Wow. The beginning of the end! Here we are. I’ve only been here now for four days but already have been excited about all that I’ve seen. I’m going to start with my day today, weaving in some info, then run through some of the other stuff that’s been going on, my virtual diary.
So for context, our current homestays have no wi-fi. We’re living in an area called Bo-Kaap, which is a Muslim neighborhood that is virtually stunning. By the time I have wifi to email this, I’ll post some photos to the blog of the rainbow and beautiful small homes that run up the mountainside. The no internet situation is actually a welcomed change, as I spoke about in Brazil how the constant contact was feeling super overwhelming and slightly emotionally exhausting. However, the downside is it is impossible to coordinate plans. No one uses their dingy phones (we lovingly call them trap phones) except Michael who has his sim card in his iPhone, so this morning I woke up with no plans at 10:45 and gave him a ring — his project group had been meeting by school and decided to head down to the southern cape at 11:30am via train, inviting me to come along. I got directions to the station from my host mamma and went off totally unsure of what the plan would be. At 11:15, Michael calls telling me the train actually leaves at 11:20 and they were all there but I wasn’t going to make it; I was desperate and set off RUNNING, hollering at vendors asking “train station>!>?!?!?” and sprinting in the direction they pointed. I had never been inside the station/mega mall and got pointed in all sorts of directions as I saw it was 11:19 and I was ascending the stairs up to the ticket booth, at which point I ran through the exit sign, ignoring the guard yelling at me, and frantically asked “PLATFORM 5? PLATFORM 5?” someone pointed and I kept sprinting, freaking out when the train was still there “HOLD IT PLEASE” and I managed to get my Nike through the door to hold it open, able to get on literally without a second to spare. Completely out of breath I called the others to be answered with “You just missed it!!” and I had the unbelievable satisfaction of saying “no I didn’t” — pretty epic start to the day.
We met up and flipped through the Lonely Planet guide I managed to grab on my way out, setting out the plan for the day. We figured out a lovely train spot to get out at known as the “surfer’s corner” and the city unfolded out of the train windows. The doors finally opened to a beachy oasis. Rainbow shacks painted in the South African flag colors dotted the beach front and bodies bobbed across the wide ocean trying to catch waves. We grabbed a coffee from one of the countless hip places and set off walking on the guided route, seeing some old buildings and just breathing in the salty fresh air, 180-ing from our India rickshaw rides. The coast evolved from full ocean to sandy spots to beautiful rocky landscapes and wading still pools. On this walk we ran into our program coordinator, Kelly, who was with her adorable husband and 6-month-old baby (what are the odds! Actually, in Kelly’s words, quite high in a super segregated small city on a sunny weekend day). She recommended a place for lunch two train stations away and we set off along the beach strolling and talking. Our group of 9 was different from my usual gang and a welcomed change, as we met up and broke down into small walking groups exchanging jokes and meaningful conversations.
When we came across a little patch of beach we decided to stop for a moment of relaxation. The park had taken a section of the ocean and constructed small seawalls to make a little pool of ocean water. I decided to follow some others and walk along the seawall, my friend Austin came out to meet me. As we walked towards the end, I was under the impression one was supposed to walk the three sides in a circle, but when I got to the tide-perpendicular wall, I started getting super nervous. “Austin, the algae has made this part really really slippery, be careful.” I was hyper-aware of my iPhone in my jean jacket. “Austin the waves are pretty strong just try and hold you stance when it laps the edge and then keep moving across. My toes were slipping with nothing to cling to (and that’s even with my super strength toes). The edge approached and was even more slippery, I looked at the corner to see a full on rock “Austin I have no idea how we’re gonna get past that ahhhhhh what do we do” and a big wave comes over the seawall, sweeping me along with it. No joke. I am freaking out in the ice cold water, fully dressed. In a panic I raise the pocket of my jacket and desperately doggy paddle with my free hand. “Austin??” I turn around to see her walking along the first section of the wall, she had U-turned at the end of the initial straight, much to my surprise, which also meant I was talking into air that whole time. Boy, did I feel stupid. A man in a wetsuit asks “oh my god are you alright?” after I assured him I was, he says “okay don’t touch the bottom, there are sea urchins.” GREAT. I make it ashore to the group who are torn between laughter and serious concern. After realizing that by God’s grace (for the second time that day), my iPhone was totally fine, I was caught in a fit of laughter and euphoria, probably from the adrenaline rush and utter shock of the situation/ice cold water. But hey, a little water never killed anyone and I had the beautiful sun overhead to dry me off. No problem, onwards!
