, this one is a little bit different. On a tremendously more serious note than I am used to, I’m going to write about the real South Africa. Not the American student living in South Africa, but about some of the problems this country is facing that I currently have to deal with. All of this, by the way, if it gives you any indication of where I’m going, is inspired by a quote my professor said during Crime & Deviance in South African Cities:

“We are living in a war zone. There isn’t a war going on, but we essentially live in a war zone.”

She said this in reference to today’s lecture, which was a statistical look at violent crime in South Africa. To give you a point of reference, here are just some quick facts I wrote down about the crime rates in South Africa:

·      9 times out of 10, a private security firm like ADT will arrive at a crime scene faster than the police.

·      In 1994, 25% of the police in South Africa were functionally illiterate.

·      46% of the South African population lives in rural areas.

o   65% of those living in rural areas never see a police officer, or see one less than once a month.

o   Of those living in rural areas who have experience violent crime, only 20% have reported it to the police.

o   64% of those living in rural areas live from 11km-50km from a police station

o   96% of those living in rural areas don’t have a cell phone, while 94.7% don’t have a phone in their house, and the nearest phone for 42% in rural areas is between half an hour to two hours away

·      From April 2008-April 2009 there are 2.1 million reported crimes (in a country of 48 million); per capita (for every 100,00 people), there were 4414 crimes reported

o   According to “iceberg theory”, this is only a small percentage of “real crime”, as in crimes that actually take place

·      South Africa has the second highest rate of homicide, second only to Colombia, and ahead of Brazil and other countries that have histories of civil war

·      The murder rate is the lowest of all violent crimes, behind such crimes as robberies and aggravated assaults

·      There is a new drug popular in South Africa that involves smoking anti-Retrovirals, which are medications people take when they have HIV

o   Thus, individuals with HIV are being robbed for their medicine, and cannot take it

Although my friends and I lovingly refer to our suburb as “Robdebosch”, and the street outside our house as “Rape Row”, the fact of the matter is this is still a dangerous place to be. Having lived in a city for two and a half years already, I’ve gotten a certain confidence about me which makes me feel like I can do almost anything in DC. The same is not true about Cape Town. I’m not paranoid, nor am I afraid, I just have a very heightened sense of awareness. Already, I have a friend who has both been pickpocketed and had a bag of clothing stolen from a property she thought was safe. It’s only been a month.

For almost every single one of us here, this is our first time going to school in such a dangerous place. We all recognize that the safety precautions like “don’t walk home alone at night,” “beware of someone trying to help you with the ATM,” and “make sure you’re always aware” are more than just precautions; they are things you must do in order to protect yourself. And I’ve noticed myself making changes to my routine to ensure this. I lock my bedroom door, as well as any gate that stands between the front door and me when I leave the house. I carry my wallet only in my front pocket, because I will notice better if someone is pickpocketing me. This kind of stuff, which seems so trivial, is vital to ensure my own safety, as well as the safety of my belongings.

But, my question just becomes, why? Why is there so much violent crime? And why is there so much other crime? One would think that after South Africa became a democracy, and apartheid was formally over, the country’s crime rate would have decreased. That is what logic tells me. Unfortunately, that is not the case, and hopefully my Crime & Deviance class will get me closer to the answers.

Still, it is unnerving to feel like almost anything can happen at any moment. I remember yesterday Kayla telling me that she had to walk the long way home because her intuition told her that the park she was about to walk through with two men standing in it alone wasn’t a good idea. Normally, I wouldn’t trouble myself to think about something like that, but it’s a very real possibility that something may have happened to her had she walked through. I think that’s what scares me the most; you can never really know what’s about to happen to you.

This isn’t to say that Cape Town isn’t a fantastic city, and that I don’t feel safe here at all. I walk every day up to UCT feeling perfectly fine (albeit very sweaty) knowing that nothing is really going to go wrong. However, it’s the little things that have been adding up, and making me more and more careful.

Please don’t worry about me though, I’ll totally be fine!

Part of Your World

“Look at this trove

Treasures untold

How many wonders can one cavern hold?”

I’ve had some serious trouble keeping up this blog for the last week. In an ideal world, I’d be able to update every day, giving everyone the intimate details of my day-to-day life. In all honesty, I would appreciate that even for myself, because each and every experience I have in Cape Town is something that I want to cherish for the rest of my life. Whether it be yelling “Wynburg!” (anyone whose been to Cape Town knows how the gaichis in the minibus taxes yell constantly at you to take their cab) to just a fun day spent at the beach walking along the water with a friend and laughing as a man stomps in the water and splashes us with the coldest water we’ve ever felt, everything in Cape Town is a memory. However, I’m living this, and am living it so fully that I never want to separate myself from these experiences. Thus, I’ve arrived at a place like today, where I have to describe all the incredible things I’ve done over the last couple days in the most synopsized way possible. If I could say one thing about this week, though, it would be that I’ve found the place I want to be forever. I want to be a part of this world.

