Summer has come to South Africa.
The Christmas trees are up.
Spring with all its graduations and matriculation balls has passed.
The awards have been given out to the students of merit.
.
My heart is thawing. I still cry when I think about Siphomandla and Yolanda
but I let it in. and out. calmly. and wipe my eyes when i finish.
.
Terry says that we need to have a community around us who love us for us
to take care of our souls.
and that we must fight off the disease that is cynicism
.
when people nicely and politely ask how was africa?
i smile and tell them unflinchingly
that south africa broke my soul
oh.
how nice.
I'm going there in January,
its going to be so great. I'm so excited.
I can't wait to hold AIDS orphans for a day.
.
the one who believed me, thinks his world is going to be rocked January.
and was worried that he has a Dutch last name.
.
i don't know how much rocking will happen in this trip.
.
Bonner provides a whole list of things that underclassmen want to hear, and its totally different from what upperclassmen want to hear.
Underclassmen want to hear how to do their service better. in my terms~what the hell am i supposed to be doing here?
Upperclassmen want to hear affirmation on how to continue service after seeing the cost of it. my terms~ why the hell am I here doing this? how the hell am I supposed to keep serving?
.
my question. how the hell do i find true Life without seeing beautiful brown faces whenever I am authentic and open up. who wants to hear my stories? who wants to carry these seemingly irrelevant and unnecessary versions of life a million miles away?
.
my friends are almost entirely international students who don't want to hear about all this. or girls from Ballard who i'm still so guarded with and don't even trust with my feelings/emotions/innerself. thank you jesus for my housemates

I've been thinking about studying abroad recently. It really changes a lot.
I don't know how to describe it to my friends who are studying here now for the first semester. Iveth and I just talk about it. Its practically indescribable.
I came back from South Africa, and I don't give a shit.
Nothing minor matters.
I can be lost in a city, drive for hours looking for a street,
get really pissed off,
and still not care a few days later.
I can speak my mind to someone
I can sniff out a coffee shop in a new city
I can be a complete bitch
and I'm totally free from caring what anyone else thinks.
Somehow, the semesters separation from everyone at Whitworth was a gift in and of itself, nevermind all the other things that I saw, people I met, friends I made, and experiences I had.

Shosholoza

There's a girl on campus who grew up in Nairobi Kenya. I've been seeing her a lot lately.
She gets it. I don't even know what it is.
Nor do I profess to "get" Africa.
But something that connects Africa. and poverty. and our souls. that's what she gets.
and she gets my confused pain.
undirected Feelings. or something.
Today, she broke out Shosholoza, and I started singing it back to her. It was the greatest thing.

shosholoza. shooooosholooza,

Ku lezontaba

Stimela siphum' eSouth Africa

Wen' uyabaleka

Wen' uyabaleka

Ku lezontaba

Stimela siphum' eSouth Africa

and how poverty isn't a lack of food. or lack of money.
its parents working so hard, and coming home fried.
its kids being abused.
raped.
by relatives and friends.
its rampant alcoholism
its destroyed family units

its [willfully?] ignorant elite sitting on the money that could save us all.

its 13 year old girls who choose statutory rape because they get a cell phone from their 20-30 year old "boyfriend" who has so many other girls on the side.

its sexual abuse happening regularly IN the schools.

its not the shacks. its not individual choices.
its an endemic quality of life.

and its not easy to solve.

and it felt like there was nothing I could do, for so many of those kids.

I think I understand a little bit why Jesus spoke in parables. There are no ways to explain some things.

When people want to hear about my trip to South Africa, I don't know where to start.
I can tell vignettes, or cute stories of kids. i can rant about the frustrations of various aspects of living abroad. I can list all the places I went. I can even say a few things that I learned.
But when they ask "how was South Africa?" it is too big a concepts for words. for description.
it was good. it was bad. it was life. you know? (but of course, they don't)

because I have come from a new place, I can't really describe it except for random times when I say "in south africa, we did this one thing", and those only really make sense in the context of conversations about specific activities/objects. not about the country as a whole.

I love it there. And its a beautiful paradise.
and you haven't been there. probably.

but South Africa is frustrating and difficult and depressing and stressful.
but I had a really good time and have so many new friends that I bonded with and whom I really appreciate and love. and you won't ever know. its just this unique chance in a life to live life alongside people that you'll never see in the same place at the same time ever again.

I did indeed make in back from Mozambique. It was a beautiful country, with really friendly nice people, and oh so delicious seafood. Also, the people who backpack Mozambique are significantly more mature and have been so many more cool places than the students who populated the many South African backpackers that I stayed in.
I am back in Fresno now, and don't plan on writing anything else on this blog, unless I suddenly find new reflections that need to be written somewhere.

• South Africa is a frustrating country with a tumultuous history
• Its so beautiful, and full of natural resources, there is a reason that everyone has been continually fighting over it for the past 400 years
• South African activists have a strong tradition of combining theory/academia with ground-level action. If it does not stem from actual human rights work on the ground, it is not considered legitimate research. Not just experiements, or commenting on past happenings, but to be actually developed as a part of activism. That is definitely something to learn from.
• apartheid does not end overnight.
• South Africa is a country where you do not escape your race ever. most of the backpackers I met in Maputo said that SA was the worst that they had ever experienced White-consciousness. You don't ever escape from the guilt of your race, no matter who you are around. (As opposed to remote corners of the South and Southeast Asia, SubSaharan Africa, South and Central America, where the backpackers had spent significant time being the only white face around)
• 
  

I love Maputo. and really wish I could speak Portuguese.
and it looks like this will be the first college summer where I actually make a substantial amount of money. and it will be the first time that i don't owe my mother thousands of dollars for tuition. beautiful!
i guess maybe i am growing up?
haha.
no, now i just want to save money for the next little bit of time, so that I can come back here, and go elsewhere. i also want to spend my life wandering. I've met so many backpackers here who have gone to so many different places, and it just gives me so much hope that it really is possible to do all these things that maybe seem dangerous. Also, let us all remember that people are people wherever we go. And when you say bom dia or bom tarde, they tend to smile and be friendly.
there aren't hardly any street people in maputo. no one really begging. many sales people, who play checkers and cards when sales are low.
i'm staying at a really cool backpackers called Fatimas.
I left my digital camera in Stellenbosch on accident, so i bought an old school disposable one, i kinda like it though. :)
out of internet time.
much love!

Maputo Nelspruit and Pretoria

In Nelspruit, I left the backpackers and walked alone to the internet cafe, which, because this is South Africa, didn't have internet that day. I walked to Spar, asked directions to another internet cafe, and promptly walked 10 minutes in the wrong direction. I asked a girl on the street where the SuperSpar with the internet cafe was, and she guided me 10 minutes back to where I started. The next day I took a taxi to the Mozambican Embassy where I spent R750 on a visa, which is a lot of money, in retrospect. I just have been so intent on coming to Mozambique. I wanted to see it, I wanted to experience it. And here I am.
We arrived in Maputo around 4:30pm yesterday, which is also about the time secondary school gets out and the sun goes down. There ended up being 6 of us heading to the same place, but we couldn't all fit in the same taxi, so the man said that he would leave us and go get another car. So we waited. and waited. and waited. and then called 45 minutes later, and then the lady from the travel agency next to the bus station called our backpackers, and then the cars finally came. I guess you can tell that we've been in South Africa for a while, because I don't think it really bothered anyone all that much. We just kinda sat on our bags, people watched, read, journeled, flipped through guidebooks, whatever.
My cell doesn't get signal in Maputo, which makes sense I guess, but I was somehow expecting roaming-like charges, still having a signal though... oh well.
plan is to end up in durban by Friday the 30th, no specific plans other than that though.
much love,
christine

