Oh, I could live here.

This past weekend was absolutely phenomenal! I’m so excited to share it with you.

We (all of the Interstudy students from both Stellenbosch and Cape Town) went to Hermanus for the weekend. Hermanus is located right on the beach about an hour and a half east of Stellenbosch. Because the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet at Cape Point, we were technically in the Indian. Hermanus is world-famous for its whale watching, and we certainly did a fair share of that. We stayed at the local backpackers, a very casual and homey place with a hammock, pool, and four pets (two cats, a hamster, and a dog who was on holiday). We could see the ocean from our window. It was magnificent. There was a French family staying there also, as well as some South Africans from around the country.

We arrived Friday night and settled in with a braai and some unpacking. The fun began the next day with a bang. After a 7:30 am breakfast, the first group went off to do some kayaking while the second group (that’d be mine) stayed until 8:45, then we traded off. Kayaking was so much fun, though slightly tiring on the arms. We made our way down the coast, then out to sea a little before looping back. The water was fairly calm, though we did toss a little in the waves. We stopped and a few of us jumped in (it was the Indian ocean, of course I jumped in!) and when I had finally gotten back into my kayak, the tour guide flipped it, along with my kayak-mate (Jenna) and our sunglasses. Unfortunately, I didn’t retrieve them, but oh well. How many people can say their sunglasses are now decorating the bottom of the Indian?

Promptly after kayaking, we raced our way down to the whale-watching boat we were holding up to go see some of the local whales Hermanus is known for. We took about a half hour to find them, and they were absolutely stunning. I think the captain said we found nine of them. They were Southern Right Whales, only found at the very bottom of South America, Africa, and Australia. They also are the only (or one of the only) species of whale that has two blow-holes, so that looked pretty odd. They got very close to the boat, as you can see, and it was breath-taking. Because we were in a whale sanctuary and very few people have permits to have boats there, we weren’t allowed to move while they were so close to us, so we sat, completely surrounded by whales, for about two hours. A seal came to see what all the commotion was, so I got a few pictures of him, too. On the way back, we saw quite a few penguins in the water, but when the boat got too close, they ducked under, so I didn’t get any photos of them.

The rest of Saturday was spent relaxing and recouping from the day. We had dinner at the backpacker’s that night after watching a movie. The next morning, at 6:45am, most of the group went off to Shark Cage dive, but I stayed back and slept in until 8am. The 8 of us that didn’t go diving had breakfast and then we went on an impromptu hike up through Baboon territory in the mountains of Hermanus. We went up to a little waterfall and hung out for a while. It was odd how similar it was to the hikes I’ve done in Washington, yet so dissimilar with the Baboon calls and indigenous plants. We hiked down and then went to the beach. It was amazing. There was a lagoon and the sand was incredibly soft beneath my bare toes. We kicked around a soccer ball and stuck our feet in the water. The beach was also both familiar and not, but I tried to stop comparing and just enjoyed the lovely day.

After that, we stopped in town. While a few people went in to get gelato, I stayed out and spotted the whales from the cliff I was perched on. Not only were they playing, but they were breaching, which is the technical term for when they jump out of the water. There were about 4 or 5 of them, all breaching. It was amazing. I snapped some well-timed shots of them half-way out of the water on their sides. There are a few hypotheses as to why they do this, but the two most probable are that they are a) trying to get the itchy barnacles off of their skin. That can’t be too fun to swim around with all the time, and b) that they are just playing and showing off for one another. Either way, it was very cool to see them jumping over and over again.

After we got back to the backpackers, the whole group drove up into the hills for some more fun. We split into two groups again, and while one group went quad biking, my group went paintballing. I was terrified, as I had never been hit by a paintball before. However, one of the guys that worked there fixed that and shot me in the calf, giving me my first bruise of the day. We split into two teams of three and played a few rounds which were really fun. I took out a few people of my own also, which was quite exciting. In fact, Hermanus Adventures (the “company” this was all through) got video of me creeping through the bushes and taking out Ouma, one of the Interstudy staff. Our last round was a “zombie” round, meaning that instead of being shot once and being out, you just keep going until you run out of ammo or are in too much pain. I got shot quite a few times in my thighs and also on my back and the back of my neck. It hurt a lot, and I have about 10 bruises to prove it, but I still had fun.

After that, we went quad biking. It was exciting, as I had never driven an ATV before, but I enjoyed it. Apparently I was on the fastest bike of the bunch, and I was quite enjoying myself. I was doing 50 kph (that’s about 31mph for you folks back in the states) and passing people, and I wish I could have gone faster. We drove through a bunch of vineyards and stopped when we found ourselves on top of one of the hills/mountains. We had a breathtaking view of all of Hermanus and the ocean all the way out until it met the sky. It was amazing. After that, we returned to “base camp” and then the whole group went back to the backpacker's to collect our things before heading off to Cape Town and Stellenbosch, respectively.

