Brittany's transformation

Brittany: Before

I can recall a distinct memory from my high school years of watching a TV show where a woman shaved her head because she crossed the equator.   I remember feeling a desire to cut my hair short too.  I felt instantly guilty for having this thought because boys have short hair and girls have long hair. 

One week ago today I shaved my head.  I stood in front of a full length mirror with a pair of scissors and I watched my silky dark brown curls fall to the ground.  I didn’t feel a bit of sadness.  On the contrary, my face hurt from smiling.  I was surrounded by a very supportive group of people.   It was the most liberating experience of my life.  

During the process I thought about everyone who made me feel bad about my body.  I dredged up the embarrassment and hurt after being teased for my freckles, my mustache, the bump on my nose, my dark arm hair, and my short stubby nails.  I internalized every comment and have never forgotten them.  Some still make me feel self conscious.  Shaving my head symbolizes me refusing to allow others to hurt my self esteem again.

This act also symbolizes my refusal to follow social norms.  I don’t want to do something just because everyone else says it is acceptable.  Who gets to decide what is acceptable?  Numerous people in my life stated before I left for South Africa, “Britt, please don’t do it, your hair is so nice.”  And I complacently listened.  But those people are not around me now.  I only have myself on this journey of self realization and at the end of the day it is not their opinion that matters.  

We are all sent messages about what is acceptable and what is not.  Men and women both are targeted to have a very specific body type, skin color, and hair style among a million other non important qualities.  I want to know why it is acceptable for women to have long hair on their heads but hairless everywhere else.  Armpit hair, leg hair, and pubic hair is actually upsetting for some people to see on women. 

 If you are wondering, “Why is she so defiant of beauty standards?” the answer is very simple.  I want to love myself today.  I don’t want to wake up and need lotions, mouse, sprays, creams, makeup, and razors to make me feel better about my body.  The days of feeling anxious because I didn’t go to the gym, leave the house with my hair done, or a full face of makeup, are gone.  I will never look at a Marie Claire magazine and say I wish I could look like her.  I am free from the grasp of the media.  Advertising funds our mass media.  Commercials purposefully make women feel bad about their bodies.  When you feel bad you buy more unnecessary scam products to make you feel good.  If you turned the TV on and saw women of all shapes and sizes would you buy that product that runs on self-loathing?  NO you would not.  The cost to our consumer driven society is women’s self esteem.

People in Cape Town have mixed reactions to my hair cut.  It is more common to see black women with very short hair then white women.  Positive reactions to my new look have been, “Nice style maam” or “Hi, G.I. Jane.”  Some men have pointed at my head and laughed.  Some women have snickered in each other ears just loud enough for me to hear them ask each other, “Why would you ever do that?” 

I feel ecstatic.  I have never felt so beautiful, sexy, and confident.  I walk taller and more proud.  My large hazel eyes, lips, and huge smile stand out and are breathtaking!  I feel free from the confines that others have put on me.  I said goodbye to my past and let so many negative thoughts and feelings go just by cutting my hair.  I have lifted 23 years of oppression off my shoulders.  I am in touch with myself and the world around me.  Acceptance has brought me so much happiness.

I love me.

Thank you Betsy C, Jackie V, and Alison B for being amazing women.  You have each inspired and empowered me in more ways than you know.  Thank you for being in my life. 

 Brittany: After

Meredith's reflection on Table Mountain

 

Meredith with Table Mountain

I’m currently sitting on a comfy couch in our common room trying to decide what to write my second blog post about.  It should be something meaningful, something that has impacted my life here so far, and something that we’ve managed to overcome.

I honestly don’t even have to think too hard about it because what I’m going to write about is starring me in the face right now. Table Mountain.  All I have to do is pull the curtain back and there it is. Table Mountain in all its glory.

Witnessing it from the airplane at the final stretch of the tedious seventeen-hour flight completely took my breath away.  Now, one month into our trip I still catch myself in a complete trance by its beauty.  For some reason, I just cannot get enough of it.  It’s an absolutely mesmerizing spectacle.  As one of my housemates Rachel put it a few weeks ago, “It’s just so beautiful, but why? I mean it is just a pile of dirt and rocks.”  What makes this mountain so special?

