Pamela on Themba Care

                                                                               
Already a month and nine days in Cape Town! Everyday in Cape Town seems to be filled with emotions such as happiness sadness and excitement. On Friday I visited Themba Care which is where I will be doing my activist project on Fridays. Themba Care is a care center for babies and children who have AIDS. They receive babies that are referred from the red cross hospital, one and each of these children have their stories.

On Friday I only had the chance to interact with the babies. When I arrived I was very excited to see the babies because I have been looking forward to see them all week ; it also made very sad to see them because they were sick and infected by a virus that they had no control over. Even though we did not get a proper orientation that Friday, because there was a staff meeting ,we still got to see the kids and spend some time with them. I spent four hours plying with them, I even had the chance to feed two of them, a two year old and a nine year old.

While I was there I had the chance to listen to a few stories about these kids. Some of them are dropped at Themba Care because their parents have HIV, they get rid of the children so their family don’t find out, others are there because there parents are too poor to take of them or to provide them with the right medication. I was really sad to listen to these stories where some of the kids are abandoned because of society’s discrimination against people with AIDS. I feel like people living with HIV/AIDS should not be stigmatized by society, they are people just  like us , they just need a little more support, love and comprehension because they are going through some rough times. The fact that adults are rejected by society makes even more difficult for the babies growing up with it because some of them are abandoned by their parents due to lack of resources or comprehension from their families.

Overall Themba Care was a good experience and I am really excited and honored to be volunteering there. I feel like these kids need love and a second chance from society because they are just like every other child out there.

Yesterday [Feb. 23^rd] was Katherine, Rachel and my birthday. Our housemates were very thoughtful and made us cupcakes and got each of us present . I was very happy because it was so nice from them to do that when they didn’t have to… I just want to thank them and let them know that I am very grateful to have them in my life . I would not one to share this experience with any other students but them! This weekend we are going to Plattenburg and I’m really excited and look forward to it!

Sarah on Thandokhulu High School

I’ve officially been at Thandokhulu for two weeks, and I can’t say I regret my sudden decision to change paths.  While it is certainly a stressful environment, one of my main goals in South Africa is to never get complacent, to never feel like I’m content in my own comfort zone.  And I am certainly not in my comfort zone here.

Out of over 1000 people, I am the only white, native English speaker in the school (not including the other two UConn interns).  There have been times when I am teaching in a classroom and another teacher will come through the door and speak to the class in Xhosa, leaving all the students laughing hysterically.  She’ll then turn around and walk out without any sort of explanation, leaving a class of 50 students laughing at God knows what.  So, to say the least, I’m the outsider.  While it is certainly something I have never experienced before, the stress is juxtaposed by the generosity and kindheartedness of those working in the school system.  While I do not think such niceties are extended to the children, as the faculty strongly believes in being “strict,” I personally have felt welcomed.

I have been given one 11th grade class to teach, and the students are so cooperative and nice.  I feel more comfortable than I ever would have imagined.  I have never even considered becoming a teacher before, but the students have made it an easy transition.

More rewarding than my classes, however, has been the afterschool reading program Leah and I are participating in.  This past Tuesday was our first day.  I noticed a girl writing furiously in one of my classes, so I asked her if she was writing for fun.  I half expected an apathetic, ‘leave-me-alone-you-stupid-teacher’ response, but she seemed so enthusiastic.  I told her and a few of her friends to come to the book club.  Not only did they show up, but so did over 100 others.  I was just totally blown away.  I never expected to convince more than a couple of kids to stay after school after waking up at 4 in the morning to go to something that sounds as lame as “book club.”  I know I never would have.  It made me realize how much I have taken my education for granted.  My schooling was literally handed to me.  I hardly lifted a finger when it came to learning; in fact, I actually resisted education and instruction of any kind.  Fortunately, unfairly some might say, I had the resources and support to graduate with ease.  I always knew I would go to college, I know I’ll get a job.  These are privileges that were literally just handed to me, and these students work so hard just to get a fraction of that.

