Cape Town Study Abroad 2010

Brett's journey back across time and distance

2010-11-01T03:17:00.000+02:00

Cape Point, South Africa, January 2010

It has now been about six months since I have been back from South Africa. I am in a general routine of what I do every day, from classes, to the library, to the dining hall, and the dorm, sometimes the gym, or running outside. It is nice to run, outside, in my new sneakers, against the blacktop, on campus or on the roads around. The days are getting colder now, the air a bit sharper, I feel it in my heels and in my lungs. I study in the library, and play guitar in my dorm room mostly. It is Life as I have known it. There is a full moon tonight, I think that is exciting, once a month there is a full moon, as much a reason to celebrate as anything, more reliable than grades. South Africa is 7000 miles away. I don’t say this with sadness, or ‘homesickness’, the separation of land is 7000 miles. The separation of time is 6 months. I am back on the life track now, on the track of school and studies, and I am plugging away, at this necessary evil, or if not evil, inconvenience. So many boxes, that we live in, from our bedrooms to our classrooms to our kitchens, and it is hard to think outside them mostly, or dangerous, if I want to stay on track. This is not the best of all possible worlds, it certainly isn’t the worst, but one would think that privilege would guarantee a certain amount ease, or happiness. Power yes, for diplomas are powerful, and easy in comparison to the lives of others, but not easy none the less. As the plane pulled into JFK airport I felt a sense of familiarity engulf me as the plane taxied along the runway. It was drizzling that day, and we pulled in under the clouds. I no longer feel the heat of the African sun on my skin when I wake up in the morning; the climate is mellow here. Back in the suburbs, the realities of life and death are mellow, and with it, the unspoken bond of humanity.

Rachel's missing South Africa a LOT!

2010-10-25T14:21:00.004+02:00

It is so difficult to put into words how I feel about being home. I am back into my normal routine of life now. School work, school work, school work, swim, school work. I know it isn’t exciting, and sometimes life isn’t. South Africa definitely gave me the best experiences of my life. It taught me, as I said I my first blog entry, more than I have learned in my entire collage career. Being in South Africa, isn’t at all like being in Storrs. Instead of looking out a window and seeing zebras on Table Mountain, I am now looking out at cows on horse barn hill (which isn’t as pleasing visually and even worse is the smell). Except now when I walk onto smelly campus, I have a different attitude, a different view on life, and a different purpose than I originally thought I had here. Did South Africa change who I am? I have to say no. I am the same person with maybe a few corrections. I could never say that my life is changed forever, because it never was destined to be a certain way. It was never set in stone or planned out.

I only add to my knowledge and experiences. I try my hardest to only add good ones, but bad experiences get stuck in there every once in a while and those make me a stronger person as well. South Africa just happened to be a very large experience that shaped my views of life much differently than I first had anticipated them to be. However, a wise professor once told me that no one should have expectations. And I really believe that now. I don’t know where life is going to lead me. I’m not even sure I know what I want right now. But, being in South Africa, showed me that there are many different options. I learned about things that I didn’t even know existed in this world. Things I never thought about. Only, while I was in South Africa, I was presented with a new challenge everyday while here, my challenge is the same everyday (getting through school and work). The things I learned in South Africa, felt like life lesson that are never taught to you growing up and they seemed so much more relevant. While here, who cares how many mitochondria are in one person’s body? I guess I am going on about nothing here really. That’s kind of how I feel though. I miss South Africa a LOT! And right now in my life, that is all I know. I am confused, and want it back.

Sarah recognizing how she's changed....

2010-10-25T04:41:00.002+02:00

It’s sort of depressing to think no one’s really reading these blogs any more…no one besides us at least. That period of our life is officially over. While I am certainly nostalgic, and I can’t say I wouldn’t accept a plane ticket back, I am at peace with our experience.

We’ve all grown; we’re all forever a part of each other, linked through a period in our lives that changed everything. There are little parts that do escape my mind every now and then. We presented our symposium a couple of weeks ago, and memories that slipped my mind flooded back. Within the presentation, there was a picture of me kneeling in front of a newly organized bookcase, filled with books we raised back in the U.S. Some how, I totally forgot we did that. Or at least I hadn’t thought about it in a while. Being together obviously sparks those memories and calms my fears that I’m some how compartmentalizing everything I learned.

I’m starting to realize, though, I really haven’t compartmentalized everything as much as I thought. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see change in myself, but if I really step back and look at myself, I really have changed so much. I’m not being challenged every day like I was in South Africa, which is one of the most depressing parts about being home. I remember calling my Mom from Loch Road at the end of a day and telling her a lot of times my head would hurt after thinking so much for so long. Every little thing, from taking the mini-bus to school, to deciphering an Afrikaans accent, to connecting injustices in a new democracy to a democracy that has been in place since 1776, my brain was constantly on over-drive. Here, things are pretty mundane. I am, however, able to think about the mundane more critically now, to see past the little life I live thanks to my experience in South Africa.

I saw Brittany a couple of nights ago, and she said something that kind of stuck with me and pretty much summed up how I feel about the friendships we’ve formed. She said she loves seeing everyone, because it just reminds her that life is good. I guess written down it seems a little simple, but that’s exactly how it feels. Every time I see someone from our group, a flood of memories just comes rushing back. Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for my opportunity, and I know I will take it with me where ever I go.

Erica's holding on to the memories

2010-10-21T23:23:00.001+02:00

Returning back from South Africa was just as difficult of a transition as I thought it would be. This summer, I participated in Semester at Sea. I spent the summer traveling the Mediterranean amidst the commercialism and material wealth of some of the richest countries in Europe. After being in South Africa for 4 ½ months, I felt so out of place. I went from being a volunteer and activist in South Africa to being a tourist in Italy and Spain. After visiting 5 European countries this summer, it was time to go back to Africa, this time to Northern Africa. Visiting Egypt and Morocco was especially difficult. How could I only visit these countries for 7 days and sit on a tour bus, looking out the window at the extensive poverty, and do nothing about it? As we drove through Alexandria and Cairo, I stared out at what seemed like miles and miles of tiny shacks and bare-footed children begging for food and money. I saw men and women working tirelessly in fields. I saw children bathing in the Nile River, one of the most polluted water sources in the world. I was reminded of Kahyelitsha and Nyanga and yet on Semester at Sea I was trapped by the confines of a tour bus. In Egypt and Morocco, I felt like I could only hear the people’s voices and understand their experiences for a split second, before the bus moved on to a new destination. In Alexandria, Egypt and Casablanca, Morocco I visited orphanages and children’s homes in an attempt to get to know the people of these countries. I spent all day with the children and tried to learn as much as I could in just a few short hours about the country’s economic, social, and political issues. But at the end of the day, I had to go home. Unlike South Africa, I only caught glimpses of the country’s people, and could only do so much in the short time I was there. It was beyond frustrating. Then, after 6 full months of being outside of the United States, I finally had to return home to America. I had just a few days to catch up with my family before heading back to UConn.

Being back at UConn is strange. It’s surreal. It’s depressing. It’s quiet. It’s mundane. I feel unchallenged and often unmotivated in many of my classes. Being in Neag School of Education at UConn is a privilege, however my role in Neag right now is simply to observe and to take notes. Simply observing in an elementary school in Glastonbury (one of the wealthiest school districts in Connecticut) is extremely frustrating after teaching at Thandokhulu and having so many exciting and challenging experiences, such as teaching my own classes, making my own lesson plans, and interacting one on one with my students.

I dream about Cape Town almost every night. I can still feel the wind on my face as I stood on top of Table Mountain. I can still feel the adrenalin of jumping off of the world’s highest bungy jump. I can still heart the sounds of the minibus taxis, taste the braii, see the bright sunlight coming up over the mountains on my walk through the Commons. I miss Cape Town more than anything. I miss Imange from Themba Care and all of my students at Thandokhulu. I miss the excitement, the challenges, the obstacles. I miss feeling empowered. I miss the support system. Right now, it is only October and I’ve only been in the United States for two months, so I’m still working on incorporating all that I learned and experienced in South Africa into my life here in Connecticut. I know that everything will fall into place and that I will find the resources I need in order to continue work in activism and social justice. I have confidence in myself. I know that time will help, and that my transition back home will get easier and easier as time goes on. For now, I’ll just hold the memories of Cape Town close and work hard to align the person I was in Cape Town and the life I led in Cape Town with the person I am here and the life I am leading here.

Meredith's realizations since she's returned.

2010-10-19T04:50:00.001+02:00

That place changed me. I could never be the same and I never want to be the same. I constantly find myself thinking about Africa and telling stories that people won’t really understand and it isn’t anyone’s fault. I have learned to accept the fact that South Africa was the biggest part of my life but cannot be fully shared. Even the twelve of us on the trip had completely different experiences, how could someone from America possibly understand it?

At first being back that was a incredibly empty feeling in my stomach. No one will ever understand. I’m not exactly sure why I had this outrageous fantasy in my head that I will get back from Cape Town and share my experiences with my loved ones and it will just click for everyone here. As if I could seriously make everyone say “Wow! I want to change the world now” based on my stories? Seriously wishful thinking.

What I did realize since being back though is that you can’t change the world all in one day. It is a process in which every little thing helps and works. You have to keep trying and fighting and slowly

you will get through the people. A few people in my life who I love have very different views from me on many things. Especially after coming back from South Africa where my views have been incredibly magnified from first hand experiences. When first coming back, it was hard to hear that those

that I love have completely different views that me on certain issues. In fact based on my personality type, I even got incredibly offended by certain things. I don’t mean to sound conceded or anything, I just could not understand how people felt that way.

What I realized after being home for a few months though was that everyone will have different opinions on different things based on what they have gone through, grew up with, or what kind of person they are. Sure, most of the people I had debates with still believe what they are going to want to believe. But what I know for sure is that I made them think. And you know what else, those people made me think. Maybe I didn’t have the “eureka!” impact I was hoping I could have on people, but I do know that I

started turning those gears in there minds.

Leah on shifting her perspective

2010-10-17T02:49:00.013+02:00

It seems almost silly to write about why my time in South Africa was important. My experience has irrevocably changed my life, my views, and my future. I cannot imagine who I would be today without those four months. Though perhaps I cannot begin to guess who I would be with any four month period of my life eliminated, these four months were especially important in shaping the person I have become.

Recently I have been thinking about how I do not carry a notebook anymore. In South Africa, I used to carry a small notepad with me so that I could write facts down as I learned them (got this idea from Britt – thanks!). Back in America, I have ceased doing so. I have not ceased learning, but it made me sad to think about the fact that I was learning something totally new every single day in South Africa and was compelled to write it down to commit it to memory.

Going to South Africa exposed me to realities to which I had previously been ignorant. I came to understand the world and my place in it in a totally new way. As I began to think more about the fact that I no longer carry a notepad with me, I realized that it is not so bad. My time in South Africa was not about the facts that I collected in a book. I cannot remember the exact numbers and I have not referenced the book and I am not ashamed about that. My time in South Africa was not about the accumulation of knowledge. Instead, it was a shifting of perspective; a rare lifetime experience that I am eternally grateful for.

Adam's tug of war

2010-10-17T02:30:00.001+02:00

I’ve been back in America for over five months now. Storrs, CT is not quite as I remember it. The main campus has been put into a state of total renovation that has closed off areas I used to take for granted. The weather is changing and for the first time in several months I feel cold when I step out my front door. I’m miles from the ocean and beaches. I’m bogged down with schoolwork and applying for law school. Storrs Fall 2010 is definitely no Cape Town Spring 2010.

All the time I find myself craving to be back in Cape Town. There was always so much excitement and interesting things to do. When I left I felt I had just gotten into the groove of things; the walk to my internship, the mini-bus taxis, and just the entire Capetonian way of life. There is just so much nostalgia when I look back at my whole experience that it feels a little overwhelming. When I left I felt as if I had just gotten to know a good friend and then was ripped away to go back home. It is a homesick sort of feeling that I’ve only ever felt in much smaller doses than I do now.

When I am home I just feel so much more pressure to prove myself. I have to get all A’s, I have to break a 160 on the LSAT’s, I have to go to a good law school. In Cape Town there wasn’t any of this stress. I just lived without constantly worrying about the future. I lived more in the moment, which now that I’m home is proving to be more and more difficult to do. It makes me think is it impossible for me to find that state of being that I was in during my time in Cape Town? Is it possible for me to live in the moment in Storrs, at home in New York, or wherever I go after graduation?

It is the longing for the past that pulls me in one direction and the uncertainty of the future that tugs me the other way. This tug of war leaves me exhausted and anxious. It becomes clear to me that what I must do for both the present and the future is find that center, that Cape Town way of life.

Katherine: looking back, moving forward

2010-10-15T05:10:00.002+02:00

I have developed a reverse homesickness for Cape Town. I have learned and changed a lot since studying abroad in Cape Town, South Africa. A major change I have noticed in myself is my awareness of racial layouts everywhere I go. I am much more attuned to noticing inequality, separations, and how America is not quite the “melting pot” it claims to be. Also, I have become much more vocal about challenging racially infused comments that my friends, family, and others make. Much of what I notice about race is frustrating because if the mighty United States cannot make equality and racial mingling work, who will? It is also hard to talk about race with Americans because it is a taboo subject that many people try not avoid discussing because we like to think we have moved beyond this hurdle.

After returning to the United States, I was home for a few weeks before I moved down to Washington, DC for the summer. I took a political science class at Georgetown University and interned at an HIV/AIDS organization called MetroTeen AIDS. This was an extremely valuable experience to have had after being in South Africa because I was able to connect my experience abroad with something in the United States (something I highly recommend doing for all you future study abroaders). After volunteering at the Treatment Action Campaign which is an HIV/AIDS organization in the Cape Town township of Khayelitsha, I was able to bridge this experience by working at MTA. I found that problems that surround HIV in South Africa are similar to HIV/AIDS issues in the United States. Washington, DC has the highest rate of HIV in the United States- 1 in 20 people, or 5% of the population in the district. This is a staggeringly high number for the United States, a country that is supposed to be more advanced then South Africa. As in South Africa, HIV is heavily stigmatized in the United States and affects the poorest areas. The poorest areas of DC are those that are predominantly inhabited by blacks, just like South Africa. At MTA, I scheduled and helped present HIV 101 presentations to affected youth. While I lived in the wealthiest part of DC (Georgetown), I was able to balance out my experience of DC by working in the poorest areas (the southeast quarter).

It has been frustrating trying not to talk too much about my experiences in South Africa to my friends and family. I do not want them to stop listening to me or get sick of hearing about, “well in South Africa I…” It is an experience that has had a permanent effect on my life. My experience has solidified by decision to choose a career path where I continue to help others. As of now, I have applied to Teach For America and hope to be able to continue to serve others if I am accepted to teach within this organization.

Katherine with her supervisors: Shena and Nicole at MetroTeenAIDS

2010-05-04T08:43:00.000+02:00

UCONN

Signal Hill, Cape Town, 17 January 2010

Back row: Leah, Katherine, Michelle, Pamela, Rachel;
Middle Row: Brett, Sarah, Erica, Meredith, Adam;
Front Row: Brittany, Kayley

Meredith enumerating the "lasts"

2010-05-03T20:25:00.023+02:00

My mind is still processing leaving so here are my scattered thoughts going into the final day in South Africa:

This is weird. We are so close to leaving that this blog feels weird. Last blog. Tomorrow is our last day here, how can that be? Now every time I do something I think, this is probably the last time I’m going to be doing this. Going to Cocoa Wah Wah to finish up homework and munch on a gigantic cookie. Last time. Marcel’s for strawberry frozen yogurt and chocolate chips. Last time. Devouring a milktart. Last time. Lying on the beach looking out at the Indian Ocean. Last time. Sitting on a strangers lap on a minibus with twenty-three other South African. Last time. Hosting an African Braii. Last time. Hearing the clicking of the Xhosa language. Last time. Walking through the commons to Pick n’ Pay for last minute dinner items. Last time. Forty minute uphill walks to UCT on Thursdays. Last time. Hearing South African’s roll the pronunciation of the letter “R.” Last time. Six tea breaks a day. Last time. Living with twelve completely different people. Last time. Standing on the tip of Africa looking out at the world. Last time.

There are so many things that I am going to miss. I’m trying not to think about it too much right now because we are all about to leave to go to the final dinner and I’m dressed up. Wouldn’t want to smudge my makeup with the tears. Already did that today when saying goodbye to the kids and coworkers at Christel House. I am going to miss that place more than I can express. I’ve learned so much from everyone there and I knew that leaving would be hard. I didn’t realize it would be this hard. I’m incredibly nervous about going home and missing the kids.

Another part of Cape Town that I’m going to have trouble without is Table Mountain. Wherever you go in Cape Town, you can still see it. It is always there, looking down on you. Like an omnipresent over the land. It’s so big and strong and represents so many amazing things for Cape Town. Table Mountain represents something different for each one of us so by not having it with me anymore will be rough. I hope that I can take Table Mountain home with me in my heart.

As Pamela and I walked to Rondebosh for our last stroll of well “lasts.” I thought about the difference between the beginning of the trip and the end of the trip. How much we have all grown through our time of a variety of experiences. I remember our first night sitting in Chai Yo and feeling incredibly home sick. I remember getting home that night and crying because I was so far from my family and friends. Now, I truly feel like Cape Town is one of my homes and I’m crying that I have to leave this place. Cape Town has comforted me for these past four months in a way that even Connecticut can’t do. It is hard to explain how much I love this place to someone who hasn’t been here. All I can say is that this will not be my last time here. There is no way I can live the rest of my life without coming back here. Cape Town has a place in my heart forever.

Rachel on leaving her second home

2010-05-02T23:36:00.000+02:00

Cape Town Coordinator Rev. Vernon Rose and Rachel

I am packing my things to go home as the sun shifts over to the other side of the world in which I will be on my way to tomorrow. I can’t say that I am looking forward to about 24 hours of traveling straight. I can say that I miss my family and friends. But I think after the excitement for a day or two, it will wear off. I will be bored and quite frankly sick of answering the question: “how was South Africa?” How do you sum up four months in your life? I have been trying to come up with an adequate response, but I am not sure I ever will. I am going to miss walking across the commons that I had to do so many times and every time, I complained. I am going to miss the house where I stayed with 11 other people who I now consider my family. And what I am really going to miss most of all is all of the Capetonians that I met here in which I came to a realization that I will most likely never see again in my life. They are also my family now. I will miss the beautiful mountains and the bright blue sea on the sandy beaches of and ice-cold Atlantic Ocean, or a slightly warmer Indian Ocean if I had preferred. I miss the....I think you get the point.

I could go on for days of all the things that I will miss. After learning so much about the history and current situation, I have grown a love-hate relationship for South Africa. I hate that when I go into the townships, there is no running water in the houses and the people are only allotted so much water per day and meanwhile you go into the center of the city and there are huge fountains spraying water day and night. I hate that I have learned South Africa is ranked number one for most unequal country IN THE WORLD. Some days I am frustrated while here, but others I thank everyone for making it possible for me to be here. I have learned more than I wanted and seen more than I expected. So when the sun comes back around tomorrow and I can’t procrastinate anymore, I will pack the rest of my things a get onto a plane in hopes that one day I will also come back around.

No matter how much hate I have for what the current issues are, Cape Town I feel, is now my second home. I went to a practice game at the world cup stadium a few weekends ago. And I was sitting in the crowd with South Africans behind me, to the side of me, and the soccer field in front of me. The whole crowd was decked out in South African flags, t-shirts, and vuvuzelas screaming for South Africa to win. I was also screaming for them to win, and I felt just as comfortable as if I was at Yankee stadium cheering on New York. I looked around and realized I might have been too comfortable. When I go home, and watch the world cup on the television, I will be screaming “BAFANA BAFANA” even though they won’t make it past the first round. Because that is what you do for your hometown no matter how bad they may be. And I’ll smile at the TV and no one will understand how I feel or how I felt in South Africa.

Kayley thankful for the amazing experinece

2010-05-02T01:18:00.001+02:00

There are two days left in Cape Town. There are so many thoughts running through my mind. Will I be able to be the strong, knowledgeable person that I have become at home? How will my friends and family react when they hear about my experience? The most worrisome thought is, will I be able to hold on to these experiences and goals and not assimilate completely back into the privileged American life? It is terrifying and exciting to think of what will come in the future.

