13/6

Yesterday we went to Khayelitsha for the third week. For the first half of the day SiSi led the group as normal. They began with a prayer song (which only reaffirms my impression that every person here has a natural choir voice), then welcomed the new members. This Thursday was the day to test blood pressure and measure weight and height, so SiSi mentioned a few things in her opening speech. She told the members not to be shocked if they had high blood pressure, but to be grateful that it was caught early so that they could go to the clinic for treatment. She then stressed that if the clinic recommends exercises, the members should do them. Finally, she said not to be scared or worried of the results. It may have nothing to do with their choices, but rather may be from their family. She then reminded people that they can speak freely, and ask any questions, and if she didn’ know the answer maybe the visitors (US) would. That really surprised us, to know how they viewed us. First of all, we are not qualified whatsoever to answer their questions about blood pressure, diabetes, and other health related questions. Furthermore, that put a lot of pressure on us to be able to answer the questions. If that was how they viewed us, as visitors with all the answers, we are going to have to work very hard to change their opinions of us. That got me thinking. How do we want them to view us? I don’t have time to write about my thoughts now, so I will include them in my next entry (keep you in anticipation).

SiSi then spent a lot of time talking about the importance of drinking clean water, the amount to be determined by the weight of each person. She mentioned pamphlets in the back describing how water cleans the system. She then discussed how without water the members will have pains, that water is like a medicine. Fizzy drinks will do something bad to your body, and by drinking that you will be killing yourself. But water is a cure all. It is good for your skin and kidneys. If you are not drinking enough water then your urine will be colored and will smell. At this point a woman raised her hands and said that she drinks a ton of water but that her urine smells like eggs and is dark. SiSi asked if she had ever seen her doctor about her kidneys and she said that yes, she has been told she has kidney problems. SiSi instructed her to go back to her clinic and get checked out again. I would have loved to find out more from this woman, about her experience at the clinic, what the doctors had told her, what the treatment had been, how easy it was to get the Tx and follow it, what she thinks the origins of the problems were, etc. But unfortunately she speaks only Xhosa, and I did not want to single her out later, so I will have to wait until next week to see if she has an update for SiSi.

After the group discussion, the CHW’s each went to a table in different corners of the room to take weight, height, and blood pressure measurements of each member. Based on these numbers they told each member whether or not they should be worried, and whether or not they should go to a clinic. After everyone had been measured we asked them all to arrange their chairs into a circle so that we could start our questions. Brittany and I introduced ourselves and what we were doing in their club. Brittany then spoke while I took notes. We asked them about what types of exercise they know of and they do, the types of foods and liquids that they drink, and of these foods and liquids which are the most accessible, the cheapest, and the ones they like the most.  The most popular foods are often South African foods like pap (a type of stiff porridge), umngqusho (a bean and samp mixture), and umphokoqo (mielie meal and amast, sour milk). Foods like yogurt, red meats, and some fruits are not eaten often or at all because they are so expensive.  Since Khayelitsha is such a poor community, there is basically no diversity in the women’s diets- it is just creative ways to eat mielie meal. We are now organizing this information, looking up nutritional facts (and some times exact ingredients as in the case of umngqusho), availability, and prices.  Once we have all this information, we will construct the menu that we plan to give to the women next week along with the intro survey, a brief introduction to the South African dietary guidelines, and the journals so they can keep track of how the menu is working for them. Although we have had a lot of success and progress this week, we did have some obstacles.  The largest one is our translator. We found that her translations were not very accurate; she would often put in a lot of her own thoughts and feelings.  This is fine, because we know that on top of being our lingual translator she is our cultural translator. However, she would often lead the women into giving “right” answers and sometimes chide the women who gave “wrong” answers.  For example, two of the women were new to the club and she made several comments about how they ate badly.  After that, both women mentioned a lot more vegetables in their diets.  She would also put words into the mouths of the club members.  For example, if one woman said she ate two pieces of bread for lunch, the translator would add that it was brown bread, which may or may not have been true, but to which the interviewee agreed with.  We feel like because of this, we got a healthier set of answers than what may be actually being eaten in reality.  We also felt like the way that she reprimanded some ladies for how they ate and praised others set a bad feeling to the group; it made people less willing to be honest.  We  were a little discouraged because we wanted to hear JUST the interviewees opinions. We wanted to ask them questions and hear their answers, not judge them.  Finally, the translator tried to decide what questions she thought were important.  She did this by rushing us during our interviews, telling us how we didn’t have enough time for certain questions (yet we sat at the end for at least 15 minutes).  She also would not translate certain questions. For example, we were trying to understand the demographics of the women so we asked who identified with being black, colored, etc.  She immediately responded that all the women would identify as black and didn’t ask the question to the group.  She also claimed that she knew the questions we were going to ask, and thus didn’t have to hear them in English first.  So when we were trying to ask the women about what foods they ate, which ones they liked, which ones were cheapest, and which ones were the most accessible for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she shortened this question by just asking what the women ate for each meal.  This caused us to have to think on our feet and ask a lot of supplementary questions in order to get the original questions answered. I have ranted for awhile, but our translator is a wonderful woman and a huge help to us every single day. It was just a little frustrating today, but once we talk to her I'm sure things will be better. 

