Milk crates

So this past summer I googled/you tubed (yes those words are both verbs now) South African music to get ready for my trip. After listening to a bunch of songs, I came across the Soweto gospel choir and fell in love. As my roommates can attest, I think I listened to the same songs on repeat for weeks on end. One of my favorite songs is Shosholoza, which in Zulu means “to go forward or make way for the next man”. The song was originally sung by mine workers in a call and response manner. After listening to the song all summer, I was really excited when I went to see Invictus (a movie about SA rugby) and lo and behold the song was playing in the opening act as the camera scanned scenes of Table Mountain and downtown Cape Town. After seeing the movie, the flames of my addiction were rekindled and I played their music nonstop for the last couple of days before I left. Oddly enough however, I haven’t listened to their songs while in Africa because my old music is not yet downloaded onto my new computer. But fear not—I am going to see Soweto gospel choir IN CONCERT tomorrow. They are playing at Kirstenbosch gardens which is a famous park area/botanical reserve, and I cannot wait to picnic and see them perform live.

Today we went to a textile exhibition in downtown Cape Town and walked around marveling at pretty fabrics and beautiful jewelry. Although I wasn’t carrying enough cash to buy anything significant, I have decided that before I leave SA I am going to treat myself to a beaded bracelet with the SA colors. I wish I had brought my camera because there was a runway show happening in one part of the convention center. The outfits were outrageous and the flashing of huge cameras never ceased. At one point seats in the front row opened up and I thought my friends and I should jump in but then I looked at my dirty jeans and crinkled shirt and thought we might be a bit out of place.

Speaking of cameras, do you ever wish you could take a picture with your eyes? It's an odd question, I know, but there have been many occasions during this trip where I have really wanted to take a picture of something, but would have felt really awkward taking out my camera. Everyday when I walk to the bus station, I pass a group of people selling clothes which look like they have been donated from goodwill. The clothes are hung on barred doors or scattered on the ground, and women sit on milk crates watching the clothes. The women set up early in the morning and are there when I am walking home at dusk, day in and day out. The expressions on their face are worn and tired and I so desperately wish I could document it.

Other than the concert on Saturday, I think I am just going to lay low and catch up on some much needed sleep/reading for school. On Monday, I am going to Khayelitsha for my first time to teach 3^rd graders in an afterschool program. Khayelitsha is the largest township in South Africa and was formed in 1985 during forced removal. 40% of the population is under the age of 19. I am going through a society (or club) called SHAWCO at UCT, and they provide buses from campus to the township. Here is the website for SHAWCO if you are so inclined.

I am a bit nervous/excited and intimidated. Me... teaching? watch out.

This can't be February...

I took this screenshot from my computer the other day when I went to "check the weather".

Introduction of multimedia!!

Ahhh super exciting news: pictures! I'm not sure why I couldn't upload them before….but they are most certainly better than me just gabbing away

"Soft, yet dynamic with plenty of cherry, plum and white pepper flavour leading to a beautifully balanced finish."

I guess this is the longest period between blog posts- I hope you haven’t been holding your breath….

With the school routine starting, life has started to calm down a bit; however the adventures never cease. Last week we went on a treasure hunt to find our textbooks because the university bookstore did not carry them. To our dismay, after searching all the bookstores in the area, we never found the “X marking the spot”- NONE of the bookstores had the required books we need. Well, let me take that back, one bookstore claimed they had 6 copies of a book, but we couldn’t locate the book anywhere in the store and neither could the employees. I’m not kidding- the books weren’t arranged in any order- not by author, or title, or subject. Need I remind you, This is Africa (TIA).
While I try to make light of these frustrating experiences, the reality is far from comical and I have started to wonder what it would really be like if I faced these hurdles every day for the rest of my life. As we got on our hands and knees searching for the non-existent books, a conversation I had with my hairdresser came to mind. I told him I needed a haircut because I was coming to Africa and wouldn’t be able to use tons of electricity to dry my hair, and we started talking about the poverty and unemployment rates in Africa. His response: African people are lazy and don’t work hard enough. And while the manta try and you will succeed may hold in the US, for many people in Africa this is not the case. They always say privilege is invisible to those who have it.

