One Soul, Two Cultures

In my final two-and-a-half weeks, it is finally beginning to settle in that I have to leave my home. Over the last 120 days, I have been eagerly counting down the time until I could return to my fiancée and our furry family. But now, those days are gone. Of course, I am excited to return to my family and friends, but when it comes to the life and home I have built here in beautiful South Africa, I am anything but.

When I first arrived in Stellenbosch, there were many things that were wildly exotic and quintessentially African, like the gorgeous intertwining trees that are ubiquitous in this country. The masses of wild Birds of Paradise were charming and unwilling to let me forget that I was, indeed, not in Kansas anymore. Sights that, in America, people pay good money to see, such as a herd of zebras or water buffalo, or a flock of ostriches that originally enticed me to draw out my camera have since become commonplace. All of these things that were new and foreign have become part of the everyday and it takes effort to picture my life without them. Along with the sights that I am now accustomed to are simple ways of life that I am beginning to realize are not compliant with American social norms. One of the things I have come to love is the freedom to go barefoot wherever I am. “No shoes, no shirt, no service” doesn’t exist in South Africa, and I openly celebrate that.

The first day I went barefoot was a handful of weeks into the semester. I was walking to class on a bright, warm day in my flip-flops. I had noticed, in the past, many guys sans footwear, but I had recently spotted a girl without shoes and I was excited to test the waters. I confidently pulled my sandals off my feet and stowed them in my bag. The rest of the walk to class felt much like a primary school student getting to wear her favorite new school clothes in public. I was positively gleeful.

On Halloween, during my terribly exciting walk through Cape Town dressed as a zombie, we came upon a gaggle of tourists. Of all the things to be concerned with- the mess of blood dripping from our mouths, our ripped, stained clothes, the awkward limp accompanying our gaits- they looked at us with unsure eyes and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

Just tonight, I made my umpteenth all-too-routine trip to Tapas. Each step of the walk down the two flights of stairs, down the two halls, over the ant-filled sidewalk crack, out of the Concordia stronghold, out to the Academia parking lot and through to the little snack shop was made with bare feet.

This is so normal to me now. Going to class, going to the library, going for food can not only be done without shoes, but also without regard, and I don’t want it any other way.

Another of the things that are now ordinary to me is the absolute diversity of the country. While it is true that Stellenbosch is a very conservative place and, by correlation, non-diverse by African standards, by American standards, it is exceptionally diverse. If I go a day without hearing at least 5 languages, something is wrong. If I don’t struggle with the pronunciation of at least two of the words I am reading, I’m not paying enough attention. I’ve learned at least 12 different ways to say a single English word correctly. I hear clicks during conversations and think nothing of it. I am greeted by smiling faces of every color imaginable every day and I don’t want it any other way.

Being back in the United States is going to be difficult. I’m no longer solely American, though I’d argue I never was. I have become a beautiful cultural hybrid, fluent in dollars and rand, in Celsius and Fahrenheit, in sakkies and bags. I am part South African now and as it finally settles in that I have to leave my home, I am anything but eager.