I can honestly say that it was the experience of a lifetime. The entire weekend was filled with exciting things that I have never gotten to do before, and I am thrilled that I get to say that I did them in South Africa. Next weekend is Robben Island, so be prepared for another update!

Language, Race, and Identity

There are a couple of things that have been on my mind increasingly as of late. These are some issues I’ve seen and felt and experienced to the point that I think it’s important for everyone to spend a little time thinking about them, too.

In the US, it’s obvious that English is the ruling language. And while attempts have been made to validate Spanish on a governmental level, it’s quite clear what the state’s opinion is. English is the way of life. And that’s not something that is too difficult to live by, especially in Washington state. We don’t neighbor Mexico, or any non-English speaking countries. We don’t think about it. We assume that the store checker speaks English. We assume our neighbors understand every word we speak. It’s a form of privilege, the right to assume.

In South Africa, it’s the same, while it’s also not. South Africa has 11 official languages. Here, people speak Afrikaans. People speak IsiNdebele, and IsiXhosa. They speak IsiZulu, as well as Setswana. People speak Xitsonga, SiSwati, Sesotho, and Sepedi. People speak Tshivenda. That’s ten. Of course, you can’t forget English. Because everyone speaks English, right?

Wrong.

White people speak English, and everyone else is forced to learn. So, it’s still a privilege to assume here. I can assume people have taken the time to learn my language, while so many Americans laugh and make fun of the indigenous tongues spoken in “all those third-world countries.”

Another huge issue here, especially regarding language, is segregation and racism. And by here, I even mean Stellenbosch University. This school was, and is still to a certain extent, an Afrikaans-only university. It was funded that way, with donors applying contingencies to their money. At first, I saw that as a positive thing. Finally! A school that appreciates it’s heritage and isn’t conforming to this English rule. I quickly learned.

Afrikaans, while the name may fool you, is not exactly an indigenous language, either. When you listen to it, it sounds like Dutch. Well, that’s because it is Dutch to a large extent. It’s African/English-ized Dutch.

Here’s a very brief history lesson. In the 17th century, Southern Africa was “discovered” and colonized by the Dutch who were trying to get to India for spices (what is it with India being the cause of colonization?) and, ostensibly, money. They got tired going around the bottom of Africa, so they made a pit-stop and took over the cape. After a while, they made slaves out of the San people (or, as we know them, Bush People) and exploited the hell out of them.

So, even Afrikaans is a white language. They were trying to make SU a white school, and for the most part, it worked. I don’t know a single person of color who speaks Afrikaans, so how in the world are they supposed to go to school here? It’s du jure segregation at its finest, people.
Now, of course, classes are being offered in English as well, and as we all know, everyone speaks English, so the school is diversifying.

One of my personal topics with which I’ve been working on is the nature of Identity. It’s interesting to compare where I’ve come from, where identity is all about uniqueness, to where I currently am, where identity is much more powerful. To identify as white means something even more profound than in the states. I have a friend, Stephanie, who is Mexican American. She lives in El Paso, and is very much “a Mexican” at home. However, the second she set foot on African soil, she was white. How can that be? Aren’t we taught that race is genetic? You can’t just switch like that. Except race is hardly genetic. In a biological sense, race doesn’t exist. It’s a socio-political tool. We are much less aware of identity in the US than I am now becoming here. And not just in a color-of-my-skin way. Cultural identity is obvious, especially throughout the international community. There are people of color here from the states and from Europe. And they struggle just as much as anyone in terms of knowing oneself in the context of another culture. I am becoming much more aware of who I am, how I work and think, and why I am on this planet. I feel my identity here. I feel it changing, and I feel it solidifying.

I’m sorry this post has been so heavy, but these were all things I needed to get off my chest. I’m certainly not done with them, but I feel as though I’ve laid a sort of foundation on which to build my thoughts. Thank you for exploring them with me.

My African Theme Songs

I have found myself two unofficial theme songs. Both found their way to me through the children of Kayamandi, as they are constantly singing them. They are both popular, or at least known, in America right now, but that doesn’t matter.