All I can say is that I would not be the person I am right now if it weren’t for all the people I have met here. Although currently we are all pretty sick of each other, I have learned so much from each one of my housemates. Every single one of them is uniquely amazing and we will forever have a bond that most people will not understand. Just being in this house alone has been a learning experience. Living in an extroverted dominated house has definitely taught me to speak up more. We have had the most hysterical stories and experiences in this house and out side of it.

Prof Rode has also been an extremely influential person in my experience here. Going to khayelitsha with him each Tuesday has taught me so much more about the major health issues in South Africa. Shadowing Prof in the burn unit has also been influential. He always makes the point to his students that to be a better doctor you have to take interest in other things outside of medicine. He always tells his students that you need to have a real relationship with your patient in order to be the best doctor. Although he can be intimidating and loves to put you on the spot, I have learned so much from him and will greatly miss this internship.

This experience would not be anything without our amazing professors. Vernon took the best care of all us, he made sure everyone was happy at their internship placement and spent so much time organizing this program so we could get the most out of our time here. Marita’s class helped us talk about issues that we are seeing here and in the U.S. We were able to debrief our weeks and enjoy a wonderful home cooked meal while watching a documentary that directly applied to what we were learning. Vincent taught us the tumultuous history of South Africa so we could relate what we see and our internships to what happened in the past. He spoke of the fight against apartheid not as an outsider but as a participant, which made everything so much more powerful. Instead of having a history teacher read from a textbook and just relay information they studied, we had a professor who made history and is still working towards bettering the future of South Africa. Of course Ben our house mother, who talked us through everything, showed us around the city, listened to our ridiculous stories that he has probably heard dozens of times, took us on late night magnum bar runs and so much more. Ben was always there for us when we needed him. I am going to miss all of these people so much.

Most of all I am going to miss the gorgeous view of table mountain every day, the sunny, mostly dry gorgeous weather, the smiles and friendliness of people everywhere, the accents, the languages, the phrases (howzit, is it, shame man, aybo, etc), basically everything. I cannot imagine running at home and not being able to see Table Mountain, Red Cross and the shadow of UCT. I could go on and on about what I will miss here but it won’t do anything. All I can say is that this has been the most amazing experience of my life so far; I am so thankful that I was given the opportunity to come to Cape Town, South Africa.

Leah's thank yous

2010-05-02T01:12:00.001+02:00

There is not much more I can say about myself in South Africa at this point. The past four months have changed me. Now, I must thank those who made this change possible.

First to Vernon. Vernon, thank you for “facilitating” my personal and intellectual change. Your guidance has irreversibly altered me and my future path. You may never comprehend the magnitude of the dramatic difference you have made in my life as a friend, mentor, role model, and teacher…thank you.

Marita. Throughout this semester, I have admired your passionate, independent will to work for social justice. You have been a role model to me on my journey to becoming a strong, confident woman, dedicated to making the world a better place. Through your example, I have learned and changed immensely. Thank you.

Ben. Thank you for always being there to chat. Whether about house issues or capitalism, you have been the best RA. Your dedication to the students continues to amaze me. I felt so much safer in South Africa with your presence.

Mr. Tsoli. Thank you for sharing all of your stories with me. Your first-hand accounts of participating in the struggle amazed me and made the history of South Africa come alive to me. Thank you for your guidance and assistance in the field of teaching.

Ms. Bopi. Thank you for always being a happy, singing, dancing, positive inspiration in my life. I will miss your smile so much. You made my semester in South Africa fun, hilarious, and so completely awesome! Thank you.

Jacqui. Thank you for inspiring me. You showed me that one person really can make a difference in the world. Through your work, you are changing lives and working toward equal education. Thank you for the opportunity to assist you in your efforts.

Vincent. Thank you for teaching me about the history and politics of South Africa. As we have all been saying, you made the material come alive. Your passion for the subject inspires me.

My learners. Thank you for motivating me to continue on my path toward teaching. Whenever I would question my teaching ability or my impact, one of you would always remind me that I was getting through to you. Especially to Abongile, who was the first person to welcome me and my first good friend at Thandokhulu High School.

My colleagues. Thank you for all of the conversation. Whether it was debates about prostitution or de-briefing about internships, you have kept my mind active. I am so happy that I have been able to become friends with all of you. I look forward to going back to UConn with 11 new friends!

I have had a life altering experience here in Cape Town. I cannot thank all of you enough! For the South Africans, please keep in touch. For the Americans, I’ll see you all in a couple months. Cheers

Pamela on the best experience of her life!

2010-05-02T00:48:00.002+02:00

Seems like yesterday the twelve of us got on the plane and landed here in south Africa and now it’s already time to go. My last week in South Africa was definitely interesting… On Sunday Meredith and I got invited to Mzoli’s to celebrate our co-worker’s birthday and also spend time outside of the classroom, it was definitely a fun experience! Mzoli’s is a famous braai place in Cape town situated in Gugulettu which is a township. I had so much fun that day , we arrived there at about noon and it was already full, there were no table left for us to sit so like everyone else who didn’t have a table we sat on the street… I know! It might sound weird but it was really fun. There was a great vibe, the people , the food , the music everything was just great! We spent at least six hours there just sitting , talking and eating. I had a great time with them.

This past week I have been thinking about the time I spent here and how much I got out of it. Being in South Africa has made me learn so much about issues dealing with gender, race and class. I have a totally different view now on these issues.
The best part about learning about these issues is that I got to experience different part of them here for example working at Christel and being able to go visit the children’s home in the township thought me so much about race and class and even gender.

Working at Christel house was definitely an Awesome experience looking back , I don’t believe that I can compare it to anything I have done in the past … Being an intern has been the best experience here for me in South Africa . I cannot thank the kids and the teachers enough for being so welcoming and loving. I will miss the kids so much once I get back home. I learned so much from them, they will have a special place in my heart forever…

This was a great study abroad and I don’t think that I could have ask for better, Nothing will ever be able to top this experience. I know that I am going home a changed person , a better person because of what I have experienced here. I will dearly miss living in South Africa, the people that I have met here, the people I live with and the food! I want to thank Vernon, Marita , Ben , Vincent, my housemates and Christel House for making this the best experience of my life. This is not my last time in Cape Town, I will be back.

Michelle saying good-bye...but hopefully not for long

2010-05-02T00:35:00.005+02:00

This past weekend was out last in Cape Town. It was a daunting thought, and I, even the planner, had been thinking of things that I wanted to do for that last weekend. A bike tour through South Africa’s famous wine country, perhaps? Or a final trip to Kalk Bay for its amazing sea food? Instead, Brittany and Brett found a guest house in Khayelitsha that needed volunteers to help finish building its school and lecture rooms. I decided that I would much rather stay at this guest house, really see Khayelitsha like we, and most white tourists, and even white South Africans never do, and give back to this country that has given me so much these past four months.

As Rachel has said below, unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of work for us to do because it was the weekend, but I still wanted to reflect on how I felt in this place, and also the people that we met.

Because there wasn’t a lot of work to do, Rachel called Sizwe, a friend we met at the Human Rights Conference a few weeks ago. He came to the guest house, and even offered to take us out for the night in Khaylitsha. I was a little wary of going out to a bar or shebeen, but knew that if we did go with Sizwe, he would make sure that we were in a safe place. We didn’t end up going out, but the next day he took us to a drum competition near Site B. It was obviously a community event, and I felt almost like I was intruding coming to this place where parents and grandparents were watching their kids perform. It was also kind of nice, because it reminded me of the various recitals that my parents attended when I was a kid.

It was a powerful experience spending a night in a township, and I had an even more powerful and amazing experience on Sunday. Leah and Sarah had invited some kids from their classes at Thondokulu on a hike up Table Mountain, and I, wanting to hike it one more time, tagged along. I didn’t know any of the kids, and had just assumed that the kids would do their own thing, and talk in Xhosa amongst themselves and Sarah, Leah and I would just hang out. Almost the exact opposite happened. The kids were so funny, and peppered me with questions about the States, how I liked South Africa, and my internship. One of the girls, Sphosethu, seriously doubted her ability to make it up the mountain, and even told me her mother didn’t believe that she could do it. I promised her that we were going to make it to the top together, as we shared stories about our childhoods, and our goals and dreams for the future. She wants to be a Broadway actress, and shared her beautiful voice with us both up and down the mountain. Her smile when we got to the top was brilliant, and it made me so happy to be there when she accomplished something that no one in her support system, even herself, thought she could do. I have a feeling that many of the things that Sphosethu accomplishes are like this.

Spending time with these kids was so much fun, and it almost made me jealous that some of my housemates got to work with them all semester. These feelings were fleeting, as I completed my last day at Gender DynamiX today. I wasn’t expecting to feel so down about leaving, but as I said goodbye to some of the friends I have made, Charl, Caroline, Tebogo, I started to miss them already. GDX got a huge grant to do a medical conference to help doctors become more well-versed in doing successful gender reassignment surgeries in December, and my heart aches with knowing that I won’t be there to help put it together, and watch how GDX grows.

It’s already been hard to try to start saying goodbye to this city, but hopefully it won’t be for too long.

Brett on a scary moment and stark realization

2010-04-29T01:30:00.001+02:00

I am sitting in the pool house. There are several things to be done, including a short paper for Vernon, a poster for our end of the semester dinner, and an excursion to the beach for the final time before I board the plane Sunday morning. Let me take a minute to take a deep breath.

It is a bit chilly now, when you aren’t in the sun, and the steady Cape Town breeze is still present. I woke up late this morning, at 10:00, strolled down to Woolworths, bought some eggs, and returned a dvd from the video store. Last night was enough adventure for a few days, so I am content to soak in the sun today. I bought some decent house music yesterday, and Sizwe gave me some of his, so now I have some good beats to play in my car back home, with words I don’t understand, but a vibe that surpasses language. Cape Town can be a bit rough around the edges. Sometimes that can be exciting, in a daring adventuresome sort of way, but other times I feel like I will be able to let my hair down a little more in the states.

Before coming to South Africa, I knew that I wanted to stay away from two places, the jail and the hospital, and I have been able to do that. Last night confirmed a bit of my hesitation. There was a house party, at our place. Upstairs people were bumping music, being a bit rowdy, but not unfit for the situation, as an end of the semester cross cultural college party. I was chilling in the pool house, Sizwe was giving me some tips on how to play my new djembe, and after a time we decided to go upstairs. As I was walking past the front door of the house I heard a noise, turned, and saw a flashlight. O boy, I thought. The cops are here to tell us to be quiet. I unlatched the front door and walked out the the gate, which they were standing on the outside of. ‘Can I help you?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ the officer, one of four, replied, ‘open the gate.’ ‘ummm… hold on a sec… let me go talk to my friends and…. The music’s too loud, I know, I’ll go tell them to turn it….’ ‘Open the gate’ the man said again. ‘Hold on a sec… I’ll just go in, and tell them to turn it down.’ I turned and started walking back to the house. I took one step, and the cops starting saying something, another step, and the cops started shouting, so I stopped, realizing I wasn’t going in the house before them. I faced them, asked them if we could figure it out right here, and the officers only insisted that I let them in. From there the officers hopped the gate, and started asking me further questions. They ascertained from me that I was American and renting the house, and then they proceeded to walk past me into the house. Three of them walked by me, and as the fourth did, I said, ‘In the states, you can’t go into someone’s house without a warrant.’ ‘This isn’t the states,’ he said, and walked right in.

It gave me the chills, the un-adultered authority they exhibited, the gravity of their power, and lack of respect for my right, first to know why they were there, and secondly how they were allowed to barge into our house.

In this instance, I did know what we were doing wrong, we were disrupting the neighbors, who were trying to sleep. I was willing to turn down the music, and ease the situation. I cannot, and thankfully will not ever have to know what it means to have to face that kind of authority, and authority a tens of times stronger, for something as simple and natural as the color of my skin.

Sarah on books and so much more

2010-04-28T22:23:00.001+02:00

Sarah with some books from book drive at Thandokhulu Secondary School

I’ve barely had time to breathe this past week or so. Between final essays, goodbye braiis, and finishing things up at Thandokhulu, I have literally been going non-stop. Such a frantic rush to fit everything in and make sure I will have some closure in this country has made me realize just how invested I am in everyone and everything I have been a part of here. What I have found most moving is the culmination of Thandokhulu’s first library.

I have known for some time now that a book drive was going on in the states. While I was definitely excited to make some sort of lasting impression at this school, I don’t think it really hit me until recently. To be able to physically touch the books our friends and family have sent over has sparked emotions I never expected. These are not just books that were found thrown in people’s basement—every single one of the almost three hundred books was selected with immeasurable care and consideration from loved ones back home. Every book I pick up, I tape a label on it and wonder who read it first, whose life it touched, and who wanted to pass it on to a faceless child, hoping it would do the same for them. And it’s just because I asked them to.

No one from home knows the students here, they don’t know their interests, their sense of humor, the things they like to do in their free time. They just know this school and the people involved mean so much to us. I can pick up a book and think of a specific student who would love it. I can pick up the next book and know immediately who it came from. I picked up Of Mice and Men and couldn’t help but smile. I knew my Mom had sent that one. I picked up another with an inscription on the inside that read, “Happy Birthday Dad” and I immediately remembered buying that book over three years ago with my friend from home. I know its just one book. And I know if a student reads that one book, their life will still be pretty much the same. But just thinking about how that one book is connected through so many people, how it was chosen by each person, and how much thought and love has been passed along with it is something I never would have considered up until these past few days.

So I know its sort of lame to thank people through a study abroad blog, and I’m not even sure who actually reads this thing. But thank you to anyone who had a part in this. I wish you could be here to see it, but apparently my word is enough. So thank you.

Kayley learning to act on lessons learned

2010-04-28T00:25:00.001+02:00

This past week was spent saying goodbyes and finishing up work for our internships. During all the hustle bustle I found time to sit down and think about the past four months a bit. Through all the conversations, memories, ridiculous stories, hysterical moments, depressing moments, and truthful moments, I have become someone else. Someone who can watch the news and say there is more to this story then we are told, someone who becomes extremely angry when reading Cosmo, watching most TV shows, or listening to the lyrics in most songs played on the radio and someone who asks questions.

I decided to apply for this program because South Africa was a place that I never thought I would go and I wanted an experience unlike any other. Boy did I get that! I had this egocentric idea in my mind that I would be this great helping/giving back source for people here when really I learned so much more from the people here and in my house than I ever imagined. Coming here literally flipped my world upside down and I love it. Although at times it was scary and sad, what I feel and know is stuck with me forever.

One thing that I am having trouble grasping is that throughout these four months we see the poverty that apartheid had created, we see HIV/Aids, Tuberculoses, Measles, etc, we hear stories of hate crimes towards different races and genders and we learn about what the terrible white supremacist government did to this country. Yet everyday we come home to a huge beautiful house with a pool, extra bedrooms, a gate around the property and a housekeeper once a week. Some of us are used to this kind of life, but most of us haven’t seen the other side. It is not fair that we can just step out of the hard poverty life and back into our own wealthy comfortable bubble when so many people have to live in shacks without electricity or running water. Nothing makes us better then them!

I have met kids that are working much harder then I did in high school and won’t get, as far as I will because they don’t have the resources I have. It is unjust, unfair and wrong! This is the knowledge and feelings that I will never be able to leave behind, they are ingrained.

So now here comes the toughest part of the journey, returning home and really being the person I have become. Not standing for sexist or racist or any unjust comments, and asking more questions about things I don’t understand and don’t agree with. Some say the journey ends here, but I say that the second half is going home and acting on everything we have seen and learned.

Erica braces herself for the new journey she is about to begin

2010-04-27T12:37:00.001+02:00

As this is my final blog entry, my thoughts may be a bit scattered, so bare with me. One week from today I will be back in the United States. In the past week I have hiked Lion’s Head again (this time in the day light!), I went to the top of Table Mountain, and I went skydiving. I thought that maybe seeing Cape Town from an aerial view (while at the same time doing something exhilarating!) would be the perfect way to say goodbye to this place I call home. I felt like maybe, by keeping busy, and my soaking up all the precious moments I have left in South Africa, that I could have some closure and feel good about going home. But I’ve begun to realize that these last few days will not, and should not, be about closure. I’ve begun to realize that this really isn’t the end. This is the beginning of a whole new journey, possibly an even more difficult journey. While talking to Kayley last week, we agreed upon something that shook us up quite a bit. At one point, we had thought that the hardest part would be leaving the United States. At another point, we had thought that the hardest part would be living in South Africa. And now, at the end, we have realized that the hardest part is neither of those things—the hardest part is returning home. The hardest part is remembering all that we’ve learned here and not letting ourselves forget, even for a second, how this place has affected our hearts and minds. The hardest part is returning back to the United States and seeing it with an entirely new perspective, trying to adjust. The hardest part is adapting our new selves to our old environment. The reality is that returning home is going to be the hardest part of the journey thus far…harder than any other obstacle we’ve overcome. And so, we brace ourselves…

I thought that in these last few weeks I would attempt to detach myself from my students at Thandokhulu and the babies at Themba Care. However, in fact, quite the opposite occurred. I feel as though I have become even more attached as I try to come to terms with the fact that I will not be seeing these people every day. Last week I gave a number of my students the bracelets that I made for them so that they could wear them and remember me. One of my students said to me this week, “Miss, you are the only person I know in America. So when I grow up and graduate university and make a lot of money, can I come stay with you in the United States?” The students are so eager to learn, to grow, to travel—they have truly inspired me in ways that they may never even know. They have given new meaning to the word dedication.

I’ve been spending a great deal of time thinking about Imange (one of the babies I work with at Themba Care) and how much he’s improved…and how I wish I could continue to follow his progress and see him grow even stronger. This past Friday Imange was strong enough to hold his own bottle. He was even playing with blocks and now Imange smiles more than ever. In a few days, I will have to say goodbye to Imange. He’s too little to know how much he’s changed my life, but it’s truly amazing that a tiny little infant has changed me in ways unimaginable.

Last week, the books arrived at Thandokhulu! The students and teachers were so excited to see all of their new books. Sarah, Leah, and I have spent the past few days labeling and alphabetizing the books so that Thandokhulu can finally have a real library. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, Thandokhulu, a school of 1,056 students, only had 30 books in their library. After this week, they will have over 300 books. On behalf of Thandokhulu Senior Secondary School, Leah, Sarah, and I would like to thank everyone who contributed to this book drive. Your contribution will significantly change the lives of the students at Thandokhulu. Again, thank you so much for all of your donations. This couldn’t have happened without all of you.

Tonight we will host our going away braii (the South African word for barbeque). All of our teachers and friends will be coming to 10 Loch in just a few hours to wrap up the year—good food and good people. Throughout the week we’re going to be really busy with “last” things—I keep thinking to myself, “When will my last mini-bus taxi ride be?” “When will I have my last Magnum ice-cream bar?” “When will the last time be that I have to lock (or unlock) the broken gate with my broken key?” Even now as I write this, I realize that this will be my last blog. I can’t even imagine saying to myself, “This is the last time you will see Table Mountain…”

I’m going home and I’m leaving home…

And, as I write that sentence, I feel as though I am back on top of Bloukrans Bridge, about to bungee jump. I’m so scared, but I am so strong, and so ready, to face whatever comes next. This country has forever changed me. I am a stronger, more confident woman for having come here.

I know I will never look at my own country, or the world for that matter, the same way that I did before I came here. Though I don’t think there will ever come a time where I’m not nostalgic for this place, I know that his has been an incredible, life-changing experience and I know that part of the journey is returning back home. I know that I’m not ready to leave, but maybe that just means I’m more ready than ever. Its just time… it just is. I will return back to the United States with a new vigor for life and a new kind of understanding of humanity, and that’s all that I could have ever asked for and more.

Rachel on time spent in Khayelitsha

2010-04-27T12:18:00.003+02:00

I just came home from Makazi’s guest house in Khayeltisha. It is a project that was started in the community that included a guesthouse, a creche, a soup kitchen, and a lecture hall. It wasn’t finished being built. As we traveled there, I was guessing what this would be like. I had no idea. I was so excited to be staying in a township. I was excited to see the real South African way. I was on my way to be an authentic South African after living here for over 3 months. We squeezed our hired mini bus taxi through two informal houses. I didn’t think we were going to fit. I was excited. I was nervous. We stopped in front of the house. This is it? I was surrounded by shacks. I looked up and saw a colourfully painted house, two stories. It was beautiful. The ground was sand. There was a water spigot down the street. The six of us hopped out of the van, eager to do some volunteer work for the community. We were welcomed inside. The first thing that I noticed was a saying on the wall written up the stairs. It said: “sisonke singenza umahluko” together we can make a difference. I was inspired. We were told by the builder that since it was the weekend, none of the builders were coming in and we couldn’t do volunteer work this weekend. We were all disappointed. Now what are we going to do?