Aside from not being able to get some of the books I need for class, actual classes are going pretty well. I am particularly enjoying my clinical psychology class because many of the disorders we have been talking about are set in the context of South Africa. For example, my professor was one of the main psychologists assigned to work on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission which is a forum/courtlike body established after the end of the apartheid to help people express their stories in a public forum. She has told tremendous stories which recount the process of how people are able to come to terms with horrific events and what happens when they relive these events when they retell the story.
One thing I have noticed about South African students is that they are not afraid of questioning what the teacher says, or giving their opinion on the matter. Whereas kids in the US are like sponges (they just soak up information but don’t really analyze or think critically about what they are being told), South African students say upfront that they disagree or find the theory to be weak. Sometimes their comments seem a bit rude to me, however the professors don’t appear to be offended. One of my other classes, Liberation in South Africa. is full of Americans which is kind of a bummer but last week we had two guests who are famous in their fight against the apartheid: Denis Goldberg and Dr. Neville Alexander. Dr. Alexander founded the National Liberation Front, was convicted of conspiracy to commit sabotage against the government and imprisoned on Robben Island with Nelson Mandela from 1964-1974. Denis Goldberg was a member of the underground armed wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe and was sentenced to four counts of life in prison in 1964 Rivonia trial. The ANC (African National Congress) members on trial had originally expected to receive the death sentence but words from Nelson Mandela, along with the work of the defense council changed the verdict. In what can be equated to the I Have a Dream Speech in the US, every South African knows Mandela’s words on trial. Here is a little snippet:
“This is the struggle of the African people, inspired by their own suffering and experience. It is a struggle for the right to live. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society, in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunity. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and achieve. But, if needs be, my Lord, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die”.
It was amazing to hear these men speak about their extraordinary experiences, knowing they were true crusaders against apartheid and legendary figures in South Africa. One of the many reasons I chose to come to South Africa was to learn about the apartheid and to see how the city has progressed since 1994 and I feel very fortunate to have had the chance to listen to their stories.
This past weekend the girls in my house decided to go on a road trip, so we rented a car and traveled in the direction of the winelands to Stellenbosch and Franshoek. The weekend got off to a rough start when the clutch gave out and started smoking; but eventually we got a new car and were off on our journey again. On Saturday we went to St. George’s Bay to swim in crystal pools and then on Sunday we went on a wine tour to 4 different vineyards. I really know nothing about wines and don’t have the most delicate of palates, but one can always pretend. In some cases, the descriptions of the wines were just so ridiculous- I mean how can you keep a straight face when the description reads, "Intense violet aromas and purity of raspberry and red fruit flavours, with a kick of white pepper, a very assured, sleek texture, and a long, energetic finish".

breakdancing is a new olympic sport

One might say I’ve explored the tip of the iceberg. In a week from tomorrow, I will have been here for 4 weeks and have now ventured to all the different areas around town at least once, climbed a bit of Table Mountain and dabbled my feet in the Indian Ocean. I’ve gotten to know how to find my way around campus and can better predict how much taxi rides are going to cost. But like a true iceberg, I know that 80% lays below the surface, and I know there is so much more to explore. While I had tons of energy and was traveling non-stop for 2 weeks trying to accomplish everything and acquaint myself with the new surrounds, I feel that I have hit a plateau. Today as I sat outside not doing much of anything, I felt a bit guilty. Instead of lazing around, I could have been touring the District 6 Museum, going to Robben Island, or even walking around the neighborhood. Then, I convinced myself that I am living here- not just visiting- for 5 months and that I would be crazy to think I will be doing things 24/7. And then I flashed forward to that last night or so in June, months from now when I am packing to go home. What will I think of my time then? One thing I know for sure: time goes quickly. And with that thought in mind, I plan on sitting down with a travel book or a daily newspaper tomorrow and making a list of things I want to do or see and hanging it in my room so that I am reminded on a daily basis not to get too comfortable in the same old loop. I don’t want to get caught up in the day and forget where I am and what opportunities I have. I think its easy to stay at “the tip of the iceberg” as an international student. The real challenge is to see what’s below the surface.
The other night I went to a hip-hop performance by Black Noise at the theatre on campus. Originally from Cape Flats, Black Noise is deemed to be the oldest hip-hop crew in Cape Town. Originally I was disappointed because Black Noise didn’t seem to be performing themselves, it was more like they were coordinating the stage for young and local break dancers to exhibit their latest moves. But as I sat and watched, my jaw slowly dropped to the floor- these kids could dance. I took a video, which I wish I could post, but multimedia and internet do not work so well around here. The dancing was inspiring not only because they were just so good, I mean I truly have never seen anything like it, but also because their dancing seemed to be driven by a much larger force. I got the impression that the dancing represented so much more than their moves or routine- it was a way of dealing with everything that’s messed up in South Africa. An outlet of expression, what I saw on stage was driven by raw emotion and a quite tangible energy. I think these kids should be on the next So you think you can dance reality TV show. Or maybe in light of the opening of the Olympics, break dancing could be added to the list. Whether it be in included the summer or winter program, I’m not sure; but there are definitely some 14 year old gold medal contenders in Cape Town.