Life without Fear

In South Africa, or at least in Stellenbosch, when you walk down the street people don't meet your eye. When I first got here, I was unnerved by this, but kept trying, our of habit, to smile and meet people's eyes as I passed them. A week or two ago, I realized that I have adapted to this culture without even realizing it. After reading a collection of short stories of women travelling, I was re-energized to make the most of this adventure. I also actually exercised a few days in the same week, which also made my state of mind a little more positive.
I've started looking into the eyes of people again. Or at least trying. They hardly ever look up, and when they do they look through you to find someone else. About 1 in 20 people actually meet my eyes and offer some sort of acknowledgement.
But its okay, because it feels so much better to walk with your head held high than bowed, eyes to the ground ahead of you. Its an unconscious acknowledgment of fear, or a desire to be invisible.
I went for a walk by myself just before dusk. Not very far, just a big loop around the backside of my residential complex. I found a park that I had never seen before. I saw couples walking with their dogs. I saw teenagers trying to get a ball or something out of a tree by throwing more sticks into the tree. I saw a dad walking along the road with two kids. In short, I saw normal people doing normal things.
There's this culture of fear that exists among the white people here. The International Office makes such a big deal out of safety the first week of orientation. Don't ever walk anywhere by yourself, especially at night, especially if you're a girl. If/When someone threatens you with a weapon for your money/cell, don't fight just give it to them. Horror Story after Horror Story. And of course other stories circulate around the international community as well. This one girl heard from her South African friend that her classmate was robbed in the Botanical Garden. Don't ever go there by yourself!
The houses here are ridiculous as well. Tall walls around half of the houses, covered in sharp metal pointy things. Of course the other half of the houses don't really have much of anything for security, just a normal lawn and then a porch and a front door.
The international office also told us to not to ride the train, and if we did, to be sure that we did it in big groups, first class, without being too obviously touristy.
And to only walk on the Green Route at night. not cut through campus, walk all the way around, on a well-lit path, where security guards patrol.
...
and I understand the need to make wise decisions. and I understand that the IO is responsible for us while we are in a foreign country. I just wonder if there was a better way to encourage smart decisions and awareness than outright FearMongering. You know? Kinda like when you're younger, and you're not supposed to talk to strangers, or accept candy from strangers, or talk to things bigger than your plate. Once you're older, you learn to discern which strangers are nice, which aren't. You learn that its okay to make small talk in a grocery line, or when someone is asking for directions. You even learn how to be the stranger that approaches someone else when you need help. You don't have to be afraid of people walking down your street. You can say, hi, good afternoon. It doesn't mean that they are going to kidnap you or feed you poisoned candy. You learn how to ascertain what situations are safe, and how to maneuver around situations that are less safe.
Its like that here, or I think it should be. People who are from small towns or safe cities should learn how to be smart and stay safe, but without needing to be worried all the time. At some point in time, we have to realize that people, no matter their socio-economic position or skin color, are indeed still people.
The scariest part of here is how racialized the socio-economic positions are. It makes it so that international students become automatically scared when they see someone darker skinned. Its freaking apartheid perpetuated. There's no room for subtler judgments based on clothing, or time of day, or location, or who the other person is with. There's no room for the Other to be human, doing normal human everyday activities. Everyone who is black or coloured or darker than white, if we can't differentiate between the apartheid-era labels that are still in use today. We don't go to the grocery store when the Other is shopping. Its just too crowded and dirty, and i hate it when people stare at me. We don't sit by the other on the train. We make sure to find other stellenbosch students, or tourists, or well-dressed people to sit next to, so that we can be sure not to have contact with the Other.
Its hard too, because I realize that having an American accent makes me a target. I feel like whiteness makes me a target. The clothes that I wear, the jacket that I bought ridiculously cheap when a department store was closing down. But just because I feel like a target doesn't mean that anyone is hunting. The majority of people here, just as anywhere else, aren't bad people, don't steal things from random strangers walking down the street.
I don't walk around with a lot of money. I have the cheapest cell phone I could buy, and I still don't walk around at night, except when I'm coming back from the library on my bike. And I'm not denying that crime does happen. Theft does happen. I just wonder how much other Good stuff I missed out on, how many people I didn't meet, because I was walking with my head bowed, or staying inside my fortress of a dorm.
(The other part of it, is that of the strangers I have met, I haven't met any that didn't turn out to be really nice people. Not everyone is my new best friend, but when I'm friendly and outgoing, the people I meet are so so friendly and conversational. no matter their skin color. no matter their class. no matter what their jobs are, or where I meet them)
So for these last few weeks, I'm trying really hard to live without those fears. Because I rode third-class to Cape Town by myself this weekend. And you know who I met? A master's student from Zimbabwe who is studying math. A freaking Math major with a British accent. Really nice guy. black. around 23. let's be realistic here people. We're on the African continent. We came to have new experiences and meet new people. We didn't come to hang out and party with other Europeans and Americans. International Office, there's gotta be another way. Its somehow gotta be okay for races to mix. You've gotta get past 1994 eventually. There've gotta be everyday normal ways for international students to experience everyday normal people in a non-structured, non-savior, non-touring-through-township sorts of ways.

Lesson 8: We do not kiss each other at After School Program. We do not go around asking people to kiss us. We do not make people kiss us who do not want to.

This was repeatedly told to the other two boys in the previous picture. (At least they were asking??)



I love 7th graders...

Lessons for Grade 7s

Lesson 0: We will respect one another.

Lesson 1: We do not hit each other to express our feelings. It is never okay to hit someone.

Lesson 2: We do not talk when the teacher is talking

Lesson 3: We ask before we borrow someone's rubber (eraser)

Lesson 4: We do not use other peoples money. We do not gamble during afterschool program

Lesson 5: We are at After School Program for two reasons: to have fun and to be safe. We do not ruin other people's fun. We do not hurt other people or ruin their safe place.

Lesson 6: We use other people's real names. It is not okay to say "the fat one" "the black one" "the dark one" "the skinny one". We all have names. I am Christine. You are Olwethu. You are Kwanele. You will not insult other people by calling them elephants, ugly, skinny, fat, in English or in Xhosa. You will use their real name.

We just got to Lesson 6 today. Lesson 1 has been a recurring theme. Two more sessions and then I'm gonna go back to my world, as the boy in the very front of this picture very pointedly told me today.

Dear South Africa,

I want you to take responsibility for your poverty. I want to hold you responsible for your incomprehensible levels of rape, HIV, and abuse. I am disenchanted and angry. I'm mad that you have so much money, that your tourist attractions are so well kept, that you are so beautiful, and yet you move so slowly to make change for the least of your citizens. I'm mad that your politicians are just as corrupt as those in the united states. I'm mad that for all your idealism in your revolution, for all your promises of a new dispensation, your leaders are human after all. I'm frustrated that your citizens remind me of the people on the north side of town, your churches remind me of New Harvest.

Dear America,
how can you expect the rest of the world to develop when your Native people live on destitute reservations or promote the poverty of others through casinos? That's an unfair generalization, but its an important point to make. The situation of white/black/hispanic/asian in America is a whole nother ball game than that of black/white in South Africa. Dear America, please look at how divided your society is, and work for equality and an end to poverty inside your borders. Dear America, please look at your trade policies and how you regulate the human rights ethics of your corporations. Dear America, please control the CIA and Homeland Security. Please be more humane. Dear America, please give California more money for education and water for farmers, you get so much of our taxes. we're the seventh biggest economy of the world, and yet we have so many hungry families right now. Dear American churches, love your neighbors, love one another, remember the poverty of your cities as you pray for the poverty across the world. Ministering to people across the world is just as hard and frustrating as the little rude buggers who you don't want your kids to be friends with.

Dear South Africa,
I love you. You're beautiful and full of hope. You have so many smiling children and shacks that have starred in many idealistic YouTube fundraising efforts and many church recruitment videos. I could fit here. I could serve here. I could give more and more of my time. I could develop curriculum and support an afterschool program. I do have something to offer here. I do have skills, love, and prayers. I've wanted to come here for so long, and here I am South Africa. here I am. I love it here. I just have the same depressed moments, the same money stresses, and the same inability to keep my normal life on schedule. It makes me want to go home and start over again. I'm sure I'll miss you so much when I'm home again, but I think I'm being called home now.

Dear America,
I can't believe I love you enough to call you home.
Dear California,
I do believe I love you enough to call you my state.
Dear Fresno,
I love you always and forever. I miss you and I'll see you soon. Keep trying to get better! I'll be home to support your economy soon! no chains, just family businesses like Bertos and Paradise Cafe.

Another one of those reflections for class

 You should now have a fair indication of where your activity process is going. You are preparing to conclude and end your process. Reflect on the implications: What impact did this experience have on you, on the community and on the organization. In the second question reflect on how you used the theory on PAR and evaluation to analyse the outcomes of the planned activities.

 

This experience did impact me greatly. I don't feel like a new person. I feel like I've seen the problems at home magnified. I feel like the same problems affect poor people all over the world. I feel like the poverty here is the same as the poverty in my hometown. It makes me want to go home to the poor communities where I already know the culture. It makes me want to go into the Hmong and Cambodian communities at home, and work with people there. South Africa is not my country. South Africa is big and unfamiliar even after 3 or 4 months. My county at home has 17% unemployment rates right now. We still have the highest concentrated poverty in the country. The farms are in draught. I need to go home. They need good community development there. As a Fresnan, as a Californian, I have more of a place there.

This experience affected the community of Kayamandi/Ikaya Primary School is small but significant ways. I was present for a lot of students. I heard a lot of students' stories. I came, and I saw. I experienced. I think that that is more important to me, but it does make a small impact on these students as well. I think that the afterschool program does make a tangible difference in their lives, because they get focused attention, and they get to be special. The grade 8 helpers remember their fun times in the program like it was yesterday. They miss last year's volunteers and talk about them all the time. I think our grade 7 students will feel the same about us, when we are gone.

My contribution to ISOS-Kayamandi is not too significant. It is structured so that all valuable contributions are used. I feel like I influenced the program, but alongside many other people. I think that I learned a lot from ISOS-Kayamandi that I will use in future afterschool or summer programs with kids.

Carefully read the instructions about the theme for this week's journal, before attempting this question. (these instructions are available on the journal webpage and above. Question 1: Using the DEAL model of reflection and the critical incident approach, describe the most important activities and interactions (incidents) during your service at your site of placement today (this week), as it relates to the theme of this particular journal. Why was it important? How did you feel during and after the incident(s) and why did you feel that way? (See identifiable feelings tabled below). Also describe any other feelings or reactions you experienced at your placement site today (this week).

On Monday night, we had our feedback session, which was my mini-project aside from the weekly work with the children in the afterschool program. I am proud of the way that it worked out. I began with a focus session with the grade 8 helpers. Mike had correctly predicted that it would be difficult for the girls to say anything negative about the program structure or the volunteers. I taught them the phrase constructive criticism as part of our exercise, but I'm not sure they understand the 'critical' part of the phrase, even now. I did get a lot of useful advice out of them, eventually. When it was time for the big meeting with all the volunteers, the grade 8s did want to speak in front of everyone. They said all the positive things that we had talked about. They let me say the negative things. They did really good. I think the volunteers were really receptive, too.