The woman who ruins the house is what we call in South Africa “a big mama.” She is a big black woman who carries with her an unspoken protection. She was there for us in whatever we needed. Her name was Hazel. She gave us a tour. She brought us all tea and coffee garnished with a delectable muffin.

We all ate our muffins and sipped on our coffee looking at each other with the same look: so what are we going to do now? We couldn’t just go walk around, it was late on a Friday afternoon and was unsafe; plus we would have needed a black Xhosa speaking South African to come with us. There were kids playing outside. Ages ranging from about five to twelve. We decided to join them. One of us brought a soccer ball. We gave it to them. The kids multiplied. Many of them couldn’t speak English. At this point there were kids running all over the place. I couldn’t keep track. I was a keeper as the kids tried to get the ball passed me. Brett and Brittany were playing keep away with another group of kids and a smaller ball. Leah was teaching kids to draw in the sand. They were all jumping on top of her. Michelle was holding onto kid’s hands and spinning them around in the air. “Do again.” She’s going to have trouble to find the words to say no soon. Sarah was upstairs on the deck letting kids play with her camera. For some reason South African kids love cameras. They never see them. I decided to go upstairs, it was getting cold and my broken foot was starting to ache from getting hit with soccer balls. I joined Sarah on the deck. A girl pointed to my shoulders. I picked her up and she sat on my shoulders, just as I did with my dad when I was her age. She laughed. I walked around the porch like that. She started talking loudly, immediately I knew she wanted to come down. I placed her gently on the ground. She laughed and ran away. It was getting dark. The people who were still downstairs were told they had to come inside or upstairs. It was a strange feeling. I compare it to playing tag as a child. The house was the base. If you are touching the house, then you are safe. If you come away from the house, you are unsafe. It was unreal. It wasn’t the experience I wanted. Let me put it another way, Kruger take for example, specifically a game ride. We are in someone else’s territory to see what it is like. But we are on a car and safe away from the animals. We are all staring at them because we want to see what their life is like. But we are untouchable. They are untouchable. After a while of playing with the kids, it was time for dinner.

I called my friend Sizwe, he is from another township called Nyanga. He said he would come and hang out with us. He would stay at his cousins house in Khayelitsha. Dinner was silent. The food was unbearably good. We went back onto the deck to listen to the sounds outside. I brought a bottle of wine and dominoes. We were playing dominoes when Sizwe finally arrived. He brought his cousin with him. They were each given a tour. Hazel liked them. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. They spoke Xhosa to each other. He came and played dominoes with us. A few people went to bed. He asked us if we wanted to go out in Khayelitsha. We all looked at each other. Of course we wanted to, but was is safe? Sizwe walked away for a minute. I leaned forward and whisptered: “how cool would it be if we saw what it was like to go out in a Township?” everyone agreed. We decided to find out how safe it was. A few people said no way. They went to bed. Sizwe came back and we told him we would go if it was safe. He insured us that it was. We locked the door and got into his cousin’s car. “Where are we going?”

“A shebeen.” I had read about Shebeens in a book. Shebeens have a lot of history. It used to be illegal. It was a place in the townships where people would gather and buy alcohol that was made there for very cheap price. There would be music and such. They started because the blacks used to not be allowed into bars and clubs. In many instances I heard they are very interesting but dangerous. Again I was so excited. I was nervous. We drove by. It was closed. I was disappointed. Sizwe and his cousin argued in Xhosa. He finally apologized and explained it would be too dangerous to take us to any other one. He took us back to the house. We sat outside on the deck again. It was cold. We were all shivering but didn’t want the night to end. Someone mentioned how Tuesday we don’t have work. It is freedom day. Sizwe’s cousin announced that there shouldn’t be a freedom day. He said that he doesn’t feel free. Me and my white friends sat silently as I listen to these two black South African’s the same age as me discuss why they don’t feel free. I was heart broken.

Soon after, I was lying in bed. I could hear music blasting, the wind blowing furiously, and people walking by discussing. I listened for a long time. I listened for a very long time. I feel asleep.

The next morning we woke up, ate another absolutely amazing meal made by Hazel. Sizwe came back over to take us to a South African competition of dancing and singing. We took a minibus there. He told me in the minibus that he was pulled over by the cops last night. That he wasn’t doing anything wrong. The cops made him give them money. He had no money to get home. I couldn’t believe it. We went to the play. We came back to the guesthouse ate lunch and left Khayelitsha to come home. I sit here in my house with running water, 9 bedrooms, a pool, and two kitchens. I was upset, but more informed.

Adam on lessons learned

2010-04-24T22:41:00.005+02:00

Adam

Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday that I was stepping off of that brutal eighteen-hour flight with Marita, Ben, and Vernon there to greet us all.

Ben, Marita, and Vernon

Time really does fly by. I’m going to miss so much about this place. I’m going to miss our house and living with the people in it. I’m going to miss Table Mountain and the University of Cape Town that sits in its shadow.

University of Cape Town

I’ll miss my internship and the friends I have made there as well as riding the mini-bus taxis. Most of all I am going to miss Cape Town and the laid back lifestyles that all Capetonians seem to possess.

Mini-bus taxis

Reflecting back on my trip I begin to see how much I have grown. What I notice most now is my increased sense of independence. Balancing an internship, classes, and recreational activities I have had to become more independent out of necessity. I have learned about issues dealing with race and gender, becoming a more informed person in the process. Working at the Black Sash National Office I have been able to develop a more professional attitude in the workplace. I have learned the history of South Africa and the issues that are facing it today.

So what is the next step? I go home back to America and what will life be like? I don’t really know until I actually get home. Will I notice more racial issues than I did before? Probably. I will try my best to be an ally and work for social justice as much as I can. At this point working for “social justice” isn’t really for my resume or for personal satisfaction. Ever since I have been working and living here I have felt compelled to do the right thing simply because it is that, right. I couldn’t have asked for more out of my study abroad experience in Cape Town. I have grown in ways I never thought I would. One day I hope to return but until then Cape Town will always keep a place in my heart.

Meredith on yet another lesson from Christel House

2010-04-24T22:06:00.007+02:00

This past Friday I had one of the most eye-opening experience of my life. For the past four months, I’ve had a chance to work with five and six year olds in grade R at Christel House School. Throughout my time at Christel House, my relationship with the children has slowly developed. The first few weeks at Christel House I had a chance to meet the kids, learn their names, figure out how to deal with the language barrier, and to find out what makes them tick. As the internship quickly changed from another notch in the belt of my resume to the best reason in the world for waking up at 7 am, I absolutely fell in love with these amazing little people. My relationship with the kids has grown to be far more personal then I ever would have imagined it could be. When I get home every Wednesday from yet another incredible week of the kids, I genuinely miss them. A lot. During those four days without them, I constantly find myself thinking about funny things that they do that make my heart melt. Then it’s Monday again and it’s time for Christel House! Yessss. Knowing that I only have one more day working with the kids is the hardest thing I have to swallow about leaving South Africa. I’m trying not to think about it too much because I’ve already cried in a few different places making situations awkward to say the least.

For the past month, I feel like the relationship I have with these kids has butterflied into something so beautiful. The only problem is, it was in the school environment. When I became involved with Christel House South Africa I knew that everything involving the school was geared towards there vision of, “transforming lives by providing impoverished children with education, nutrition, health care and a nurturing environment, and by empowering their families and communities through outreach services.” I obviously knew that the families that these children came from were considered below the poverty line, but for some reason I could not process the actual state that these families were living in. I mean, I have been to the townships and seen the unpleasant conditions where a great deal of families in South Africa do reside but was that truly the state that these beautiful children were living in?

Then on Friday I had the most amazing opportunity to have all of my questions answered. The social work at Christel House offered to take me into the townships and into the homes of the children I have been working with for the past three and a half months. I was so excited because this was the connection that I had been longing for. As we headed off to the first home, I was picturing the little girl in my head and couldn’t help but smile. She is definitely one of the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen. She is the cuddliest child in grade R by far with two tiny braids in her hair and her thumb always in her mouth. As the car came to a stop and I looked at her home, it felt like someone punched my heart. What I saw before me was a shack, no bigger than maybe fifteen by maybe twenty feet made completely out of old scraps of tin and wood, the roof no higher than my head, and incredibly dirty looking. I felt numb, how could I possibly enter the home of this child whom I knew personally. I took a deep breath, held back the tears, and entered the house. I honestly don’t think I could have even moved if the mother wasn’t so warm and welcoming to us. I looked around the township house. The floor was made out of black garbage bags, the ceiling was insulated with clear garbage bags, a few old pots and pans were around, a bed that looked beaten with so much use, maybe running water, maybe electricity. Whoa. It was a lot to soak in. The mother brought us seats and we listened to her talk about her life. Abusive ex-husband who still hangs around breaking windows, five children living in this single shack sharing one bed, the government trying to kick them out of there home and move them to an even worse off part of South Africa with gang violence and absolutely no electricity or running water. Whoa. Still soaking it in. One of the daughters was home that day. When we asked her why she wasn’t in school, she explained that she couldn’t afford transportation to school that day which is thirteen Rand. Thirteen Rand. Whoa. For those in America reading this, that is $1.75. That’s it. After the visit was over, we went to two more houses and experienced similar situations in different areas. I felt overwhelming sadness about what I saw that day. For the first time in my life I actually understand how completely privileged I truly am. What have I done to deserve what I have? It made me incredibly sad knowing how well off I am and how much other people have to struggle for $1.75. I’m pretty sure a coffee at Starbuck’s is more expensive.

Though my mind was swirling with all of these hard thoughts, I yet again realized that the lining is truly silver. Walking into these homes was a hard thing to take in, but after talking to the family members, the love and warmth in the households shines through proving how much more powerful love is than material possessions. The positive lens that the families look through life with is absolutely indescribable. One mother who lived in a one-room home with her family of five described how she is so incredibly grateful for everything she has. She explained how there are people in the world that have much less than she has. Some cannot even afford to feed their children anything at all so she has absolutely nothing to complain about. She lives for her family and for her family alone. There is nothing else in the world that matters. I cannot seem to get this woman’s words out of my head. She loves so selflessly and is so thankful for everything she has without any complaints. When meanwhile I am sitting with the comfort of a blanket and green tea in a spacious room listening to the cold rainy wind press against the window. Just as I’ve done every night since this experience, I stare out into the abyss of the night and think about the most amazing kids in the World living outside in this. I cannot shake this feeling. I don’t want to shake this feeling. I need to help this.

Brittany on being radically changed by Cape Town

2010-04-23T12:56:00.003+02:00

I am infuriated by the harsh contrast between severely impoverished areas to extreme wealth in South Africa. The racial inequalities have caused the poverty. No inequality is more apparent then gaps in the education system. Only 8% of schools in South Africa have libraries. I have seen the difference in school resource distribution. I believe that education is the key to breaking the cycle of poverty. For this reason, I wanted to volunteer my time at a local high school.

The students at Thandokhulu High School face serious barriers and obstacles that prevent them from graduating. They have told me stories about violence, drug abuse, gangs, and sometimes the fear of walking around in their own communities. Thandokhulu needs a counseling, mental health, or therapy program but it is too expensive. Students have a difficult time focusing on school work when they are trying to manage psychological and emotional trauma. I am not qualified to run a counseling center but I am qualified to teach an after school art program, so that’s what I did. Art is a powerful tool for expressing emotions, crossing cultural boundaries, having fun, and building confidence. It provides a creative outlet, a safe space, and potential source of income if students chose to sell their work.

The Art Program provided a new experience for some students who had never worked with materials like oil pastels or clay. The classroom rules were simple; everyone respects the supplies and each other. Putting down your artwork or someone else’s wasn’t allowed either. I am not an art expert. My role was to bring supplies, answer questions or make suggestions. In the classroom it is the students that proved to be the experts each time they produced more amazing work.

I want to take a moment and thank everyone who donated money and time to the art program. You rock! My family and friends in Connecticut organized an amazing fundraiser called “Feel the Rhythm” where participants celebrated international solidarity and social justice through music. A special thanks to Rick Liegl of DrumEventsUnlimited.com for teaching everyone how to play the djembe. Also, I want to say thanks to my mom, Joanne Britton and the other Zumba dance instructors who passionately teach others to love themselves and be healthy.

Connecticut "Feel the Rhythm" funder for art supplies at Thandokhulu Secondary School

I have truly appreciated every moment at Thandokhulu. Organizing classes forced me to acknowledge how my academic career has been full of more unearned privileges. I had endless resources in music and art classes growing up. My native language matched the same language taught in class. I was never discriminated against because of my identity. I have learned more from the students then they have learned from me. I have cherished each conversation with the students at Thandokhulu. I will remember every shared smile and connection. When I return home I will think about each memory as I work towards a world free from inequalities and discrimination. I came to South Africa to make a difference but it was Cape Town that radically changed me.

Brett on stepping out of the bubble and becoming grounded

2010-04-22T16:59:00.000+02:00

Brett at Cape Point

Before I came on this trip, my head was filled with many ideas of criticisms of modern American society, but I never knew if I was just struggling with unhappiness and depression, or if my complaints were grounded in reality. Not being an outwardly expressive person, my trouble with modern American society mainly kept me more quiet and subdued than open and willing to talk. I didn’t know if my feelings of uncomfortable depersonalization in shopping malls, and loneliness when regarding the specialization of future careers were merely teenage musings or grounded claims. Growing up, a good deal of my troubles were caused by the biological effects of depression, but coming here has allowed me to Return to list of postssee that the other factors in my society both helped to contribute and exacerbate these problems.

Coming here has allowed me to step outside the bubble that was my suburban youth, to step outside of the bubble which is my family, to step outside the bubble which is America, and to get a glimpse of the real parameters which hold life between existing and not existing. Maybe it was on the game walk in Kruger national park when I realized I wasn’t the top of the food chain, looking down and realizing I was walking on other living things recycled before me, or in the shark cage looking at a shark and realizing it was watching me. As it passed, without music from jaws or the discovery channel, I could almost recognize a common nature in his eyes, a curiosity. On the other end of the spectrum, there is not much like the feeling when you walk down the street and someone calls out, ‘hey white boy’, whitey, come over here. The feeling is somewhat like alienation, of differentiation, which makes me feel like I don’t belong . In these situations I feel the sense of powers at work, larger than my own. It is humbling to be tossed down by a wave in the ocean, and spun around like a doll in a washing machine, and it is also humbling, in a sense that one can let down all of their ego when walking through a township. These forces, like seasons of the weather, which maybe we don’t notice in the states because we’ve grown accustomed to or deny the chill of capitalist depersonalization, when they flow around me and through me here, I try not to shut myself off. In the townships, that is not any more difficult than encouraging someone to take a coat off in the summer; the warmth of humanity is contagious, and the urge to dance while walking is not but a small step, which is aided by the house music bumping from one minibus or shibeen. The ease with which people, perfect strangers, drop their present tasks and enjoy an afternoon with you is that which no American I have met has been able to appreciate the freedom of.

This trip has been good in that it has given me first a new perspective, another perspective to compare the world to the one I grew up in. Secondly, it has given me hope. This trip has been very helpful in affirming and reaffirming ideas or questions that I had been toying with for a long time in the States. How will it affect my career goals and life choices? Well, for one, I will be a great deal more conscious of race and gender. Especially as someone who is interested in media and entertainment, even with my small show on UCTV, I can be much more conscious of my decisions. I think the media is one of the leading proponents of the continuation of racism, if not the largest, and to change the tide of that would do much to curb institutionalized racism.

Another thing that I have gained from this trip is that I don’t have to accept the problems of the world as, ‘well that’s just the way it is.’ I think I have learned this mostly from my fellow housemates who have strong views on a myriad of issues. I don’t merely have to personally disagree and go on with my life. All of these issues can be changed and I have the power to change them within the context of my influence. A lot of things are coming together for me now as I am emerging from a confusing sea which was the mixed messages of youth. I am beginning to feel a bit grounded in my life, and will soon be able to carve a niche out for myself and stand for what I believe in.

Leah questions ethnocentric thinking

2010-04-21T23:57:00.001+02:00

In my second week in Thandokhulu, I saw students being punished. They were kneeling in the hallway and a teacher was pacing with a red stick. I began noticing that all of the teachers had the same red sticks. The teachers were not beating the students; they were just giving a little tap here, a pinch there. Even when I went to book club at Sophumelela, in Phillipi, the teachers had the same sticks. At first, I was taken aback. I was upset because this was not the form of punishment that I considered humane or acceptable. However, my time in South Africa has taught me that such a judgment was ethnocentric, imperialistic, and close minded.

Imagine this: You are a teacher. The US government suddenly passes a bill that mandates teachers to only use corporal punishment. It is now against the law to punish students verbally or with detentions. Teachers are given no training or resources with which to apply these new methods. Would you hit your students?

I know that I would not. I do not think that hitting my students would help them learn. They were brought up in a society that does not, by and large, use corporal punishment. Even within households, it is more and more uncommon for parents to corporally punish their children. Because my students would not have grown up with this kind of discipline, they would not respond positively to it.

Now, remove your ethnocentrism. Pretend for a minute that the American culture is not always the right culture, the advanced culture. Now reexamine the scenario in the South African context. Growing up, South Africans, parents and teachers alike, use corporal punishment to discipline children and students. Now, the “New” South African government decides to outlaw corporal punishment in the 1996 constitution. The teachers were provided with no training in alternative forms of discipline and were given no resources with which they may apply such disciplinary tactics. How could they be expected to follow such a regulation? And if they did, would the students respond? They have not been taught to fear a detention or verbal warning.

If the South African government wants its school systems to change their disciplinary tactics, it must begin by changing the culture from which the students and teachers come. This is largely impossible – and not really even my point.

My point is simply that imposing ideas of what is “right” and “wrong” on other cultures is imperialistic. Judging another community based on foreign standards is ridiculous. Even though it is so easy for everyone to criticize the American government for its ludicrous exportation of “democracy,” it is difficult for those same critics to see their own hypocrisy in trying to export values.

Michelle's gonna miss many things about CPT

2010-04-21T23:46:00.002+02:00

I know that I started my last blog with a count down of how many days we had left, and I still find it shocking that there are only 10 more full days in Cape Town. At this point I’m not even really sure what to write. I have had an incredible, challenging time here, and I’m not really sure how I am going to express everything to my friends and family back home. Even while I am here the constant question that I hear is, “How is Africa?” How do I tell them that the way that I see the world has completely shifted in a concise answer that they so obviously want to hear? I don’t really have an answer to that question. What I can give are a number of stories, experiences, pictures, and new exciting ways to look at the world.

I know that my friends, family and boyfriend are very excited to have me home, but there are going to be a lot of things, a lot of little things, and some big that I will really miss. I’ll really miss the mini-bus taxis. I never expected to love them so much. They are perfect, in their own way, for the city. They evolved to fit the city, and the needs of its people. They snake throughout the city and the surrounding suburbs and townships. They don’t have set times or a schedule. You very well may be the 20^th passenger in a 16 passenger van. You may not end up exactly where you want to go. But they’re fantastic. There’s so much spirit, and the gachee (not sure on the spelling) is my favorite part. He’s a little man (and sometimes woman) who calls out the window advertising where the mini-bus is going. The best part is when they get out and try to convince you to go to, say, Wynberg. I am not going to Wynberg. I will not ever be going to Wynburg. But that man sure will really try and convince me that that’s where I want to go.

I’m going to miss our little house rivalry between the two main grocery stores, Checkers and Pick’n’Pay. Pick’n’Pay is the only way to go, by the way. I’ll miss the fantastic Indian food, Mr. Delivery, and being able to buy wine not only in the grocery store, but for the equivalent of $3. I’ll miss rusks (kind of like biscotti) and roioibos tea. Copious amounts of nutella and my beloved kinder eggs. I can’t even get started on how much I’ll miss milk tart. I’ve already looked up recipes so that I can make it at home.

I’ll miss seeing the mountain from a million different angles during the day. I’ll miss the great view of Devil’s Peak, sweeping into the Table, down into Lion’s Head and Signal Hill. I’ll miss the Twelve Apostles overlooking Camp’s Bay beach. Also, at Adam’s request I will also write that I will really miss the two adorable dogs that live in our neighbor’s house.