The reading program is run by a group of people out of the University of Cape Town.  They came with a box full of books and planned to rent them out to the students, sort of like a mini library.  With over 100 students who wanted a book, they were simply underprepared and under resourced.  They started handing books out to the 12th graders and worked their way down through the 8th graders, leaving most of the younger kids empty handed.  Towards the end of the massive scramble for books, the woman who heads the program noticed a group of three older looking students in the back of the room.  She asked them if they got a book, and they responded despondently, “No miss.”  She told them to come back next week and they would see what they could do.  I walked to the back of the room to find out a little about them.  All three boys were in 12th grade, meaning they would be taking the Matric (a final exam that’s administered in English) in a few short months.  I asked them what they were interested in so I could keep an eye out for books they might like.  One boy’s response was, “Anything.  Just any book.  English please.”  It absolutely broke my heart.  I’m going to look at some second hand book stores on Monday, so they should be all set with a book by Tuesday.  I just have had a hard time getting those boys out of my mind.

Book club has really given me a chance to connect with students on a personal level, and it’s only been one session.  I’m so excited about getting them excited, if that makes any sense.  Their enthusiasm is more than I expected, so it shouldn’t be difficult.

Adam on expanding his horizons

My time in South Africa is going by so quickly.  It’s hard to believe that soon enough it will already be March.  The good news is I feel like I’m making the most of this wonderful experience.  Whether it’s hiking, surfing, or just hanging around with people in the house I feel like I’m truly making the most of my current situation.  Sometimes I just have to sit back and reflect on what I’ve done and just all these crazy new ideas that seem to be whirling around in my head.  I think ‘expanding’ is the word I’m looking for with what’s happening to my mind.

Last week for my internship at Black Sash I was fortunate enough to attend the annual budget speech at Parliament.  It was a great experience full of information and interesting people.  Tefarah, the other intern, and I mostly walked around Parliament with our Black Sash t-shirts on taking pictures and listening in on the budget speech.  At one point President Zuma and his whole entourage walked right past us, which was a semi-star struck moment.  It was interesting seeing the politicians and socialites dressed to a T in contrast to the protesters that were standing just outside the gate.  It definitely put into perspective where South Africa is as far as disparity is concerned.

My second most memorable experience I’ve had this past week has been our two-day twenty-mile hike.  It was an awesome time that I’m very happy we did.  It was grueling and very hot at times, but in the end it was worth it.  The views, foliage, wildlife and just all of it were so great.  Once we got to the cabin we were exhausted and we made hot dogs, beans, rice, corn, and other vegetables.  Everything tastes delicious after a day of hiking 12 miles.  Like the rest of my experiences I’ve been having here the hike tested me and left its mark on me.

Erica on gaining strength while confronting fears

Just a few months ago, if you asked me to answer some questions about myself, I probably would have told you that I felt shame for my sexual orientation, that I didn’t consider myself a feminist, and that my biggest fear was great white sharks. Needless to say, things have changed.

Exactly one year ago, in February of 2009, I preformed in the Vagina Monologues. Standing in front of 1,000 people, with 20 other incredible women, I began to learn what it meant to be proud of my gender, my sexual orientation, and my ability to affect change in the world. But the transformation was not complete. During the Vagina Monologues, we learned about the women of Democratic Republic of the Congo. We learned that 75% of all rapes in the entire world happen in the DRC. The heart and soul and strength of the DRC, its women and children, are being subjected to torture and what can only be considered femicide. As we raised money to build a City of Hope refugee center for these women, we became educated about their situation. I was absolutely blown away at how the women of the DRC continued to seamlessly weave strength, hope, and inspiration into every aspect of their lives, even after experiencing such trauma. It was because of the Vagina Monologues that my heart really began to yearn for Africa—I called my mother in hysterics, exactly one year ago from today, telling her (no longer asking her at this point) that I was going to Africa.

And now, one year later, I’m here. And the transformation I have experienced since my arrival here one and half months ago is indescribable. It was only during the Vagina Monologues that I really began to learn about feminism…and my question is: Why? Why was I 19 years old when my educators first gave me the resources to learn what it meant to be a feminist? I’m officially embarrassed of my ignorance—I thought that women already had equal rights. That feminism was a dead issue. That there was no such thing as male privilege. That feminism was just tiresome complaining. Though a sexist society surrounded me in every single aspect of my life, I was downright OBLIVIOUS to the world around me, even though it compromised MY OWN rights as a woman. The spark was simply ignited with the Vagina Monologues, but now, here in South Africa, it has become a fire within me and there is nothing in the world that could extinguish it.