The top 5 lessons for the volunteers were:

1. Talk slower, and repeat yourself if we don't understand the first time.
2. Be creative and interesting in the ways that you engage with the learners.
3. Talk to the learners as much as possible, about anything, just talk.
4. We want to be your friends, the learners want to be your friends, try to open up and be our friends.
5. We really appreciate what you do

I am realizing more and more that all of the kids really do crave relationship. As time goes on, and my face is seen consistently every week, they are beginning to open up to me and share their stories. I think that this is the biggest impact that I could ask for in these children's lives. Its also the biggest impact that ISOS could ask for, too. (the girls do swear that their English is infinitely better because of afterschool programme, so that's good affirmation as well). Its really hard though, because every story is a new and unique variation on heartbreak.

I sat in the back of the room with Siphomandla (gift of strength) and another boy as we were writing articles about how they had spent Easter Holiday. The other boy wrote about getting to visit his father in Gugulethu, which doesn't happen very often. He got to ride the train. He got to see his friends in Gugulethu, he got to go to the beach, all sorts of exciting things happen when he gets to see his dad. Siphomandla says something under his breath about his dad that I don't quite catch. I tell him to write it down as a part of his article. He writes "I wish I could go visit my dad. I have never met him since I was 2 months old and my mother left him in Gauteng". Oh, Siphomandla. There were tears in his eyes. And I was powerless to do anything other than affirm how badly that sucks. I felt so powerless, but also privileged to hear a bit of his story. He usually doesn't talk very much.

I think another child in the program is being abused. I don't know what to do about that either. I was talking to Katie, and part of her Prochorus Resource Binder is a sheet of signs to look for. This boy, he has a lot of those signs. He's usually pretty quiet, or at least he doesn't ever speak English very loudly. He can scream Xhosa quite well. Everyone picks on him; I think it is because his immediate response is to punch them. At first, I felt like I was always getting him in trouble, because he was always fighting with other boys. I started to play closer attention, and I realized that the boys would poke or prod or lightly punch him until he punched back. The girls will tease and make fun of him until he responds. It's not okay. I've talked to him a million times about how violence is not okay. I've intervened in specific confrontations, and made the girls apologize for calling him __________(Zulu, Zimbabwean, the super dark-skinned skinny looking tribal man in the magazine). I've made him apologize for hitting. I've separated him from the table he was fighting with. I've even threatened to drop him out of the program. Andy sent him home early on occasion. He hit someone else in the classroom on Tuesday. I took him outside and talked to him a little bit. He didn't really talk. He looked stonily out at the distance, wouldn't look at me. I told him I wasn't going to yell at him, I just wanted to know what was going on. I let him sit for a while, asked a few more questions about what had just happened. He didn't respond. I asked a few questions about his home. I asked if he lived with his mother, he shook his head no. I asked if he lived with his father, he nodded. I asked if he had brothers, he shook his head no. I asked if he had sisters, he put up three fingers. He then starts crying. Not sobbing, but the tears that he's been fighting to hold in, the whole time he's been looking stonily, those tears just come pouring down his face. I ask a few more questions that he doesn't really answer. I let him sit there and finish crying. I ask him if he wants to get a drink of water first, or he wants to just go back in. The only time he says anything is "water". He washes off his face, drinks some water, and then goes back into the classroom. I don't see him punch anyone else the rest of the time we are in the classroom.

As the program comes to an end for this semester, I wish that I could somehow tell the new group of volunteers everything that I have learned about each of the students. I wish that they wouldn't have to waste 2 months of getting comfortable. In Young Life, we have a saying that you have to earn the right to be heard. The new volunteers do need to earn the trust of these kids, because they have so few dependable trustable people in their lives. The students are smart to keep so much hidden. They cannot live any other way. I wish that I had more time with them, even though I am so ready to go home. I don't know how much more I could hear and be powerless to do anything about.

 

 

 

 

  Question 2: This question relates back to your knowledge base (prior knowledge and experience, course readings and current research you undertake) and how this helps to inform you to understand your answer in the previous question. The instruction for this question is therefore to 'step back' from your experience and analyze as objective as possible the reasons for your feelings during the experience at the site. Relate experiences and observations to specific concepts and theories you learned in class or in classes prior to coming to South Africa. (Use the theme and specific readings referred to in the description of this journal on the journal web page as guideline.

In the second question reflect on how you used the theory on PAR and evaluation to analyse the outcomes of the planned activities.

I think that I used the theories of PAR pretty well in my group training/feedback session on Monday night. The volunteers and Grade 8 helpers both got to co-create the training material that will be used for next semester's volunteers. The time I spent with the grade 8 girls was especially helpful for me and empowering for them. Because I came up with the idea, it wasn't completely participatory. They did identify the need for volunteer training during an earlier conversation where we discussed their roles in the after school program. I guess that could be problem formulation. The capacity building of the volunteers and grade 8 helpers is important for the program. It does help support the efforts of the afterschool program to further its work in the community. My focus session focused on the need for volunteer training. If I was just working with the small group of concerned grade 8s, I'm not sure that that would be the focus of our community development efforts. I don't think that's what would happen with my Participatory Action Research. I think that I have been good at developing a democratic and trusting relationship with the grade 8 helper girls. I learn a lot from them, and listen to what they have to say. They know this. I think that it was empowering for the girls to hear their opinions shared to a large group of volunteers. It was also empowering for the girls to hear the volunteers share their opinions about the volunteers' own perceptions of the volunteers. I think that the conscientization process was most evident in my work with the girls. I think that they learned about the process as well.

If I was to stay in Kayamandi, and do PAR or other methods of community development, I would want to focus on abuse. I know that Prochorus does some work in this area, and I'm sure other NGOs do too. I would want to use the girls' experiences and see how PAR could help them. I've heard too many stories now.

Election Day in South Africa

They don't stream the votes or do a big thing on SABC like CNN does in the States. Carly was kind enough to drive 3 girls home to Kayamandi after they visited me today (public holiday for voting). It was a crazy party scene in Kayamandi. At least 150 people were lined up to vote outside the Primary School. There were braais (bbqs) on street corners. There were people wearing political party t-shirts everywhere. There were little parties outside of houses, everyone wearing the same t-shirts, with banners in the background. Although ANC is slated to win by a landslide, (with the poor black vote being a huge contributing factor), I saw a fair amount of other parties decently-to-well represented. this was especially interesting because of the poor-black-ANC generalization. Voting is a worth a huge party! its really exciting in a starry eyed political science student sort of way.
I swear every child I talk to has a new variation on heartbreak, hiding behind their smiles and bright eyes. Its too much. They love me though. And they share with me. And I get to hear their hidden stories. I can't save them though. as much as i want to. and they want me to. what can I do? I can give them hugs. I can teach them fun vocabulary words. I can buy them ice cream occasionally when they visit me like 3 did today. And I can treasure their little notes and stories. I can be present. I can be here. And that's what I gotta do.
peace love hope truth. grace.

I got back to Stellenbosch safe and sound. I'm really good at driving stick now, just so everyone knows. Although, I am still much more stressed when I'm in town than if I'm away from other cars. Its really fun to drive, actually.
I had a lovely dinner with KP Sam Haylie and Sander for Easter. We started cooking around 1, planned to eat around 2:30, definitely ate around 4. There are just so many things you have to do when you cook a lot of dishes, goodness. It was lovely though. We told stories about our breaks, and otherwise just enjoyed the good food. I learned how to make gravy, too. I'm surprised that its so easy.
After our meal I took a quick nap, and then we went to church. The preacher talked about Shalom, and how Jesus came to bring Shalom. and she talked about being peace makers in the context that we find ourselves in. The elections are coming up soon, and theres been some interesting interpretations of justice by the man, Jacob Zuma, who will almost definitely be the next president of this country. I'll definitely be safe in Stellenbosch, but if you're of the praying persuasion, pray for peace and safety across the country. ANC has a pretty strong arm, and doesn't really like it when people vote for anyone but them. Its not at a national level, but at a local level, especially in poorer areas. Its rough.
but it was cool to hear her say relevant stuff, that also showed intelligent sifting through the news, and also providing some appropriate responses for her congregation to think about. i really liked it.
it was a small church. maybe 20 people there total. not all white. which was nice. but definitely mostly white.

my new favorite person:

Mamphela Ramphele

she kinda tells it like she sees it

http://www.news24.com/News24/South_Africa/Politics/0,,2-7-12_2491003,00.html

i kinda want to be her when i grow up.
minus all the heartbreak. if thats possible.

also, if you click the slideshow, you can get a direct link to my picasa account, where I uploaded a lot of beautiful pictures from my spring break trip. you have to click Neen's gallery, I think, and then Spring Holiday.

Easter Break Reflections

Its so beautiful here at The Wild Farm outside of Wilderness. It's a cloudy day, and you can hear the waves crashing from the ocean at the bottom of the mountain. We are at the top of the mountain and can see 360 degrees of beauty, just like what was advertised in the Coast to Coast backpackers guide. There's a slight breeze, as there should be when you're near the ocean on a cloudy day.

Last night I harvested tomatoes, onions, and peppers from the Wild Farm to use in our pasta sauce. They were free, because you pick what you want. Yesterday we also took a really cool back road from Knysna to Wilderness. It was beautiful, because everything is beautiful here, but it was also nice just to get off the main highway for a bit, and see the countryside, you know?