We made it to the beautiful area of Kulk Bay, where we sought out the fish and chips recommendation of Kelly, being greeted by fishing boats and a divey guaranteed-to-be-delicious open air joint. We gorge ourselves happily in the sun and remark on the sheer beauty of the docks and perfectly clear water. What a time to be alive!
Passing the precious town center, we grab the train again, this time riding it to the last stop. The view from the coast-hugging train reminded me so much of the train ride through New Zealand Susan and I did two summers back (my how time flies). The sky was clear, the ocean vast, and the ever-present mountains were looming. We get off and make our way to Boulder Beach, famous not only for it’s monumental rocks, but also for it’s colony of PENGUINS. They were so so cute, basking in the sun and pooping and wearing their little tuxedos! Ah! I don’t think I’ve ever seen penguins in their natural habitat, what a delight. They were on the beach swimming beside people and climbing rocks and waddling around, so precious. The whole day had just been so unbelievably grand that I hadn’t even registered that today was Columbia’s Bacchanal (spring concert), I was so present and happy. Back to actually being ‘abroad’ and couldn’t be more psyched about it.
However, a perfectly beautiful and relaxing day on IHP would simply be too easy. We had another stop on the agenda, a film screening of a documentary about the massacre of the mine laborers in South Africa in 2012. The event was held in a Chelsea-Market-esque garage. The film was really impactful and disturbing, a still-healing wound in the recent history of the country. A peaceful strike escalated when the police were called in after the mine executives refused to meet to negotiate a pay raise. The standoff continued for days, until the police fenced in the strikers (who were sitting on a rock) using razor wire. When the police went on the radio and it was clear that things were getting more tense, a bunch of people tried to leave the scene, with their hands up. The police shot them anyways, killing 17 men as commands were called down from a man in a helicopter monitoring the ground activity. It reminded me so much of movies I’ve seen about hunting tuna fish via helicopter, and even more disturbing using that parallel on human beings. One man who was shot and thought he was dying remarked something like “at that moment I realized I had never said goodbye to my family. I was dying for money.” But I realized that was not the case, his paycheck was more than just money, it was the thing holding him and the thousands of other black families in a constant state of oppression and starvation. It was symbolic of a power relation that still remained so heightened even after the apartheid. Other scenes showed the *also black* police officers using disgusting language about getting “great form” to kill another 17 men in ‘scene two’ of the massacre. These men were brothers in oppression and killing each other as puppets for the executives who refused to even talk to their employees or even be open to negotiations, opting instead to motivate the entire police department to pen the employees and raze them down with machine guns. It was so horrible to watch, but also symbolic of the constant tensions and major issues still facing this country.
We’ve only been here for three class days, but have already started delving into material. In fact, on the first day FROM the airport, we were taken in the mega bus to the top of Signal Hill and lectured for 45 minutes on the layout of the City Bowl central area. As you can imagine, everyone was thrilled. The next day we had a fun activity of all starting at Point A and taking 5 different routes to get to Point B, answering different riddles from the handout along the way. It was really fun and, now that were back in an English-speaking country, we got to do it independently (without teachers or translators). We went to some artsy parts of the city, through the Company Gardens, by the government building/parliament area, to a street fair, and to the site on which Nelson Mandela gave his first speech upon his release from prison. We’ve also had lectures on economics, politics, urban planning, black consciousness, Biko, history, and crime. Their political structure is actually super fascinating, where people vote for a party not candidates and the party selects the members based on allotted seats. Our country coordinator is also named Sally and she’s super old school strict: she closes the door if you’re a minute late to class, bangs on the table to silence the classroom, and speaks in a sharp and direct manner always. I like her structure relative to the loosy-goosey nature we’ve gotten accustomed too.
On Friday afternoon, we went on our first neighborhood day and we had an insane conversation with a record store owner who I initially thought was a hippie on his remarks about how fast everyone lived now and how “not everyone can be a boss” and “life’s not about 40-year-old scotches and sports cars” but when he started talking about politics and the government he said “the primitive South African tribal minds did not have the mental capacity to handle capitalism,” I’m not kidding. The rant he went on was seriously disturbing but possibly a candid insight into the minds of some post-apartheid.