I’m really going to miss Susan and Ciska, Tebogo, Charl, Liesl, and Tatenda, and painfully so, I will miss Vernon. Numerous times in the house, we have talked about naming our children Vernon after the man who introduced us to his beautiful but challenging country wth the utmost patience. I will miss living in this house, with these 11 other people, who I will be bonded with for life. I haven’t really thought about it that much, but hopefully our very unique relationships with each other will hold true when we get home.

Although I will miss many things about this country, and the people in it, there are a few things about the States that I am excited to have again. Like a good hairdryer, Niko’s barbeque chicken pizza, Chinese food, filter coffee (everyone drinks instant coffee here). As I write this, everyone has started making plans for their first meals back in the States. I have realized that a lot of things that I love, and things that remind me of places are food. It’s a little funny, but it makes sense. Food brings people together, and its certainly bonded us in the house, as many of us truly learned to cook for the first time.

It really has been a great time; even the not-so-great-times have been great in figuring out where I really want to be in life. Now, the only thing I can hope is that I can come back and bring family and friends and really show them the South Africa that I love.

And I want to see their reaction when I jam them on a crowded mini-bus while I smile all the way around Cape Town.

Sarah learns what she can and cannot do in another culture

2010-04-21T23:42:00.004+02:00

Sarah at Cape Town FIFA World Cup Stadium

After almost four months of being in South Africa, It’s safe to say that a lot of things have become much easier for me. I know my away around the city, I have gotten used to public transportation, I can understand the thick accents of Cape Town natives, even using the rand has become second nature. One thing, however, that has not gotten easier is teaching in another culture.

Even without taking the language barrier into account, the cultural barrier between me and the students I teach has, if anything, become more discouraging as I have progressed throughout my stay here. As I have grown used to this country and its culture, the shock has subsided and I have been able to develop a more critical eye. I have, thus, become more critical of how feasible teaching is outside your own culture.

There are certainly countless benefits of teaching in another country: It’s beneficial for both the teacher and the student to be exposed to different cultures, so as to view their own with a more critical eye. There is also immeasurable gain from exposing yourself to new and worldly concepts, thereby bettering your own ideas. The list could go on, quite monotonously, but to keep things brief I’ll just say this: I do say the benefits of teaching in a different culture, at least short term. The barriers involved in such, however, often convince me that teaching in another culture provides a good deal of conflicts.

Today during lunch a learner got sick (or “fell ill” as they call it here). Her friend told me, and I immediately told Ms. Bopi. Something as straightforward as dealing with a student with a stomach ache was simply too complex for me to handle in a foreign country. I thought about what I would have done if I “fell ill” back when I was in high school. The teacher would write me a pass, send me to the nurse, where she might take my temperature or have me lay down on some sort of bed. From there she would call my mom. If she was home, she’d drive to the school and bring me home. If she was at work, she would leave work and bring me home. She’d probably make me some tea or soup, and I’d lie down on the couch and order a movie to watch.

These thoughts, nonetheless, were useless in this situation. Thandokhulu has no school nurse. There are certainly no thermometers or beds and I would be surprised to be able to even get a hold of a Band-Aid. The sick girl in question was most likely from Khayelitsha, which is about an hour long train or bus ride away. Both her parents, if she lived with them, most definitely worked, and there was no way they would be able to leave and travel all the way to Thandokhulu even if they did have a car. Which they almost certainly didn’t.

The girl sat at her desk with her head on her hands, her eyes glazed and puffy, as Ms. Bopi made her away across the crowded classroom to her side. I watched her joke in Xhosa with her and a group of her surrounding friends, forcing a feeble smile from the girl and a round of laughter from her friends. She quickly gave some directions, apparently asking her friend to pick up her backpack and follow the girl out of the classroom. I’m not sure what I felt, but I think it bordered on jealousy. I was jealous that I didn’t know what to do with the girl, that I couldn’t speak to her like Ms. Bopi did. There was just no way to relate, and I was frustrated.

I have learned there are some things I can do here, and there are some things I simply can’t. I can run a book drive and provide the students with reading and leaning materials they may have never gotten, I can be enthusiastic to learn about them, thereby boosting their own self-esteem. I can think they are funny, and smart, and amazing in every way, and they can think the same thing about me. But there are just some things I will never be able to do. I will never be able to relate to them like their parents, their teachers, and their friends. I will always be an American. The best I can do is come to terms with this, and from there do what I can with my own capabilities.

Brett on sauntering, soccer, sandwiches, and other things

2010-04-21T00:09:00.001+02:00

Today, as many before, was an interesting day.

Last night, before I went to bed I was reading a book, about various things, when the author began ruminating on the word saunter. Sauntering, a word for walking, but in a particular way of wandering or meandering is originated from the two roots sans and terr, sans meaning without and terr meaning home or dwelling, so to saunter is to walk as if you have no fixed dwelling to which you are heading, or that the whole world is your home which you are meandering about in. To saunter is different than to swagger, as those who swagger generally are aware of the persons in their vicinity, although sometimes, as in the case of the baboon crossing the road at Cape Point, which I now visualize as my definition of swagger, it can be the case that one’s swagger and their saunter are the same. While I was walking down Loch road to Klipfontein this morning, in order to catch a minibus to UWC I was entertaining such ideas, and working on my own sauntering, which takes a surprising amount of self restraint. It is difficult to walk towards a destination with not only that particular destination in mind, forfeiting the opportunity for a little lateral curiosity.

When walking as much as I have found myself on this trip, one begins to sense the tune of their emotional composition through the manner in which they find themselves walking on a particular occasion, and many times a conscious reappraisal of my motivation ensues.

The minibus ride was not quite comfortable this morning, although better than a few times that I can remember in which my head was cocked down and my knees pushed into the back of the seat in front of me. My height is not minibus friendly, and I find myself slouching and squished on most occasions. At least one would not have to worry about freezing on a minibus, for there is surely always enough body heat circulating. The man who I was squished next to today was fiddling in his pockets, and he pulled out a ring which he showed to the woman next to him, to see if she wanted to buy it. She wasn’t interested. Then he turned to me, and showed me the necklace on his neck, motioning to ask if I was interested. ‘No thank you’ I said, and turned back towards the window.

I played soccer today, with Angelo and his friends from UWC. They are a rowdy bunch, to say the least, with energy like kids on a playground. Half the time they are fighting and the other half joking around, and these two sports are stewed together to make for a soccer match that is at least entertaining for our fans. Having an appreciation for ‘the beautiful game’ is less about tactical ability and more about unfiltered and unabashed passion. The rivalry between the two teams, which comes from a long history of Sunday matches, with lines divided at red v blue t-shirts, brings the glory of victory and the sadness of defeat to a very personal level. The winners have no qualms about telling their opponents just how defeated they are. Today was a difficult day for the red team. After losing our second consecutive match, our leading striker signed over to the blue team after the match. These two loses do come after 12 consecutive wins for the red team, I may add, although I was not in attendance for those.

A Russian Gatsby may rank in the top three most disgustingly unhealthy but sort of addictingly delicious if you can get past the thought of your food foods. It is a massive, maybe two pound sub, about 15 inches long, 4 inches wide and 4 inches tall stuffed with spicy greasy French fries and russian hotdogs. It is then topped with perinaise dressing (peri-peri mayonaise) Try everything once right. Well, for this one, yes, only once, and I don’t feel good about myself after eating it. Brittany and I attempted to go to Golden Dish, the premier Gatsby shop in the local area, and we took a minibus out to gateville to get there. It was closed, such a shame. I didn’t want to go back empty handed, so we walked into a smaller, less popular sandwich shop down the street, Fast and Furious Foods.

Katherine glad she chose Cape Town for her study abroad experience

2010-04-20T14:55:00.000+02:00

Katherine looking back on her Cape Town experience.

“I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in God because if God existed, Khayelitsha wouldn’t look like this.”

One of the employees at the Treatment Action Campaign, where I did my activist project, said this to me when we were discussing the current problems in South Africa. I was surprised to hear this statement, even though I have frequently wondered how much hope everyone in the townships really has. Being a realistic person, it is hard for me to grasp and understand why many of the people within Khayelitsha who I have interacted with are such optimistic and hopeful people when they have so little. I still don’t know how people have been forgiving and strong enough to “start over” since the 1990’s. While it is true that not everyone has turned over a new leaf, as I have heard many racial comments made, many people have accepted South Africa’s past. It amazes me that such a recent and devastating past is able to be dealt with so quickly.

Yet, with this forgiveness of the past, comes a need for reflection. People must learn from the past and not allow it to happen again. While apartheid is in the past, many strands of this diseased government still exist. The most obvious is the economical inequalities that are still very present. A few minutes after you leave the Cape Town International Airport you see the townships of Khayelitsha and Gugulethu as you drive toward the city. Although these housing areas were set up several decades ago, they still very much exist in an “apartheid free” state. I cannot completely relate to these people who live in shacks where unemployment rates are at 70%. I have never felt financially unstable or gone without meals. These people deserve so much more, their constitution even states that they do, but the government still has not be able to provide for them.

Many of my housemates and I have had trouble coming to terms with our role in South Africa. We are wealthy Americans coming into a developing country for a few months and then jetting home again. We live in a big house in Rondebosch when there are shanties right down the road. We came in with the idea of helping change people’s lives, yet our lives were the ones that changed the most. While we did help and contribute to our internships, activist projects and in other places, I think we got much more back then we gave. I have learned so much while I’ve been here and have internalized a lot that I’m sure I will not even realize I’ve learned/how I’ve changed until I return to the United States. The notion of race and racism has been covered up and not spoken or taught about in the United States as the way I have experienced race here. Race is openly talked about and acknowledged in South Africa.

Although there have been depressing, conflicting, and hard to grasp ideas that I have been faced with in South Africa, I have thoroughly enjoyed the past fourteen weeks in Cape Town. When we leave on May 2, I will miss the minibus rides into downtown. I will miss the Cape Town slang which includes words like “howzit?” “is it?” and “robots.” I will miss being able to see Table Mountain as I walk across the commons (the large meadow near our house). I will miss zipping down the N2 highway and being able to have the most amazing view of the Cape Town bay area, especially all lit up at night. I will miss the eclectic mix of people. While there are many things I am leaving behind here, I am extremely excited to return home after almost four months away, especially to see my dog, Sheba! I am extremely glad I chose to study abroad in a place that is not as westernized as a large portion of Europe and North America. I have been able to experience things that I could not have anticipated and am very grateful for it.

Pamela on being back at Christel House School

2010-04-20T02:33:00.003+02:00

Pamela with Grade R Learners at Christel House

I’ve been back to Christel House for a week now after my two weeks vacations. I was and am still very excited to be back with the kids. The first day I got there they were so excited, as soon as I walked through the door everyone shouted to greet me and some even got up to give me a hug. I was really emotional to see their reaction once they saw me. I am very touched that the kids have grown to appreciate my presence. I am very grateful that I have been able to work with the children and the teachers at Christel house, each and everyone of them has made these three months a wonderful experience for me and I cannot describe how happy I am that I have been placed there.

At recess I was sitting in front of the classroom watching the kids play and a few came over to me, Melvena one of the little girls I work with came and sat on me and said Miss Pamela, I love you … It was the sweetest thing ever. I feel like everyday that goes by I grow closer to the children and its becoming more of a one on one relationship, I have learned so much about them and grown to like each and everyone of them.

As for the teachers here at Christel House it is always a pleasure for me to go into the classroom everyday. They are very welcoming and really make me feel comfortable. Miss Angela and Miss Phelo are really great teachers to the children, they really care about them and love them. Going back to the U.S I will miss the two of them dearly, because they also have this an amazing experience for me at Christel House by being welcome and very friendly. I still have a few days left to spend at Christel, so I am making the best out of it . I am spending as much time as I can with the children of the grade R because my time now is so limited. It really makes me sad to not know when I will be able to see them again, but now I am just enjoying my time left there. I’ll think about the rest later!

Sarah on experiencing the country in various ways

2010-04-20T02:29:00.004+02:00

Of all the assignments I had in South Africa, I learned most from the “activist project” obligation, or, in other ways, simply experiencing the country in various ways. While I found it impossible to pick out one social issue and work on it, I do not regret it. I was all over the place, but I learned so much from such a wide range of experiences.

I had the privilege of spending some time at the Rape Crisis Center. This was an excellent opportunity to work in a way I had not throughout most of this trip: I was given a set concrete task to complete independently. The organization had a thick notebook filled with closed rape cases, all occurring in only a year’s time. My job was to read through a write up on each case and fill out reports on them so as to create accurate data for research. The stories were often times straight out of a lifetime movie and, sadly, I don’t think I read a single case where the rapist was actually convicted (the cases were from 2007, so I guess there is a chance they have been convicted since). I specifically remember one unusually thick case report of a man gang raped by the gang known as the Americans. As I flipped through the pages, the therapist recorded improvements up until the anti-climatic last page. Only a few sentences long, the report read something along the lines of, “*** has not showed up for any sessions. He has been kicked out of his shelter for using tic and no one knows his whereabouts. I hope he is still alive.” As the report was obviously written from the therapist’s perspective, it was devastating to see his hopes shattered, as his client clearly lost his battle to the right path. I would say I spent around 14 hours at this organization (throughout my 2 week break from Thandokhulu).

The next organization I worked at was Themba Care. I actually spent my first day there today and had an absolutely amazing experience. I remember thinking last night before I went to bed that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, since I had such high expectations for the experience I would have there. I was, however, please to find that it exceeded my expectations in every way. Themba Care is an organization that cares for children born HIV positive. Since I worked there in the morning hours when all the older children were at school, there were about eight babies and toddlers there for me to care for. They all were sitting on a gymnastics-like mat when I arrived, and I just had to take off my shoes and sit down and play with them. They were so unbelievably loving, and I became immediately attached as they played with my hair and giggled, crying only when I redirected my attention to another child. I fell in love with a 2 year old boy named Luyolo, who played peek-a-boo with me for a good hour, constantly speaking in a language of his own. I gave him his bottle, fed him some sort of oatmeal-like lunch, and held him as the doctors inspected him. He was so cooperative and sweet for the doctors, smiling and holding my hand throughout, but remaining perfectly still and obedient. He even lifted up his shirt for one of the doctors so he could check his pulse with a stethoscope. After, I put him in his crib for naptime, promising myself I would return again. I was only there for about 3 hours today, but I plan on going back two more times before I leave.

I spent the most time participating in Book Club. This occurred every Tuesday at Thandokhulu and every Wednesday in a township school. I was able to work with students more one-on-one, which I found even more gratifying than teaching. The students were so receptive to what I would have thought was a lame idea if it was introduced to me during my high school years. Their interest was actually overwhelming at times, as often times we would have over 100 students showing up with simply not enough books for them all. We organized a book drive at home, and will set up a library at Thandokhulu once they arrive. One of the most rewarding aspects was when Jackie (a lady from UCT who helped run the book club) said she got a call from the Mowbray library asking her what was going on, since they had a flood of students from Thandokhulu coming in and checking out books. It truly made me feel like I was inspiring people and actually making a difference. I was so happy to see my enthusiasm was actually rubbing off. Every time I go, I am equally as amazed at how eager the students are to learn, in both Philipi and Thandokhulu. The conditions of poverty are certainly terrible, but the attitudes of the children succumbed to such are able to not just provide ray of hope, but light up an entire room. I am pretty sure I have gone to four book clubs at Thandokhulu and four in Khayelitsha (each about 2 hours), and I plan on going to two more each at both schools.

Rachel on learning valuable lessons

2010-04-20T02:25:00.001+02:00

For my activist project, I decided to assist Brittany in starting and running an art club at Thandokhulu Secondary School. This included buying art supplies, making announcements, teaching kids, helping kids express themselves, cleaning up classrooms, and making a video of what we are doing for fund raising. I wanted to do this as a project because I really wanted to work with kids coming from the townships. I wanted to give them an opportunity to express themselves, I wanted to give them time out of their homes (many of the children seem to lead stressful lives outside of school), allow them to have fun and relax, and just making them smile makes their lives a little bit better. In the States, I have had art classes since I was in elementary school. Here in South Africa, they do not offer art classes. This isn’t an issue in the United States, this is why I thought it would be perfect to help this cause. I am not an art expert, I wouldn’t even call myself an artist, but I took something that I took for granted as a child and gave it to someone who actually wants it.

I learned several things. One thing I learned is that just because I come from a more privileged area and schooling, I cannot just come into another country and be able to change it. I can’t come close to changing people lives, or fixing things that need to be fixed. I cannot single handedly change social issues anywhere in the world no matter how much money, schooling, or power I have. I know this may sound ridiculous but this came as a big shock to me. In the states I hear about these kids and these problems that they are having and think that with my magical American powers change their lives forever. That is not how it works. This is a completely different culture, a culture I still after three and a half months know little about. I am upset with myself for thinking that. I felt selfish and ashamed. Matters of fact, most of these children have more life experience than I will ever have. I guess this directly relates to what we are learning about in class, specifically the article “What White People Fear.” How white people just think that they are better than everyone else, I am a racist, I am white therefore assumed I know more I am better and therefore fix other people’s issues and problems that I know absolutely nothing about. Now that I know this about myself, I can fix it. I am happy for that, I do not want to ever think that way again.

The second thing I learned is how passionate these kids actually are. Kids are kids no matter where you live in the world. They just live differently than kids in other places in the world. They have different songs that they sing, different games that they play, different issues that they must deal with. I am pretty sure though, they are more passionate about the things that they talk about and the things they do than I still am today. They are excited to learn new things.

I loved talking to the kids. Everyday, they came in excited asking new questions about me as well as the USA. They wanted to know if I personally knew Jay-Z. One of the children (a goof-off) asked me if I knew anyone who designs cars. “I know someone who owns a muscle car shop,” I told him. He was so excited. He handed me his notebook full of car drawings. Better drawings than I have ever seen. He asked me if I could show him these and tell me what he thinks. I think I was more excited than he was for him to ask me that. Of course I did! It was amazing. My friend showed me his website and told me to show the kid. It was so rewarding. I made this child so happy, the one kid I thought that didn’t care about anything. The one that I thought, I could never connect with or make a change.

I would love for this art programme to continue after I leave Cape Town, but it would be difficult since Brittany and I are the ones running it and we will no longer be here. There is a person that we met who is an artist here in Cape Town, he ran a class for us when we were in Johannesburg. If somehow we can set something up for him to do this, than I would love to continue raising money in the States and sending it to him to continue this amazing programme. I will do the best I can to keep this running. If I do not succeed, another way to help is just by spreading my stories back in the States to people who are unaware of the issues of South Africa.

Michelle on learning about the maternal health plights of South African women

2010-04-20T02:21:00.002+02:00

For my activist project, I chose to shadow two independent practice midwives, Susan and Ciska. They work every day to help women have healthy, normal births and work against a system that has overmedicalized birth to the point of endangering women’s lives. I knew that I wanted to complete an activist project in the field of women’s health, as it has always been a special interest to me. I found Ciska and Susan through the Well Mother and Baby Clinic in Rondebosch. The sister (nurse) there gave me Ciska’s number, and soon after I began shadowing Susan and Ciska during their weekly consultations. I shadow them on Tuesdays, from 8:30 a.m. until early afternoon. I met with them for roughly 11 weeks, giving me a total of about 77 hours, plus a hospital birth and an additional home visit. In total my hours add up to about 80+.

My main duties were small, like filling out paperwork, organising blood work, taking blood pressure, and doing urine dips. In actuality, I probably gained more out of the experience than I gave back to Susan and Ciska. Not only did I learn invaluable information about the challenges of women’s health and maternity care in South Africa, but I also found my personal calling and have decided to follow the demanding life-path of midwife.

In talking with Susan and Ciska about their lives, their jobs, and the births they attend, I was offered a glimpse into the life of a full-time on-call midwife. Susan and Ciska practice together, and see clients every Tuesday and Thursday. On Mondays and Wednesdays they conduct home visits for future home births. They do this so that they know how to find the house when they are called, and also to make sure that the home is equipped with everything they will need. Sue and Ciska rotate being on call on a weekly basis. This means that for any given week, one person will be on call and the other will conduct appointments in the office. This is done in order to give each client a chance to meet with both Susan and Ciska a few times before their birth.