I think it might have been Brittany shaving her head. That’s when it really hit me. What are the chains that bind females to their hair? A fear of not being “feminine” enough? A fear of “not looking pretty anymore”? Basically, a fear that a man would no longer accept a woman if she parted from that precious hair. But the minute Brittany shaved her head, I knew that all of those gender stereotypes, everything I had been taught by society my entire life, were wrong, When I saw Brittany with her head shaved, I didn’t see masculinity. I didn’t see ugliness. I didn’t see shame. Instead, in front of me, stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. The strength of the women living in this household with me, and the strength of every single South African woman I have met since I have come here, is absolutely contagious! I hear so many of the girls say, “This is one of the healthiest living environments I have ever been in.” That’s because, for many of us, this is our first time being surrounded by constant encouragement to love the skin we’re in, to embrace our bodies and our souls, and to view ourselves in a way that the sexist societies we come from would deem “incorrect”.

Since my arrival here in Cape Town, I have rallied in front of Parliament to end the attacks on the LGBTI community in Uganda. I have gone to a documentary on three lesbian women living in Orthodox Jewish communities in Israel and I have learned what keeping quiet because of fear can do to the soul of a person. Next Friday, I’ll be partaking in Pride Week, a festival to celebrate the LGBTI community here in Cape Town. Two nights ago, we had some people over from the Gender Equity Unit at the University of the Western Cape. I met a woman named Thozama who runs a program called “Loud Enough” that helps the LGBTI community at UWC feel confident in themselves. Thozama said, “I started this program with 50 students, and now I have 30. Why is that? It’s because they are afraid. It’s fear of their families, of their friends, of their communities.” I know this kind of fear that Thozama was talking about. I’ve experienced it first hand because I am a bisexual woman. For 10 years I have struggled with my own sexual orientation and my own feelings of shame for something I now am finally beginning to realize I have absolutely no control over and should feel absolutely no shame for. I have finally, finally begun to accept myself and love myself. I have finally begun to stand up for my gender and for my identity. And this is the strongest I have ever been in my entire life. I couldn’t have accomplished this without the eye-opening experiences I am having here in South Africa.

Up until last Saturday, great white sharks were my biggest fear. I couldn’t even look at a picture. Swimming in any ocean could turn into a panic attack in seconds. I was literally paralyzed with fear. And then, last Saturday, myself and 5 other brave souls climbed into a cage, went under water, and got up close and personal with great white sharks. I did not even hesitate for a second when it was time for me to get in the cage. I could not believe how easy it was to face my fear. And that’s what South Africa has done for me. I am the strongest I have ever been, physically and emotionally, and there is no longer an excuse to let myself be paralyzed with fear.

So go ahead and ask me. Am I feminist? The answer is a giant YES. Do I feel shame for my gender or my sexual orientation? The answer is a giant NO. Is my biggest fear a great white shark? Absolutely not. Today, my biggest fear is living in a society where I cannot love myself. My biggest fear is living in a society where every human being is not granted equal rights and equal opportunities. My biggest fear is living in a society that acts as a great white shark, but provides no cage for protection. However, this kind of fear does not leave me paralyzed. Instead, this fear makes me more active than ever as I brace myself to affect change in this world.

Bring on the sharks. I have bigger things to worry about.

Katherine on her grandparent's visit

Last week my grandparents came to visit.  They are on two-week tour that began in Cape Town.  They flew in a few days early to see me.  Their flight from JFK was delayed because the plane was so icy that it had to be defrosted twice.  Once they finally arrived in this warmer weather zone, I went to meet them at their hotel: the Mount Nelson Hotel.  We walked around some of the downtown area on Plein Street where Parliament is and then up Orange Street and down Long Street.  We had dinner at Café Royale.  It was great and I had a peanut butter and banana milkshake that could have fed five people, but I managed to eat it all myself.