After the interview we got to join them in exercises and vegetable soup for lunch. It was a very fun day. When we got back we made dinner and Sheebs came over. We all went up to the bar and played card games and celebrity, then headed out for Long Street. We are starting to recognize people as we go out which is pretty cool. There is a guy, Angus, who we’ve seen at least five times walking down the street during the day and out at night, and another girl Monica who has been to every bar on Long Street that we go to. We’re starting to feel more and more like locals and less like tourists each day.

Today we woke up and headed to the Internet café to start making the menu that we’ll present next Thursday. It’s a gorgeous day, and hard to be indoors, but we wanted to get our work done early today so that we can go to a Braai (BBQ) that the hostel is having tonight. I’ll write more about that later.   

9/6

We woke up with high expectations for the day. We had reserved spots to Robben Island that could easily be cancelled if weather did not permit. Luckily it was a perfect day: cloudless, sunny, and only a wee bit windy. We called a Rikki (a private minibus taxi) to come pick us up and drive us to the Waterfront. On our way there the most random thing happened. Two horses, one black and one white, both without saddles, crossed the street in front of our car. No person was guiding them, they were just trotting along. It was so strange to see, but a wonderful sign for our day ahead. Two hard working animals, one white, one black, walking side by side through South African roadways; a perfect picture of a rainbow nation that Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners spent their lives fighting for. How appropriate to be the scene we encounter on our way to Robben Island.

 

Once we got to the Clock Tower, where we would board the ferry, we had a little extra time to wander the museum. It was housed in a glass building on the harbor. There were fishing boats parked at the docks, and at least five or six seals playing alongside waiting for fish to drop. They would clap their fins and wave, which would usually earn them their just reward. After learning the history of the island itself we finally boarded the ferry. It took about 1/2 hour before the boat pulled in to Murray’s Dock. They rushed us onto busses that were crammed to the fullest. The bus tour would take us around the island, including the town that used to house Irish immigrants that worked as guards, physicians, and cooks to the prisoners, to the Wild side (which is named for the variety of animals that live there, including more African penguins!, a lot of rabbits, springbok, deer, guinea fowls, etc.), past the lighthouse, to the lime quarry where the prisoners were forced to excavate stone to build their own walls, and Robert Sobukwe’s house. One highlight of the bus tour was the tiny rock monument in the lime quarry. When the political prisoners returned to Robben Island after living as free men, Nelson Mandela led them in a speech emphasizing reconciliation and unity. After the speech, and completely unplanned, he stopped for a moment. He had spent so many years of his life toiling in this quarry, schooling in the cave (both the illiterate, and sharing his words and ideas with soon-to-be politicians), and even ruining his eyesight in the sun and dust. He took this moment to pick up his last rock and place it in the center of the quarry. Each ex-prisoner followed suit, selecting their own rock and placing it atop his. The mound stands about waist high and is filled with rocks of different shapes, sizes, and textures. It is a perfect representation of the Rainbow Nation, of the “triumph of the human spirit against the forces of evil, a triumph of wisdom and largeness of spirit against small minds and pettiness, a triumph of courage and determination over human frailty and weakness”. That simple gesture led to a monument that defines South Africa today.

After the bus tour we were dropped off at the high security prison that housed the criminals and political prisoners. Unfortunately, this part of the tour felt extremely rushed and crowded. Much of the tour was given outside, where it was difficult to hear due to the wind, chattering people, and crying children. We toured the courtyard where prisoners sat on the ground to break rocks and mend clothes in the 60’s, and play tennis and send secret messages to each other in the 70’s. It was where Nelson grew his vegetable garden and hid his manuscript “A Long Way to Freedom”. After this we herded to the Site D jail cells, including Mandela’s. They were probably 5 X 5 feet, with a bucket in one corner, a mat in the other, and a table in the middle. People understandably crowded around the cell, snapping pictures. All I could think was to make my way to the front, take a picture, and quickly get out of the way. We had no time to view the cell except behind the lens, and definitely no time to let any of experiences sink in. After this site we went to Site B where the criminals were held. They had large cells that fit up to 51 people. Here too people were talking, taking away from the tour and ruining the atmosphere. Overall, this part of the tour had such potential to be heart wrenching and powerful. We stood inside a Robben Island jail cell. We stood in the courtyard where prisoners worked their lives away. We even stood outside the captivation spot of arguably the greatest humanitarian of our time. Yet, it did not feel that way. It all happened so quickly that I am just now beginning to realize the importance.