What makes this mountain so beguiling is how immeasurable it truly is.  It is hard not to feel so small when you look at how great Table Mountain is.  Sometimes when the clouds cover the peak of the mountain, it looks as if it could go on forever.  The artistry behind Table Mountain is that there is nothing man made about it, it is so naturally beautiful.  Table Mountain is always etched into the background of the sky.  Wherever you look, it is there.  Wherever you go, it is there.

At Loch Road one of the main topics of discussion that always tends to resurface is the symbolism behind the majestic Table Mountain.  It is so interesting to me that everyone here looks at the mountain and has adapted unique and completely different views on what it means to them.  In order to help with my blog I’ve asked a few of my fellow housemates about what they believe the metaphor behind the mountain is.  Michelle for instance views the mountain as a weight on the people of the land.  It is the

weight of responsibility.  To her, a constant reminder that justice has not been served.  A completely different perspective on the mountain was given by Kayley would believes the mountain signifies hope because it is so great and stands so strong over Cape Town.

As you can see we all have completely different views on the symbolism behind Table Mountain.  This comparison really helps show the broad spectrum of individuals who live under this roof.  We are all here with a variety of different views on almost everything, and yet we are all here for one underlying reason.  To make a difference. Last weekend we finally decided that it was time to conquer the mountain.  The hike was prolonged and painful.  The mountain itself is 1,086 meters so it took about four hours of rock climbing at a forty-five degree angle.

  There were a few moments of weakness when we did not think we would make it to the top but we continued to tread on until we finally reached the very peak.  It was such a powerful feeling that each one of us made it to the top.

In our class, History, Politics and Culture of South Africa, Vincent showed us a political cartoon with Nelson Mandela at the top of “freedom hill” with many other hills in the distance.  This political statement portrays the vast amounts of hills that the people of South Africa have to climb in order to completely gain their equality.  Even now, twenty years after Nelson Mandela was released from prison, there is still a constant mountain to be climbed.

As we hiked up Table Mountain, I realized how perfect the timing of this climb was.  This mountain has perplexed me since the moment we arrived in South Africa.  It just felt so far and impossible.  This feeling of disconnection is exactly how I felt the first time we ventured into the townships.  I felt so disconnected from the people of South Africa and I had such a longing to feel connected.  Now, a month into our trip, it no longer feels like a vacation where I’m just a tourist passing through.  Working here, studying here, interacting with the people here are all ways which have led me to feel like this is exactly where I should be right now.  Now when I look at Table Mountain, I feel connected to this place.  I conquered the climb and know exactly why I am here.

Katherine on her time at Black Sash

Katherine with other Black Sash Interns

Interning at Black Sash has been an informative and enjoyable way to spend my Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays.  Black Sash is a human rights NGO that works to help South Africans recognize their social and economic rights.  I work at the Provincial Advice Office in downtown Cape Town on the corner of Long Street and Strand Street.  There are five interns including myself.  However, Persis, a student originally from Egypt who now lives in Australia has just left to go home.  She had been working at Black Sash since November.  The other three interns all began interning in January.  Elly is a twenty-four year old college graduate from Peoples, Scotland.  She is here through September.  Johanna is a twenty-nine year old originally from Finland but now lives in Germany.  Vera is a twenty-seven year old originally from Nicaragua and now lives in Los Angeles.  I have never worked with people from all over like this before.  I was surprised to find out that they are all older than me as well.  When I think of interning, I picture college students or those who have just graduated.

While at Black Sash I will be focusing on working on Phase Two of the SASSA Monitoring Project.  SASSA stands for South African Social Security Agency.  Phase One of the project dealt with researching in three areas in the Western Cape Province (where we are located) and surveying the SASSA site points.  The monitors found that most of the people waiting for social security services could not find places to sit, had to show up extremely early to ensure they would be seen the day they went, and if they got to a sight point late would have to wait over an hour to be seen. Phase Two will continue research on the quality of service that beneficiaries receive and will include a new and improved survey for those beneficiaries who are willing to take it.  Elly will also be working on this project with me.