The first one I heard was originally sung in Lynedoch, the town that my roommate has been volunteering in. She said there was this song that the kids had been singing, but when she tried to sing it for me, I didn’t recognize it at all. In fact, I’d never heard the song before at all. Then, when I went to Kayamandi, the students were singing it. They knew the song much better than Jenna, though to her credit, she tried, and they sang it loud and with pride. I could only really catch the chorus, but it was about the World Cup and how it has brought pride and happiness to the people of South Africa, even those in small townships. It is called either Wavin’ Flag or Wave Your Flag, I’m not quite sure yet. The main part of the song lyrics is “When I am older, I will be stronger, they’ll call me freedom, just like a wavin’ flag.” It’s amazing to hear the kids singing it. I’ve adopted it, as has Jenna (I think) as my African theme song.

Then, yesterday, the girls I’m tutoring in Kayamandi were singing a different song, and this one had set dance moves. They were so excited that we didn’t know the dance (or the song, for that matter) and they wanted to teach us. The song is by Shakira and it’s called “Waka Waka (Time for Africa).” It was amazing to see how happy the girls were that their continent is being called attention to in good ways, both with the World Cup and with more and more songs out there about Africa in general. Before we had to leave, they taught us the main dance moves that are set to the chorus, which is a jumble of real words and made up ones (they said that Waka doesn’t mean anything in any language they know).

Because of the joy these two songs bring to the kids of Kayamandi, and ostensibly, to me, I am dubbing them my African theme songs. I’m sure along the way, there’ll be more, but for now, this is it.

Inspired by Africa and Rent

What is life? Why is life?

Should we really live as if each day were our last, or should we keep hopes, aspirations, and dreams alive? Life is impossible to know. To really know. As I am here, growing, learning, and hopefully living, others are not. They stay shelled. But am I really living? Are you?

Life is more than the sum of its parts or a collection of events that happen to us. Life is bigger than pumping organs that provide us with biological sustenance. It is how we think, how we move, where we dance, who we laugh with, and what we appreciate. It is an outlook. It’s not about stuff, it’s not about popularity. It’s about love and ever-growing knowledge.

We can’t live life waiting. That’s the true definition of slowing dying. Waiting. For the next disaster, for the next windfall. For the next heartbreak. That’s death. You don’t have to live like that, or you’ll die like that. You can see the good in life, the people that you love, that love you. You can open your heart and mind to living.

I know you have the capability to truly live, but something is holding you back. You don’t have to be a victim. You are a survivor, through and through, and you have every right to feel like one. Why waste a survivor’s strength on fear? On doubt, or on regret? Where will those things really get you in the end? Where will they lead you? To longer life? To happiness? No. Quite the opposite. But you can choose something else for yourself. You can decide to live despite the fear, and the shitty cards that you were dealt. I see people here in the streets outside their tin shanty homes, wearing worn and ripped clothing, not knowing where their next meal will come from, with the most astonishing peace in their hearts and on their faces. I am both ashamed and jealous of their tranquility in the face of could-be death. To love the earth, the very soil we so often dismiss as dirt, is something they wake each day to do. I wish you could see how much joy true life brings to these people who have let go of the search for things and for pity. It’s the most inspiring thing I’ve ever encountered.

And we have the ability to follow in their footsteps. You can live with peace instead of fear.

I didn’t start writing this with you in mind, but sitting here, watching the words flow from my heart, I know that they are meant for you. I love you, and I know it’s hard to truly open your mind to these words, but I promise that if you do, you will see.

You will see. And you will love.

Kayamandi

This is an email I sent Shannon on July 23rd.

I went to Kayamandi today. I both knew and didn't know what to expect.

I'm sure you know what most townships look like. So did I. But it was different walking through it. I had to choke down tears the entire time. It broke my heart to see these small children wearing tattered clothes and shoes, if any at all. The homes were smaller than my dorm room, which I complained about. The older kids were completely jaded to us. The small children waved incessantly, and a few ran up to hug us or hold our hands. A small girl hugged me and walked with me for a block. The shops, the nice ones at least, were in shipping crates.

There were animal skulls and bones everywhere. Rotting flesh in the streets from butchered cattle. It was too much to take in.

The worst part was the orphanage. It took all I had to hold in my pain-wracked sobs. Those poor children. The vast majority of the parents had died from AIDS. The local doctor, while free, only comes into town twice a week, for 4 hours each. That's not enough for the more than 35,000 people living in Kayamandi.

I was constantly checking in with my heart and my body the entire time and I felt so many emotions. The most obvious being guilt. I was overcome with terrible guilt. Not one month ago, I was complaining about an unattractive apartment that didn't have a nice bathroom. I feel so ashamed of that. I feel unrightfully privileged in life. This is hard. Harder than I had anticipated.

I'm having a hard time consolidating knowledge to the point where I can make sense of my experience today. It was both terrifyingly heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. I'm also looking forward to returning every week and seeing how my understanding and appreciation of Kayamandi changes.