I felt that it was important for me to learn about how Sue and Ciska’s practice functions, and what purpose it serves in the greater scope of women’s health care. As a future women’s health care provider, I feel like it is imperative to be able to explain the midwife’s role and how she functions in relation to the rest of the medical community. When I accompanied Ciska at a hospital birth, I was able to see first-hand how midwives are treated within the medical arena. Even though Ciska is an incredibly experienced advanced practice nurse, the other sisters in the ward treated her like she was a witch-doctor of sorts. They refused to help her, show her where things were, or provide support for her in the hospital. Not only was this incredibly mean-spirited, but should she actually have needed medical assistance, it was down-right dangerous.

Ciska also explained to me that the OB/GYNs are very threatened by the midwives. The OBs have horrible statistics as far as c-section and episiotomy rates go (almost 90% c-section rate in private hospitals) and the midwives have lower rates of both, and better outcomes. This means that the OBs themselves see the midwives as a threat, and attempt to work against them instead of with them. This creates a system of competition and back-stabbing instead of cooperation and learning from each others’ strengths. Seeing this dynamic really gave me an insight into the kinds of battles midwives wage every day that they practice.

Even though I feel like I have learned more through this process than I have actually given back, I think that in the long run I will be able to contribute to society and women’s health as a whole because of what I have learned with Susan and Ciska. I have determined that my path lies down the difficult road of women’s health provider. I have also learned valuable information that I have shared, and will continue to disseminate to friends and family about the importance of natural birth and the empowerment natural birth can provide to women.

Meredith on the value of community service

2010-04-20T02:16:00.005+02:00

The concept of working on an activist project was a very smart and well-balanced idea. When I first started the program, I was getting stressed out about the fact that we are already working at an internship and now we have even more community service to do. I felt like it was a lot of helping we were going to be doing. As I near the end of the trip though, I realized that our internships were not so much all of us helping out but all of us being helped. I’ve never learned so much in my life from the values and children of Christel House. I now understand the fact that the internships weren’t for American’s coming in and changing lives, it was really for our internships to change our lives. With that said, the Activist project was our way to express thank you to the community and all that they have done for us. It was our chance to really help by putting extra time outside of class to help a cause. Instead of just sticking to one activist project for all twenty-four hours, I decided that I would rather do a variety of different things to explore different aspects of South Africa that are involving aspects of my internship and things completely outside of my internship.

The first activist project that I helped out with was at the University of Cape Town where I worked at the Center for Students with Disabilities. The idea of the Disability Service Computer Lab is so that UCT students who are blind, partially sighted or have another kind of disability can go to feel comfortable and safe. This safe haven is also a great place for people who are blind or partially sighted to do school work, especially involving typing on a computer. In this computer lab, they have special computers for people who need them for all varieties of schoolwork. As a volunteer, I would help by scanning hard copy study materials into the computers. Then, when books were completely copied into the computer, volunteers need to read the scanned books on the computer and check to make sure the spelling matches the hard copy books. The point of the scanning into computers and checking is so that when the automated computer reads the story to the student with disabilities, there isn’t any confusion. I worked there for about eight hours and I really enjoyed it. It was definitely tedious volunteer work, but in the end it felt very rewarding knowing that you are helping out. As an American, I felt that I needed to come over here and help “save the world” so to speak. This activist project was perfect for that reason because I feel like it definitely humbled my way of thinking. Every little bit helps. I’m sure that the students with disabilities were definitely appreciative for the effort I put in, as tedious as it truly was, it felt really great to help. I think activist project went hand in hand to what we have been learning about this semester. The idea of segregation comes strongly into play for what I’ve learned working at the center. Segregation still unfortunately is on the surface of this country and most of the time I only think of color and race segregation, but it really is so much more including disabilities. The center is such a great way for people with or without disabilities to come together and grow together. This problem of segregation is also a huge issue in America and I’m truly realizing this a lot more than I ever did before. After working at the center I definitely want to help out as much as I possibly can at Uconn when I go back.

The second activist project that I participated in was working at T.E.A.R.S animal shelter. T.E.A.R.S is a pro life, non-profit animal rescue organization whose core aim is to rescue, re-habilitate, re-unite and re-home lost, abandoned, abused and neglected dogs and cats. I worked about seven hours at this animal shelter and I’m really happy I did. I had a chance to walk the animals, feed them and play with them. It is such an amazing organization. The fact that they find animals in the townships and house them, give them food, and most of all give them love is phenomenal. For me, this activist project was the perfect opportunity to take a break from the 24/7 issues we have been dealing with since arriving here January 15^th. I can just play with animals, which gives me completely different volunteer work than I’ve been doing working socially with people. One thing that I really took from working at the animal shelter was the fact that there are so many stray animals in South Africa based on the poor conditions of the townships. It makes me wonder what the ratio of animal shelter to stray animals is. When I go back to America I would love to explore that more and help out in anyway I possibly can.

My final activist was getting a chance to work with the social worker at Christel House on Fridays by going into the townships with her. This has been the most eye opening experience so far during this entire trip. The social worker told us that we had a chance to pick any of the children in our classes that we would like and she would take us to there houses. So Pamela and I picked our children and we drove to their houses. It was the most intense feeling of my life. It really connected the pieces for me and I have never understood the hardships of poverty more. Going inside the shacks on the side of the road and talking to the parents really squeezed my heart in a way that I have never felt before. The fact that those who I love live on the side of the road made me cry. I am still overcoming the shock I experienced yesterday. Never in my life have I felt more privileged then at this moment. The social worker is giving me another chance to go back into the townships to see more of my kids’ houses. The hours we will spend doing this is about ten. I’m still processing how I could possibly help this problem. Giving money unfortunately will never help the problem. The biggest thing I could do to help the problem is to start at the root, which is raising awareness. I know after yesterday I will not stop talking about this problem for the rest of my life. I will make sure I let everyone in America know about these problems here because I know people don’t actually realize the hardships.

Brett's journey to finding an activist project

2010-04-19T23:47:00.000+02:00

The journey of settling on an activist project was far more difficult and time consuming than the activist project on which I settled. I would have to say that my current activist project is a bit of a compromise, due to my naivety of the time restraints of the trip and the speed with which emails and communication with people occurred. Any program that is to sustain itself takes a very long time to implement, and while I had high expectations in the beginning of the trip, along with a multitude of ideas, time passed so fast, faster than I kept up with. None the less, there are still three weeks left that I look to take advantage of, and I hope that my project can sustain for a while after I leave.

My activist project is a series of small changes that I am implementing at my internship. My internship, understaffed, and over occupied with clients, tends to be a depersonalized place for the clients. In fact, many of the long-term employees, having to deal with the stress of seeing so many people every day, and juggling far more than they should , tend to treat the clients a bit like problems, which either can be fixed, avoided, or pushed off for the time being. The center could use a bigger office and a bigger staff, but even without such large changes, there are small changes that can help.

At the end of the day, our center gives out money. In different forms, from food stamps to rent to business supplies, but at the core of it, we are a welfare center. Because of this, there exists a sort of dynamic where people come to us with the interest of getting this money. This leads to further depersonalization. For a population as fragile as refugees, the last thing they need from a center established to assist them is depersonalization.

And so I hope with my activist project to find several small ways to counteract this. The first thing that I am implementing is that I am purchasing a large number of journals, writing journals, and pens. I am going to give new refugees the journals to record their stories, and reflect on their troubles and hardships. I expect that the refugees will surprised at this request. I think that the interest in their personal struggles will seem foreign to them, and will be a bit empowering. I emailed the book lounge to see if we could possibly schedule an evening where some of the refugees could read their stories. I will see if that plays out. Another alternative is that I could have them meet on Monday afternoons at the center to chat and read their stories. The only problem with doing this every week is that transport money will prove to be a drawback.

Another aspect of my activist project is related to refugee health. Refugees are given food stamps, vouchers that they can use at Shoprite to buy food with, but there is no foresight into what kind of food they buy. So, I wrote up a list of healthy affordable foods with little descriptions of the benefits of the food products, information about carbohydrates proteins and fats, healthy and unhealthy. I hope to be able to have this distributed to the refugees with the food stamps for a long time after I am gone. The list includes things like potatoes, rice, eggs, vegetables, milk, sardines, canned beans and others. It then tells refugees to avoid things like sweets and white bread and heavily processed food. It is possible to eat healthy on a meager paycheck, although certainly not as easy to buy things like olive oil and nuts and fish. I think that a list of healthy foods like this shows an interest in their health, that hopefully some of them will take advantage of.

My failed activist projects include a garden in Blikkiesdorp, ‘tin town’, an informal settlement in Delft that houses a large population of Somalian refugees. I set up an appointment with the Cape Town department of social department in Bellville, and met with them about a month ago to discuss my idea to set up a community garden. They seemed receptive to it, and gave me the information of several people to call and contact. The project would have taken several months to complete, at least, as I would have to get approval from higher levels of government to start a program in an informal settlement, which is supposed to be less permanent than a township. The project was contingent on me staying the winter in Cape Town. Because I am no longer staying until august, I had to let that activist project loose. I had also planned a meeting with Soil For Life to work with them, but then called it off when I learned I couldn’t go through with it. My next activist project initiative was to help the Mamela music project to make a new documentary for their initiative. I emailed them on two separate occasions and waited for a response which I never got. I wasted at least two weeks emailing and waiting for them. In the meantime, I put in extra hours at the refugee center, going in on several Fridays to meet clients and do extra work. So, I hope that my initiatives at the refugee center will sustain for at least a little while. Also, I am working with another of the interns at the refugee center to put together an intern handbook, which we would have liked to get at the beginning of our time to explain what we were doing and how to do it. We are going to put it together so that future interns have a good base of where to start, can continue our improvements, and build on it themselves.

Pamela working with children beyond the classroom

2010-04-19T21:27:00.000+02:00

For my activist project I worked I did two activities one was working with children infected with HIV/AIDS at Themba Care on Fridays and the second one was visiting where the students I work with on a daily basis live.

Working at Themba Care was definitely an enjoyable and emotional experience at the same time. I got to work with children infected by HIV/AIDS whose parents couldn’t take care of them either because of economical or social problems. I have been working with kids for a while now and never I have worked with kids stigmatized by society because of something they cannot help, something that they haven’t chose to be born with. Working with these children at first I was a bit nervous because I didn’t know what to expect, but once I got there I was so happy to hold them , play with them and feed them. They are just like any other babies, they cry, the laugh, they play and they just want to be loved the only difference is that they have to live with this disease that is stigmatized by society. Volunteering at Themba Care was a great experience for me because now I can say that I’ve been around someone with HIV/AIDS and there is absolutely nothing different between their behavior and a normal children’s behavior.

My other activist project was going into the townships to visit some of the children I worked with homes. This was such an amazing experience because if felt like I could put a background to these children that I love so much. First, I visited an informal settlement where one of my “favorite” children lives in, it was a 2 room with only one bed for four people. It was really heartbreaking because I have grown in the past three months to love that little girl so much so meeting her parents, seeing where she came from and hearing her family’s story was very touching and I felt like this visit was done at a good time of the trip because I have got to know this little girl in the past months. If I had made these visit in the weeks I had been here I feel like it wouldn’t have affected me so much because at this point I didn’t have such a one on one relationship with them, I feel like its more personal at this point, I am not that stranger from the United States that is coming here to visit, I feel like they know me and so do I. The other house that I visited was in Hanover Park which was not an informal settlement, but they had just moved in. The parents were very friendly and told us how she got her house now. She was a very grateful women and one thing she said was “ I am very grateful for what the Lord has given me, I am not going to complain because I know there are people that are way worse off than I am” that sentence really struck me because I feel like she has been through so much, even though she’s living in a small house she is very grateful for what she has.

I feel like I have learned so much from my activist project because it has given such a different view on people who are infected with HIV/AIDS, spending time with these children made it so much more meaningful to me because I really love being around children I love them so much. This experience has given me a totally different perspective on this whole virus and how people are stigmatized in society.

Going into the townships visiting the children I work with house’s I can say was the cherry on top of the cake, because it was a real eye opener on how children can cover up what they go through in a daily basis. They are always happy when they are in school, but I feel like they are very different home because they are in a different environment. I really enjoyed doing both my activists projects.

Leah finding ways to tackle the work to be done

2010-04-19T18:42:00.002+02:00

There is work to be done. Everywhere. In every country, every community, every household. So many different issues face South Africa right now that it was extremely difficult to pick one to tackle. With that said, I participated in two activist projects.

Book Club

My first and foremost activist project was my involvement in the Book Club at Thandokhulu and at Sophumelela high schools. Thandokhulu is an underprivileged school with students primarily from Khayelitsha and surrounding townships. Sophumelela is a township school located in Phillipi. Because both schools are so under-resourced, the students have a much harder time learning and passing matric. The book club at each school seeks to expand learners’ knowledge of English through reading books. Book club gave learners an extra chance to improve their English and develop lifelong skills. I assisted in coordinating and facilitating activities for the book club at both schools.

The book club at Thandokhulu met every Tuesday for four Tuesdays and I worked for two hours each day (8 hours). The book club at Sophumelela met every Wednesday and I worked for two hours each day (another 8 hours; 16 hours total). I assume that I will continue working with both clubs until May.

Simply meeting the students at these book clubs blew me away. We had about 100 learners come to our first meeting at Thandokhulu. I could not believe that this many high school students were interested in something called “Book Club.” Through my interaction with the learners, I was only more and more impressed. They have a drive to learn English and do well in school that is unprecedented in my experience. Thinking back on my own high school years, I could not help but feel guilty for how much I took for granted.

Education is a vital part of development, though not the sole key to success. This was an extremely important realization that I have come to. It is not just education that must be reformed in order to develop a society. This topic was discussed at length in all of our classes this semester. Though I cannot address every issue myself, I have found that education is my niche. I can help to change the world through education, I cannot totally change it myself.

One devastating aspect about the education system in South Africa is that it is divided along racial lines. The black schools do not get the same resources that the white schools do. White children are able to each have a computer at school, they are able to go home to a supportive family and quiet household to study, and they are able to feed themselves everyday and be energized for school. For many black students, such a situation is only a dream, a wish. This divide exists in the United States as well. The formal, overt racial separation has been eliminated in both societies, but is still very alive and well.

Through the book club, I was able to work with the issue of educational development. This is the field that I hope to remain in for my entire life. I want to be a teacher as well as work on education reform within American schools.

Rape Crisis Center

In my two weeks off from Thandokhulu, I volunteered at the Rape Crisis Center. The Center provides free services to any survivor of rape or sexual assault regardless of gender, economic situation, or any other factor. South Africa has the highest rate of reported rapes in the world. The country is in crisis when it comes to such violations. Parents must worry about their students walking to school for fear that they will be raped or assaulted.

At the Rape Crisis Center, I read the reports that counselors have issued about their clients. I then captured the data from such reports into the computer (three days, five hours each day, 15 hours total). Reading the different cases was shocking and eye opening. I have taken so much of my personal safety for granted. Many of these clients had such awful family lives and so many of them have family members who have also been raped. Many times I found that a daughter would come in for counseling and then her mother would follow because she had been raped as well earlier in life.

I had never worked with any organization that dealt with sexual violence before. Because most of these incidents affect women, I could connect much of my work to our discussions about sexism and violence against women. I have never taken a women’s studies class or formally studied violence against women. Consequently, this semester was very educational and eye opening for me. The Rape Crisis Center only aided in my understanding of the different ways in which women face trauma and the tangible, horrible results of seemingly petty sexist thoughts and feelings.

I have experienced such sexism throughout my entire life without taking a lens to even the smallest of comments. The United States has the same issue of violence against women and sexism that South Africa has. Women constantly face discrimination and violence in their everyday life simply because of their gender.

I do hope to work more with this issue in the future because it is so vital and pressing in society today. Like we learned in class, sexism is only getting worse in America. It is important to reverse that cycle before it is too late. I think that empowering women through education is a form of fighting this social issue. However, I do hope that I will have an opportunity in the future to work specifically with rape survivors. I think that these women (and men sometimes) are in such crucial positions. After a rape, things will only get worse or better. I hope that I will be able to assist in recovery.

Kayley's work at Talfesig Clinic

2010-04-19T18:29:00.002+02:00

Living in South Africa while learning about all of the issues it faces can be very frustrating. Our assignment was to pick an area different then our internship, to gain experience in a whole other area. First, I decided that just one activist project wouldn’t be enough and secondly I really wanted to get a different view of the medical field in South Africa. So my activist projects consist of Talfesig Clinic, hopefully Temba Care and Tears Animal Rescue.

I chose to volunteer at Talfesig Clinic because I wanted a different perspective of the medical field in South Africa. A different perspective is exactly what I got. When I work at the Red Cross Hospital my work consists of mainly; research, and shadowing Prof either in the burn unit or at the Khayelitsha Maternity Clinic. My time at Talfesig consisted of going out into Mitchell’s Plain and speaking to the community about HIV/ Aids and drug addictions. We set up a tent on an old run down basketball court for free HIV testing. A couple other nurses and I walked around trying to get people to come to the tent as well as speak to them about drug and alcohol addictions. It was really interesting to see how people reacted to Aids. HIV and Aids is so taboo that people are very uncomfortable even talking about it, so getting people to come and get tested is not easy. Tuberculosis is just as deadly as HIV but it is not as large of a problem, I think because people talk about it openly. It is not as taboo to say that you have tuberculosis; usually people will still accept you. However, if you were to tell people that you are HIV (+), you would be shunned from the community. Both diseases have medication that will help and prevent death; both diseases will stay in your system forever, yet many more people die of Aids.

While volunteering at Talfesig, I realized how interested I was in HIV and Aids. It is such a frustrating virus and an even more upsetting disease. If it wasn’t so taboo and people just talked about it more openly, there would be without a doubt fewer deaths. The problem is talking about and preventing HIV, would question the lifestyle in many of the communities. Many men in the communities sleep with whomever they chose, sometimes consensual and sometimes not. These men feel they do not need to take responsibility for anything, whether it is a pregnancy, spreading HIV, rape or all three. There are so many single unemployed mothers in the communities. Sometimes because the dad didn’t want children, maybe he found a younger girlfriend, or maybe he did infect a family and does not want to be associated with them. Either way it was mostly women coming to the tent to get tested for HIV in Mitchell’s Plain and mostly women in the Khayelitsha Maternity hospital bringing in themselves and their infected children for medicine.

Since HIV/ Aids is of great frustration and interest to me I wanted to also volunteer at Temba Care. I still have yet to go due busy schedules and inclement weather, but I am planning on going either this weekend or next. Temba care is an orphanage for HIV (+) children. These children were usually dropped off at the orphanage because of the issues stated above. Since it is so taboo to have HIV, many families do not want to keep their HIV (+) children because it is proof that they are in fact infected with HIV as well. So many of the children have been dropped off by their families either for fear of what their community will do or say to them, or because they really can not afford to give the child the proper care and nutrition. I hope that I will be able to get to Temba Care in the next few weeks to further my frustration and understanding of HIV/ Aids.

Lastly, I have volunteered at TEARS (The Emma Animal Rescue Society), which is an animal rescue shelter. Their goal is to rescue, reunite and re-home abused, abandoned, or neglected dogs and cats. (www.tears.org.za) After all of the very heavy HIV/Aids activist project volunteering and shadowing the burn unit internship, I really just need to pet a puppy and debrief. TEARs, is the place. They rescue starving/ injured dogs, and cats from the surrounding communities. They offer the animals medical attention and love, and then get them ready for adoption to a loving home. There are so many stray dogs in the communities it is so great that TEARs is there to help as many as they can.

Those are my activist project activities that I have done and hope to continue to do up until the end of our stay here. I think that these activist projects are a great way to learn about other issues that interest us that are different then ones we may be studying. It also a great way for us to go out and talk to other people and make connections.

Katherine's volunteer work at Treatment Action Campaign

2010-04-19T18:19:00.002+02:00

The Treatment Action Campaign caught my eye when we visited this organization in Khayelitsha during orientation in January. While I have constantly heard that HIV/AIDS is a huge problem in Africa, and particularly in South Africa, I wanted to learn more. I chose to focus my activist project at the Treatment Action Campaign because I wanted to be able to bring back information to my friends at home who jokingly have told me, “Don’t get AIDS while you’re in South Africa!” Since the epidemic of HIV/AIDS in America is over and a much smaller percentage of the population suffer from it, I have little experience or knowledge of the problems facing the prevention of it in a country that is still struggling with such a powerful infection.