Last week was our first week of classes. Class at UCT is definitely different than at GW. Any of my VIPs will tell you that the teacher/student ratio at GW is 13:1, with an average class size of 28. Not UCT. The smallest of my classes at UCT has about 50 students, with the largest being somewhere in the 200 student range. I’m going to have to learn really quickly how to deal with these large class sizes, to be sure that I get the most out of my educational experience. I actually had a major scare earlier this week about credit transference, because I wasn’t sure if I would end up being billed more by GW than I would normally be, because the credit amounts here are very different than at GW. I’m taking 4 24-credit classes, and they are: 1) Social and Cultural Life in the 21^st Century, 2) Crime and Deviance in South African Cities, 3) War and Society, and 4) African Dance for Semester Study Abroad students. I’m also taking a Living and Learning Seminar with my student abroad provider (CIEE), which is actually going to be bringing us to Johannesburg in about 2 weeks! Each of these classes actually promises to be really interesting. The only problem with motivation is that 1) you have to climb Table Mountain (partially) to get to class, and 2) the classes meet about 4 times a week each for 45 minutes, so I’m spending a lot more time in class than I’m used to. Luckily, I have at least 1 friend in every class, so I will have someone to study with and things like that once the workload really starts to pick up.

My social life has definitely remained at about the same place that it has been for the last couple of weeks since I’ve been here. Devonshire is maintaining our reputation for being the house that always goes out together (which is great, because everyone in this house is such a character and contributes so much to the overall chill vibe that we have), but also of being one of the most fun groups of people here. In fact, our security guard, John, who also works at another house, told us that he likes us more, because the other house (Cristow) is really quiet, whereas Devonshire is the opposite of quiet. I went out a bunch of nights this week, and each night had a very different vibe. Whether it be our trip to The Waiting Room for the second time, where I met a South African who described herself as the “Queen of Cape Town”, as well as 3 of the funniest South African guys I’d met thus far in Cape Town, to our great Ikhaya Day House party at Tiger Tiger (where we waited for about a half hour to get our 3 free drinks), every night is a blast. It was also Kayla’s 21^st birthday this Sunday (keeping up the string of 21^sts that Devonshire has had), so we went out to a club called Bronx on Saturday night, where we were potentially the only people under 35 there. The nightlife in Cape Town has been so incredible, but I’m glad to finally be putting on the breaks and taking it easy here, because school is probably going to pick up a bit soon.

Culturally, I have done 3 incredible things worth noting. First, on Friday afternoon, the members of the CIEE Seminar were brought on a tour of Downtown Cape Town historic sites. We first went to the Castle, commissioned by Jan van Riebeek, the man from the VOC who founded the city of Cape Town. We didn’t get to go inside, but were able to see outside, and I plan on going back there as soon as possible. We then walked across the Grand Parade to City Hall, where on the day Mandela was released he came to make a speech (which I had read about in Long Walk to Freedom). To see this area, knowing that only 15 years ago it was jam-packed with South Africans finally knowing that freedom was on the horizon was a pretty powerful moment. From there, we walked to the Slave Lodge, a building that bears the truth of its name. It was a place where slaves, who were mainly brought from the Far East to work for Cape settlers, were forced to stay. We saw the original tree stump upon which the slaves were sold, as well as the horrible conditions in which they were forced to live. From there, we walked through the Gardens, which afforded yet another beautiful view of Table Mountain (I have to count the number of pictures I have of Table Mountain – it’s far too many, but also every time I go somewhere new I see yet another view of the mountain and am still so impressed). From there, we went to Bo-Kaap, a neighborhood of vibrantly colored buildings and Cape Malay culture (slaves lived there after the neighborhood was cleared of whites). In Bo-Kaap, we went to the home of a woman who made us the most delicious Cape Malay cuisine, and my house is actually going back there to take a cooking class and learn how to make this stuff! I absolutely can’t wait. After that we came back home, and I realized how much of Cape Town history I have yet to see, and can’t wait to experience all of it!

On Sunday, we were brought to see a soccer game at Athlone stadium. I instantly became a Kaiser Chiefs fan, solely because the woman next to me told me that everyone there was a Chiefs fan. Apparently, there are two major South African football clubs, the Chiefs, and the Orlando Pirates. We were watching the Chiefs play Engen Santos, whom they ended up tying. Everyone was surprised to see just how into the game I got, but they hadn’t seen me at an organized sporting event yet, and didn’t know how competitive I can be. I also had gone to Cybar before the match with my friend Alex, where we had split a pitcher, and after singing happy birthday to Kayla who we saw on the street, helped her finish her fishbowl, along with some other friends. That made the soccer game infinitely more fun! I can’t even describe how much fun a South African soccer game is; soccer culture is incredible here! People don’t get violent or upset or anything, they just love the game, and want to see their team do well. There may be rivalries, but everyone just appreciates the game.