I think this project, spending three hours with these kids every week, will be the heart of this trip. This is why I am here. And I selfishly think I will be getting more out of it than the kids will.

Not Quite a Local, Yet

I've decided to start a blog while I am here, instead of sending out the mass emails. This way, more people can see what I have to say about South Africa.

I've been here for a grand total of 22 days, and already, I feel like I belong. Of course, there are so many things that I have yet to grasp about this country, this culture, but I know that if I put the effort into it, this could be my home.

I have started class already, and I can tell that I am going to enjoy it immensely. Instead of sticking strictly to classes that apply to my major, I am taking a menagerie of courses. And Overview of South African History is, so far, my worst class. And by that, I mean that I have a very tactless professor. He has clearly taught his fair share of international students, and he stereotypes students from different countries like I can't even describe. He had a small group of us stay after class one day and showed us a collection of South African commercials that were, in my eyes, racist. He, however, was defending them, claiming they were in good fun and not really racist. At one point, I nearly started a... heated discussion (if you will) with him. I left well enough alone, though.

My other courses have been superb. My two favorites so far, and I hypothesize they'll remain my favorites, are my two English classes. The first is called "Writing Violence" and we'll be studying how violence is represented in books and movies. I'm thrilled. The class is made up mostly of local South African students, and only a handful of internationals. I am trying to get to know them as best I can, and look forward to it. The second class I am most anticipating is Queer Studies. This one is also a collection of local and international students. It seems all, or at least most, of the people in that class are ready for deep debate and conversation on the readings and assignments. Aside from Brokeback Mountain, all our readings are by South African writers, a number of which are (or were) even faculty at University of Stellenbosch (US). Our first assignment, other than reading, was to research the etymology of the word "queer." I've never enjoyed doing homework more. Needless to say, I am pumped for almost all of my academics here.

Aside from getting to know the school has been getting to know the town. It's absolutely gorgeous here. I've mentioned before how Stellenbosch is almost completely surrounded by mountains, and I'll post some photos also. It's also wine country, so there are vineyards sprinkled in and around the town. Much like the Pullman area is called "the Palouse", this area is called "Boland", and Boland is filled with good, cheap wine. About a week ago, we opened a bottle of Riesling from Paarl that cost R35, or $5, and it was delicious. We opened a bottle of Pinotage Rose (a type of wine they do not export) that cost R21, or $3, last night and it was also quite lovely. That, paired with the wine course I'll be taking here, will positively ruin me for cheap wine back home.

My roommate, Jenna, and I are "basically a practical joke," so says our new friend, Stephanie. One would think that mixing a conservative devout traditionalist Catholic with a liberal feminist lesbian would be the start of a corny joke, but it turns out that we get along quite well. Despite our rather deep conversations on the matter of religion and somewhat lighter discussions of politics, we've managed to try to see an issue from the other's point of view quite respectfully. I'm glad to be rooming (flatting? it is a flat) with someone who is of the same mind as me in regards to our passions in Africa. We are here for what seems to be the same reasons, and for that, I am grateful to be sharing this experience with her.

As for the more serious aspects of living in South Africa, I can definitely feel my world perspectives broadening. It is one thing to know the facts surrounding racial and socioeconomic disparity in sub-Saharan Africa, but it is an entirely different thing to see it. Stellenbosch is a sort of bubble. It's a small town with a gorgeous campus at it's heart, surrounded by quaint European-esque shops and restaurants. Safety is less of an issue than the larger Cape Town. However, if you travel a meer three or four kilometers outside of the main city block, it becomes obvious that there are vast differences in the lives of the locals. On the outskirts of town lies Kayamandi, a township inhabited by 35,000 people just surviving. It is a 100% black and coloured community, and it is what most ill-educated westerners picture when imagining Africa. The streets are covered in garbage and filth, the houses are constructed of tin or, if you're lucky, plywood. The house numbers are spray-painted on. The shops are all in shipping crates, if that. I will be working at Ikaya Primary School with a classroom of 7th graders.

Also, despite the fact that South Africa has rebounded amazingly from Apartheid, especially in only 15 years, there are still very clear racial lines. Jenna was talking about walking to church this morning, and how as she was walking, she was completely surrounded by black South Africans. She realized that was because all the whites drive to church, and the blacks walk. During church, they pay a man, black as it happens, to watch the cars during the service. So, although they've made leaps and bounds at repairing society in terms of race and race relations, much farther than the US has done, they still have a long way to go.

All in all, I am very happy here, with the exception of missing loved ones at home. I can't wait to continue growing and learning in this gorgeous country. It offers so much that I have yet to discover, and I am more than excited to bask in all that is South Africa.