We still have SO MUCH to learn on the topic, but from the spatial analysis classes we’ve had thus far, I’m starting to get the eerie thought that apartheid may have just been a more explicit method of accomplishing the same spatial practices we see in almost every unequal city on this planet. Redlining throughout America did the same exact thing in a much more subtle way to segregate black people and minorities to very concentrated pockets in cities, that were/are still very starved for resources and void of investment. However, with apartheid there was a clear wrong that needs to be corrected, but in our cities we can carry on ignoring the historical legacy of our hugely oppressive past.
The narrative of safety here is also insanity. The number of talks we’ve had would make mom and dad very happy, but has also instilled goggles of fear that have greatly shaped the lens of how I’m interpreting the city. Are we trying to learn about the realities of a city yet be contained in a bubble? The crime rates are equal to that of Washington, D.C. so I’m really not sure what to think, but it seems like every withdrawal from an ATM or cab ride could be your last.
That being said, I still took the chance to go out last night with a big group from the program. We went to the infamous Long Street, which is saturated with bars in a style very reminiscent of New Orleans with wrought-iron balconies and neon flashing lights. We jumped from spot to spot, having a total blast. We went to one place with shooters for 1 rand (to put that in context, it was $0.06 per drink…). There’s definitely a range, though, with fancier hookah places to more ratchet dancing spots to live music and artsy bars.
Otherwise, my homestay is great. I’m living with Eli, who I went to Delhi with way back when. I wasn’t sure how well it was going to work, but it’s been super great so far. She’s really chill and asks a ton of engaging questions. We live with three generations. Mainly, our host grandma, or “mamma” absolutely spoils us rotten. She is so funny and singsongy. You never know when she’ll latch on to a question and just dance around it with her words for seemingly forever. She went on about this recent murder scandal of a musical composer who was killed by his wife for about 25 minutes. She calls us her sweeties and does our laundry (which they’re not supposed to do) and spends all day cooking and just is precious and too good to us. She’s the mother of eight, with 15 grandchildren. Two of her daughters live with us, one of which has three kids. Her son also lives here but has been super shy since the passing of his wife, so we haven’t met him yet. One of the grandkids is named Sedick and he’s on holiday from school. I made the mistake of letting him play Zoombinis on my laptop the first night and since then have been constantly asked to play and play and play. I’m only in this homestay till the end of next weekend, where we will go to Langa for the last two weeks, a township in the northern suburbs (townships are the areas that were designated for black people to live in during apartheid). The experiences should be very different, as our living arrangement here is very, very nice. We have two stories and a beautiful living room, a big flat screen TV with many channels, our own bathroom, and other niceties (not all are like this though — Izzy and Abril are living in a home where all ten people were trying to use the one bathroom at the same time to get ready in the morning).
It has been super nice being in an English speaking home, though. We spoke with Mamma about how Muslim community builds in Bo-Kaap and heard such opposites from the isolated form of religion Aubrey and I found at our first homestay. Rather than staying within the family and having women pray primarily in the home while the men go to the mosque, here the women call to each other through their windows, go to church groups every Monday and Wednesdays and celebrate birthdays and community events all together. I loved hearing her stories about going to Mecca with her husband (who passed away 16 months after the pilgrimage) and she even told me the proper Islamic phrase to greet Adilla with, who just got back from Mecca with her family on Wednesday. We haven’t gotten into other topics yet, such as living through apartheid, but I’m hoping to soon. It’s crazy just how recent the South African history is — apartheid BEGAN in 1948! Black people had to have permits to walk through spaces until 1986! Nelson Mandela wasn’t elected till 1994! Craziness. Very cool to have the opportunity to discuss such things with people that have lived through this history so recently. So much more to learn and seemingly not so much time to accomplish it all.
I was feeling very tired and very homesick upon arrival, but now I’m feeling reinvigorated and psyched for the last month. It’s a mix of excitement to be here but also excitement to be coming home. When lying awake with jet lag earlier this week, I thought about how happy I’ll be hugging you all in person and seeing my two favorite nuggets so very soon! But I know I still have much more to accomplish here before that happens.
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