I have been luckily enough to venture to Parliament twice in my three weeks of interning.  I went my first week to sit in on a newly formed committee that will deal with educational inequalities in South African public schools.  The meeting that the interns and I sat in on was the first time the members had met each other.  It was amusing to see that even grown adults play the same ice-breaker games I have grown up being forced to play in new situations.  The first exercise they did was to get up and say their name and what it means or why they were given it.  The second time I went to Parliament, which was this week, was to sit in on the Select Committee on Social Services.  The meeting was a briefing by SASSA on their Annual Report to members of Parliament. 

But of course, one of the more entertaining parts of my day is when I take the minibus home.  The minibus ride in the morning is much quieter because no one seems to be enthused to be going to work.  Yet in the afternoon people are much more vibrant.  On the journey back from Cape Town to Rondebosch I am always nervous that we are going to hit someone in the road.  People walk in the middle of the road and wherever else they please.  Luckily I haven’t witnessed anyone being nicked!

Vera, Katherine,  and Elly at Cafe Mojito

Brett on Cape Town's challenges and contradictions

Alright. Anything and everything to write about. Tonight is spaghetti and meatballs, and I look forward to it with a homeward nostalgia. Now and then it’s nice to pretend you are in America, as we do by nights like this, and our trips to Fat Cactus, a Tex-Mex restaurant that serves hamburgers and fajitas.  One of the burgers is called the Obama, and oddly it has slim-jims on it. I don’t plan on trying it.

I am sitting on the couch in the pool house, a box spring couch, and the door of the pool house is open wide. Tonight is chillier than it has been, but not to cool to enjoy. Everyone is chilling around the house, talking and hanging out. This morning it struck me that my time here is limited, and I walked around with wide eyes trying to absorb every second as I walked towards the train on my morning commute.

Later on I rode that same train home, tired and frustrated with the weight of the problems of the country. I talked with a man today, who came into the office wanting money for rent. The office doesn’t like to give out money, unless the person either can’t take care of themselves, or will invest the money into a business. The man asked for rent money, and told me his story. He is from Somalia. He came to South Africa and with his brother opened up a business. In August, his business was destroyed, and his brother was shot and killed. He said that his brother was shot in the chest and blood came out his nose and mouth. He wanted money for rent and to start a new business. 

To listen to his story today was one of the most puzzling situations of my life. On the one hand, if his story is true, this man needs not only sympathy from me, but support and grievance and counseling. But on the other hand, if this man is making up a story to win my sympathy, in order to get money, I am not about to be swindled.

To walk the line between sympathy for someone’s death and challenging the authenticity of the story was a situation that I found almost comical in its absurdity.  The answer was as real as dice, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and while not outright asking him whether he was making it up, asked him why he never pressed charges, or reported the case to the police. He said that he knew that if he pressed charges the people who killed his brother were apt to find him, a plausible situation given the prevalence of xenophobia in the country.

One family the other day who came in told me that their daughter was threatened at school, with a knife, by some gangsters, because of her race. A man today told me that he didn’t want to apply for a teaching job at a predominantly black high school because he feared for his safety. This man was from Rwanda, and his skin was as black as any South African. So, for all of these different groups of oppressed peoples, to be oppressing each other, is terribly defeating.  

And so, after this long day today, I came back to the house, and walked upstairs to chill in the common room. Some people were watching ‘family guy’ so I chilled and watched family guy for an hour or so. I did nothing for a few hours, played guitar a little, cooked some potatoes for the week ahead, and then dinner, spaghetti and meatballs.   

Adam's experience in South Africa has been progressing very nicely.

My experience in South Africa has been progressing very nicely. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been here for a full month already. I have been enjoying all of my classes, especially my Politics of South Africa class. Everyday I’m learning something new whether it’s at my internship, in the classroom, or just walking around town.  

Today I went cage diving with great white sharks. It was all that I’ve seen on the Discovery Channel and more. It was such a surreal experience being inches from a humongous shark that has been made so infamous by movies like Jaw. It was a very memorable encounter that I won’t soon forget.  

Another memorable excursion was our climb of Table Mountain. Our two-hour hike from the bottom to the top was extremely tiring. It was great to reach the top despite the all-encompassing fog that obscured our view quite a bit. I would definitely take this trip one more time before going home.  