leave it to me.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost something, and today was the day. (And unfortunately I’m sure it won’t be the last). After my class on liberation in South Africa, I went with my friends to get some coffee before we went on the bus to Cavendish to buy some shoes. We walked around the mall for what seemed like decades, in desperate need of sandals. The only sandals I have are athletic flip-flops which are entirely out of place here. However, as you might know, shopping and me do not get along, and I quickly grew tired of trying on shoes that looked absolutely ridiculous to me. Gold shoes with sequins, or diamonds are not particularly my cup of tea. The mall was huge and without a store directory (this is Africa, remember?), the scattered shoe stores were mighty hard to locate. Feeling very discontented with the shopping selection, my mind wandered elsewhere and all of a sudden I realized I was no longer in possession of my sunglasses. In South Africa sunglasses are not a mere accessory, they are of utmost necessity because of the blinding and fierce sun. Anticipating the intensity of the sun before I left, I had asked for a real pair of sunglasses for Christmas. Somewhere between getting coffee and walking around to god knows how many shoe stores, I had lost my sunglasses. Never mind all of the robbers and high crime in South Africa, just leave it to me to lose track of all my stuff. We continued to walk around the mall for a bit but the whole time I was thinking about where I might have put them down. The only store where I had actually tried my luck at trying on any shoes was the very first store. And, if they weren’t there, they could have been left at the coffee stand. We went back to the first shoe store and I looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Then I asked one employee if any sunglasses had been turned in and she said no. I figured that I must have left them at the coffee place. Then as we were leaving I saw another employee and decided off hand to ask her if any sunglasses had been turned in and she said she would look behind the counter. She opened some cabinet and pulled out MY sunglasses. By some small miracle, in the land of crime and robbery, I was reunited with my pretty expensive (okay, very expensive) sunglasses. After finding my sunglasses I was done for the day. No more shopping, please.

waiting

There's something particularly frustrating about waiting at a bus stop and watching the bus you are suppose to be on fly by. Yesterday the bus picked students up from the spot where I was standing, but apparently what happened yesterday has nothing to do with how things work today. And thinking that perhaps that certain bus was a conundrum of sorts, I decided to wait for the next bus. 20 minutes passed and finally another bus came- but it wasn't a bus that I could take because it was heading to the wrong area. Another 20 minutes went by and more buses came and went, but none were heading to my house. Finally, I saw my bus round the corner, and I stood up from the bench where I sat, only to watch it zip past. This had to be some evil joke. On any other day I would have given up and walked the 30 minutes back to Mowbray but I had my brought my computer and passport with me to do some errands, so walking was certainly not an option. I decided to get on the next bus, no matter its destination, just so I could wait in a different spot. Finally, the next bus came and I got off a little ways down the road. To my surprise, after waiting only 5 minutes or so at the new stop the correct bus came! I bounded (I really wanted to get home) towards the bus and just as I entered the bus driver mumbled that it was out of service. Of course.

Although I seemed to be at odds with the bus gods, I did meet some really great people during the 45 minutes of waiting. One woman was from Durban and had just recently arrived in Cape Town. She had a great accent and I confess I think I spent most of the time listening to the way she pronounced words and her slightly odd expressions than attending to what she studied in school. One little tidbit I picked up was the expression "is it". In response to everything I said she would reply, "is it?" At first I wanted to answer something in return and then I realized that "is it" is just the equivalent to saying "really?". Another woman I met was from Nuremberg Germany. She is also a psych major and had traveled all over the world as a child because of her Dad's work.

Perhaps sitting and waiting for the bus that never arrives is what coming to Cape Town is all about. If I was able to board the bus within five minutes, I would have made it home an hour earlier, but I would never have gotten the chance to meet new people or been able to share in the "bond" of waiting for the lousy bus. Although the experience was tremendously frustrating and I hope I never have to wait an hour again for the bus to come, it was a good lesson to learn.

And, in case you were wondering, the correct bus in full working service did eventually arrive. Stress on eventually.

meat meat and more meat

I made it through day 1 of school. The first class I had was applied ethics and surprise surprise the professor was 30 minutes late and looked very confused when he came into the classroom. He said he was told the wrong location and had been sitting in the other room for the whole time wondering where people were. Oddly enough he is a visiting professor from UNC and seemed to be just as lost in the world of UCT as I am. It crazy how you can go so far away and yet never really escape. After ethics I had African literature and the professor was on time so that was a big plus. Then I had clinical psychology which was my favorite class. I love the professor and have read a book of hers entitled A Human Being Died that Night. I am looking forward to seeing how psychology is taught here.

Yesterday was probably my favorite day in Cape Town thus far. We took a mini bus to Mzoli’s which is a meat market/restaurant in a township, Uguleto. I have never seen so much meat in my life- its definitely not a place for vegetarians. We ordered pounds and pounds of meat and then devoured all of it with our hands. Of course I had bbq sauce all over my face. After eating there was also a dj playing music and handing out free prizes. We danced for a long time to local music and I won a backpack which will be really useful for going to the gym.