In regards to safety, almost every night the backpackers that we are in is full to the brim of other young people doing the exact same thing as us. There are couples from Germany, American exchange students, British vacationers, Australian best friends, and more. Laura and I drive very safely, and the roads are very well maintained. Everyone that we've interacted with (aside from the car rental guy, but that was in Stellenbosch) has been really nice and helpful. We met up with Sander, Nicky, and Nadine for a bit, and got really lost in Port Elizabeth, because we didn't know where that backpackers was. I was just following Sander's car, but everyone that they stopped to ask for directions from was really helpful.

The clouds are starting to break and the house on the next hill over is perfectly spotlighted right now.

I think I want to live in Port Elizabeth at some point in time in my life. Most tourists say that there's nothing really in PE aside from its proximity to Addo Elephant Park. I think I like that in a city. I think I want it to be more real than a tourist destination. It is pretty big, and its by the ocean, but it didn't feel pretentious when we were in it. I think I might want to go to Rhodes for grad school. I dunno though. I need to do more research.

On the animal side, so far I have seen 2 baboons. (one on the side of the road, one on a rock looking out at the ocean). I saw 2 jackals, at least 50 elephants, 3 zebras, over a hundred warthogs, at least 50 dung beetles, multiple kudu? Something boks? Some kind of antelope with twisted horns, and multiple monkeys on the side of the road. My favorite monkeys were the ones waiting to cross the bridge until I passed them. I also saw 2 crabs. Oh, and laura almost touched a deer thing. Maybe that was a springbok. Everything that's a deer/antelope is called a _______bok. We're making our way back to Stellenbosch now, and I am pretty satisfied with how well this spring/autumn break has gone.

Peace love grace truth

christine

You cut me open…

We watched the movie Sometime in April in class on Friday night. We've moved on from the DR Congo to Rwanda in our tour of African heartbreak funded by the West. And in this case, more of just the West standing by and doing nothing. Good movie.

The next morning I got up and went on a Girls Weekend road trip to Cederberg. Which was beautiful. And amazing.

 

 

 

But.

 

 

 

 

…yeah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think the hardest part of South Africa isn't learning about the hard stuff, or crying your eyes out, or hearing the stories about people you know. It's the going back, it's the trying to pretend that everything is normal and carefree. I guess you could say that vacationing is the hardest part for me. It's the not having people to talk my thoughts out to. 800,000 people died in 100 days in 1994. And those killers? Most of them ran away to Congo to avoid charges, where they're still raping and murdering today. Thrilling news.

And no, I haven't had a boyfriend in a year, and yes, its been over a year and a half since my only really serious boyfriend and I broke up. No, I don't really care about all your relationships. Yes, I am horrible at these games. (yes I am self-conscious about a lot of these things) Yes, I do love late night gossip sessions. I do love giggling and being silly. Yes I love chocolate and red wine and bread and pasta. Yes I love getting to know people better. Yes I did have a really good time this weekend. No, I don't feel like myself right now.

My only problem is

… I keep keep bleeding/breathing (depending on which version you choose. :p)

 

Usually being around Beauty and being in vast unexplored open spaces heals my soul. Usually I don't feel down and out of it the day after I get back.

South African Politics, on a microlevel

We found out on Tuesday that we should probably cancel the afterschool program for Thursday because there was going to be a big ceremony at the school. The principal faxed Mike (sort of boss) an invitation. Apparently there had been a competition for the best poster design for Fire and Flood Safety. Out of 600 submissions, the first and second prize had gone to students at Ikaya Primary School. Although I needed to be working on a paper (that I still haven't finished), I decided to go. It ended up just being me and Mike, because Andy and Bibi had class. First we waited for like ten or fifteen minutes for Andy to come, but he didn't. When we got to Kayamandi, the thing had actually already started, which was bizarre, because things never start on time. Apparently though, when local government is putting on an event, things happen.

There was a huge tent/canopy thing that everyone could sit under. It was like a khaki colored circus tent, at least 15 ft (5 m) tall, I wish I could have remembered my camera. There was a mini stage, with wireless mikes for the performers, and a decent speaker system. The kids were all seated on the ground, but it was only a few grades. Definitely grades 7 and 6, but possibly 5 too. The front row kids looked really small, but I used to say that about the seventh graders. Numbers-wise, I think there were over 300, which would mean just two grades (4 classrooms of forty learners for each grade. Big smile.).

When we walked up to the tent, there was a performance in progress of the Safety Brigade, or something like that. There were four young people of varying ages (and skin color) in brightly colored shirts excitedly talking about the Emergency phone number, staying calm, and getting help. They also gave out prizes for the kids that answered their questions correctly. The local government officials didn't know what to do with us until another woman came over and told them that we were supposed to sit in the chairs, just like all the other visiting guests. What do you know?

We were seated in time to watch the grade 6 singers/dancers, and then for the two speeches. Then came the announcements. It was two boys from grade 6, classroom C. We got to see the posters that they drew, and they received a drawing kit, a trophy, a certificate, and a cash prize (the MC said the last part very quietly each time). Each boy had his picture taken with all the powerful dignitaries present. Everyone was happy and proud. Then the children were dismissed to go eat the lunch that local government bought for them (chips, pie [think Hot Pocket], candy bar, soda?). The teachers and guests got to go inside the teachers' lounge.

We had prawns, calamari, mini-ribs, chicken, sausages, veggies, fruits, crackers, cheese, sparkling juice, and more. It was super fancy. I didn't know anyone other than Mike, and he didn't really introduce me to anyone, so that was kinda awkward. I did get to meet a youngish woman who works for the Emergency Safety department or something, so I chatted to her a while about prawns. As we were saying goodbye, I met a few of the teachers of our kids. I met the principal too.

We got in the car, drive maybe 50 meters, and Mike says, "that thing cost no less than 50,000 rand ($5,000). With that money, they could have hired another teacher for a semester, or even a whole year if we think about what the teachers really get paid not should get paid. But no, the kids did an assignment in class, for class, won a prize, so the local government puts down the big bucks to celebrate"

Which raises some really interesting questions.

A big theme at FIRM and in community development theory is that you celebrate your accomplishments. Any time anything exciting happened at FIRM, we would have a potluck. If it was really big? A full scale community meal. Celebrating is really important. And those kids at Ikaya should be proud of the distinction. The posters were drawn really well. They were really good, and I think definitely deserved a prize.

They also deserve a decent education. They also deserve a government that acts on their behalf.

So whats the balance? A less nice tent? Crappy speakers that don't project the sound so everyone can hear clearly? A certificate delivered in a classroom? No unnecessary poster competitions in the first place? No free meal? Less fancy food for the teachers? (don't forget teachers have votes and a really influential local ANC party woman is also a teacher at the school) how else will we know that the government is good if they don't give out nice free stuff to the people?

The kids don't deserve a crappy ceremony just because the rest of the school/government services are crappy in some degree or another.

Dunno. Interesting stuff here though.

Two Birds with One Stone

I have just figured out how to type a blog in Microsoft word, and have it be automatically published. This means that you all will now be reading my weekly reflections for my Service-Learning and Community Development class. Sorry if there's specific vocabulary, but I don't think there should be. I could also go back and post some other reflections… hm. Endless possibilities here. Anyways, I have to write my journals in Microsoft Word so that there aren't stupid grammar or spelling mistakes, but then copy paste them into Blackboard, so I might as well let you read them too. Here goes….

"This week is the start of your proposed activity and in some cases a continuance of the activity. Your reflection should cover the start of your activity and how it went. You could also reflect on a one-one relationship that influences the CD process you participate in. In question 2, relate your incident to planning and implementation or the helping relationship. When choosing the latter, you may also relate to communication."

Carefully read the instructions about the theme for this week's journal, before attempting this question. (these instructions are available on the journal webpage and above. Question 1: Using the DEAL model of reflection and the critical incident approach, describe the most important activities and interactions (incidents) during your service at your site of placement today (this week), as it relates to the theme of this particular journal. Why was it important? How did you feel during and after the incident(s) and why did you feel that way? (See identifiable feelings tabled below). Also describe any other feelings or reactions you experienced at your placement site today (this week).

The past week or so, I have been getting frustrated with our volunteers. I feel like they participate and engage when its homework time or planned activity time, but anytime there aren't clear specific instructions, they disengage. This means that they tend to spend the 5-15 minutes before we start just staring into space while the kids at their table chat around them. This also happens at snack time and when the kids finish their activities. It's most frustrating though, during the physical activity time. We (Mike, Andy, Bibi, Me) have kept trying to stress the importance of interacting, and getting excited about the games. There are always people sitting out though. Any time I go talk to them, the group of kids who've finally been corralled (by me and 1-2 other volunteers) to all be in the same place immediately start to scatter. So my decision so far has just been to focus on the kids and play the games with the few volunteers who do participate. It doesn't set a good example, and then the grade 8 volunteers sit out, and then the grade 7 learners sit out. I can talk the grade 8s and 7s back into the games a lot quicker than the volunteers, but I'm getting tired of always having to do the same thing.