TAC wants to see an equal and integrated health care system that grants HIV prevention and treatment to everyone. TAC wants all HIV-positive people to be able to live a healthy life by having the opportunity to receive full treatment services and prevention methods. Through TAC’s many branch offices, the organization seeks to raise awareness about the issues surrounding HIV and other health issues, including tuberculosis.

I spent several Fridays volunteering at TAC. I did not have a specific project in mind when I stepped into their office. My main goal was to help TAC in the best way I possibly could. At first I was disheartened because my first trip to the TAC office in Khayelitsha was rather hectic and unorganized. People were buzzing by and I was having trouble understanding what the man who was helping me type a report was saying to me. Fortunately after a few hours of being there I began to relax a little bit and understand the layout of TAC.

When I got home, I talked to Ben about my concerns for my activist project. He raised a point that I would not have thought of immediately on my own. Ben told me that it is not always going out and trying to save people that is going to be my role in South Africa, but instead the little things that seem to be not very helpful to me are tremendously helpful to others. Most of the people who work at the TAC office are from Khayelitsha and did not grow up with a computer in their house and did not acquire strong computer skills in school. Fredaline, my supervisor, was happy to have me in order to help type of reports, meeting minutes, create calendars, edit newsletters, and assist other TAC employees with computer skills. At first I thought that this was not much help, but after a few weeks of volunteering at TAC I was able to see that it did help. While it may have taken a TAC worker over an hour to type up last month’s report, I was able to do it in fifteen minutes. I learned through some of the reports about the issues of youth and sex education. Schools in South Africa, like the United States, are not comfortable giving condoms out because the schools do not want to be seen as promoting sex. It is imperative that schools begin distributing condoms because young adults are engaging in sexual activities and with such high rates of HIV/AIDS in poorer communities, condoms will help to slow the spread of it. TAC is also working to mobilize the youth in order to get other young adults to listen. Adolescents are more likely to listen to their peers than to adults. TAC recognizes this and is holding youth workshops in order to educate teenagers about sex, HIV/AIDS, TB, and more.

I felt most helpful one day when I was assigned to edit TAC’s quarterly newsletter. Although it was rewarding to help on such a project, it also worried me. Since English is not most TAC member’s first language, the grammar in the English newsletter was very poor. It took me a long time to go through all the articles and reword sentences in order to create grammatically correct sections. Who would have done this if I was not there? Who would have had to spend hours editing the newsletter instead of doing their own important task for TAC? In addition, I learned a lot from the newsletter. I found out about antiretrovirals and how they are administered to an HIV-positive patient if their CD4 count drops below 350. I also read in one section of the newsletter that tuberculosis is commonly connected to HIV/AIDS because if a person has HIV then their immune system is much more susceptible to other diseases.

It boggles my mind that TAC is working to tackle so many issues. It was unfortunate that the last time I was at TAC all their computers had been stolen. Luckily they were recovered at the police station though. Even so, it is tragic to see that an organization that is working so hard to better a poverty and disease-stricken community falls prey to a setback like this.

I was able to relate my experience at TAC to our class work through the connection between HIV/AIDS and violence against women. It is not uncommon for a woman to contract HIV after being raped. At least two women are raped everyday in Khayelitsha. Every twenty-six seconds a woman is raped in South Africa. Women face other problems as well. Many husbands refuse to allow their wives to get tested for STIs and will beat them if the women do. The shame that is placed on the individual and family members of a woman infected with HIV is very embarrassing. A husband does not want his wife to get tested in case she is positive because it will bring disgrace to them and most likely mean that the husband is HIV-positive, too. This relates to our class in several ways. One major issue is the dependence a woman has on a man in the poorer areas because she is still not allowed to do certain things. Also, the domestic abuse these women receive has been touched on during our discussions.

Finally, I hope to continue to be affiliated with the fight against HIV/AIDS when I return home. I have recently applied to three internships that are focused on HIV/AIDS for the summer. I have not heard back from any of the organizations quite yet: AIDS Action; Metro TeenAIDS; and the Friends of the Global Fight Against AIDS, TB, and Malaria. I think it is important to recognize that HIV/AIDS is still a problem in the United States, even if it is on a much smaller scale than in South Africa. Another way I will continue to link myself to TAC is by wearing my shirt that says “HIV POSITIVE.” While most of my housemates bought the t-shirt, some of them have reservations about wearing the shirt when they return home. I think it is a great way to show support for the HIV/AIDS community by wearing the t-shirt at home. HIV/AIDS is still stigmatized at home and I am interested to see how people react to the t-shirt when I wear it. I look forward to people questioning why I am wearing the shirt so that I can tell them there are many reasons. The most important to me being that it does not matter if I am HIV-positive or not because those who have HIV are not any different from those who don’t and should not be shunned. I support those who are battling the infection and will wear the shirt to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS.

Erica's work at Themba Care

2010-04-19T18:15:00.002+02:00

For the past three months, I have volunteered every Friday at ThembaCare in BridgeTown. Themba Care is a home for children who are living with HIV/AIDS. Themba Care provides these children with 24-hour medical attention, ARV drugs, and the love and care they need to remain happy, healthy, and positive. Many of the parents who turn to Themba Care are either too sick with HIV to continue to care for their children or are too afraid of their families finding out about their illness or their child’s illness to give their children the proper medical care. Many of the parents are also living in poverty and cannot provide the medical care the child needs. The goal of Themba Care is to temporarily care for a child while simultaneously helping the parents learn how to care for their child’s needs. Therefore, while the short-term goal is to care for the child, the long-term goal is to have the child return to the biological parents when the parents are ready.

My tasks at Themba Care were generally simple—hold the child, play with the child, laugh with the child, and give the child all the love and support that I could possibly give. I would usually volunteer at Themba Care in the morning, so the majority of my time was spent working with infants and babies. While I tried not to get attached, seeing the same child every week makes it very difficult not to get attached. I will never forget my first day working at Themba Care. A baby named Imange had recently been dropped off at Themba Care and he was severely malnourished, with advanced TB (a common side effect of HIV). I remember he was screaming and crying in pain, and so I held him for 4 hours, keeping him close to my chest with the hopes that my heart beat might soothe him. I could feel all the little bones in his body as I rocked him back and forth and tried to provide him with some sort of comfort. When I asked someone how old he was, they told me he was almost 3 years old, even though Imange was the size of a 3-month-old baby. That same day, Imange began vomiting blood and had to be taken to the hospital. For three weeks I returned to Themba Care and Imange was nowhere in sight. I would ask about him weekly, and they told me he was still recovering. Finally, 4 weeks after the first time I met Imange, he was able to return to Themba Care. I’ll never forget what it felt like to see Imange again—his weight had increased drastically and he looked so much healthier than he had before. He even smiles and laughs now!

Before I began working at Themba Care, I had never met anyone with HIV/AIDS. I remember learning about statistics and hearing numbers—X% of children are living with, are dying from, or have died from HIV/AIDS. While I knew about the technical aspects of the disease—how it worked, how it could be contracted, how to prevent it—I was emotionally removed from the disease. I had the privilege of being sheltered from the realities of HIV, just as I was often sheltered from the realities of racism, sexism, and classism, though it existed all around me. But, now, after working at Themba Care, my eyes have been opened, and I am so glad. Working at Themba Care helped me put a face to HIV/AIDS rather than a statistic—now when I think of HIV, I think of Imange, Likolethu, Owethu, Luyolo, and all of the other beautiful babies at Themba Care. I no longer carry the stigma I once had about the disease. Once you feel a baby’s tears on your skin or their laugh in your ears, you no longer associate the child with the disease. You begin to realize that HIV does not define a person, but rather the other way around. This reality was life changing for me, and I am so thankful for my time at Themba Care.

I would like to continue to affiliate myself with this cause when I return back to the United States. Though the statistics for instances of HIV/AIDS are certainly higher in Africa, HIV/AIDS awareness and education is still a huge issue in the United States as well. I plan on making much more of an effort to help others understand HIV/AIDS so that more people can begin to put a face to HIV rather than a number or statistic. Like so many other experiences I’ve had here in South Africa, this experience has forever changed me and made me more aware of the world I live in and more aware of how I can contribute to making a difference.

Adam's work at TAC

2010-04-19T15:14:00.003+02:00

Zackie Achmat, an HIV positive activist, founded the Treatment Action Campaign in 1998. Achmat and ten other activists founded the organization after the anti-apartheid gay rights advocate Simon Nkoli died of AIDS because antiretroviral drugs were not made available to him even though wealthy South Africans had access to such drugs. Achmat even took a pledge not to take antiretroviral drugs until they were made available to all South Africans. Many credit TAC with forcing former President Thabo Mbeki to make antiretroviral drugs available to all citizens. TAC started with a small group of Cape Town activists and today has spread throughout all the regions of South Africa, and has become internationally recognized.

Since it’s creation TAC has become a very well known organization. Their famous t-shirts that say “HIV Positive” on them are based on the tall tale of the Danish king who wore a yellow star signifying Judaism under the Nazi regime. TAC has done more than just make t-shirts however. The organization sued the government for not taking an active role in preventing mother-to-child-transmission (MTCT) of HIV. The court found in TAC’s favor stating that the government was not fulfilling the South African Constitution’s guarantee of health care for all. The court ordered that MTCT programs were to be made available in South Africa’s public clinics.

When I was choosing an activist project I wasn’t sure TAC was exactly where I wanted to be. However as I began to read up on their history I became more intrigued by their organization. I also thought it would be beneficial to be going into a township at least once a week because it is after all where millions of South Africans live out their lives. I was also interested in learning more about HIV/AIDS because it has become almost a moot subject in the United States since it is not as prevalent as it once was. I suppose it was my curiosity that got the best of me and pushed me towards doing my activist project at TAC.

When I first went to TAC I was hoping that I was going to be able to go into the community and maybe help educate or “spread awareness.” I soon learned that is not what I was needed for. Where TAC needed help was not out in the field, they had plenty of volunteers for that already. What they needed help with was typing up reports and other documents. At first I was not very enthused with these particular tasks that I was given. However I came to understand that this is where my help was needed the most. I learned that when helping an organization or a cause you may not always get to do your ideal work, but you must do the work that is the most beneficial to that particular organization. For example one day I typed up an entire presentation for one of the activists working there. I realized what I just did in an hour and a half might have taken him all day. I was able to free up his day and allow him to do other work that was most likely more pressing.

TAC and all of their objectives connect to a major theme that has run throughout our discussions in class, which is equality. Equality for all, whether you are a man or woman, black or white, gay or straight, HIV positive or not. TAC was created because the government was not fulfilling its duties and providing proper healthcare to its entire people. Medicine was not being provided to those who were HIV positive and living in poverty. TAC played a large part in remedying this problem and forced the government to take action.

I felt that my work at TAC has made me a more open and understanding person. Just walking into the TAC office you get a sense of solidarity that you don’t normally see everyday. You are always greeted warmly and there is an unspoken bond between all those who are there working towards a common goal. It was in the TAC office that for the first time I really think I witnessed ubuntu. For that I am appreciative for the time I spent volunteering at the Treatment

A note for the resident director/faculty advisor

2010-04-19T14:38:00.021+02:00

As I sit in my flat on this rainy Monday morning, preparing to post entries from students who have granted me permission to upload papers they submitted for my class regarding their Activist Project Assignments, I realized that unlike the University of Connecticut Cape Town Study Abroad Blogs from the previous two years, I have not submitted any entries of my own. In addition, as I was recently reminded by a follower of the blog, I have never introduced myself. So now, as we begin the final two weeks of this program, I am taking the time to rectify that situation by adding a few comments of my own regarding the program as well as answering the questions: who is this person who is serving as resident director for this amazing study abroad program?

I am currently the Associate Director of the Women’s Studies Program at the University of Connecticut where, in addition to my other work, I have developed and run an internship program required for WS majors but also open to students from any other majors. Therefore, as someone who has coordinated an internship program for over 15 years I am well aware of how beneficial internships, as well as other forms of experiential and service learning, can be in enabling students to integrate their academic knowledge with personal and professional experience.

It was because of my work with internships that I was invited to participate in the initial meeting between representatives of the university and Rev. Vernon Rose, who was to become the on-site coordinator responsible for securing placement sites for UConn’s Honors in Cape Town Study Abroad Program. Although I was not in a position to consider leaving the country at that time, when I was asked a few years later if I would be willing to serve as resident director from January-May 2008, I agreed. At the time, it was understood that it was to be a one semester assignment.

However, for more reasons and circumstances than I can begin to describe, and with more gratitude than I can ever express, I have been privileged to be able to continue in this role for what is now my third year. During this time it has been an honor for me to get to know and work with 52 incredible UConn students, from a wide variety of backgrounds, majors and perspectives. For an array of different reasons, these co-educators of mine, chose to participate in the only current UConn study abroad opportunity that requires participation in a three day a week internship. There are other study abroad programs in which students take classes, live in dorms, and perhaps get to travel around the country and learn experientially, without the ‘stress’ or ‘burdens’ of doing an internship at the same time as taking classes. There are other programs available that offer international internship opportunities without course work. But these students have selected what I personally believe to be the absolute best combination ----although I do understand that much more is required of those who participate in the particular program.

Taking two classes with native Capetonians provides knowledge and understanding designed and adapted for each group. Vincent Williams’ course on the history and politics of South Africa enables students to place what they are seeing and learning within the broader social context. Rev. Vernon Rose’s research methodology course on non-profits allows each student to better understand the specific organization in which they intern by looking not only at the vision, mission statement, strategic plan, and annual reports, but also the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and potential threats faced at their specific placement site.

Recognizing that vast amounts of learning also takes place outside of the classroom, I have attempted to arrange assignments for my class to expand, not compete with, those educational opportunities. Therefore, my course on the comparative study of race, class, genders, and sexualities is designed to encourage students to connect issues they are confronting in South Africa with issues they may or may not have been aware of in the U.S. As I tell them on the first day of class, this course is not designed to provide them with answers but rather to encourage them to ask questions they might not have otherwise thought to ask.

The two assignments blog followers can read are:

Blog entries (as described on syllabus):

At least eight times during the semester you will be responsible for submitting a short entry that will be posted on the Cape Town Study Abroad Blog (cptadventures2010.blogspot.com). These entries are to include insightful comments that serve to make connections between your experiences in Cape Town (both at your internship and beyond), your course work (readings, classroom discussions, videos, guest speakers, etc), and current events.
Although not every entry will include all of these elements, the entries taken together will demonstrate a broad range of integration of theory and practice, insight and awareness, challenges and achievements. Entries may include pictures, links to related online material, or other creative material you deem acceptable. Blog entries are to be submitted in essay format and written for an audience that has not been to South Africa or taken a course on race and gender.

The blog entries have been designed to provide each student an opportunity to make time to reflect upon and articulate what she/he is thinking/feeling/experiencing (admittedly an easier task for some than others). The added bonus of this assignment is that it also provides those interested in learning more about Cape Town and this program a chance to gain insight as seen through the eyes of students as their journey unfolds.

An Activist/Community Service Assignment (as described on syllabus):

Taking this course while living and working in South Africa provides opportunities to increase awareness of a wide range of social issues such as: violence against women, poverty, hunger, discrimination, HIV/AIDS as well as many other health, social, political, educational, environmental and economic forms of injustice. When studying such issues it is not uncommon to become angered, guilt-ridden, frustrated, overwhelmed and/or disheartened by the magnitude of the problems and how much needs to be done to begin to alleviate such conditions.
Having the opportunity to intern at an organization designed to address one or more of these social circumstances provides a ready-made answer to the often challenging question—“what can be done about this?” However, as you have and will continue to discover, there is always more to be done. For many, becoming involved in one area opens the door to other possibilities of working for positive social change. With that in mind, this project is intended to offer one additional opportunity for you to DO SOMETHING to address one issue beyond the scope of your current internship, about which you are interested, concerned, and/or passionate.

Identify an issue:

Identify an issue that is different from the area of work being done at your internship but IS within the scope of the course context.
Explore the types of projects that are being done or might be done to help alleviate the conditions resulting from this social problem.

Decide what you will do:

Consider the possibility of applying skills you might have already developed through activist efforts at your school, religious, social, or civic organization.
Or, focus on a new initiative to explore knowledge and abilities you may want to apply in working on similar issues once you return to the states
Identify places throughout Cape Town that undoubtedly have opportunities for you to assist with initiatives in addressing the social problem(s), which you have identified.
Be creative with this assignment and pick a project that speaks to you and your concerns.

The assignment:

Write a one-page proposal describing: the issue you will address with this project; why you selected this particular area: and what specific actions you will take.
Commit a minimum of 12 hours to this work. Document when and how you spent this time.
Write a brief (2-3 page) report on your project once it has been completed.
Present a brief description of the project to the class.

The activist project was not originally intended as a blog submission. However, as I began reading their papers I realized that what they had written about their community service experiences would add greatly to their previous posts. Since they were not written for the purpose of posting, I have asked permission of each student to upload her or his paper. I believe those who read these entries will agree that they are well worth sharing.

Those who have followed this blog from its inception have surely witnessed the growing awareness students have experienced throughout their time here. And, as those who have traveled the road to social consciousness before know only too well, such insight can bring with it more introspection than is sometimes comfortable, more challenges than anticipated, and many more questions than answers. With that said, as the students begin to prepare for their trip back to the United States, I believe many are starting to realize they are about to embark on yet another journey....one that may take them in directions they can not yet begin to imagine. So I will send them forward with a Capetonian blessing: “GO WELL!”

In peace, with hope,

Marita McComiskey

South African Blessing
Walk tall, walk well, walk safe, walk free
...and may harm never come to thee.
Walk wise, walk good, walk proud, walk true
...and may the sun always smile on you.
Walk prayer, walk hope, walk faith, walk light
...and may peace always guide you right.
Walk joy, walk brave, walk love, walk strong
...and may life always give you song.

And on a more personal note:
When I was about the age of these students, my ‘study abroad’ consisted of spending a year living and working on an Indian Reservation in Montana as a VISTA volunteer. It was that experience which sparked my social consciousness and transformed my world-view in ways that never would have happened without my immersion in a totally different culture . . . regardless of the amount of course work done or degrees accumulated. Having completed my PhD in Sociology (after taking many years off from school to help rear our children) I learned the theories and language to further explore issues surrounding the social construction of race, class, and gender ... but my true understanding of the prejudice, discrimination, and social injustice too often associated with these categories began during my long ago 'study abroad' experience. That is why today, as a widow and mother of four adult sons, the opportunity to serve as resident director/faculty advisor for this particular study abroad program has enlivened me with ongoing inspiration and a renewed hope for a better world.

Brittany on marginalized groups in ZA and around the world

2010-04-18T10:40:00.001+02:00

Lately, I have been thinking about lesbian women and transgender individuals, because they are two particularly marginalized groups not only in South Africa but the rest of the world too.

In South Africa, some people believe that LGBTI (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex) individuals only exist in the United States or Europe. There are non-straight and gender non-conforming people all over the world. It is not an illness but a natural way of being. For many decades scientists and doctors unsuccessfully tried to prove that homosexuality is a mental illness. It is no longer even called an “illness” by the medial field. I have noticed a common trend for family members to send their children who identify as LGBTI to a clinic, sangoma (traditional healer), or even church prayer groups to be “cured.” If all LGBTI people were accepted by everyone, there would be no need for a cure!

I have also noticed an ongoing dialogue among South African youth about the role of religion in an individual’s life if they identify as LGBTI. “Most religions started a very long time ago, when having lots of children was very important for people to survive. That is why the holy books mention sex only to have children. Sex between men is often rejected and sex between women is not mentioned. But the holy books also say people must have compassion and understanding for each other. Some religious people live by the holy book and are therefore against LGBTI people. Others use the holy texts as an inspiration, but they don’t dismiss LGBTI people. They see them as human beings. There are many lesbian, gay, and bisexual people who find a way to keep their faith and be who they are” (The Triangle Project brochure, an organization based in Cape Town that provides services to LGBTI people in the Western Cape).

Many years of international research demonstrates that between 5 and 10% of people in every community worldwide identify as LGBTI. I believe this number is grossly underestimated. After all, 1 in 500 people in South Africa are born intersex. Furthermore, when we live in such a diverse world where no two people are the same, how is it possible 90% of the world identify their sexuality as straight. I believe that everyone’s sexuality falls on a continuum. This sexuality continuum includes those that identify as straight or heterosexual. But it is also important to note that not everyone’s sexuality falls within the acronym LGBTI. These categories are only an attempt to identify and label all the varieties of physical sex, sexual orientation and gender identity. There are people who do not identify with any of these categories.