My internship at the human rights organization, Black Sash has been great. I’ve had the perfect amount of work to do and it’s a very relaxed atmosphere. Everyone in the office is very friendly and helpful. I’ve been reading through Acts and have been writing summaries of them. It’s not the most exciting work but it should be helpful for the future if I attend law school. Hopefully in the near future I’ll be able to visit Parliament with Black Sash.  

I’m not sure what the future brings for me here in Cape Town. I’m very okay with this fact. At home I’d be snowed in stuck to my weekly schedules and syllabuses. Studying abroad in South Africa is definitely preferable to this alternative. All I know is what ever I discover next I won’t be disappointed.

Sarah reflects on her first month in Cape Town

I can’t believe it’s been a month.  Even though the time has flown by, I somehow feel like I’ve been here all my life.  It’s a strange dynamic, and one I haven’t gotten used to yet.

While I am certain I have undergone many changes since arriving in South Africa, one characteristic that has apparently stuck with me is my scattered and spontaneous way of looking at life.  This past Monday I came to the impulsive conclusion that newspaper writing wasn’t for me, throwing yet another life goal down the drain.  With Vernon’s help (and unrelenting patience for my impetuous decisions), I now will be interning at Thandakulu High School.  I never in a million years thought I would find myself working in any sort of school setting, yet here I am.  I’m not nervous at all, simply because it feels so right and I am so excited to be working closely with the community. 

At my last day at The Argus, however, I was faced with an experience that will always be in my thoughts when thinking about this country.  I followed a reporter to what I was told was a press conference for something to do with the 50^th anniversary of The Sharpeville Massacre.  Other than this general description, I really had no idea what it entailed.  We drove to the Waterfront, which I have had mixed feelings about since our trip to Robben Island (and by mixed feelings I mean I’m not really a huge fan).  We pulled into a beautiful, affluent hotel that looked like something one would see in the movies.  We walked down a few long marble corridors until we came to a beautiful room where the press conference was to take place.  The room was filled with long tables, each with pitchers of water, notebooks, pens, and little bowls of mints neatly set up for the assumed large group that would be attending.  Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed and I was still one of four people in attendance.  Five panel members in the front of the room decided to start up their press conference, their voices echoing into microphones that mocked their subpar turnout.

The more I watched, the more I got sucked into their desperate, albeit hopeful, cause.  All were members of the Sharpeville Township, the first to be victimized by the ruthless Apartheid regime.  One of the men was a survivor of The Sharpeville 6, a group of 6 people who was sentenced to death in the 1980s.  This man received his sentence on his 21^st birthday.  Its stories like this that always gets to me.  I am 20 years old, and in so many ways my life is just beginning.  It gives me chills to imagine someone my age experiencing something like that.  This particular man was released in 1990 and has not been able to find a job since.  Through tears of frustration and unresolved pain, the man explained to the few people in attendance that unemployment was perhaps the biggest issue in their often overlooked township.  The Soweto Massacre tends to receive more recognition, I’m assuming on account of the number of people involved combined with its happening in the midst of extreme anti-apartheid resistance. 

While most of their ideas were vague and often inconceivable given their meager funds, their presence alone really moved me.  Again, I found the hope of South African citizens inspirational beyond my greatest expectations.  Even if it’s just raising awareness about their condition, I really feel as if it’s something I want to become involved with in some way or another.  One of the representatives described one of their goals as follows: “When the world is looking at South Africa, let them also remember Sharpeville exists.”  While there are many activist projects I have my mind on, this experience opened up even more possibilities.

Pamela's Reflections on Christel House School

A week ago I started my internship at Christel House, which is a non-profit school for disadvantage learners from grade R to 12^th grade in Cape Town. Christel House is working to break the cycle of poverty  by using education, and for what I’ve experienced for the past  two weeks the staff is working very hard to help make a difference in these children’s lives. I am extremely happy with my placement.

I have the chance to be working with the grade R  which is basically kindergarten. These kids are approximately five and six years old, they come from different townships around Cape Town but mostly Xhosa speaking children and the majority of them do not speak English. These kids are very energetic, they have to be the happiest kids I have ever met. They are so affectionate, they always want to hug or  just want to play with me… they are the cutest thing ever! The children are very eager and happy to learn. They work very hard and learn very quickly. They are so smart!