Our tour ran a little late, and we had to be back on the ferry, so our group had to basically run back to the harbor. We all skipped the gift shop and just made it.  On the way back we decided to stand outside on the dock to see the gorgeous views of Cape Town and its surrounding mountains. Once back on the shore we walked around the Waterfront, a large shopping and restaurant area. It was such a stark contrast from what we had just come from. We stopped for fish n’ chips for lunch and then went back to the hostel to do some work.

It is scary how comfortable we have become in Cape Town. It sucks you into its architecture, scenery, and history that it is easy to forget about the millions of people living without running water, sanitation, or electricity just minutes away. The tour guide asked our bus who had been to a township and only 3 people raised their hand (2 of them were Brittany and I). People learn about apartheid as though it happened in the past, recognize the struggle South Africans went through, and are glad they didn’t have to. They visit the District 6 Museum and Robben Island and they think we are beyond that. But they ignore the situation in the townships where black and colored people are still treated as less than persons; they ignore the xenophobic attacks until 60 people have died and thousands have fled; they ignore the millions living among them in poverty.  Because Cape Town sucks you in so that these things are easy to ignore, these people are easy to ignore. So to say the least, our comfort level has made me very uneasy. I will not want to become one of the tourists who can spend a day at the Waterfront and not think of the townships, the people who live there, and the struggles they go through to survive. 

8/6

It has been a few days since my last entry, so I have some serious catching up to do. First, let me say that I love our job. Since we can only go into the township on Thursdays, the rest of the week (we work Monday through Friday) is according to our hours. We have gotten used to a schedule where we wake early (by 8) and go spend the first half of the day doing touristy things. Then, after lunch, we come back to the hostel and are able to work online until dinner. It has been perfect, since we are not neglecting our project, the reason we came here, but we still get to do other things as well.

Anyways, after the museum on Friday we stopped by the cutest bakery for lunch. It happened to be one of Oprah, President Mbeki, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s favorites spots. Very cool. With the decorations, cakes, and assortment of desserts it was easy to see why. Once we got back to the hostel we did our Friday workload, made dinner, then got ready to go out. We have met a brother and sister from Canada, so went down to the hostel bar with them. Once there we ran into basically everyone from the hostel. The workers, some locals who we’ve hung out with the past few nights, the couple from Florida, and couples we’ve met in the kitchen or café area. We stayed there for a few hours then walked to Long Street in a mass group. It was our first night there, so I’ll mention a few key things. 1. The architecture is gorgeous. Each building is different, brightly colored, and with a New Orleans-esque balcony. They have street vendors that are cooking chicken, meat, fish, whatever you want outside many of the big bars (and they have ques around the corner!). We started in a bar that one of the locals had a hook-up in so we were all able to get free drinks (there were probably 20 of us). We hung out on the balcony while live music played inside. It was very chill. After that bar we walked to the Zula bar (FeFe has talked about it often so we were excited to finally see it). Again, there was a balcony overlooking the street. This time there was a stage where live music and comedy shows are normally held. Unfortunately we were too late for the band, but we will definitely be back. There was also a dance floor. Awesome. A great night. The best part was that I was talking to one of the locals, and he was asking me what our plans were for the next day. Well, Brittany and I were planning on doing laundry (big plans…) and he thought that was horrifying. So he offered to take us and the Canadians on a private wine tour (we had been planning on doing a guided one for like 400 Rand). Of course we agreed.

