Stellenbosch downtown area reminds me way too much
of Evanston downtown area. Last night I had a conversation - "Are we
really in Africa?" with a few people in my program. The obvious answer is
yes. The gut reaction answer is no. But I'm sure I'll be thinking about that
for the next three months and beyond. These three months I'm sure will be great
as far as challenging stereotypes and developing new ways of looking at
things. Every time I picture a globe and where South Africa is on it, I
realize how far away I am from home...and even the Northern Hemisphere. It's weird.
Flying down the entire length of the continent of Africa was similarly weird.
It would look on the map on the plane and realize "Oh, over Cameroon
now." "Oh, over Democratic Republic of the Congo now." "Oh
over Angola now." etc...
Today we took a tour of Stellenbosch. We visited
several townships or informal settlements around Stellenbosch - remnants of
apartheid area that are still home to tens of thousands of people. The odd
thing is too, these could be located across the highway, across the street, or
across a tall barbed-wire, Great Dane and ADT-guarded fence from a golf club,
gated-community with giant mansions, or BMW dealership. It's so weird to me how
such extreme prosperity and such extreme poverty can coexist by each other side
by side. Too close. Close to the point that it made me feel actually physically
sick to my stomach just looking at the comparison. I'm not sure if comparisons
are the right thing to do. But it was impossible not to.
I don't like taking pictures of people's homes when
they're in front of them, which many of these people were. Men loitering on the
streets because they can't get jobs in town. So I didn't take too many
pictures. We actually took a bus up to the top of Kayamandi settlement, just
outside Stellenbosch, which is on a hillside and has THE BEST views in all of
the city (to the point that someone built a random bed and breakfast in the
middle of it advertising a "unique cultural experience" for tourists
to see this marvelous view) and THE WORST smells in all of the city. Garbage.
Sewage. Dirty water. Everywhere. The homes are packed so closely together that
there are only main roads. Thousands of people live in these shacks. And
whenever there is a fire - usually when someone tries to install electricity -
firemen and trucks cannot reach the homes unless they are on the outermost
edge, so all the homes in that area burn down.
Electricity is not common in these homes - I had that part of culture shock when we walked past a store that advertised "Electricity." In the US, wifi is pretty much assumed in most places. In Kayamandi, Electricity is a rare luxury. But everyone has cell phones.
When we got to the top of the Kayamandi settlement,
we got off the bus and walked down through it. It was quite an interesting
experience, and we definitely stuck out like sore thumbs - although that is an
extreme understatement. I felt very aware of my skin color, but moreso of just
not belonging there. And almost ashamed of my group members who were taking
pictures of the little kids. The kids themselves didn't seem to mind and were
doing all sorts of crazy poses. But it just seemed like profile picture
exploitation of poor African children. They didn't talk to the kids, ask them
their names. Sure the kids were mostly speaking Xhosa and Zulu, but still, an
effort would have been nice. I guess I've just gone on too many Sheil service
trips so that that behavior really bothered me. It wasn't as though we were
going to get to know these kids or even as though we were making a positive impact
or doing something in solidarity to improve the world. We were just spectators
making them into spectacles. And clearly upsetting their parents who were
watching that happen quite dubiously.
So, my blog title is Khayamnandi. I couldn't decide
on whether or not I should make a South Africa blog. I've never blogged before.
I'm not really sure what the purpose is. But I know there are some of you who
might be interested in some/all of what I'm doing and thinking. And some of you
(ehemm, Mom and Dad) played major roles in getting me here, so it's only fair
you know what you supported. Anyway, back to Khayamnandi. So as I said
Kayamandi was the settlement with the gorgeous views and the tiny packed
together houses. But our guide, Kalvin told us that Kayamandi comes from the
Xhosa word Khayamnandi for pleasant home. These people named their
settlement a "pleasant home" because what looks like a no-hope
situation to me is their home, their neighborhood, their community.
6000 of the
houses burned down three months ago in a fire - they have all been rebuilt by neighbors. Is there any other community
in the world that could boast that? As we walked down the hilly streets, music
was playing, people were hanging out together, laughing and talking, the kids
were singing and laughing and playing and smiling. What looks like dire, even
miserable conditions, really is so much more. Not to look at it through
rose-colored glasses, but to maybe see more than the "poor starving
children" and the sewage and the garbage and the shacks smaller than my
bathroom at home. Not to look at it entirely from a spoiled American's
perspective, but to try to see things from the perspective of a someone who
lives there, who sees Kayamandi as a home, and not just a place to cover the
basic necessity of "shelter" but a community and a pleasant home.
We visited some other places too, including a
settlement called Idas Valley, where we played with the kids on a big green
field for about an hour. I don't speak Xhosa and they don't speak English, so
at first I didn't have a clue what to do. But then I remembered the first day
in Cusmapa this past December and how the little girls taught me hand clapping
games and they seemed to be pretty universal. So I went out on a limb and gave
it a try. Sure enough, about twenty seconds of hand motioning later, they were
teaching me a hand clapping game. It was awesome and lasted a while, and I felt
my heart start to melt and overflow with joy. Oh, this is why I'm here was the
thought I had. I didn't feel out of place, stared at, treated rudely, or
treated too nicely. I felt happy. I could see the kids genuinely having fun and
wanting to play with me once they got over their initial shyness. One little
girl apparently did speak English because after a while of hand clapping games
and tag, she told me I needed an African braid in my hair and made me sit down
on the ground while she braided my hair and three other girls fought for a seat
on my lap. Eventually, and all too soon of course, it was time to depart. It was
difficult telling the little girls I had to go and not being able to say 'I'll
see you again' or 'I'll be back.' But I guess that is how life works. And we
definitely touched each others' lives today - yet again, the kids probably
having a much bigger impact on me than I could ever have on them.