Today, after class, my friends and I decided to go to the UCT Rugby game, as they took on Nelson Mandela Memorial University. I don’t know a single thing about rugby, but the game was so much fun. I bought a shirt to support the team, and hopefully am starting to blend in with the South Africans around me. To see the school spirit here was awesome, knowing how lacking it is at GW. I can’t wait to go back on March 7^th, as UCT takes on their main rival, Stellenbosch, at home for the first time in a couple of years. That game promises to be incredible.

Perhaps now would be a good time to start my homework? Something like that. All I know is, in the time I’ve spent writing this, as great as it is to record my thoughts, my FOMO has been out of control, and I want to go back and hang out with my friends!

Reflection

I know all the blog posts I’ve written so far have been essentially about the incredible things I’ve been fortunate enough to get to experience in my short time here in Cape Town, but after 3 weeks I think it’s finally time for some serious reflection on what I’ve been learning here. Every day I learn something new, whether it be about myself, my country, my life, or the state of the world I live in. Each and every experience has provoked an internal dialogue, and it’s time to put my thoughts into words.

I’ve noticed that I’m way more comfortable spending my money on things because I convert the Rand value back into my head as dollars, and say “oh well it’s not that much, so it’s okay.” In fact, I’ve caught myself saying to people who are debating purchasing something “it doesn’t matter, its just Rand”. That’s a very scary thought. Though many things are cheaper here, it shouldn’t come across my mean that that’s a justifiable reason to have something. I’m starting now to make a concerted effort to think about things not in terms of dollars but in terms of Rand. Hopefully that will make my budget balancing a little bit easier too.

Complaining is another of my major problems. I will be the first to admit that I always want more and better, and don’t hesitate to complain about my supposed problems. Today I was on a line for lunch with my friend Lindsay, and I was so jealous that she had a TV in her house, knowing how often I have complained about not being able to watch my TV whenever I want. TV shouldn’t be a priority; I’m here for school and a cultural experience, not to watch American reality shows. I also complain a lot about my walk to school. Though it is not the most appealing thing to walk up a mountain to get to my classes, I need to take a step back and really appreciate the beauty of the area and the University of Cape Town itself. It’s not in the cards for everyone to get to see Table Mountain looming above, with clouds zipping post Devil’s Peak, every morning. On the way back down, I get to see the beautiful Southern Suburbs of Cape Town in front of me. And yet I still complain about the distance and the elevation change.

Perhaps the thing that has stood out to me most about myself is my reliance on the Internet. Whether it is having the instant answer from Wikipedia on my BlackBerry to vegging out and checking Facebook in between each of my classes (which, I admit, I’m still a little guilty of), the Internet plays a very large role in my life. Now, to know that I have to pay for Internet access, and to actually see the number of purchased Internet credits dwindling every time I click on a new page has forced me to really reform my habits. I now only open one tab at a time, and finish everything I need to do on that site before moving on to another. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like once I have to start writing papers and doing research, because I am constantly sifting back and forth between documents that I will now have to use Internet credit to download.

Social life in South Africa is also very different than in the US. I’ve noticed that people here are significantly nicer, friendlier, and more willing to accept a new person’s friendship, even if it’s just chatting with someone on line or at a bar or in class. I don’t know why it is that I have felt the need back home and at school to put on a “don’t talk to me” front. I am (I hope) a genuinely nice and well-meaning person, so I hope to catch some of that openness from my time here in Cape Town.

Perhaps most importantly of all, safety has been a huge wake up call for me. I am so comfortable in the places I’ve come to call home that I’ve never truly felt unsafe. South Africa has changed all that. I keep my wallet, keys, and phone in my front pocket almost all the time for fear that someone will pickpocket me. I’m afraid to leave my door unlocked for fear that someone can get into my house. I’m afraid whenever someone walks behind me for fear that they are going to do something bad to me. It’s an incredible luxury to have come from a place where you don’t have to be this aware of your surroundings at all times. I think I will certainly learn a lot from being here, knowing that there are places where people do have to live this way, and I can count my blessings that I am not one of them.

Finally, my close-minded view of race is something that has radically shifted from coming to Africa. Race is not a hush-hush topic in South Africa the way that it is back in America, which is fortunate for me because I am able to really learn why this is the Rainbow Nation. Perhaps the change I’ve noticed most since coming to South Africa is that I’m no longer hesitant around black people. Back at home, I’ve often felt, for whatever reason, slightly uncomfortable around black people, and much more so when in a group where I am the minority. I don’t at all feel that way now. In fact, I’ve noticed myself becoming bothered when I’m in places where there are mostly white people, because it makes me question whether or not the place or the group of people are racist. That is a positive step towards breaking down my unfortunate past vision of race in America.

This actually may even have been my shortest blog post yet, but it’s definitely an important one for me. I know I have a long swath of time ahead of me in Cape Town, and I can’t wait to see how much more I’m going to learn while I’m here.