The next morning he picked us up at 9 and we squeezed into his car. Wine country was only about 1/2 hour away, and felt like a completely new world. It was very rural, with grand mountains and rocking similar to Cape Town. Unlike Cape Town, the area before the mountain was extremely flat with umbrella-like trees and grape farms as far as the eye could see. All the homes were very simple, surviving from the Dutch rule. Our first stop was at the Glen Carlou winery. We drove up a long tree-shaded driveway with grape fields just beyond. The building at the top of the driveway was unbelievable. It was one great room with very modern furniture and decorations. The bar was a half circle located at the far right side, with the long wall being all windows overlooking the winery and green mountain ranges. The ceiling was thatched, adding a simple elegance to an otherwise very retro room. We sat down at the bar and they immediately brought us our “menu”, a list of the 8 wines we would be tasting, along with the prices and room to make our purchases. We spent at least two hours sitting and sipping, enjoying the company and scenery as each empty glass was refilled with a new wine. It was waaaay better than being on a formal tour. Instead of talking with strangers we were able to get to know some friends, and more than that, we were able to take our time. The wine itself was obviously very tasty with an assortment of reds and whites, ranging from 40 Rand a bottle to 1800 Rand (unfortunately we didn’t get to taste this one L).  After Glen Carlou we drove down what I can only describe as wine road. After 100 ft or so was an entrance to a new winery. I swear we passed at least 50 on this one road. We finally turned onto a dirt road that wound through grape fields and eventually led to a plantation. Brittany and I both felt like we were at Washington’s house. There was a large green lawn before a colonial style white house. We went inside a barn to the left, the tasting room for Boschendal wineries. This time it was a small room, with a tiny bar covered in empty glasses, and long tables along the edges. We were seated and given a menu. It had at least 20 wines, reds, whites, and specialties, which we were allowed to choose 5 from. After we had made our selections, all wines were brought out at the same time and placed on a mat with circles and numbers. We were much more keen to these wines, and enjoyed being able to try one after another, then go back to our favorites. We stayed here for another two hours, then left to find lunch (we could have purchased a cheese platter if we weren’t so cheap). Ken, the local, wanted us to see Stallanbosch, a town home to one of the most famous wineries in South Africa. The drive was unbelievable. We wound down a canyon between two mountains before finally coming upon the town. We stopped for lunch at the University student center, which was much more like a mall than a student union. After lunch we all decided we were far too tired to go to another winery, so we headed back to our hostel. Once there we didn’t last ten minutes before we all fell into bed and passed out for a good 3 hours. When we woke up we decided to watch a movie, have dinner, and just hang out. We all went downstairs where a group was watching the Portugal versus Turkey football game. We convinced most of them to come play Egyptian Ratscrew, where we kept a game going for a while between 10 of us. 3 of them were locals that we hadn’t met yet, so it was fun getting to know them (we love the Canadians, but they are leaving tomorrow morning. The locals take us around Cape Town and we can hang out with them the whole summer).

This morning we were planning on going on a hike with Thandi and here church group, so we got up early and headed to the train station. Unfortunately the next train would have gotten us to Muizenberg far later than we were supposed to, so we had to pass on the hike. Instead we decided to tour the Company Gardens in the middle of the city and spend our day outside reading, drinking tea, and people watching. It ended up being a perfect day. There were no clouds, and since it was a Sunday, most of the benches were open. We read for a while, talked, and just chilled. Then we went to the gardens café where we ate lunch next to old men playing a heated game of chess and a newborn being cradled by her mother. Over lunch we planned our meals for the week, then stopped at the market on the way home.

Random story, on the way to the train station we were walking behind two girls who stopped to ask us if we knew where the gym was. We started talking and one of them was an American law student here working for the summer, the other was an English girl from her hostel. We parted ways, only to see them both on the way home from the market. It turns out she is staying on Long Street with a group of law students in the same program. We exchanged numbers and will hopefully hang out next weekend. It just goes to show what a friendly city Cape Town is. The people have all been so nice, often times out-of-their-way nice.

We met up with Chris and Carley (the Canadians) and all picked up dinner at Nando’s, a South African chain that reminded me of El Pollo Loco. Afterwards we went up to the bar and played Ring of Fire with them, Alex (a Zimbabwean who is staying in our room and working at the hostel this summer), and two girls from England until we went to bed.

6/6

This morning we went to the District 6 Museum for the first half of the day. It is so nice being in Cape Town, in the city. We walked about 10 minutes from our hostel and were downtown. Anyways, after getting a wee bit lost we finally found the building. District 6 was a multi-cultural neighborhood that was evacuated and demolished during apartheid. The community members were expelled from their homes and separated, forced to live in different townships far from the city. The founder of the museum is a man who lived in District 6 until he was 27, who now happens to be the tour guide. It was amazing to hear him speak about the glory of the old neighborhood, to hear his stories about the schools and the barber shops and the coffee shops. He spoke of each person that had established a life in the District. He spoke of the signs that went up, telling them they could no longer go home. He spoke of the men that hung themselves in the school-yard and the women who never saw their husbands because they were separated. He spoke of the mental games that the white people played, simple things like categorizing themselves as “white PEOPLE”, but the coloreds, blacks, and Indians as just that, too low to be named as a person. The man’s solution was respect. The easiest way to live together is to respect each other. Religion, sports, foods, music, everything. Respect and get respect in return and in that way live in understanding.

The founding statement was really beautiful, so I wanted to write it here:

Remember Dimbaza. Remember Botshabelo/Onverwacht, South End, East Bank, Sophiatown, Makuleke, Cato Manor. Remember District 6. Remember the racism which took away our homes and our livelihood and which sought to steal away our humanity. Remember also our will to live, to hold fast to that which marks us as human beings; our generosity, our love of justice, and our care for each other. Remember Tramway Road, Modderdam, Simonstown.