The grade R is where the kids learn how to speak English before they can go to grade one, therefore, I am working with Miss Angela which is the head teacher and Miss Phelo who is the assistant teacher who translate what miss Angela says to Xhosa. They are excellent teachers and take very good care of the children, they really care about each and everyone of them . I am very happy to be working with them, I feel welcome , I also feel like I am helping to achieve Christel house’s goal  for the kids.

Last week  the kids passed their very first test while I was here on what they have been learning for the past two weeks, I was very excited because I made them pass a portion of the test which was the primary color section. I was very pleased that the teachers trusted me to make them pass the test. Almost everyone knew their colors. I am very proud of them!

Sometimes it is very hard to communicate with the ones who don’t speak English because some of them tend to forget that I don’t understand Xhosa or Afrikaans but I try to use non-verbal communication which works most of the times or I just ask the teachers to translate for me.

This past two week I had the chance to meet children from grade one, sixth and seven. When they see me they speak Afrikaans to me thinking that I know how to speak it, I really wish I did. They are very welcoming and friendly. So far I have learned a few words in Xhosa, the kids  thought me , I also intend to learn a few words in Afrikaans. 

Working with these children in the past two weeks made me realize how much I miss being with my sisters, because some of them remind me so much of them personality wise. It also give me the strength to continue doing what I am suppose to because these kids need all the support that they can get.

Yesterday (02/12/10) I participated in my first South African protest against homophobia in front of parliament,  a few student of our group went  to show our support. It was very interesting for me because it was my first protest ever. I’m happy we helped a good cause.

On Friday(02/26/10) I will be starting my activist project ,  I will be volunteering at Thamba Care which is an organization that helps children living with AIDS, I am  looking forward to start on Friday I am also very excited  to learn more about it and help.

I am very happy to be working at Christel House in South Africa, so far it has been a great experience and I am wishing that it will get even better in the next weeks. I am thankful for this opportunity.

Marita on the Mamela Music Project

Although this blog is primarily for the reflections of students participating in UConn's Cape Town Study Abroad Program, every once in a while, when I just cannot contain myself, I will add an entry or two.   My posts, similar to those of the students, are shared simply as personal reflections rather than as "official writings" from or about Cape Town or UConn's Study Abroad Program Office. I therefore write simply as Marita ---the person upon whom some locals have bestowed the title of Honorary Capetonian---- not from the perspective of the resident director/ faculty advisor/instructor of this program.

With that said, this is one on of those times I cannot resist sharing one of my experiences . . .


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My Preamble:

Anyone who has spoken with me since my first trip to Cape Town in 2007 has no doubt heard me speak (endlessly some might say) about the multitude of amazingly inspirational projects and people I have gotten to know throughout my time here.  With each subsequent trip I eagerly anticipate reconnecting with those who have educated, challenged, inspired, and befriended me during my previous stays in this magnificent city.  I have come to expect that while in Cape Town I will forever be provided opportunities to continue to expand my horizons as I strive to more fully live the African concept of ubuntu.* However, I am still amazed at how frequently I meet new people ---and am introduced to exciting endeavors---- that spark my imagination, fill my heart with wonder, fuel my intellect with wisdom, and rejuvenate my spirit with hope for a better world.

My Inspiration:

A few days ago I had the privilege of accompanying Charles Louw, founder and director of the Mamela Music Project, as he taught classes in both the primary and secondary schools in Manenberg. During this visit:

•    I saw children's faces light up with joy as they were finally handed one of the three guitars that had to be shared among the learners during their music lesson; 

•    I watched as a young woman graduate of the program worked patiently to write details of her lessons on the black board so students could copy them down--since there were no books or even copies of the music available to be distributed; 

•    I heard solos sung by two high school students who spontaneously offered to sing for the visitors.  These girls, whose brilliant voices broke through the dingy classroom with broken chairs and dim lighting, enlivened the eager faces of their classmates and touched the heart and soul of this visitor. 

