Meredith enumerating the "lasts"

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

                                                                   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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.