In remembering we do not want to recreate District 6, but to work with its memory; of hurts inflicted and received of loss. Achievements and of shames. We wish to remember so that we can all, together and by ourselves, rebuild a city which belongs to all of us, in which all of us can live, not as races but as people.

I wanted to end this entry with part of a poem by Lveen Conning-Ndlovu.

"And in the questioning comes the Who Am I

Out of the listening comes through You Am I

THROUGH YOU AM I."

5/6 cont.

I wanted to add more about the first real day at the Khayelitsha health club. We arrived and had to wait outside for a while before SiSi showed up. Once inside we set up tables and chairs so that we could have a meeting before the club members arrived. We wanted to get a feel for an average day, and talk to SiSi about the club itself: namely, their goals and methods. We also wanted to share our ideas for the project, our timeline, and what we were expecting. Sybil was available for translation if need be, and to offer her input.

I will not be including much work stuff in the blog, except for the big events, so if you want to know more specifics, just ask!

Today we met the few members that came, and introduced ourselves and what we would be doing over the next few weeks. Then we sat to the side, and let them conduct the meeting as usual. It started with testimonies, people sharing how they were doing with the home exercises, with eating habits, and with taking their “tablets”. SiSi then led them in stretches in their seats. They began with neck stretches, then arms, then legs. They also did fingers and wrists since most have arthritis. Exercises came next. The radio was broken, so SiSi broke out into song and the others joined in immediately. It was enchanting. It sounded as if we were listening to a choir. They had the most magnificent voices, with SiSi taking the lead role and everyone else singing the second part. It was perfectly orchestrated and completely spell binding. We asked Sybil afterwards what they were singing and it was called “The Wonderful Name of G-d”, a church song. I will definitely be looking for it online. In the meantime they were doing their exercises. They began by stepping from right to left, clapping in time, while still seated. Then they clasped their arms and extended them as if stirring a large bowl. They stood after this, and began walking in a circle. At this point two of the older women had to sit, though they continued to perform the exercises enthusiastically from their seat. They marched their arms as though walking in a circle, and of course, continued to sing. The ones standing alternated raising their arms, and eventually changed directions.  In all it lasted about 10 minutes. While this was enough to get the blood flowing and warm everyone up, it was not sufficient physical activity for the day. I was very surprised that this was all. It was geared towards the older women with arthritis, but there were also young people (they seemed about our age) who would have been able to handle more strenuous exercise.

A memorable woman was Mildred, an old black woman, about 5’2”, with a long floral skirt, black and white striped tights, a brown sweater to her knees, and no teeth. She walked in with her cane and came straight up to us and grabbed our hands. She told Sybil to tell us “Thank you so much for coming. It is wonderful to see young people care about us old people. We are excited to see you every week.” She was sooooo sweet and excited to partake in all activities that the club had planned for that day. I can’t wait to see her next week. We gave SiSi money to buy fresh vegetables from a garden next door and to make soup for the members (a little bribe to get them to show up…). 

5/6

esterday we awoke and decided it was going to be a relaxing day. We tried to find an internet café, but most charge per MB. We had hoped to find one that gives you free internet if you buy a tea, but unfortunately that did not happen. Instead we sat for as long as we could in the Long Street Café, then walked back to the hostel and watched a movie.

 

T.I.A. This is Africa. It is simpler, laid-back, and life happens at a slow, s-l-o-w pace. It is a blessing and a burden. A blessing in that Brittany and I have had much extra leisure time that we didn’t expect that has allowed us to do the touristy stuff. A burden in that our work stuff is lagging. We are used to working long hours and at a fast pace. But we have been pushed back two weeks already because it was too rainy for people to come to the clinic, and now because it was too much to do in one day to meet the members AND do interviews. I must learn to sit back and breathe (a strange concept, I know) but so far I am much too anxious. Today we were supposed to interview the members so that we could prepare a menu for next week, and a presentation of the menu and dietary based guidelines for the following week. Now we will conduct the interviews next week, present the menu the following week, and introduce the dietary guidelines the following week. Unfortunately, because of the slow pace, we have had to improvise our quantitative measurements. Taking measurements would be useless if the members are not changing their diets until about 4 weeks. So, Brittany and I are administering a questionnaire at the beginning and end to note changes in diet and beliefs regarding food and weight (before and after the menu and presentations). Hopefully that will work. Only time will tell….

 

On another note, I finished the books I brought in the first few days, so I was excited to find a library at the hostel. I picked up a teenage fantasy adventure book and found a quote that I really liked.