“Human sexuality is dynamic and diverse in its expression...People should be allowed to define themselves and choose which categories, if any, work for them” (OUT LGBT Well-Being magazine).
While in Africa I was able to attend Cape Town’s annual Pride Parade. The parade was complete with floats, costumes, giveaways, balloons, and karaoke performances. It felt great dancing down the streets chanting and singing as if I was moving through this world free from the discriminatory laws and social norms that oppress the LGBTI community.

The Pride Festival gives Cape Town major international credit for being a city that celebrates their LGBTI culture. According to The Pink Tongue newspaper the world’s top 10 gay-friendly Pride cities include…
10. Buenos Aires, Argentina
9. London
8. Toronto, Canada
7. San Francisco’s Castro district, California
6. Berlin
5. Tel Aviv, Israel
4. Sao Paulo, Brazil
3. Amsterdam
2. CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA!
1. And at the most rainbow friendly city….Sydney, Australia!

However, not everything about South Africa is inclusive and accepting to the LGBTI community. While I was marching in the Pride Parade I saw my friend Lucy who was holding a poster with the names of South Africans who have been murdered because of their sexuality or gender identity. She told me this was an important day to celebrate, “but we must never forget” their stories.

“Hate crimes against black lesbians must not be seen as a separate phenomenon from the high incidence of gender-based violence in this country. There are differences as far as sexual orientation is concerned, yet before one is a lesbian, one is a woman…On a daily basis, lesbians are subjected to violence including rape in the belief that it will cure them of their sexual orientation. It is important to stress that patriarchal societies have always aimed to define and dominate female sexuality and self-determination. Women who live a self-determined sexuality challenge this man centered system. In this respect, violence against lesbians is clearly linked to violence against women in general and to a worldwide patriarchal attitude” (The Equality Project Legal Advice Centre). This may be one reason that men are the most common perpetrators of rape and the “curative” rape of lesbians.

This next section is a moment to recognize those who have died in South Africa because of hate crimes.

16 year old Madoe Mafubedu was raped repeatedly and stabbed until she died. She was killed for being a proud lesbian.
Eudy Simelane was a Banyana soccer star murdered because of her sexual orientation.
In 2006 a gang of men stoned, beat, and stabbed Zoliswa Nkonyana death in front of her house by a for being a lesbian at the age of 19. The perpetrators still have not been prosecuted for this crime.
In 2008 at the University of the Western Cape, a young man had an argument with his girlfriend, Lithemba Jama, in the residence hall and then stabbed her to death. She was a 24 year old law student.
Daisy Dube, who was murdered in Johannesburg after requesting that she not be called istabane (a derogatory Zulu slang word, similar to faggot)

In closing, let’s remember the words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, “Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people are part of so many families. They are part of the human family. They are part of God’s family. And of course they are part of the African family.”

Katherine's visit with her mom

2010-04-17T23:44:00.000+02:00

This past week my mom came to visit me. She arrived on Friday, April 9 and stayed at the Cape Grace Hotel on the Waterfront. That evening we dined at a wine bar called Caveau. Once again, Ben (our resident advisor) knows how to recommend restaurants. Two of the tapas we had were dishes you may not find at home. We had the ostrich carpaccio on bruschetta and the kingklip fishcakes. In normal Cape Town fashion, our dinner took two hours because nothing is to be rushed- especially a good dinner.

Our 6am wake-up call on Saturday was well worth it. We went on a Bike N Wines tour of the Stellenbosch region. Stellenbosch is the main wine lands area about 25 minutes outside of Cape Town by car or an hour outside of the city by the train we took. We ended up having a private tour with our guide named Van. We went to three wineries and a brandy seller for tastings. My favorite was at Spier winery because they paired cheeses to go with the white, rosé, and red wines we sampled. We had a garlic goat cheese paired with our white wine; a cheddar cheese with the rosé, and a creamy cranberry cheese with the red wine. We biked 14 kilometers along the railroad, through fields, and past vineyards. On our way we spotted many ostriches, cows, zebras, antelope, and more. To top it off, we each received a free bottle of wine at the end of the tour.

On Sunday my mom and I hiked Lion’s Head Mountain in the morning. It was much warmer than we expected, considering Cape Town is now supposed to be into the fall season. After making our way down from Lion’s Head, we head to Bo Kaap. Bo Kaap is the Muslim quarter of Cape Town that is full of brightly colored houses. Afterward my mom had her first minibus experience. The minibus taxi screaming “SEA POIIINT!” was the one we hopped on and travelled to Camps Bay in. I introduced her to Kauai when we arrived at Camps Bay. Kauai is a great smoothie place that I will dearly miss when I return home in three weeks. We sat by the beach at Camps Bay for awhile and then cruised back to the Waterfront on another minibus. That evening we were invited to Marita’s flat for dinner in Rondebosch. My mom was able to meet Marita, Ben, Vernon, and Esmé (Vernon’s wife).

On Monday we walked around downtown Cape Town. I showed my mom several places including Parliament, the Book Lounge, Charly’s Bakery, Green Market Square, and my internship placement at Black Sash. In the afternoon we took a taxi over to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. It was very hot, 88ºF, with no breeze so we did not stay too long in the gardens. My mom’s Tauck Tour tipped off Monday evening. Begrudgingly, the tour guide allowed me to dine with them; she did not seem too enthused to have me as a guest. However, it was fun to talk to some of the other people on my mom’s tour who had visited places such as Kenya, Tanzania, and India.

On Tuesday and Wednesday my mom’s tour kept her busy. She toured places including Robben Island, Table Mountain, wineries, Cape Point, and Boulders Beach. I went to my internship on these days. Normally I take a minibus to Black Sash but on these two days I arrived in style because the Cape Grace Hotel provides complimentary driving services anywhere within twelve miles of the hotel. Little did they know that I was not actually a patron of the hotel, but the Cape Grace is not cheap so they could afford a mile trip over and back to my internship two days!

Wednesday evening my mom and I dined at Jardine Restaurant. Ben had recommended this to me and my mom had even known about it after finding a write up about the restaurant in the New York Times. After dinner I said goodbye and returned to 10 Loch Road because my mom’s tour was leaving at 6:30am on Thursday. She is now travelling to Kruger, Johannesburg, and Victoria Falls (Zimbabwe).

Kayley confronts a heart-wretching reality

2010-04-17T18:08:00.000+02:00

Even after these 3 ½ months my mind still can not comprehend the following; Prof and I driving through Khayelitsha in a fancy car listening to classical music while carrying out an in depth conversation about the current and future major health issues that South Africa faces. Everything is a learning experience here. But going into Khayelitsha each week is one of the greatest learning experiences ever. I am forced to acknowledge heart wrenching real issues that people face. I know I always talk about my experiences in Khayelitsha but I learn and see so much that I just need to share. The following experience is pretty sad, but I have been thinking about for a while. I think whoever reads this blog should know some of the realities here.

Today in Khayelitsha this 7 year old girl came in with her mother. She had the brightest spirit I have seen, full of giggles and smiles. She just kept dancing around the room and randomly she would run over to me, I would tickle her then she would run back to her mom and repeat the act.

Prof stepped out of the room to make a few calls, while I played with the baby girl for a bit. When he came back in, he told the mom to wait outside of the room until he finished with the rest of the patients. He said he would then direct her to the proper clinic.

After they left he told me what happened to this baby girl. She came to the Clinic today because her vaginal warts came back. This 7-year-old girl has vaginal warts because two years ago she was raped. She was raped by a man who thought that by raping a virgin he could get rid of his Aids. Prof said he has talked to men that actually believe that if you have sex with a virgin you can get rid of your HIV/Aids. So now this 7-year-old baby girl is HIV (+), has vaginal warts because of being HIV (+) and was raped at 5 years old.

I would have never known that anything like that happened to this girl she just looked so bubbly and happy. A part of my heart will be forever with that baby girl and with all of the kids I have met in the Khayelitsha Clinic.

Adam can't wait to go home with his new perspective

2010-04-16T22:42:00.001+02:00

Going to see two practice soccer games in the brand new World Cup Cape Town stadium was a great experience. Before hand we went to a place called New York Bagels because we had heard that the owner had traveled to New York to learn how to make bagels. Needless to say the bagels couldn’t compare to a real New York bagel. The fans at the game were crazy, many of whom were waving flags supporting their teams (mostly South African flags) and constantly blowing these obnoxious horns that I forget the name of. Unfortunately in the first match South Africa lost to Nigeria, three to one. Feeling all of the energy in the stadium and hearing all of the noise when it wasn’t even full it is hard to imagine how crazy the actual World Cup will be.

I’m very excited to return home to America. At this point I have begun to long for my home country. I miss the food, the media, the pop culture, family, friends, my dog and just home in general. Cape Town is wonderful and I definitely intend to come back one day but there’s just something about America that is home and I now realize that I will always feel this way. I am glad for all these friends that I have made and will surely not forget this place and these people for the rest of my life

Reflecting back on my time in Cape Town I realize how much this trip has changed me. I have become more mature, informed and open-minded. Coming from a very “white-bread” background living in South Africa has helped me to see what I had previously only read in textbooks. I can’t wait to go home with this new and exciting perspective that I have developed. I can only imagine that this new outlook on things will be beneficial to me as I assimilate back to life in America and eventually enter into the real world.

Brett on a day in his life .....

2010-04-14T23:49:00.002+02:00

Alright. Its been a short while since I have checked in. I have surely done a lot within that time frame. My mind is busy with thoughts of work and school and activities and the book that I am finishing, so let us just dive in. I am at the office right now. I am waiting to talk to Christina or Anell, two of my superiors, about implementing my activist project. I am hoping to implement two small changes. One, I wrote a list of healthy affordable foods, and other unhealthy foods to avoid that we can hopefully give to refugees with their food stamp vouchers. The other is that I hope to give away writing journals, for the refugees to document their stories.

I suppose it has been a long day and I am a bit tired. By lunch time each day I am always a bit tired, from seeing clients in the morning. Every week I get between eight and twelve new clients, whom I interview for an initial social work assessment, and then make recommendations regarding their situations, for my supervisors to approve. It is not a bad tired, or a sad tired, just more of a mentally drained tired, time for a nap.

I'm reading a book, by Bill Bryson called 'a short history of everything'. So, most of the thoughts in my mind at present concern the migration of early humans throughout the world. In Africa, there are stone tools that are approximately 1 million years old, hand axes, from a species of intelligent primates. For the time period of, if I remember correctly, 800,000 years, in a location in the Great Rift valley in Africa, hominoids worked in a sort of cooperative venture where they would harvest the stones from a mountain 10 kilometers from a site, where they would be made into axes, and sharpened. I forget the name of the species, maybe homo erectus or australepithecus or something.

It just brings to mind that the history of human history in which we now live is so very small, this idea of civilization, which we frequently understand to be the length and breadth of the world, is so small. Nothing to keep things in perspective like the history of the natural world.

I'm not sure what I'm going to make for dinner tonight, maybe a pumpkin leaf stew. Buying spinach from the market yesterday on my way home from work, I asked the vendor what the prickly leaves next to it were. 'Pumpkin leaves' she replied. I nodded, newly informed. 'how do you cook them?' I asked. 'You peal them like this' (splitting the ends) 'and then you boil them in tomatoe sauce. And then you put soda in it' I nodded my head. She went on, 'You can also put peanut butter, it tastes very good'. I let out a laugh, to which she looked at me a bit confused, but then joined in and started to laugh as well. I told her I would have to come back to try it another time. Maybe today...

Erica's mixed emotions

2010-04-13T02:57:00.003+02:00

Today is April 12th…only 20 more days in Cape Town, South Africa. That doesn’t feel real. I think all of us are feeling an array of emotions unlike anything we’ve ever experienced before—some people are just ready to go home and others are probably going to be so unwilling to leave that they’ll have to be dragged to the airport. I think what’s been so hard for me is being somewhere in between those two emotions—I don’t think I’ve ever felt this torn. It has been 3 ½ months since I’ve seen my family and friends, and I really do miss them more than anything. Some days I think about how comforting it would be to just sit in my kitchen at home with my family or go to breakfast with my Nana or listen to my brother play guitar. In other words, doing normal things with the people I love and miss would be so comforting. However, living here has become normal…Cape Town has become home for me...the people and places here have become familiar, and I am attached to this country in a way I never thought I could feel for a place that wasn’t my home back in Connecticut.

Yesterday, we had an incredibly fun and hysterical mini-bus taxi ride all the way from our home in Rondebosch to Llandudno Beach, about a 30-minute drive away from where we live. As we drove along the coast, so close to the edge of the cliffs that you could smell the ocean, with loud, house music playing and the windows open, sunshine and wind pouring through, I almost began to cry with joy. I was so happy. Every time I look at the mountains here, they still take my breath away. Every time I see the coastline I’m still mesmerized. I thought that as time went on, I would get used to the beauty of this country and it wouldn’t affect me as much, but I was obviously wrong. Even as I become more and more familiar with my new home, I still look at its beauty as if it were Day 1 in South Africa. That just goes to tell you how incredibly beautiful this country really is.

A few nights ago, we all went to the World Cup Stadium to see an international challenge. If someone told me a year ago that I would be sitting in the World Cup Stadium in Cape Town, South Africa, I wouldn’t have believed them for a second. I feel like that’s how many of my experiences here have been—unreal, unbelievable, exciting, and life changing. I don’t really know how I’m going to adjust to life back in the United States. I was talking to someone the other day and they said to me, “As much of a culture shock as it was to come here to South Africa, it may be even more of a culture shock to return to life back in the United States.” I think that it’s because of this that I’m so afraid to go back home. I’m scared of feeling disconnected from my own country after attaching myself so strongly to South Africa. I’ve changed, and I don’t plan on changing back. But then where will I fit in when I return? I know that the change is internal—that it doesn’t matter which country I am in because these experiences and the way I’ve changed from them are inside of myself. I’ll carry them with me for the rest of my life. But what if they impact me less when I have to return home and adjust back to life in the United States? Maybe these questions don’t need answers right now, and maybe I’m being too dramatic for my own good. But, to put it simply, I’m scared.

When the time does come for me to get on that plane, I want to leave here at peace with myself and at peace with my journey here in South Africa, knowing that I took from this experience everything that I possibly could have taken and given everything that I could have possibly given. For now, I’m just going to have to be as moment present as possible and enjoy every second I have left in Cape Town. I don’t really plan on resting for the next 3 weeks—there’s still so much to do…

Meredith's memorable Easter

2010-04-13T02:31:00.003+02:00

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays over the course of the year. A classic Easter for my family consists of the following: Waking up early in the morning and driving forty-five minutes to attend our church, then after the service, driving over to Essex, Connecticut to visit our relatives where we anxiously wait for the remainder of our family to pour through the doors with the wonderful chaos of barking dogs, Swedish meatballs, Easter eggs and some sort of vegan pie. All of my cousins and I literally have countdowns until we see each other so Easter is definitely no exception. When we all come together it is absolutely impossible to have a bad time. We normally have some sort of an “extreme” Easter egg hunt involving my dad somehow managing to get eggs at the top of forty foot trees. He puzzles me ever year with his crazy egg placement. I would say that about three eggs probably go missing every year. After the hunt, we are called in for dinner and yep, once again I walk past the fancy china and swan-folded satin napkins to find my nametag on the kids table in the side room. I don’t think I will ever get promoted to the adult table and somehow that is perfectly okay with me. After becoming fully stuffed to the brim, we trade our fancy Easter attire for more suitable outdoor clothes and take a hike down to the lake as we enjoy one of the first beautiful weeks of spring. Normally some variation of a plant or water fight takes place. Ahhh. Just another perfect Easter Sunday.

When I realized we would be in South Africa on Easter this year, I knew that April 4th would probably be the day I became homesick. There is such a variety of different people with different beliefs living in this house together so I wasn’t sure how people would feel about the idea of possibly having a little Easter dinner. To my surprise, everyone was incredibly supportive and wanted to do anything they could to help make this dinner come together. Pamela and I planned the dishes that the meal would consist of and went shopping for the various items at our favorite grocery store Pick n’ Pay. The Saturday before Easter, we began the intense food-prep. Au Gratin Potatoes. My mom’s recipe that I though I would bring to South Africa with me. Cheesecake. Kayley and I delicately crushed cookies by hand for the crust as Pamela whipped the filling. To fully put the Easter traditions in motion, we bought about 40 eggs to dye Saturday night. Everyone got creative with the Easter egg dying to the point where a few of the eggs looked like works of art. The following morning, everyone in the house was up and ready for the Easter egg hunt. The house went from cheery to competitive in under 30 seconds as I witness a few incidents of shoving and badmouthing to get ahead in the egg count. After the competition it was time to get cooking. It was wonderfully surprising that everyone helped out in some way, shape or form. Whether it was cooking the lamb or a side dish, setting the table, clearing the table, washing dishes, or last minute shopping trips everyone took part in the Easter dinner prep and celebration. Then when it was all done, we sat down together for a nice Easter dinner around the table on the patio. Not only was the food incredible, but we all came together for my favorite holiday in a not-so classic setting, I really felt like I was amongst my family. And the best part is that I didn’t even have to sit at the kids table.

Kayley's visit with her mom

2010-04-13T02:10:00.000+02:00

Two weeks ago my mom came to visit me. She arrived the day we got back from the Human Rights Conference. Right when we got home I called the hotel to see if my mom was in. Ben was able to drive me into town after dropping Rachel off at the hospital for her foot. That night my mom and I got dinner and I told her as many stories and experiences that I could think of. Later that night we planned the week, trying to fit a much in as possible. I tried to create orientation week for my mom.

The first day, I took my mom to the waterfront bright and early to try and get on one of the Robben island tours. They were all booked up, so we just spent the day in Cape Town buying souvenirs for the rest of the family. The next day I went to my internship while my mother went to the District 6 museum. Unfortunately Joe was not there to give one of his amazing tours, but she still said she learned a lot. Visiting the museums is just the beginning of understanding the history of South Africa.

The following day we were booked for an all day tour of some of the beauties of Cape Town and Cape Point. The tour began with a cable car ride to the top of Table Mountain, it was a sunny clear day, and so we were both able to see the different towns. The other interns and I hiked to the top of Table Mountain earlier in the semester, but it was cloudy so after the 4 hour-long hike we could only see the cloud we were in.

After Table Mountain, our bus drove us to Hout Bay where we took a boat out around the bay to watch the seals. We were then on our way to Cape Point. On the way we saw baboons, ostriches and randomly camels (not wild of course), I was glad my mom was able to see these animals because they are a crucial part of the Cape Point experience.

When we arrived at Cape Point we got lunch, we ordered two pizzas (thinking they were small), turns we could only finish one. The old British couple that was on our tour found it quite amusing that we ordered two pizzas, and had a whole pizza left over. My mother made me carry the left over pizza as we walked to the lighthouse on Cape Point, for fear of a baboon attack. Honestly I was quite nervous about the baboons myself, every rustle in the bushes made me jump a bit. Walking back down from the lighthouse we happened to bump into the old British couple that again commented on our pizza situation. When we then got on the bus, the entire tour group erupted with laughter as we entered with the pizza box (all thanks to the old British couple).

After leaving Cape Point, we proceeded on our journey to Boulder Beach, where an African Penguin Colony lives. It was a really windy day so we were getting whipped with sand; it was quite painful but so good to see the penguins. Our next and last stop before we hit the hotel was Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. Our bus driver was giving a tour of the gardens, naming some of the different plants and showing us the pretty ponds. As she stopped to talk about this one plant, I looked above her only to spot about 4 different spider webs and probably 6 HUGE spiders directly above her head. I immediately interrupted her lovely explanation of the plant with my terrified shrieks followed by my stealthy sprint to the other end of the field. As everyone was watching/laughing at my little show my mother translated those actions into words and told the tour guide to move because there were spiders over her head. After an embarrassing visit to Kirstenbosch, we headed back to the hotel; right after entering the hotel we realized the we left the pizza on the bus with the old British couple. That pretty much ended that day.

The following day my mom did the Robben Island tour while I attended class at UCT. After that I gave her a tour of the house and of Rondebosch. We bought some South African chocolates (P.S. I Love You bars) and South African cookies. That night we had a lovely dinner at Marita’s flat, where she met all of the professors and Zoë who held the human rights conference. The next day Meredith, my Mom and I took the train to Kalk Bay, where we walked around, shopped and ate enormous amounts of food (Kalkies).