I was lamenting this to a Dutch friend who isn't in Kayamandi Project, and then I realized, he's never been to summer camp. I asked him if there were ever any opportunities for Dutch students (expanding to Europeans as a whole) to reach out to younger kids in a leadership type role. He said "no, why would we?". He hasn't heard of or experienced day camps, community service, mentoring, tutoring, or any other similar activity. I was immersed in these activities since I was 8 or 9, so its second nature to me to have a friend/leader role with kids who are younger than me. I hadn't thought about the cultural differences between me as an American and the European volunteers. I then thought about all the volunteers. Some of them are really good, but they're mostly American (with a few amazing Europeans). I then realized how American my paradigm of what makes a good volunteer is. I don't really have any alternatives at the moment, but that realization has helped me be a little more patient this week. I also will keep this in mind as I make my material for the prototype-training in a few weeks. I will also try to be on the lookout for different non-American ways to have positive interactions with the kids. Some volunteers may just be better at interacting with kids than others.

When the grade 8s and I made the contract, it was mostly 2 of the girls contributing, They were all sitting, listening, and agreeing with each other (which is victory in itself after an afternoon working with the grade 7s), but not really contributing. We came up with a well-rounded contract, so that was fine with me at the time. I told them to talk about it with each other after the program on Thursday. This week, one girl reported back and said that the other three weren't participating when as a group they were discussing it. I'm not sure what to do about it. Its hard to get quality time with the grade 8s (especially the three in Bibi's classroom), because if I step out of the physical activity time, the volunteers need to run at least one courts' physical activities. It would be good for them to do that more, as long as it actually happens. I guess if I gave a bit of a warning, and equipped them with the rules of the game, maybe practiced explaining it with them, and otherwise empowered them, it would work better. Its definitely a little more awkward doing that with my peers than if I was doing it with the grade 8 volunteers, or seventh graders. I think if I spent more time (maybe 1 afternoon a week) with the grade 8 helpers, we would have better communication and buy in. This isn't really about the contract, its more about what the contract experience showed.

My most influential one-to-one relationship is with Nomandla (not her real name), one of the grade 8 helpers. She communicates most freely with me, and is really good at critically analyzing situations. She also explains things to me about the schools and our students. She's so helpful. Yesterday she told me that her mom got married last weekend, and that her dad had only died last year, but her mom was secretly 2 months pregnant. So mom's moving to the town of the husband, and Nomandla is moving in with her older sister. She talked about being scared about her stepfather abusing or raping her, not because of anything about him, but because it's so statistically likely. She also talked about not liking the fact that her mom was keeping secrets from her, or that she was moving on so quickly. I didn't know what to say. It was a lot of information all at once, but more than that, I didn't know what advice to give her. If someone in America told me this, I would tell them that their stepdad probably wasn't so bad, and that they should give it some time to get to know each other. I didn't say that here. The statistics are just so high. I think her mom knows it too, which is why Nomandla is moving in with her sister. I feel sorry for her, and I feel bad, but I mostly feel useless. I did feel happy that she confided in me, though. Sometimes I wonder how much of this is about keeping kids safe for just a few more hours every day.

 

Question 2: This question relates back to your knowledge base (prior knowledge and experience, course readings and current research you undertake) and how this helps to inform you to understand your answer in the previous question. The instruction for this question is therefore to 'step back' from your experience and analyze as objective as possible the reasons for your feelings during the experience at the site. Relate experiences and observations to specific concepts and theories you learned in class or in classes prior to coming to South Africa. (Use the theme and specific readings referred to in the description of this journal on the journal web page as guideline.

In question 2, relate your incident to planning and implementation or the helping relationship. When choosing the latter, you may also relate to communication."

When the grade 8 girls and I were writing their contract, we also talked about Kayamandi Project as a whole, and the entire spectrum of volunteers. It was a really good starting place for my planned activity, but I still hadn't figured out how to involve them in the entire process of training. I want to do that now, but am wondering how badly the international student volunteers will take it. I'm also wondering if there's enough time. In regards to the project as a whole, a really important concept is that planning and implementation are mutually dependant activities that are continually happening. Even as I think about this one event, a mid-year review with additional training, its important to remember that all the participants are constantly learning new ways of interacting and communicating. Although there is a perceived need for more training, experience has been training everyone all along. I can also guide the process in the meantime. In regards to the training event, it will be a space for everyone to contribute and plan for next semester's group. I also want to provide special space for the grade 8 volunteers in the pre-event planning process and in the event itself.

In regards to the frustration with disengaging volunteers, I think we need better communication between everyone. Although I do try to check in with as many volunteers as possible throughout the day, the conversations don't go deep, and there's not really the space to sit down and talk about participating in the less structured time. There can be at my event, but I think it should be more integrated. I think it's a symptom of a larger confusion or unfamiliarity or something. I'm not quite sure, though. With better communication, we could at least figure out why it was happening, even without a definite solution.

A lot has happened since I last wrote, and at the same time, not very much at all. Hows that for a vague opening line.
Life in Stellenbosch is really good.
My Negotiating Transitions class continues to be amazing. We've shifted our case study from South Africa to Democratic Republic of Congo. Its a little less personal, because we aren't individually experiencing the aftermath, but still powerful. A few weekends ago, Katie Petitt, Sam and I went to a documentary in Cape Town about rape in the Congo, as an instrument of war. It was really hard to watch. Our Negotiating Transition prof spoke afterwards because he is Congolese and a human rights lawyer as well. He's a really impressive person in general, full of profound thoughts and questions. I keep meaning to transcribe the notes from my class, maybe I will soon.
Other classes are mediocre to decent.
Kayamandi Project, however, has captured me. And thus that's where my stories will come from today.

I work with 75-80 grade 7 learners, 5 grade 8 helpers, 20 international student volunteers, and three other class coordinators every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.
I've been writing lesson plans, doing attendance, and planning activities outside of classtime where I help tutor and teach.(this is my service-learning placement)

A week and a half ago we went to Cape Town to visit the District 6 Museum and the Slave Lodge. For some of them, it was their first time to Cape Town. (Its like a bit over an hour of a bus ride, and about as long on the train). It was all of their first times in a museum.
The girls had all bought new clothes for the trip. They looked so adorable and beautiful (and Oh, did they know it!). It was exciting for everyone because they didn't have to wear their uniforms. We also brought our own lunches for a picnic in Company Gardens. I had brought a humble lunch of peanut butter sandwiches (i've learned since coming here of how unnecessary jelly really is) and water. My girls? They brought ham and cheese and tomato and lettuce sandwiches. And a liter or two of juice. And cookies. And a chocolate bar. And chips. And fruit. And then another little snack or two. It was a GOURMET buffet going on, let me tell you.
After we ate we wandered the gardens and had our own little photoshoot. Those girls may be just 12 or 13, but they've definitely picked up a few societal cues about what 'sexy' is. It was a little disturbing. Like, really. I always think of middle schoolers as being awkward and out of it and too worried about little things. I haven't spent much time with US middle schoolers, so I can't really compare. I tried to get more group shots and smiling faces than beckoning stares/poses...
We had a lot of fun and giggled a lot. We also had a pretty good time at the museums, although it was a little frustrating at the District 6 Museum, because the guide used too advanced vocabulary, and didn't speak loud enough. The kids didn't get much out of it. I think maybe our two most proficient students actually understood what was going on (out of like 35 present). I also had never analyzed vocabulary at a museum before. When we were walking around afterwards, reading sentences off the walls, almost every single word was unrecognizable to the boys I was with. We would talk through the sentences and then explain again what the museum was about.
In their defense though, the forced removal of coloreds from a nicer house to a crappier house... its not exactly relevant when you live in a shack. still. fifteen years after apartheid ended. (government promised a house for all. theres a severe housing shortage here)
The entire bus ride home was filled with singing kids. It was amazing and crazy. I posted some videos of them on my picasa. As well as some highlights from the rest of the trip.
much love.
i'll write more soon.

In celebration of the fact that it is Friday night and I don't feel horrible about the state of the world, I'm writing on my blog instead of going out. This may sound contradictory and somewhat odd, but I have a very heavy class on Fridays from 4:30-7:30, so it usually takes me a day or two to fully process.
Tonight though, Nora just told me she was glad I was in the class because I think about things completely and totally different than she does. And then that made me feel like I was crazy and am going to end up like my Papa Ed or something. Nothing against Papa Ed, but I dunno... or Aunt Lucille. All this crazy hippie blood in me or something. I can't seem to help it that I'm so structural and so anti-Western, anti-neo-liberalism anti-white-privilege. I just don't know what I'm for I guess.
In talking to my dad a few nights ago, I said that this class makes me feel more distanced from everyone else. It makes me think, it makes me process, and critically analyze the world. Heidi calls it "giving things space" and "Living in the contradictions". I feel like it is a process of humanizing. My dad reminded me that that's why I came... to grow as a human. even if it does distance me more from other people who aren't quite as haunted as I seem to be by the bigger questions of the world. And even having the leisure to contemplate Questions that aren't directly related to food, shelter, safety comes from having a place of privilege in society.
Everything about the world that I occupy is almost entirely dictated by Western thought, Western tradition, Western history, colonialism, capitalism, white-over-color ascendency (yay CRT). There is so much more in the world. But if I am the champion of the Other, that is a product of Western thinking as well. I cannot be another white savior. But how do I exist as who I was born as in the context of the questions...
The kids in my class in Kayamandi. They know the following three things about apartheid which ended just before they were born. 1. They weren't allowed to live with their fathers. Families had to live in Eastern Cape. 2. They weren't allowed to go placed without a pass. They couldn't go into King Pie in town to buy fast food. 3. White police shot black people. (and after apartheid)In 1994 we could vote and Nelson Mandela was our president.
There is such a rich history of protest. The ANC despite its corruption and governmental failings has sUUUch a rich history beginning in 1914, I think. What do the kids know about ANC? they know who is for them. They know whether or not their families support them. Maybe I'm romanticizing a brutal history that should not be even partially redeemed. But shouldn't lessons be learned? shouldn't the people of this country be proud of ridding themselves of apartheid? in class today we talked about how TRC basically established that apartheid was wrong, violence was wrong, and that public confessions were cheaper than trials. It did not really address the premise of apartheid. It didn't really ever say, racism is wrong. And structurally in South Africa, not much has changed. There's not space for relationship between races because townships are still townships. The roads still say "NY ###" which stands for Native Yard.
Even in the rememberences of people who died in the struggle, the white martyrs have names, the black ones have locations and numbers. The Gugulethu 7. The Cradock 4.
Amy Biehl an American Fulbright Scholar, who dove, swam, did gymnastics and went to Stanford, was murdered by a mob when she was somewhere she probably shouldn't have been. She was in Gugulethu. She stood for all the right things, but theres a white arrogance in thinking that will save you. Under apartheid, there was no discriminating between a good black person and a bad black person. Both could get shot just as easily for just as irrelevant reasons.
And now history just isn't taught? The schools don't want another angry generation? I don't know.
Yes this has implications for me. and for Fresno. and for the States. I'm not done thinking them through yet though.