“It may be that you never return to the places dearest to you. Nut how can that matter, if what you must do is here and now?”

 

Aaaaahhhhhhh wizards who talk to animals and are hundreds of years old are so wise… 

I have more to add, but I'm running out of time. So I will post more later. 

3/6

Today was a lax day. I woke up early again and read/made breakfast/showered before anyone else was awake. Then we went to the Internet Café and I spent a few hours figuring out the whole blog thing, facebook, etc. Brittany cut and dyed her hair during this time (it was dark brown and almost reached her butt, now it is black and is a little longer than shoulder length). It looks great and very natural! Then we walked around Long Street, since we hadn’t explored there yet. We were going to hit up a museum, but it got to be too late. We found an amazing African music store where we’ve spent a lot of time (Freshly Ground and Hot Water are Cape Town based bands that are sooooo good!!! Look ‘em up). Then we walked around an African goods store, which we will definitely have to return to for souvenirs and gifts near the end of our trip. There was a market set up on a walking only street, but it was closing down right as we arrived. We’ll have to go back next week. When we got home we made dinner and then went up to the bar in our hostel to spend the night chatting with the owner, workers, and other guests.

It turned into the most interesting night since I’ve been here. We stayed in and talked with two women from Florida, both of who were very educated, highly opinionated, and politically invested in the youth of our country. They had been traveling for over 8 months now, around Southeast Asia and here, and just arrived back from a 26- day safari across southern Africa. They quit their jobs to be able to travel the World. I soooo envy them, and soooo hope I can find a job that allows me to travel (maybe not to that extent, but some). We met a gay Zimbabwean who had lived and trained in the U.K. (so many UK people here, no?) in English. He is planning on becoming an English teacher to people who hope to teach English in the future, though really he is a philosopher. I wanted to mention a few of his thoughts before I forgot them. The first is that each one of us has our own paths. If we spend time looking at others, either out of jealousy or judgment, we will miss our own footing and fall.  We spent much time talking about happiness, how we and only we can decide our own happiness, which soon led into a discussion on free will/ what is happiness? It is a state of mind, so of course it makes sense that we should be able to alter it by altering our state of mind- mind over matter. He also made an extremely interesting comparison between himself as a gay person and someone living in absolute poverty. We are born into this body, and by luck he was born gay. He had no choice in the matter, the same way someone born into a family living in a township (for example) has no choice. But you have the choice to make something out of it. You must deal with everything that you were lucked into and make something of yourself. Everyone has hardships and unlucky circumstances, but it is the ability to overcome those that truly define a person. You can choose to be gay, or you can choose to be so much more than that. You can choose to embrace your poverty, or you can accept that is where you came from and grow and take what you were born with and evolve into something more. I’m not even sure where the conversation moved after that, it got extremely philosophical, I got a little too scientific, talking about Dale Purves empirical theory of the mind, and it just spiraled down into a talk of where does happiness originate? What is free will? How is chemical and electrical signals interpreted as happiness, and can you alter these (probably not) or can you alter your interpretation? Mind over matter. Are you what your body tells you you are, or can you rise above that and become what you imagine yourself to be? Hmmmmmm……… 

2/6

I have been waking up at 7:00 am for the past few days unable to go back to sleep. In Thandi’s house it was because the kids would wake up at sing and rap and speak incredibly loud so I would wake up and enjoy a cup of coffee and relax and read before starting my day. Today I woke up at 7 and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I hate to admit it, but I love being up that early. I feel like I know something that someone else doesn’t, being up when others are still in bed, experiencing things that others are missing out on. This morning I came downstairs, had a cup of tea, and sat on the big comfy chairs in the hostel’s café and read. It was quiet, the sun was just rising, fairly blissful. At 8:30 I woke Brittany so that we could go to the market before we started our day. We picked up a few essentials (rice, yogurt, eggs, muesli, peanut butter, etc.) and made it home by 10. The plan was to take the hop on-hop off bus to Table Mountain, hike to the top, then finish the bus tour. Unfortunately, as I am quickly learning, nothing happens as planned. The clouds covered the mountain, so we decided to stay on the bus until the end and perhaps miss the mountain today.