Having been to Manenberg before, knowing people who live there, and having heard and read a bit about this community, I know some of the challenges that face the kids in these schools. It was with this knowledge that I was touched not only by the amazing talent of the two girls who sang but perhaps even more so by the words of the songs they chose to sing:

Excerpt from song #1--  
Hero

There's a hero if you look inside your heart


You don't have to be afraid of what you are.


There's an answer if you reach into your soul


and the sorrow that you know will melt away



And then a hero comes along


with the strength to carry on


and you cast your fears aside

and you know you can survive.



So, when you feel like hope is gone


look inside you and be strong

and you'll finally see the truth


that a hero lies in you

Excerpt from song #2-- 

The Greatest Love of All                                                                                      Learners preparing for vocal lesson.

            

I believe the children are our are future


Teach them well and let them lead the way


Show them all the beauty they possess inside


Give them a sense of pride to make it easier


Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be

Everybody’s searching for a hero

People need someone to look up to


I never found anyone to fulfill my needs

A lonely place to be


So I learned to depend on me


I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows

If I fail, if I succeed


At least I'll live as I believe


No matter what they take from me


They can't take away my dignity


Because the greatest love of all


Is happening to me


I found the greatest love of all


Inside of me


The greatest love of all

It’s easy to achieve

Learning to love yourself 

It is the greatest love of all 

----------

Perhaps one has to be sitting in this classroom watching this scene unfold for it to have the full impact!  However, if you can imagine these words ringing out in a classroom whose school is so under resourced that the three guitars shared among students in the elementary school had to be transported to the high school for their music lessons, in a township known for its gangs, drug use, and school dropouts rather than for their remarkable music talent-- maybe, just maybe, you can begin to grasp why this experience has propelled me to want to share it.  

Watching the teachers and volunteers in this program provides concrete evidence of how students are trained musically but it also demonstrates MAMELA helps these young people to believe in themselves and, as the words to those songs suggest,  that indeed may be the greatest gift of all!

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A little about the MAMELA Project (from their literature):

"Seventeen years ago a group of socially aware citizens of Cape Town came together to form an organization that could productively involve youth. They were concerned that the social circumstances in our depressed communities may hinder youth development and youth's social mobility. It was decided to favourably consider exposing the school-going and unemployed youth to the benefits of Music as a cultural experience and as a form of employment opportunity.    

MEMELA was born. 

The outcome of their consideration was to start an action group in Manenberg with music as its uplifting focus. Manenberg is a dormitory township beset with many social and economic challenges, which inhibit the growth and development of our youth.

The initial work in MAMELA secured highly satisfying results. MAMELA activities reached many schools in Manenberg and the surrounding areas.  To date 2000 children have attended the classes which are conducted after school hours and, with the co-operation of the school, during school time.

The youth learn to play instruments such as the piano, the recorder, drums, guitar and other instruments, as well as being introduced to the theory of music. In this way, they are introduced to experiences which enrich their lives and make them aware of feelings and ways of living which might not otherwise have been possible."

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Accompanying me on the visit to Manenberg was Michelle Jordan, a recent UConn graduate and participant in UConn's Cape Town Program in 2009. This year she has returned to CPT to complete her MA in Gender Studies at the University of Cape Town.  In her spare time, she will volunteer to teach music theory for some learners in the Mamela Project. In the picture on the left, Charles Louw, director of the program, shows Michelle a few books available for her use in developing her lesson plans.

The Mamela Music Project is a non-profit organization with a registration number of 050-200 NPO.  Of course, as with any worthwhile non-profit project, there are many ways folks can help if they have  time, energy and/or resources they are willing to share. One of my personal goals is to try to get at least a few more guitars for their music program --so if anyone is heading to Cape Town and has room to carry along an extra guitar or two--- please let me know.  Another personal commitment is to sponsor at least one child so she or he can participate in this worthwhile program.

For as little as R200 (about $25) per month it is possible to sponsor a child to attend after school classes.  Mamela folks will then inform sponsors of the individual pupils who benefit from their donations. (If interested contact mamela@telkomsa.net)

Michelle and I are not the only ones who have been inspired by the musical work being done at MAMELA.  Tess Bird, another UConn alum who is currently visiting Cape Town, will be contacting musicians she knows in three US cities to see if they are willing to donate their time and talent to perform in a few venues to help raise funds for additional instruments for this project.  (We will be certain to post the details to the blog when they are available.)

