Rachel on time spent in Khayelitsha

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.