The bus took us to the base of the mountain where we had a gorgeous view of Lion’s Head, the entire city, and the ocean. I’ll talk more about the view later, but here’s a glimpse for now. The bus went over a pass and we were face to face with the 12 apostles, cliffs near to the Atlantic Shore. Clouds blanketed the jagged rocks, giving the entire scene a majestic, romantic flair. The colors were brilliant, with the ocean matching the sky, the green hills, and the white clouds covering both regions, tying the picture together.  Our bus continued along the coast to several beach towns, including Camps Bay. I was blown away not only by the beauty, but by the wealth. One home recently sold rights to its garage, which alone costs 2.3 million rand. FOR A GARAGE. Because the lots were so steep, most homes had private cable cars to take them from their garage to their front doors. Contrast that with the core-shaking poverty in Khayelitsha, and I would say they are the two most opposite places in the entire world, though they are within kilometers of each other. I couldn’t have imagined a scene that better depicts the polar lifestyles existing in Cape Town than the mansions in Camps Bay and the metal slabs in Khayelitsha. This was the stretch of ocean that the whales migrate to during this season (beginning this month!) so I’m sure we will be back to this side of the peninsula soon…

We continued down the coastline to the Waterfront, a new area near the docks. The three most important things about the Waterfront are shopping, food, and the aquarium. We plan to take the ferry to Robben Island on Saturday morning, then spend the rest of the day at the Waterfront, enjoying ourselves by people watching. They also have an ampitheater with live performances and music, so I know that’s where I will be hanging out.  Near the Waterfront we also drove by the soon-to-be finished World Cup 2010 stadium.

The bus than headed into the city. There is not much to say about the city itself. In all honesty, parts of it reminded me off L.A. There were some markets and some gargoyle-esque animals that reminded me of where I was, but other than that you could probably imagine what the buildings looked like. I am excited to go spend time on Long Street, the heart of the city.

We stopped at our hostel for a quick bite, and then decided to try our luck with the mountain again. The clouds moved so quickly (I would say at least 200, maybe 300 miles an hour) that only luck could offer you a clear view from the top. And that is exactly what we were blessed with today. We made it just in time to spend about an hour and a half of cloud free viewing from the top of the world. We took the cable car up (we’ll do the hike later, but with so few clear days, we wanted to make sure we saw the view as best we could) and arrived within 3.5 minutes. The second we exited the building I felt a sense of awe. I felt like I was standing on clouds. They poured from the 12 apostles and flooded Camps Bay. They came from the sea and rushed past the boulders below our feet. But then everything went clear. We could see to the end of the earth in all directions. All was quiet. Despite any hectic-ness below, all was quiet. The xenophobic attacks had not happened. The thousands of people displaced were found. The rising interest rates froze. Time did not exist. Stress did not exist. Nothing existed but me, the clouds, and what I imagined beyond them.

As you can tell, the theme of today is clouds. They were our organizers, rearranging our schedules and they were our solid ground on top of everything. So I was pretty excited to read a sign about where they come from:

“Table Mountain’s tablecloth is the stuff of legend. One names an old Dutch pirate, Van Hunks, who was challenged to a pipe-smoking match by the devil, with his eternal soul as the prize. The smoky results of this as-yet unresolved duel pour over the mountain.” 

Now you know.

After we floated back down to earth, Brittany and I cooked dinner and spent time talking to FeFe, one of the hostel workers, about music. She played some of her favorite South African bands, and promised to take us out Friday to hear some of them live. I can’t wait! The rest of the evening was spent talking to two women from Salt Lake (near Olympus) who moved to Long Beach (such a small world…) in our hostel, and doing some reflecting. 

1/6

This morning I went to church with Thandi, Bongi, and Mbongi. There is not much to say except that the church itself was housing about 50 foreigners, providing them with safety, shelter, food, and clothes. Most of the prayers were directed at that situation, and most of the time was spent welcoming these “newcomers” to the service.

Afterwards, Mbongi and I went to the Muizenberg flea market that is held every Sun day in the beach parking lot. It reminded me of the Orange County Swap Meet but probably about a tenth of the size. I bought a pair of shower shoes that I actually love and will probably end up wearing out, and a thin wallet for everyday use.

In the afternoon we drove to our hostel in downtown Cape Town. Called Cape Town Backpackers, it was voted the number 1 best hostel in Africa by hostelworld.com (so mom, dad, I swear it’s legit and safe!) It’s so quaint and cute. It’s a yellow Victorian house at the base of Table Mountain, about a 10 minute walk from Long Street, the nightlife, restaurant, downtown area of the city. The café area is my favorite place to hang out. It has a heater, comfy seating, tables, free tea and coffee, and a plug for my computer. The only bad thing is there is no laundry, and no wireless. Luckily there’s an Internet Café with cheap wireless right down the street. 

31/5

Today was not too thrilling so I will keep this entry short. I ran a few errands with Thandi in the morning, including the most amazing store I’ve ever been to called Fruits and Veg City. It is a market with pretty much only fruits and vegetables, juices, and nuts. My heaven. The prices are unbelievable (a huge bag filled to the brim with probably 20, 25 clementines costs 7 Rand, a little less than $1), the selection is ridiculous (all our normal fruits and veggies plus like 50 more), and I am a little obsessed. They had a stand inside that gives you a massive bowl of mixed fruits (mostly exotic) topped with either soft serve ice cream of yogurt, so of course I just had to get one and it was basically amazing.