I had not planned to have this blog entry end sounding as if it is a "paid political announcement" but as i wrote i realized i didn't want to deprive those reading this an opportunity to share in the work of this project, if she or he was so inclined.

The Mamela Music Program hopes someday soon to be able to find a volunteer to help them produce a new video depicting the work they are doing. In the meantime they have allowed me to upload their old video to youtube so you can watch it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8nzG4Gthj4  (The Mamela Project now has three guitars -- up from the two they had when the video was made.  Hopefully they will have many more, by the time the next film is made!)

  

This is the current music room in an elementary school where classes are held.  

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* ubuntu:

Archbishop Desmond Tutu offered a definition in a 1999 book No Future Without Forgiveness:  A person with Ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu further explained Ubuntu in 2008: One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu - the essence of being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can't exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can't be human all by yourself, and when you have this quality - Ubuntu - you are known for your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity.

Nelson Mandela explained Ubuntu as follows: A traveler through a country would stop at a village and he didn't have to ask for food or for water. Once he stops, the people give him food, entertain him. That is one aspect of Ubuntu but it will have various aspects. Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to be able to improve?

Erica on Education

Last week I began my internship at Thandokhulu Senior Secondary School, a high school for students ranging from 8^th-12^th grade. 

The students are predominantly from Khayelitsha, the largest black township in the Western Cape. Personally, I was given two 11^th grade English classes to teach. Leah and I were thrilled when we realized we’d have our own classrooms! My passion for English, writing, poetry, literature, and teaching are all culminated into this one internship, and I couldn’t have been happier when I learned that I would be able to teach my own classes. More importantly, I would be helping students prepare for their Matric by teaching English. All of the 12^th grade students, or the graduating students, must take an exam in English called the Matric, so having English lessons is extremely important, as each one of these students must pass the Matric in order to qualify for any university or job. In so many words, the Matric exam determines the rest of their lives—a horrifying concept when you think about it, as these Xhosa speaking students are forced to take an exam that determines their future in a language that is NOT their own. Even more horrifying when you put that together with the fact that the Matric is offered in Afrikaans and in English, so it is ONLY the black students who have to take Matric in their second language as opposed to their first. Though the apartheid government ended 15 years ago, the Matric exam is a clear example of why the racial stratification that took place in South Africa is still negatively impacting the nation’s people today. To deny a certain group of people the right to take an exam in their own language, and then to have their scores pinned up against the scores of white and ‘classified colored’ students scores when competing for a university education, seems to be a clear violation of human rights—and yet, it is accepted all over the country as the “norm”.

Entering Thandokhulu, we were told our job would not be easy. We were told: “You will have 55 students in each classroom”. We were told that there were hardly any resources, that the classrooms were small, that there wasn’t enough chalk, and that for 1,056 students there were only 30 books in their “mobile library”. And though I knew that 55 students is a large number of students for one teacher, and though I understood the school was vastly under-resourced, it didn’t really hit me until I began teaching. I walked into one of the smallest classrooms I have ever seen to have 55 students staring up at me—assessing me, first by the color of my skin. “What are you teaching?” a student asked. But before I could answer, another student said: “She’s teaching English, stupid.” After hushing the class and telling that particular student not to call someone else stupid, I realized that I had automatically been judged by the color of my skin: she is a white, American woman and so she must be teaching us English. And they were right. Upon realizing this, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. How many others have come to “help” at Thandokhulu? Will these students just view me as some white woman taking them on as a “charity case”? Will my work even make a difference, especially in light of the fact that I am only here for 3 more months?   All questions which I may never have answers to.

I began teaching them essay writing, and allowed them all to choose a topic that interested them to write on. At first, the students seemed taken aback when I told them they could choose their own topic. I guess it was revolutionary to allow the students to have, and voice, their own opinions. As I walked around the classroom to help the students, I half expected to see essays on the World Cup or sports or after school activities they enjoyed, but instead what I saw were essays on teenage pregnancy, drug use, the difficulties of staying in school when your family needs you at home, HIV/AIDS, abortion, etc. The fact of the matter is that a student in the United States may never have thought to write about such pressing matters, however because these students face these pressures and these awful realities every day of their lives, they aren’t afraid to confront them or tackle them, even in an English class as they brain storm paper topics.