On Thursday I took my grandparents to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.  When we had visited Kirstenbosch during our orientation I knew that I would have to bring my grandmother because she is an avid gardener.  While my grandfather is not a flower person, he hung in there.  We went to the new restaurant called Mint in the Taj Hotel.  I love everything green and the most of the decorations in the restaurant are green so I had to go.  Mint is located on Saint George’s Mall (which is the name of a street in downtown Cape Town) which I have walked by several times and is about five minutes away from my internship.  The food was really good and my grandmother was brave enough to try the ostrich fillet.  Surprisingly it tasted very similar to steak, just a little tougher.

On Friday my grandparents began their tour and visited Robben Island and saw the downtown area.  I met up with my grandparents to go to Mama Africa for dinner.  Another couple from my grandparents’ tour joined us at this restaurant which is located on Long Street.  They had a local band playing music.  The best part of the night was when we piled into the taxi and my grandfather, thinking we were in America, got into the cab driver’s seat!  As some of us have mentioned, South Africans drive on the other side of the road so my grandfather was not paying attention when he hopped in the front right side of the car.  The cab driver jokingly asked my grandfather if he planned on driving.

On Saturday my grandparents and I went to the V & A Waterfront.  I think it was the hottest day since I’ve been here.  It was in the 90s with no breeze.  Signal Hill even caught fire.  It is common at this time of the year for the mountains to catch on fire because there is very little rain.  That evening we dined at a restaurant on Keerom Street called 95.  Ben, our R.A., had recommended it to me and I must say he knows where to go.  My grandmother raved about it and I would definitely recommend it to any other parents or friends who are coming to visit one of my housemates.

Sunday was the last day I got to spend with my grandparents.  I was lucky enough to tag along on their day trip to Cape Point and Boulders Beach.  We even got to see a large male baboon rifling through a garbage bag heap on the way to Cape Point.  While I had already seen both of these places during our two-week orientation, it was definitely fun to go back.  After saying goodbye to my grandparents they were off to pack up for their two day train ride through Kimberley on toward Johannesburg.

It was nice to have family come to visit five weeks into my stay in Cape Town.  I had been feeling a little homesick but seeing my grandparents made me feel better.  I was surprised about how many questions they asked me about Cape Town specifics that I was able to answer.  I have learned so much about the public transportation, education system, and location of downtown areas in the past few weeks.  I will be even more informed and prepared for when my mom arrives in early April!

Rachel on Tafelsig Clinic & life in South Africa

I am interning at a place called Tafelsig Clinic.  It is a health clinic in a small building in a poor community.  Ninety-nine percent of the patients are (classified) coloured and speak Afrikaans. Over five-hundred patients on average are seen per day, over ten-thousand patients per month coming to get treated and all for no cost at all.  This as you can imagine can take a toll on nurses or (South African way of saying things) sisters, doctors, and volunteers that come to work in such a stressful environment. To them, I have got the impression that it can many times feel as though they are living in a bona fide nightmare. To me, it an honour to work in such an amazing place.  I can, will, and have already learned so many things. Things that I would never be able to see in the States.

At times I feel so uncomfortable being the only white person in all of the clinic, the only person who does not understand Afrikaans, and the only person that has not lived amongst a community as they do.  It is so overwhelming. I love it.  I find it refreshing.

Today, on my birthday (23 Feb) , an overcast day, I went to work to find that the gates were closed.  Curiously cars not there.  No patients outside. The police pace outside.  The nurses were standing in a circle as a gust of wind ferociously whined blowing dust and sand into the air. It was almost as if nature was weeping for what I had heard next. Someone had broken into the clinic the night before. Computers stolen and the place destroyed.  “You can try to come back tomorrow they said.” I came home. Wow.  Someone had broken in and destroyed a place that was giving free services in a community that whoever the perpetrator was probably came from.  How could they do this and why?  They took from a place that was already low on funds, a place that served the community, a place that now over five-hundred people will be turned down help today, people who truly need help. I can’t explain the anger that ran through my body first starting as a slow drip and then suddenly feeling like an over flowing sink. I feel sick.

Everyone keeps telling me that I am so lucky I got a day off on my birthday but I don’t feel that way…

I miss everything about being there.  I miss the people I work with, the adorable kids that I see, the things that I should be learning.  I miss sitting at the tea table eavesdropping on all of the nurse’s conversations.  This is how I learn their culture, learn their country, learn their lives. I miss learning…did I say that already?  