After a disappointingly uneventful weekend (that was also very peaceful and relaxing), I actually did something today!
I called the man Songo that I had been meaning to call all weekend. My supervisor at ISOS-Kayamandi Project strongly recommended that my partner Adam and I take a walking tour of Kayamandi with a man who knew more than anyone else alive about the township.
He gave us Songo's number. Adam didn't really follow up on it, even though he was supposed to, so that he would get the better price. (I don't think I've mentioned on this blog how frustrating it is to be female sometimes). The entire dramatic narrative of how the tour was finally arranged is probably unnecessary, so I'll skip to the part where we arrived at the tourist center of Kayamandi.
Songo wasn't there. Songo didn't answer his cell, and hadn't replied to my earlier text. So we wandered outside the building, hoping to flag down our driver on his way back to Stellenbosch. A man on a bike passed us and said "christina?"
and i said "yes, songo?"
adam under his breath muttered with a smile that it was a good thing we were the only two confused-looking white people in the entire area...
Songo locked his bike inside the building and we started walking.
Kayamandi has about 33,000 residents, with an unemployment rate of over 50%. It was originally established in the 1940s when The Group Areas Act was passed. People from Stellenbosch, Cloetesville, Idas Valley and other smaller towns in regions were kicked out of their houses and forcibly removed to their respective areas (black or colored). The black area was Kayamandi. There are some families in Kayamandi who have been here since the 40s. As time went on, migrant men were allowed to come to find work. They stayed in hostels. After the pass laws (which dictated movement, if you were allowed to leave the "homelands" or come into a white area or do anything of your own accord, basically) were repealed in 1990, families were allowed to come join the men. There is no work or development in the "homelands" (now Eastern Cape), so its the choice between rural poverty and urban poverty.
We visited 2 hostels. People still live in them. Each room was around 8 x 10 ft. (2.5x3m for sander and stefen). There would be two bunk beds in each room. After the pass laws were repealed, there would be 2-4 families in each rooom. one for each twin-sized bed. In the first hostel that we went to, there were men constructing plywood walls (3/4 inch), and painting them blue. Apparently an American had gone home and raised money so that the curtains dividing each room could be replaced with wood. There are just two beds in each room now, I don't know where the bunks went.
In the other hostel, owned by a winery, was built well, and each of the rooms had doors. There still were two families living on two beds in each room. Thats ten families living in a building smaller than my house at home. The families share toilets, a kitchen, and a living room.
...
I also got to see some of my girls as they were getting out of school, which was exciting. On our way back down the hill, I asked Songo what the biggest problems were for Kayamandi. He said housing, unemployment, and maybe AIDS. (>1 in 4 pregnant mothers are infected). Most people live in shacks (informal settlements) but there are houses too. The government has slowly been building the housing that it promised. They have build 600 homes since the end of apartheid. Its been 15 years. There are 33,000 people. Average monthly income in Kayamandi is R1500 ($150). To qualify for gov't housing, you need to earn less that R3500. So basically everyone qualifies. There are also a lot of fires amongst the shacks and you have to walk to common toilets and to get water. Its only like 500m (~500 yards) though, and the kids at the afterschool program talk about how much easier life is here than in Eastern Cape. In Eastern Cape, you would need to walk 5-6 km (a few miles) to get water from the river, which isn't a clean source. They much prefer life in Kayamandi.

The Adventure of Yesterday

I heard from Nora (from Ohio) that the House of JC LeRoux was within biking distance from Stellenbosch. I knew Sander really likes champagne. I learned that JC LeRoux was a good sparkling wine farm. (Champagne isn't allowed to be champagne if its not from a specific region of France, so they call it sparkling wine here). So, Sander, Carly, Karen, and I, decided to go to JC LeRoux. Its definitely doable on the map, and although the website says that tours and tastings are only from 10 to 12 on Saturdays, if we leave early enough, we'll get there in plenty of time.
The night before this, I had gone out with my roommate Laura and a few other people. We went to Aanklas which was having an "oldies night", so they played 60s and 70s American music... and 80s and 90s too. and then The Killers got thrown into the mix too. Whatever. Some songs from high school can be sort of considered old now, I guess. The point of this sidenote is that we didn't get back until late, which made the 9:30 starting time a little unrealistic for me.
I was out the door by like 9:45 maybe. Showered and wearing a nice skirt and nice shirt (to make up for the fact that we showed up on bicycles to a nice wine tasting). The sky was overcast, and it had been raining. We set off on our little jaunt, along the small roads of stellenbosch, out to the main highway. We go for a ways, looking for the sign for the turnoff. Cycling Cycling Cycling. Up some slight hills, slightly coast on the downhills. Lovely day for a bike ride. After a ways, we think that we've gone too far, so we decide to ride to the top of the next "hill"/roll/slightly high point. We look down and see the wine estate Asara. We find it on our wine tour map and realize that we've gone twice as far on the highway than we needed to. So we turn around and go back. Of course, coming from the other direction we notice a HUGE billboard for JC LeRoux at the turnoff that was barely visible when you came from the other direction. We jovially cross the highway and get on the right road. We've gone about 200 meters when Sander looks down at his tire as it rapidly goes flat.
We stop and assess our options. We look at the map and think that we are closer to JC LeRoux than home. Some nice German bikers stop and offer to help, but their tubes are for road bikes and we have mountain-y bikes. It is decided that Sander will lock his bike up on the side of the road (with two locks), take his front tire with him (using a third lock to loop it onto his back) as he rides Karen's bike to a shop in town where he can get the tire fixed. The three girls will walk on without him, with the remaining two bikes.
So we walk.
And we walk.
And we keep on walking.
We meet some kids who live on one of the wine farms (children of the workers). They have tires with sticks that they are playing with, and really like our bicycles. I want to let them ride it, but I don't. I guess I don't want them to steal it, but I don't think they would have. They didn't have anywhere to go with it. We were kind of in the middle of nowhere. We take pictures with them and talk to them a bit. Karen is Dutch, so she can speak Afrikaans with them, and they tell us we have a looooong way to walk, and ask why anyone would want to walk that far. We don't really believe them, so we keep walking. The scenery is breathtakingly beautiful. The cloudy sky means that we don't get sunburned or too warm or anything. I grab a bunch of grapes off an inviting vine along the way. Maybe we walked a lot slower because we had the two bikes, or maybe the distance was longer than posted... But it took us two hours to get to the champagne tasting.
Along the way, we hear back from Sander a few times. He got to the bike shop and was told to wait 30-45 minutes. After another hour, we call him, and he tells us that he had gotten the first tire fixed, had gotten back to the broken bike, had started riding both of them, only to have Karen's bike get a flat tire. So then he was on his way back to the bike shop with Karen's tire. Then we got a text that the bike shop was so busy that he was fixing the tire himself.
Somewhere around this time, we start getting tired of just walking, so we decide to try to get 2 people on one bike, to make it go faster. it was hilarious. Guys bikes have a straight bar between the handles and the seat, and usually if someone doesn't have a bike, they sit there sidesaddle, and the guy pedals like normal. But we were stuck with 2 girls bikes which have a slant, so you can't sit on it. So we did the thing where someone sits on the seat and the person pedalling stands. It was exhausting!!! So we would do that for 50-100 meters, stop and untangle ourselves from our bikes while laughing hysterically and then walk a while longer. We got better at doing it on top of a hill in order to roll down faster.
We walked and walked, and kept asking directions from random people along the road. They kept telling us just to keep going.
We finally get there around 1. We order a nice lunch, and Sander arrives around the time that we finish. So he cleans up everyone's plates, and the food ended up working out perfectly. We head downstairs to do the long-awaited champagne tasting.
It is quite good. The couch is also quite comfortable. We had a good talk and also switched seats with every glass so that people could take turns sitting on the couch that had a back as opposed to the cushion-y chair things. We didn't really pay enough attention though, when she was telling us the names of each of them, we just remembered what color the label was. My favorite was the last one, with the darkest label. The actual sparkling wine was red, it was fruity and yummy. i also really liked the first one that was extra dry champagne. it had a normal label.
After our tasting, we went to the gift shop and bought wine and candies. We also remembered to pay the 20 rand ($2) for the tasting.
We walked outside planning to lie and take a nap in some grass somewhere. Then Carly discovers that her tire is flat....
yeah.
THREE flat tires in one day. And we'd been mostly riding on the street, we'd just ridden on dirt or grass or gravel in just a few sections....
so.
(sander had ridden with both bikes for most of the way to jc leroux but had gotten tired and locked karen's bike to something random on the side of the road a little ways away)
we walk the two good bikes and 1 flat tire bike a km or two to karen's bike. then we get her bike, and walk with all four bikes for a ways. We pass some plum trees. I help myself. (and share too). Sander and I talk about how satisfying it is to pick something off a tree or bush and then eat it. its also still amazingly beautiful weather and surroundings.
We eventually work it out that carly can sit on sander's bike, and i can bike with my hand on the other bike. it turns out that i can do it, which is good because it was the first time i'd ever tried it and i was about 15 feet (5 m) from the top of a big hill when i started. so then i went down the big hill really fast, but it worked out fine, and i didn't crash it or anything. Karen and i switched off for a while, and then carly tried on my bike while i rode with sander.
we made it back fine to the big highway. then carly fell when we went over this pothole thing in the sidewalk (i screamed when sander went over it, but carly screamed and then fell). then we walked bikes for a while. then when we were crossing the highway, i tried to bike through a curb that i didn't see. then i fell on my face (and my nice skirt flew up). and that was pretty funny too.
Then we get to a gas station and karen and carly get these two nice men to fill carly's tire (cuz we assume its a slow leak since it was only flat when we came out)
Then one of then men turns out to be the owner of the shop where I had bought my bicycle (but the others had got their elsewhere). Then the bike shop owner fixed the flat on carly's bike.
It really worked out well, actually. Sander and I sat on our butts on the grass as Carly who is super friendly and open and Karen who speaks Dutch and thus sort of Afrikaans made new friends of these two men. Sander was a little upset that no one had helped him with any of his flat tires, but I assured him that it was because he wasn't wearing a short dress like Carly. (this morning Carly's tire was flat again, and then Sander felt a little better)
So we finally made it back to our dorm by six or so.
We ordered pizza
ate it.
and i showered and then fell asleep.
and slept for like 10 hours.
it was a truly beautiful day.