We did a practice essay on the board: “Should teens stay in school? Why or why not?” I thought that most students would discuss reasons TO stay in school, but instead, in all 4 of the classes I taught that day, the first answer to the question was, “No, teens should not stay in school.” I was shocked—not because they said no, but because of how incredibly legitimate their reasons were for staying out of school. “I could be staying at home to take care of my younger siblings because my parents are no longer around due to disease or death” or “I could be helping my family instead of wasting time here” or “The teachers don’t really care about us here” or “I have children myself that I need to be raising.” After finishing the reasons NOT to stay in school, I immediately had the students give me reasons TO stay in school and I think that seeing the contrast may have helped some of the students see the other side: that education breaks the cycle of poverty, that if they work hard they will be able to go to university and begin working and earning a living, that school helps them stay away from drugs and crime, and that it provides them with so many opportunities. One of my friends wisely told me in a letter from home: “It’s the students who are on the verge of dropping out that you are most likely to reach, Erica. It’s those particular students that are just looking for something, anything to convince them to stay.” I hope I can help them find that something.

Again, I question myself. What am I doing here in South Africa? I wrote a poem the other day and one stanza says:

What am I doing here?

Am I a tourist with calloused feet

From walking among shards of broken memories and tentatively putting my feet in the sand of islands that were prisons?

I want the answer to that question to be “no”. I am not a tourist. I am here to affect change. I am here to give hope. I am here to inspire and to be inspired by the incredible young students I am meeting. Hope. I’m here because of hope, and I’m here fighting for hope. I know that during my time here I will be discouraged. Discouraged by uninterested, unmotivated teachers who do not inspire their students to learn. Discouraged by corporal punishment and unjust exams and a country not living up to its constitution. Discouraged by students who have so much potential but let themselves fear failure. But I am encouraged, too. I am encouraged because I know that after 4 months I will leave South Africa a different person, never allowing myself to forget the stories of the people I am meeting. I am encouraged because for every student who said they should drop out, there was another student who talked of the kind of positive future that education would bring to him or her. I am encouraged because I believe there is a kind of healing and reconciliation in the nation that most people cannot wrap their brains around, and that, with a lot of work and continuing education, there really can and will be equality for all South African peoples.

While I was grading essays yesterday, I came across an essay a young girl wrote about failure sometimes leading to success. She wrote: “I know of several people who made the decision to commit suicide after failing their Matric exams. This is wrong. If you’ve failed, tell yourself that you will work even harder to get what you want. If you want to succeed, you cannot give up. You will not fail if you just have faith in yourself.” It is necessary to address both parts of this quotation: one, that failing the Matric exam for some students creates a feeling of utter hopelessness, a feeling that can even lead to suicide because of all of the weight that is placed on the Matric exam. However, despite this incredible pressure, this intelligent young girl also pointed out how important it is to work hard and remain positive when facing the possibility of failure. She writes, “I have learned that failure can lead to success—that failing should only make you work that much harder to get where you want to be.”  This kind of attitude is one that all teenagers here, and everywhere, should maintain, and I’m of the belief that with the help of motivated, hopeful, charismatic, and encouraging teachers, these students are really capable of incredible things.

Recently I have begun to read Graeme Bloch’s, The Toxic Mix: What’s Wrong With South Africa’s Schools and How to Fix It. In it he writes: “Education is about our common humanity as South Africans in a global world. This is no small thing in a world and a continent beset by recession, endless wars, and hatred… Education helps us, together, to solve the pressing issues of the day, from economic to political and social crises, from global warming and ecological disaster and war... Education has to change society. Like some holy spirit, its influence must reach everywhere to initiate people into the good things that society can offer; education must help us to participate and improve in every field of human and social endeavor.” The more time I spend in South Africa, the more I appreciate Bloch’s theory of education. It has to be top priority. After all, these young people are South Africa’s present, and more importantly, they are South Africa’s future.