I should try to think of this in a positive light.  In one way I am learning about the community and the way people live.  I am learning about the daily issues.  I just wish it wasn’t so negative. I wish it didn’t make me so angry. 

I know that there are things here that are left unsaid, but I honestly can not think of anything else at the moment.  I would like to change the subject and talk about the fact that my computer has been broken for the past 3ish weeks. There were things that I had left out of my previous blog entry that I would like to re-address:

Wow, I feel like I have learned more in six weeks than I have all last semester at UConn. Sorry UConn, but it really is true that something just can’t be taught in a classroom.  In the past two weeks I have seen the most beautiful scenery I have every seen before in my life, I have seen poverty, I have seen pride and joy that I have never seen before. Some of these things that I have seen here in Cape Town I already worry that I cannot describe them to other people and the pictures don’t even do them justice. 

As everyone else on this blog knows, I love to take pictures! So as I look through my 2000 photos, I will try to explain the best experiences of my life in a way that you can understand the indebtedness I feel to be here and to all the people that I will be surrounded by for the next 60 some odd days of my life for being such great people and for adding to my knowledge. I already know that everyone I have met will be my friend for life when I get back to the US.

I feel like I have the world in my hands right now.  I am experiencing things that some people will never able to in their life.  Seeing a completely different culture has completely changed the way I view things. The air seems so much fresher, my eyesight has slightly increased, and my knowledge is growing every one-hundredth of a second that I am here. I miss everyone at home so much and everything bagels toasted with cream cheese, but I am sorry I wouldn’t trade anything for this experience. I love South Africa.

Leah on Language

Lately I have been struggling with the existence of violence. It sounds like a simple and silly issue to not understand. I mean, of course there is violence in the world! We see it everyday. But I have been wondering why? I mean, you can say that people are violent because they are angry. But everyone has their problems, their issues, their unhappiness, and not everyone takes it out in the form of violence. I am especially perplexed by hate crimes. Who do people committing hate crimes think they are? Some say they think that they are protecting a country or a community. If so, who are they to take on this job? They are not the government, CIA, FBI, or police. Why is personal anger and rage taken out in the form of violence on perfect strangers?

After 9/11, there were about 19 racially motivated murders. We watched United We Fall, a documentary about the persecution of Sikhs in America after 9/11. Sikhs are not even Muslim, obviously! They’re Sikh! Just because Sikhs wear turbans, some were murdered. The night before, we had watched American History X. This movie details the life of an American Neo Nazi. It chronicles his radicalization which culminates in his murder of three black men. It demonstrates how he took the anger and grief he experienced after his father’s death and translated it into violence. Before his father died, he had made several racist comments in front of his son. The father was not a violent Neo Nazi. He did not murder people who were not white. He just made passing racist comments. But such a translation passed from father to son and rooted in language demonstrates the power of words.

It is in language where the sentiments that can eventually lead to hate begin. There are so many words and phrases in the English language that must mean something, must have come from somewhere, but are used unconsciously. How many times do you hear, “that’s gay,” you’re “retarded,” or “a fag.”?  How often is there talk about “those people,” “their type,” or “that group”? It is in language, the subtle remarks we make, that we can find evidence of the prejudices present in our society and lives. Like racism, sexism, agism, and all other prejudices are woven into the fabric of our society, they are grounded and present in our language. Furthermore, it is not as if these terms that we use unconsciously have lost their meaning completely. Language can desensitize us to prejudice. We become so comfortable with using offensive terms and we incorporate them into our vocabulary so much that it is only a small leap to inappropriate action. From there, it can spiral to hate crimes.

I have been especially preoccupied with language recently because I have been working at Thandokhulu Senior Secondary School where Xhosa is spoken. All of the classes are taught in English, but the first language of teachers and students is Xhosa. This language barrier has been one of my greatest challenges as a teacher. How many times do students talk behind their teacher’s back in whispers? In my classes, the students do not even need to whisper because they have this “secret” language that I as their teacher cannot understand.

With that said, such a barrier has improved my understanding of nonverbal communication. More and more I am able to tell when students are talking about me, subjects outside of class, or even continuing a discussion we were having in class in Xhosa.