Yesterday

After a morning of waiting for a phone call which didn't come until we left the message with our phone numbers
i went to meet with mike to talk kayamundi
what does it mean to have an existing structure in my head for an afterschool program?
how do I react to situations where i think discipline is necessary?
how do I determine who to talk to? who to sit with?
then met with leah and joelle
watched cnn for a blissful 10 minutes
left to sit on the pedestal of cecil rhodes
where jesus and his disciples, local soapie stars, went to temple in a cheesy American movie of the book of Matthew. I think we watched it in Terry McGonigal's Shalom claass.

what does it mean to have preconcieved notions of poverty
what does it mean to be haunted by visions of home that i didn't understand then
and applying to this context still can't properly process
people just want to be heard.
kids need the same meaning giving context that adults do,
where do i fit? why does it matter so much?
what are the capacities of grade 7 students and why do we give them folders to color for 40 minutes?
where was the hw help?
where was the setting of expectations?
what about the volunteers? where is the structure for them?
how do I fit into this structure?
who are the people who dreamed this up in the first place? where is the learner imput for the current structure?
why don't I want to deal with KP right now?
why is it so complicated to live here and know when you need, for emotional stability purposes, to back off calm down, close your bedroom door and process? and when do you know that you need to calm down, let go, and not worry and go out and be social? how do you know what to accept and what to tear apart?
there's too much happening to process everything
and when are you supposed to do your homework?

"what's your favorite subject"
"English"
"why?"
"because it sounds prettier"
"you don't like speaking xhosa?"
"no."

"I have to go now. I have to leave the creche[preschool] with all these people. i'm going to put you down now...no, you can't come with me...no, you have to stay here...no, its gonna be okay...will you hold him while i leave?"
[run away and try not to look back at wide-eyed toddler straining against nine-year old girl]

"is it hard, leaving your mother and family behind here?" (while you live the good life going to college and living with a Brit)
"yes, i won't be able to not think about them tonight, i won't sleep"

"She [odey] doesn't have a home. She's been here since a child. She's half Angolan. Her mother is somewhere in Congo, you know how impossible it would be to find her in that mess. we've tried...All she wants to do is play football...She's good enough to play for the national team... but she doesn't have papers. Her father brought her here as a child... but it was too much to handle. he left her at the ark and went back to angola...I think she misses him a lot... she's without a country now... i can't adopt her legally without papers... she's been with me since she was fourteen.. it would take ten years to track down birth certificates from the hospital in kinshasa. it doesn't have a telephone number on the internet. they won't even have paper records probably...you can't adopt a thirty year old."

I didn't have the 15-30 seconds where i wondered whether i was going to die or not, so I didn't have the trauma of being shot in a hi-jacking. we all just thought it was glass in my face in the aftermath...it was only in the x-ray that they realized i had a bullet lodged in my tongue... Miraculously a police car drove by as it was happening so they caught the boys...it was their first hijacking...it was for a gang initiation
...when i realized what was happening, i yelled for the 6 girls to get out of the car. they all did but odey (her foster daughter) who was paralyzed in the corner.
the gun was in his hand..i think he was quite nervous actually. it went off as he approached the car. so the window took most of the impact, then it went into my cheek and down. that's why i have these two monstrosities of false teeth now. i always tell people, if they want money for their support, they need to adopt foster daughters and get shot in the face in a hijacking... i used to be quite naive really.

"leah, whats the hardest thing for you to see? you see a lot of hard stuff"
"i think i'm pretty desensitized to it by now but i guess the hardest is the young mothers. the ones that don't have anything to live for, they are carrying these children in their arms that they have no hope for."

what does it mean to be human?
what does it mean to have a meaning-giving context?
how do you help other people find that when you find it for yourself by helping them with mundane things like math homework?
how do you assist english language learning while encouraging pride in their native tongue which is too complex for most volunteers to learn?
how much does language affect individual identity?
how do you encourage capacity and listen to and encourage middle-schoolers?
how much of a difference does Kayamundi Project make in the long run?
how could that much well-meaning quality ISOS time be utilized differently? more effectively?
in such a structured/top-down environment, how do i make the change i learn about in Community Development class?
how much of this is reinforcing stereotypes? preconceived notions? how much is allowing for paradigm shifts?

Triumph!

I've got about an hour before my next class, and I'm feeling especially content and happy here. The bureaucracy relating to anything remotely-school is ridiculously difficult to navigate, so I've been learning patience and how to make plans A-E, instead of just A B C. Today though, I had a triumph!
I woke up at 7:30, showered, went to get coffee and a croissant for breakfast. It was about 8:30 when I realized that I knew what building the class I wanted to get into today was in, but had no idea which room number. AT ALL. Its a six story building with around 60 classrooms/offices on each floor. So I went to the Department office on the 4th floor, only to find out that the teacher had been thinking about changing the venue, but no one knew whether or not it had moved yet. It turns out it was in the original classroom that was on the ground floor (the 200 wing... cuz that makes sense), but I was first sent to a building 5 minutes biking away that is actually an administration building. I couldn't lock my bike anywhere there, and no other students were walking in (it was right as class should have been starting), so I went to the International Office. I spent 20-30 minutes waiting while the secretary called everyone who might have known about the class, about the venue change, or the teachers cell number. It was finally discovered that it was in the same building as the IO, but the room was yet unknown. Also, it still wasn't clear if that was where the class was moving, or that is where it was. I asked for the teachers office hours (which technically don't exist if you don't have an appointment, but I was bound and determined to get into this class). I got them, went to the library, got some poetry for my soul, and read some papers for my homework. Once the duration of the class had finished, I walked to the building where her office is. I asked in 3 wrong office complexes for her, and finally found the right one. She was out at the moment, so I sat and waited.
I read about some Community Service work that Stellenbosch is doing, including a Saturday school. Finally, Vuyo, the elusive Xhosa teacher, walked through the door. She asked me to follow her, I misunderstood, and stayed sitting. Then I heard her say, come here my dear. So I went around the corner I had seen her go through.
Here comes the triumph part:
I walked in, she asked if I was an international student (also triumph- I am tan enough to be SAn), asked how I was, I asked how she was. She asked if I wanted into the class. i said yes. She asked me to write my name and student number on a sheet of paper. She asked if I knew people in the class that I could get notes from. I said yes. She said, I will give you a Xhosa name. It will be... hmm... ah.. no... yes. this. it will be Nomahle. Which means power. She said she will e-mail me the notes, there is no textbook and I will see her in class on Thursday. Another woman in the office asked me if I knew Amandla! and I said yes, the revolutionary cry. She said yes, the two words are related. I grinned and said thank you to both of them.
It took all of 2 minutes. It was the most gratifying feeling to walk out of that office and have everything feel like it was taken care of. It was only 11:30!

I climbed to the top of a mountain today.
I feel so accomplished.
please view photos here:
www.picasaweb.google.com/neenydidit.