The next day my mom left Cape Town and headed back to the states. After a watery goodbye I began to think about going home, and although I miss my family and friends so much I can’t even imagine leaving Cape Town. I showed my mom around this place, took her to my favorite spots, assured her that the train is safe even though the Hotel concierge says it is not and ensured she was safe and having fun. It was a weird feeling; it felt like I was showing my Mom around my home. I don’t know how I am going to be able to leave this place.

Rachel on roaming

2010-04-13T02:05:00.001+02:00

When I got off the plane in Jo-burg, we were driving on the high way. The first billboard I had seen of course, was for Simba’s, South Africa’s brand of potato chips. Then after that I passed another billboard. It read: “When in Africa, Roam.”

Roam [rohm]: Verb. To walk, go, or travel without a fixed purpose or direction; ramble; wander; rove: to roam around the world.

A song/poem I wrote regarding roaming:

Grab my bandana wrap it around my head walk out to the streets

Who know what I’ll do, who the hell I’ll meet

I could climb the mountain walls

The high is so good please don’t ever let it fall

I could plan to go where the ocean breeze sprays water on my face

Who care the sun is shining all over this fucking place

At times it might be a bit overwhelming

But doesn’t that just feel so refreshing

Got my sunglasses on and hop into the taxi

Common mans way so I grab myself a seat

People are all starin’ and feet full of sand

It’s a feeling that only I understand

Grab my guitar and head out to the braai

If I can only slow down time

It was a fun rendezvous

But now we are through

And then I said

Its time to pretend

I am not going home again

There are an endless number of things I can do in Cape Town. I feel like I haven’t done nearly what I wanted to. It is soon time to go home. Should I come back to visit? Or are there too many places to go in the world than to come back to the place that I already know and love?

Michelle counting the remaining days

2010-04-11T11:33:00.002+02:00

Twenty-two days. It doesn’t seem like a long time, and I can’t imagine that I will only get to see the sun set over Table Mountain twenty-two more times.

Or see the clouds completely engulf the mountain, as the weather is changing. There’s a lot more rain and clouds lately than sun and warmth.

I had a little freak out on April 1^st. It was tough hitting the month of April, for many reasons. I was coming to the realization that my time here really is coming to an end, and I began evaluating my expectations for the trip, how I have functioned here, and if I am happy with both. At first I was very hard on myself. I haven’t really made any friends while I have been here, I feel out of place most of the time, and I have had to confront some of my own character flaws, like not being assertive enough, feeling awkward a lot of the time, and confronting my own irrational fears of being left out. Its been really tough, but I think I have come through it a stronger and more mature young woman. I usually don’t do “alone” very well, as I tend to get irrationally lonely when I am alone for just a night. Instead, now, I am more secure in myself, and am excited to spend the summer up at UConn (almost) by myself. I think I will be more independent and secure in myself

I have also been a little nervous about not experiencing enough. I know we have done so much, but I can’t help but think that I still haven’t done it all. I know that I can’t possibly do everything, but I simply wish that I could either have much more time, or I will just have to make the most of the next three weeks.

Pamela on the realization she'll be home in three weeks

2010-04-09T21:19:00.002+02:00

Can you believe that in less than three weeks we’ll be back home? Well I have been thinking about that for the past two weeks because I have been off from Christel House because the kids are on break. For me it is a bittersweet moment, when I think about it I am very glad I’m going home because I really miss my family and friends but on the other side thinking that I’m leaving Christel has been very sad because I’ve gotten so close to the kids and the thought that I am going home and not knowing when I will be able to see them again is so devastating.

Being off from work for two has given me the time to reflect on everything we did here. I have been thinking on how I’m going to use this amazing experience once I get back home and applied everything I learned in my everyday life. Being in South Africa has open my eyes so much , it made me more aware on what is going on around me, I’m really glad that I’m doing this.

I’ve been thinking so much about when I go back to the states because I feel like I’m such a different person from who I was when I came here. I really like the change that happened and I just feel like people will not understand me because they have not experienced what I have been through so I feel like its going to be hard for me to be around them or the reverse.

I still have three weeks left here in Cape Town , I will make the best out of it and keep on enjoying the beautiful scenery and the friendly people. I keep on enjoying working with the children and everyone at Christel House because my time here now is so limited.

Leah asks if she fulfilled what she came here to fulfill

2010-04-09T21:06:00.000+02:00

It has come to that point in the trip. All that is on my mind is one question: “Have I fulfilled what I came here to fulfill?” At first, I answered this question by thinking of the different activities that I have taken part in and those that I had yet to complete. I bungee jumped off of the highest bungee in the world, I have visited all of the historic sites in the city, I have had an amazing internship, etc. Still, I must visit the National Gallery, the Holocaust Museum. But these answers did not satisfy me. This analysis and even interpretation of my own question did not seem to sum up my trip. It is not so concrete.

When I do not have an answer to a question, it plagues me by hanging in the back of my mind – especially when it is a question about how I feel or what I think. I mean, those should be the easy ones, right? So I have been turning this issue over in my head, and I still am. Is South Africa all I thought it would be? Is it more? Less? Different? And perhaps more importantly: So what? What now? How is this trip going to fit into my life – my real life in America?

I think I have come to the conclusion. If not an objective, permanent conclusion, at least one that is satisfying me for now. The answer to the question is illustrated in my inability to answer it. Let me explain. The reason I cannot answer complete, final questions about this trip and what it has meant to me is that this experience did change me. I internalized so much and this experience has become a part of me. I have not experienced a string of exciting events for a semester, I have altered myself.

My lens through which I see the world has been opened. The curtain which shielded me from seeing certain issues before has been removed. I do not have to worry about remembering every single little thing that I have learned in South Africa because I have changed. Irreversibly, I will never not see racism, sexism, classism, agism, or any other –ism.

From the people with whom I have lived, I have learned to love and accept myself. As corny as that sounds, it is entirely true. Never before have I lived in such a healthy environment full of self-love. Before this trip, I did not think I needed to look internally or focus on myself too much. I felt as though I was fairly happy with myself and my body, and that was enough. Learning from everyone I have lived with, I have begun to recognize my strengths, my faults, and love them all.

I cannot answer the question “Have I fulfilled what I came here to fulfill?” It is not about doing things, having fun, changing the world, or getting teaching experience. It is not about that and never has been about that. In no way could I have expected to change the way I have.

Such a question is entirely defunct at this point. Thankfully.

Sarah on a "small" act of kindness

2010-04-07T22:18:00.001+02:00

Two weeks off from Thandokhulu has left me in a state of relaxation I have not experienced in Cape Town. Instead of waking up at 6 in the morning, teaching at Thandokhulu, rushing to Khayelitsha for a book club, and then running straight to class, I’m sleeping in, taking time to myself, and exploring Cape Town from an entirely different vantage point.

At first, it almost seemed like I was doing something wrong. Not only had I deterred from my routine that had apparently became more ingrained than I even realized, but I had time to breathe. Once I got over the initial shock, I decided to try some new things.

I started with experiencing Cape Town entirely on my own, something I had never really done before. As Observatory (more commonly known as Obs) was a favorite area of mine, I decided to go spend some time there on my own.I flagged down a minibus and crammed on, suddenly more aware of how much I stood out now that I was alone. I had not been to Obs in a few weeks, and I could not remember if the ride there was five or six rand. I asked the caller (the man who calls out the window of the minibus) how much, and he told me R8. Which isn’t true. Partially out of nervousness from being alone, partially out of not really caring since he only overcharged me by 26 American cents, I handed him the money without questioning him. As soon as I did it though, I was frustrated. I was mad at myself for being too passive, I was mad at him for overcharging me. I then, somehow or another, got mad at the whole city. I got mad at the poverty and its affect on the whole country, I got mad at the unrelenting draw to white people and their perceived money and fame. I was just irrationally and unfairly mad.

The caller then began to talk to me in either mumbled English or, more likely, Afrikaans. I explained to him that I could not understand him, but he continued to repeat himself. Finally, a woman in front of me cut him off abruptly by saying, “She’s American.” Her tone seemed annoyed and borderline rude and I assumed it was on account of me. I laughed nervously, affirming that yes, I was American, and settled in to stare out the window and mind my own business.

A few moments later then woman turned to me and touched my knee lightly. “Just a word of advice,” she whispered softly, “make sure you ask how much it costs before you even get on the minibus. They can tell you’re not from around here and they’ll take advantage of you.” “Yeah, I know, he overcharged me. Thank you.” I replied with a smile.

I was relieved to know that I had miscalculated; the woman was not annoyed with me. I turned back to the window, a little more at ease. A good five minutes had passed before the woman again turned to speak to me. She gestured to the caller and said, “He’s not going to apologize to you, but I am. I’m so sorry. We’re not all like that.” She seemed so hurt by this man’s actions, and I immediately felt a rush of gratitude towards her. “No, I know. I’ve had nothing but good experiences before this.” Not entirely true. But her kindness erased them all. I was beaming with happiness on the inside, simply because of this tiny little act of kindness this woman showed. It’s amazing how much one person can change your entire attitude. Or at least mine.

I got to Obs, shopped around, and had a great lunch at an organic restaurant where I was able to order freshly squeezed beet juice. But I walked home.

Kayley on her work in Khayelitsha

2010-04-06T09:20:00.000+02:00

Every week I go into Khayelitsha (one of the largest townships) with Prof the doctor I am interning for. I have so many interesting stories and experiences from going into Khayelitsha with Prof I figured I would use my blog to share a couple of them.

A mother came in with her 1-year-old baby son and her 7-year-old daughter about two weeks ago. The baby son had ulcers all around and inside his mouth. The mother is HIV (+), the baby boy tested negative when he was born . However some children don’t test (+) even though they are until they are 1 or 2, or until even later at 7,8,9 years old. The older girl looked pretty healthy but Prof suspected she would test (+) later. The reason that both were most likely HIV (+) is because the mom had breastfed both of them, and breast milk is one of the major ways to contract HIV. According to the mom the baby was losing weight rapidly and he just looked miserable. Prof told the mom to get her children tested again so she can get them started on the ARV’s (meds for AIDs). She said that she couldn’t tell her boyfriend that she or her children are HIV (+), even though he gave it to her. It is taboo for the men to be HIV (+) or be with someone that is. Having HIV (+) children is proof that you yourself are HIV (+); many men leave their families after hearing that their children or partners are infected. Prof convinced her to get her kids tested again no matter what her boyfriend says or else the children would die. She finally agreed, as she got up to leave, Prof asked her if she was currently pregnant. She said yes. This woman has three HIV (+) children. She is scared to tell her HIV (+) boyfriend for fear of him leaving her and the kids. Yet the children, and she need to start the ARV’s so they can stay as healthy as possible. HIV is rapidly spreading throughout the townships, it is a nightmare.

Last week a woman came in with her two little boys, they were so cute. One was a little bit older than the other. She brought them both with her but was mainly focused on the younger boy because he had bad eczema. As Prof was examining the younger boy, the mother was telling us about her life. Her boyfriend left her and the children a while back; she is unemployed and receiving social grants from the government. She kept saying that she loves her boys so much and that they keep her going every day. Prof put the younger boy on some medicine for his skin. Just before she was leaving she asked Prof to take a quick look at the older boy because something wasn’t right. It turned out that the older boy has a huge inguinal hernia on his right side. An inguinal hernia is a hernia in the groin area. Prof knew that the boy needed an operation right away but he was hesitant to allow the clinic to do it because it is a complicated one. It is very easy to hit the vas deferens (the tube that carries sperm from the testes to the urethra) or the many blood vessels in the area, hitting either would be detrimental to the boy. Prof decided to call the Red Cross Hospital and make sure that the boy could get in for an operation the next day. He told the mother to wait until he was finished and he would take her to Red Cross Children's Hospital.

After Prof was finished the five of us piled in the car headed for Red Cross. The older boy (who is still very young) was smiling, giggling and having the time of his life on the ride there. When we arrived Prof asked me to take the family to ward D2 while he finished sorting things out. As we were heading for the ward the boys were skipping and laughing down the hallway. As we arrived I knocked on the office door in D2 and began to explain the situation. The other doctors and nurses were laughing because Prof does this a lot. When someone needs medical attention he does whatever he can to get them help immediately even if causes a slight bit of mayhem in the hospital. The doctor told the mom to go downstairs to admissions and get a folder then come back up and they would arrange beds for them. I told the mom I would walk her down to admissions on my way to research. After I got her settled at admissions and was about to leave she asked me if they were going to feed her other son. I told her not to worry and of course they would, but I went to sleep thinking that night how scary that entire experience that must have been for the mom. Even though the Red Cross is a safe place it is very new and scary to her.

I learn so much every Tuesday. Although these experiences go from happy, sad, funny, horrifying and around again, I would not trade this experience up for anything, I truly love it.

Katherine's long weekend

2010-04-05T00:32:00.001+02:00

South Africans love their holidays. We had a long weekend this past week because Friday was Good Friday and Monday was Family Day. At my internship (at Black Sash) on Wednesday, I tried to contact several other offices in search of information for a social security project I am working on, but my boss told me it was a futile effort because many offices were already preparing for the holidays and stopping work two days before the Easter weekend actually began. I laughed because at home I don’t think closing down an office two days before the holiday would go over very well with many people.

Since I had four days to relax, I decided to visit my fellow intern, Vera, at her apartment in Somerset West. Elly, another fellow intern, and I took the train from downtown Cape Town to the Somerset West station. While it is only a thirty minute drive to Somerset West, it was an hour and fifteen minute train ride because the train stopped every thirty feet. In the morning we went to Monkey Town. It is a monkey sanctuary where there are over 250 monkeys. Sadly many of the monkeys are there because they had abusive owners. We were the ones in the caged in area so that the monkeys could roam around freely as we followed them through our caged tunnel. There were several signs that said “DO NOT TOUCH THE MONKEYS” and of course Vera did not listen. She decided to touch one of the spider monkey’s arms…that did not go very well. The monkey stared screeching and reached out to grab her! We saw several different types of monkeys including chimpanzee, marmoset, and spider.

In the afternoon, Vera took us for a drive down the coast of Somerset West into an area called Strand. The drive was very pretty and reminded me of the Cape Peninsula drive that heads toward Cape Point. The road snakes right along the edge of the mountains along the Atlantic Ocean.

In the evening we came back to town and went to a section of Cape Town called Green Point. It is located in between downtown Cape Town and the Waterfront. Elly, Vera, her friends, and I dined at the restaurant called Cubana. It was interesting to hangout with white South Africans. Most of the South Africans I have come into contact with are not white and seem to be much more in touch with the problems of the country. Vera’s friends did not mention anything about the problems in South Africa. They considered Elly and I brave for taking the train and riding minibus taxis because they would not do such things. Little do they know, but the minibus taxis are highly entertaining and they are missing out by not taking them.

Brett's trip to Kalk Bay

2010-04-05T00:10:00.001+02:00

Easter morning. I got up fairly early this morning, went for a short run, and now I am chilling in the spare room. We have a nice big brunch planned for us today, and an Easter egg hunt following that. The air is getting a bit brisker. The sun is still strong, but one can tell that winter is coming.

Yesterday, we spent the day at Kalk Bay. After a 50 minute train ride, we got off the train to a small fishing town. Walking across the street, we went into the small shops. The shops had a bohemian flare, with lots of homemade clothing and jewelry and small nick-nacks. There were dusty bookshops and Adam and I walked into one. It had rows and stacks of old, very old books, with brown cloth covers. On the floor was the head of an antelope, meant to be mounted on the wall but staring up from glass eyes. I walked into another room to see a whole assortment of mounted heads lying all over the floor. There was a wildebeest head, and various other antelope. There was also an assortment of animal skulls, along with some ancient maps.

Another store housed strings of jewelry, hung with homemade beads. Adam and I were fiddling around amongst the trinkets when we noticed a small man behind the curtain of beads who was busy at work making the jewelry. The stores smelled of incense and dust.

For lunch, we walked over to the pier on Kalk Bay. The pier extended out into the ocean, protecting a line of small colorful fishing boats in the harbor. Rachel and I walked over to the edge of the pier to see several seals swimming in the harbor. The seals were just chilling, protected against the waves, and peering up at the people looking down at them.

On the dock, some tarps were laid out on the ground, and fish, recently caught were lined up on the ground. It crossed my mind to purchase one, but they were at least two feet long, a bit too much for me. Also, only a few days before, I had bought a fish from the back of a pick-up truck near my work, a foot and a half snoek for R30 ($4.50). It was a good fish, and a great price. The only problem was that it was way too much for me, and food here goes bad a bit faster.

For lunch, we ate at Kalky’s, a shack of a restaurant. The fish and chips were quite fresh, and cheap and delicious. A full plate of fish and chips cost the equivalent of R34 $5.00, something that in the states would easily be $15.00. We had a nice assortment of fried food, Leah and Sarah got the calamari, Michelle, the crayfish, Rachel and Brittany the snoek, and Adam and I the hake, on top of nice piles of French fries.

Adam approaches his final month in Cape Town

2010-04-04T12:23:00.001+02:00

Before going to the human rights workshop I wasn’t sure what to expect. It turned out to be a very unique experience. We got to meet a diverse group of people who were from countries all over Africa. We got to hear some of their stories while we discussed human rights. We even held a mock U.N. conference where each group chose an African nation and discussed facts and information regarding human rights in that particular country. I learned a lot from this conference and thought it was one of the best and most fun parts of the whole workshop. An added bonus was that we had the workshop at a beautiful olive and fig farm.

We were told that before we left for Cape Town that people here work and live at a much slower pace than in America. I definitely noticed this as soon as I arrived in Cape Town. For a person who is fairly punctual I find it difficult to sometimes deal with the tardiness that comes along with the Capetonian lifestyle. However recently I have started to fall into the groove of this slow paced way of life, especially on this four day Easter weekend. Downstairs in the house right now an over the top Easter feast is being prepared and after that it’s off to the International Jazz Festival. There’s no work tomorrow (Monday) because of Family Day. South Africans sure do celebrate a lot of holidays and I can’t complain.

The weather here in Cape Town is starting to change a bit with autumn beginning to set in. It’s an unfortunate fact of nature that causes us all to long for summer. Luckily for us when we return home it will just be the beginning of summer, which is pretty awesome. We are all making our plans for our last month in Cape Town trying to make sure that we don’t miss out on anything. I’m looking forward to the rest of April and think it might just be our best month here.

Rachel on being her competitive self

2010-04-01T08:28:00.005+02:00

We have done so many things since my last blog entry that have been absolutely incredible. We have been to Kruger National Park (which I honestly think was a vivid dream that I had as a kid) we have been to soccer city stadium (where the finals for the world cup are going to be held, I felt like I was apart of history) we have been to a human rights conference (and actually got the chance to hang out with people from all over Africa). But, to be honest, I feel a lack of inspiration. I don’t know quite what to talk about in this blog because I feel as though my words cannot even touch upon how I have felt in any of these moments. On top of that, I do feel quite a bit on pain in my foot, which was broken in three places in an unfortunate game of three sticks, a traditional game of township South Africans.

This game is simple. You take three sticks and lay them on the ground some short distance from one another. Once you take a step over the first stick, you may only take two steps before getting over the third stick. The sticks move further and further apart as the game goes on thus making it more difficult to attempt getting over that third stick. Each round, more and more people become eliminated, for they have failed to get over the third sticks with only two steps. Me, being my competitive self, refused to lose at such a game. At this point it is only Sizwe and I left in the game. I have beaten everyone else, including Brett (not exactly sure how tall) about six foot three. No offense Brett, but I thought it pretty impressive myself. Sizwe, whom I am pretty sure has wings on his feet is impatiently waiting for me to jump, hoping for my failure so that he can win the game. Did I mention that this is during a twenty-minute break at a human rights conference and I am wearing jeans a decently nice shirt and had to remove my shoes because they were inadequate for this type of game? I jump one, two, eyeing the third stick, unsure of myself. I just land past the third stick but at a price. I hear a crack. I feel immense pain shoot through what feels like my whole body. My eyes shut tightly and I feel water rushing to them. Shit. I pretend nothing is wrong. I pretend to walk it off. For is it not completely embarrassing to have hurt yourself in a game as simple as three sticks? Now let me throw a bunch of numbers your way. 3 sticks, 3 hours at the hospital, 3 broken bones, 4-6 weeks to heal, 5 weeks left in Cape Town. What’s a girl to do?

To make myself feel better, I told my friend I broke my foot because an elephant stepped on it.

He believed me.