I am getting much more used to the way things work here, including buying electricity at the market, riding the jammie, and navigating campus. One thing that’s getting really old is the continuous America bashing. From fast food restaurants to not knowing how to drive a manual car- the ganging up on the good ole stars and stripes is endess. The best comment thus far came from my adorable Norwegian roommate. She said that her English is going to get worse because she will be around Americans all semester. This made no sense to me so she explained that in Norway they teach them mostly British words, and she is afraid her english will become Americanized. For example, in school she was told specifically to call pants trousers. Whats most interesting to me is that people think they know what America is like because of the TV shows they watch and they are dead serious. I'm sorry- but just because I live near Boston does not mean that my life resembles Boston Legal or Boston Public, but nice try.

School Night

So far my time here has felt like one giant vacation (or holiday as all the Europeans call it). Between going to the beach, having braais (bbqs) at our house and meeting tons of new people, I almost forgot one of the main reasons why I am in South Africa: to go to school. Tomorrow we start classes and its impossible to find out where the classes are and what time they are being held because most classes haven't posted all the information yet. It seems like every process here is 10,0000 times more complicated. At first is was comical- but now its growing more and more frustrating. For example, yesterday we were sent to five different people before we could obtain a proper form that needed to be filled out.

I am taking 3 classes: clinical psychology, african language and lit, and either applied ethics or liberation in south africa. I am really interested in learning more about the end of the apartheid here because I think it will contextualize some of what I am seeing but I have heard that a class that has the word "south african" attracts mostly international students and not many of the locals. I have a strong feeling that liberation in south africa would be one of those giant traps :) Anyways, I am happy to start school tomorrow- it will be nice to get into a routine.
Xhosa is a really cool language to listen to- something quite unlike any other language I have heard before. There are many different kinds of clicks and sometimes I find myself making my own click noises in the mini bus to experiment until I realize that people are staring at me. By the way, mini buses are white, van- type vehicles which drive down the main road. Normally there is a driver and a squasher who literally squashes people into the bus and hollers out the window at people on the road. Its stuffy and cramped inside the buses but I somehow I still love driving in them because it is quite an experience and one of the most efficient ways to get to down town Cape Town. You have to brace yourself though, almost like riding a taxi in NY, because they swerve in and out of traffic, and drive a million miles an hour on the left side of the road.
Its really cheap to drive in a mini bus and we take them everywhere during the day, but never at night because its not safe.


The scenery here is absolutely amazing and the weather is even more incredible. I think I make a comment about the weather everyday. And believe it or not, I am actually starting to get a little sun, but I still glow in the dark in comparison to some of the people we see at the beach. I still haven't gone for a full swim yet- between the frigid waters, strong currents and sharks, sitting on the beach is just fine for me.

summit

Sometimes not knowing what you are getting yourself into is a good thing. Yesterday we went on a “little” hike which turned out to be a 7 hour affair, rock climbing and wicked sharp branches included. Three guides led a group of 35 students up and I’m so glad that we went with guides because the trails are unmarked and its impossible to know where you are supposed to go. The first 45 minutes were straight up and all of us were sort of struggling. Then we stopped for a break and the guide said this was just a warm up. (!!). Yikes. It was at that point I thought I would never make it to the top but no one said they wanted to turn around so up we went. The next part was real ledge climbing and when I looked down the steep cliffs my stomach dropped a little. The final two hours were not as strenuous as the first hour but much more technical. Finally, we made it to the top but we were in the clouds so it was hard to see. I was super happy that all of us made it to the top, its always the best feeling in the world. Today I am a bit sore but not as much as I expected. I am joining the mountain club at UCT so hopefully there will be many more hikes to come.

Today we took the mini bus to the Waterfront area which is a big place for tourists. After getting out of the minibus we entered the land of wealth and whites. There were gift shops, venders trying to sell helicopter tours and people walking around in big sun-brimmed hats looking very confused. It seriously felt like I was on the Caribbean (well what I imagine the Caribbean to be because I’ve never actually been there). We stopped for seafood and sat outside looking at the giant cruise boat and watching the seals play in the water. I was really tempted to buy postcards until I looked at the sky high prices. When I passed a store called Martha’s Vineyard that sold pink ties, I knew I had reached my limit, it was time to head back to the train station to catch a crazy and smelly minibus back home.

I always thought that because people in South Africa talked about race more openly that they were somehow able to confront the issue without sliding it under the rug like most Americans do. However, I have come to discover that people are just flat out racist. For example, a couple of days ago when the international kids in the house next door were talking to the landlord of a house on the street she said she was still looking for more students to rent her house but that she didn’t want any black people. Apparently all the kids just stood there in shock.