I went to Kayamundi, the closest township, for class on Tuesday.
I'm sure that it looks the same as all the pictures you've seen. The corrugated metal shacks, the dirt roads, the people walking everywhere, the women with the bags of laundry on their heads, the roadside vegetable stands. There are minibus taxis that have seats for 8, that carry at least 15. There were stray dogs sleeping in the shadows of the trees. There were many smiling people everywhere.
Some unexpected things that I saw:
cell phone shacks. Vodacom is the biggest brand, but MTN competes with it too. But scattered throughout the township of tiny shacks were the occasional shack that said "Authorized Vodacom Community Telephone" or something to that effect. I need to ask what they are next time I'm in Kayamundi, but I think it could either be a) a really cool social entrepreneurship program that gives an income to someone with a cell phone or two that the entire community can use. or b) evidence of commsumerism taking over the world and infiltrating this area of extreme poverty trying to get people to spend nonexistant money on a new necessity.
I've also learned that Kayamundi is the meth capital of the country, which makes me feel like I'm right at home again, aww Fresno.
. . .
So the reason that I was in Kayamundi in the first place, was for my first session of my Service Learning/Community Development class. We met our lecturers, we had a nice lunch in the botanical garden. Then, we were told that we were going to do the following activity.
We were led silently to vans, and split up into three grooups. We were given notebooks and pens and told to observe the entire journey.
We drove past a prison with gardening convicts in the yard. We drove maybe five minutes until we entered Kayamundi. We drove a bit, dropped two people off. Kept driving and winding through the township, dropping pairs off at seemingly random places. Each pair was told to be silent for the first 15 minutes, just to observe. Then we were allowed to walk around and talk to people and see what was happening at the 'random' site where they were placed. But if we were approached, we could talk back. The van would return in 30 minutes. We were also told of a 'safe place' where we could go if we felt threatened. There were only four of us left at the top of this hill. There was a construction site across the street for a nonprofit named Legacy. It was gorgeous standing there. The mountains and green hills in the distance, the hope of a new building. I dunno. It was good.
It was around 2:30 when we were dropped off, which is also right about when the kids get out of school. So no sooner had I settled myself in the shade under a tree, some kids came by and were curious. They stood at a distance, and slowly got closer, and once they were pretty close, I said Hi. This encouraged them, and they came over right up next to me, and were chatting away. I think my silence lasted maybe 2 minutes. The girls were really sweet, i think they were around seven. I haven't figured out how to judge age yet here; all the kids are so small. We played hand games, and one girl had two little sisters with her. One could speak and one was too young. I played high five with them.
Then some boys walked by in their crisp new uniforms (the new school year started a few weeks ago), and they wanted to know what was going on, so I talked with them for a while too.
highlights:

baby peeing in the middle of the road. Just walked away from the group, down into the road, pulled her pants to her ankles and popped a squat
the girls started playing with my hair. They discovered that my scalp has been peeling from a sunburn. Like huge chucks of skin. So they started picking it all out.... that was probably the most awkward part for me. The rest felt perfectly natural and exactly right
a boy pulled out a kitchen knife to chop a palm frond off a nearby tree. whatever. no big deal.
the same boy took his belt off and then rehooked it with his front loops of his pants, and the top of the belt around his head. It looked like he was an old man with his overalls/pants pulled WAY too high. Of course all the other boys did it too.
They wanted to write in my book too. One girl wrote the alphabet. They all wrote their names. Another wrote out the vowels followed by Sa Se Si So Su. A girl named Precious wrote a sentence for me "I like you. you are the best.thank you?" She was at least nine.

When the van pulled up again, they all clamored to give me the last hug, and then some of the boys tried to get in the van, just for kicks. and i went home with so much more peace than I'd had for a while.
We still don't know our exact placements, and we don't know what we'll do at the place. But I know that my place speaks Xhosa, so thats the language that I'm going to take.
Its going to be good.
Much love from christine

Two and a half weeks in...

I have been delaying posting a more thorough analysis of Stellenbosch until I knew more. I realize that I have to start somewhere though, so here goes.
Stellenbosch is an Afrikaaner town. It is one of the last strongholds of Afrikaaner culture in the country. Afrikaans is a language that developed out of the Dutch spoken by the first settlers who came to develop a half-way point on the long trip to India (think Dutch-East Indies Trading Co). Jan Van Riebeck and his wife Maria are celebrated both in Stellenbosch and Cape Town with roads, statues and buildings. Stellenbosch was one of the first settlements in the 1600’s. Its cute. Its quaint. It has beautiful oak lined streets with brick sidewalks. The shops are a bit touristy, but very fashionable and cute. The University itself is a little over a century old, with huge Dutch-colonial buildings, and immaculately managed gardens. Its gorgeous.
The climate is perfect here. Its safe as any college town in the States (don’t walk around by yourself at night, and don’t carry valuables). The only real proof that I’m in a non-western, middle-income country is that the prices are very cheap. The cheapness of eating out and going out serve to contribute further to the paradisical qualities of this bubble. We also do the European thing of buying groceries daily or every other day, which makes it nice as well.
My friends here are mostly from Europe and the States, because we stay in really nice lodgings with extra security, alongside all the other international students. Its hard to get to know South Africans who aren’t on staff, because we hardly ever meet them, and when we do, they’re hardly ever sober. The Afrikaaner boys of Stellenbosch are especially disappointing. They’re perpetually drunk, and fighting. I have met one English (still South African) guy, but after knowing him maybe 5 minutes, he spent the next half hour telling his romantic past, including the part where he walked in on his fiancee and another man.
Another important distinction to note is between the English and the Afrikaaners. They really do not like each other due to a long past of legitimate mistrust. The biggest contention is that during the Boer war (turn of the 20th century), the English invented concentration camps where they put the Afrikaaners (men women elderly children) and tens of thousands of them died. Living in Stellenbosch, I hear a lot more about that sort of drama than the war/struggle at the end of apartheid which happened less than 20 years ago. Interesting side note, Afrikaaners when speaking English say “is it?” where Americans would say “really?”
Classes start tomorrow, which will give some longed for structure to my life. I am taking Afrikaaans, 9 credits of Community Engagement/Theory of Service Learning, and an additional class that I haven’t yet decided on. One option is an amazing class on Societies in Transition (between Violence and Peace). Unfortunately it will be taught on Saturdays, which puts a damper on any adventure plans. The profs are amazing people who I’ve heard talk, and who have LEGIT experience with conflict resolution, mediation, human rights, society building, law, and international organizations. Downside, all the ISOS-arranged activities are on Saturdays. (International Students of Stellenbosch). I could also take a class on economic development which has Bottom Billion, The End of Poverty, and White Man’s Burden as its required texts. It could be good. It could be REALLY good. Or it could be material that I could learn on my own, or have already learned. I haven’t met the professor for it yet. I haven’t heard his/her perspective on development yet.
All in all, my life here moves pretty slow. It takes forever for any paperwork to go through. It takes a lot of patience to wait in queues. It takes a long time for a large group of people to decide anything, including where to go next. If you meet up with people, you spend most of your time standing around and waiting. I get less lost every day, and I have discovered a divine place for gelato.
Average meal: 35 Rand = $3.50
Average drink: 12 Rand = $1.20
Average trip to the grocery store (good food for 2ish days): 80 Rand = $8.00
Life is good.
Much love to you all.
Check out my picasa:
www.picasaweb.google.com/neenydidit

A few days in...

Its beautiful and sunny here in Stellenbosch. If anything, it reminds me of the valley. The water tastes more chlorinated, but then again, I'm not using a fridge or Brita filter, so it might even taste the same. Most of the gardens have the same flowers as home, its the most bizarre thing ever. Like, the exact same flowers.
Its been pretty quiet in Concordia, where I am living, but apparently now that the big group of Americans has arrived, it will get much louder. I have my own bedroom and my own bathroom, and share a living room/kitchen with 3 other flatmates. But they haven't arrived yet, so its mostly just me in a pretty large area. I picked a room with a nice view, and in the morning, I hear all sorts of new bird calls. The pidgeons are more reddish and louder here, but otherwise look like pidgeons.
One boy Sander and I had the same shuttle into Stellenbosch, so we're basically the only people we know. He's Dutch, but he can't understand Afrikaans either. He can read it though. I can sort of read it, and I'm picking more up slowly. Most people speak Afrikaans to us, until we have a confused-enough look on our faces that they switch to English.
All the food is very cheap. its amazing. and the dollar is strengthening, so its now a little more than 10 rand to a dollar. (easier math for my head).
We've gotten somewhat lost multiple times, and I have never really had a good sense of direction, so the rule is, go the exact opposite direction of my first instinct. The University is big and beautiful, and immaculately gardened. The freshmen/first years arrived today, with all their parents in tow, which has been sort of amusing to watch. Once everyone else arrives too, the number of people on campus will probably be overwhelming for a bit. Our orientation starts Wednesday, and we are pretty limited on what we can do before then. There's lots of bureaucracy/paperwork/registration/fees involved with getting internet set up, so I'm writing this out of the Internet cafe in the Neelsie.
So its sort of just like home, except for the wind. There's always a breeze of some sort, and during the night, it gets stronger. Its the crazy-powerful wind of November in Spokane, but warm! There's no AC inside the buildings, but if you keep the windows open, its stays cool. Its blissfully beautiful, but I'm looking forward to Orientation, where I can meet more students, and learn a little bit more about how to get around and where to go. Also, it'll be nice to have my ISEP money set up, so I can use that for food instead of my money.
I feel like this post is pretty disjointed. I was hoping that as I adjusted my prose would flow a little easier, but I guess I am not yet to that point. Much love to the Western world.