My experience teaching so far has been unbelievably rewarding. I definitely have my hard days, when I am not sure what exactly my role is at the school, when it seems as though I am just babysitting these students to pass the time. But then there are the moments where students will wait after class to get extra help with English or just to ask me questions about the US. I have talked to my classes about how I respect them and do not corporally punish them and how they must, in turn, give me that same respect. They are in Grade 10 and they understand this concept. Simply treating these students like they are adults has allowed them to mature on their own terms.

What I am trying to say, I suppose, is that language is all around us. Communication is made constantly and is not necessarily in the form of words. But words do carry weight with them. Choosing hateful words and phrases leads to hateful thoughts and actions. It is necessary to remove unconscious prejudice from our lives and this removal must begin with our cleansing of the language that we use. 

Rachel's First Blog Post

Rachel on Robben Island with Table Mountain in background

And the story begins:

Wow, South Africa! I feel like since I have been here I have seen more things than I have in my lifetime.  There are so many people, feelings, and places that I could never forget and will be a part of me forever.  One of my first days working at the Red Cross Hospital, the doctor that was the head of the burn unit was talking to us about treating the patients.  He told us that “Burns are lifelong physical and emotional scars.”  I thought to myself, burns, by his definition is then Cape Town to me. Everything I have done, all the people I have met, and the places that I have been will be with me forever.  I will never forget. I will never forget how I feel every moment of being in such an exceptionally beautiful place. 

The things I love here I will never have at home:

Cape Point

Vernon, Parks, Ben, and Abongile

Walking across Rondebosch commons

Table Mountain

Minibus taxis

Waking up, walking outside only to be kissed by the South African sun, tasting the South African breeze, and feeling a smile rolling onto my face because this is the best damn place I have ever been. 

One person I want to mention is Vernon. I cannot believe it was only weeks ago, that I nervously and quite frankly uncomfortably shook his hand in an interview. Now when I see Vernon, it’s a big smile and a comforting hug. Because of Vernon I feel more at home here than in my own house back in cold, snowy, Connecticut.  He has so much knowledge, so many words of encouragement, and most importantly he makes us feel so cared about. He listens to every word that rolls off our tongues and does whatever is needed to feel as though nothing we want to learn or do is out of reach. 

Another person that I think is a mentionable person, is Parks, Vernon’s colleague and has had the pleasure of driving our group around for orientation week. This man has taught me about the passion that most South Africans have. He has taught me how much he appreciates, and how he cares about things.  I was once talking to him, I told him to teach me to say something in Xhosa.  He responded, say: “Iee! Segundibamba!” I replied:”Aye! Seygumbibana!” pronouncing it slightly off. He responded with a deep laugh saying: “very good Iee segundibamba!” I asked him what it meant. And he replied “NO! Don’t touch me!”  I laughed but at the same time, I saw that he really wants us to feel safe.

I cannot name all the people here that have touched me because there are so many but one other person that I would like to talk about is Abongile, a South African college student from Khayelitsha.  He has also shown me how much passion he has.  In his spare time he coaches younger kids soccer.  As I sat out to lunch with him, he told me that one day he wishes and is going to try his hardest to be able to take his whole soccer team out to his favorite restaurant that he eats at only on special occasions.  We hardly knew him, and he was skyping with my mother telling her that he was there to look out for us and show us the “real South African way of doing things!”

I can tell that my life is already completely changed from being here.  As I was walking up Cape Point during orientation week, I had already unpacked my thoughts of Connecticut and could not believe that such a refreshing place existed.  To be honest, I wish I could come up with a less cliché word than beautiful. It was only something that I could have dreamed of before I knew it was here.  There is no place in all of Cape Town where you can’t either see the mountains, the ocean, or both.

I can tell you another thing, after looking around at all the scenery, and all of the fun activities, I entered the real world of South Africa.  I realized there was so much more beneath the surface of its mouth-watering looks. I soon realized I am in for some serious life lessons.  I started to see the struggles of the people, the land, the politics, and my self-adjustment.  I am in for the journey of my life, and I can only hope that my words will be able to describe to you the way that I feel every moment of being here.