After we got back to the house we met the kids and went with them to their school for a fair. The school was extremely normal (I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting…) and reminded me of something I would find in any city. There were games set up in the auditorium and a BBQ outside. We played some then went outside for dinner. Cape Town is home to a white fish, Snoek, that is extremely cheap and tasty. They have it everywhere, so I had to get some and it was tasty tasty tasty (I just realized that this whole entry has basically been about food. Maybe I’m a little hungry?)

30/5

We woke up and walked to Muizenberg train station where we were to meet one of Brittany’s high school friends, Sheebs, from Kenya but studying abroad at UCT. She was running a little late, so we had time to sit and enjoy the beach. While we were watching the surfers we noticed a seal not far down the coast a little, so we followed him to a rocky area where we spent a little over an hour. It was a gorgeous setting, made only more brilliant by a rainbow bordering the mountains. Once Sheebs arrived we hopped on the train toward Simon’s Town. I was pretty nervous about the train ride because of the horror stories I have heard from Thandi, Bongi, the people we met at UWC, and basically everyone else. Here’s one that Sheebs decided to tell us while we were on the train: Her flatmates who go to UCT were taking the train last week, and were in a car with about 5 other women and 3 other men (so you would assume it was relatively safe), when 3 guys got on and held everyone at knife point, making them all open their bags and taking what they wanted from them, then jumping off at the next stop. They took their cameras, money, cell phones, calculators, and I-Pods. After that story I put my money into my socks and my camera in my coat pocket (everything else is replaceable, but I would have been devastated if I lost my camera!) We made it safe and sound, but I was pretty on edge the whole time. The ride itself was right along the shore with gorgeous views the entire way.

Once we arrived at Simon’s Town we hopped in a Rikki (a private hire mini-bus taxi) and had him take us to Boulder’s Beach, home to the infamous African penguins. There is a boardwalk that leads to the ‘park’ where you then have to pay a little to get up close and personal with them. But, where else besides the zoo would I be able to see penguins up close?!?!?! So of course we paid the 20 Rand (That’s not even $3…) and went in. I was soooooo excited, jumping up and down, running ahead then back, I felt like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time. Looking back now it was probably not the best way to react, but they were so cute and were nesting and had furry grey baby penguins and did I mention they were cute?

Brittany went with Sheebs back to UCT to spend the weekend with her, but to give them alone time I stayed at Thandi’s. So when I got back I did some research for our work next week, and created a mini-timeline to give myself a rough estimate of what I need to accomplish each week.

29/5

We woke early (7:45) to head to the University of Western Cape. Today was spent meeting the research team, acquainting ourselves with the Uni, getting visitors passes, and getting the tour of Khayelitsha.

Before heading to the Uni we picked up a PhD candidate studying under Thandi in Langa, the first township. Most of the houses were formal residences, and while the level of poverty seemed shocking at the time, looking back it was fairly nice. The homes were permanent, which is more to say than most other townships. Since it had been established there for so long it had had time evolve into a community.

Afterwards, we drove by the airport and FINALLY PICKED UP MY LUGGAGE!!! YAAAAAAAAAY. I had been wearing dirty dirty clothes, living in the same pair of pants I flew in for the past few days. I purchased cheap shirts to change into, but it was sooooooooo nice to finally have my stuff, my toiletries, my socks.

The University is nestled in the trees off a main road. The campus itself is very nice, all brick building, separated into two main areas. A masters student from Rwanda who spent his undergraduate in Zimbabwe showed us around, bought us tea, and shared an hour of conversation. We returned to the Public Health building and met Sybil, the woman who would be translating at the health clinic for us. We jumped in her car and she drove us around Khayelitsha, drove us by the two clinics, and up to Lookout Hill where we could see all of the township plus some.

I am not quite sure how to describe my initial reaction to Khayelitsha. I had imagined rural-esque huts with dirt roads and tumble weeds rolling across them, with infants running naked, flies everywhere, the kind of poverty and hopelessness you see on T.V. This could not be farther from the truth. Khayelitsha is a HUGE, bustling community. Though people live there awaiting permanent residence, most have made the most of their situation. Each child attends school, beginning with pre-primary through to secondary. The Universities around the city volunteer in the ‘high schools’ and mentor the students through college, career choice, etc. Vegetable gardens are scattered throughout, established by members who could not afford to buy fresh food, now a symbol of the sense of determination to have a better life that fills each of my senses.  A community center at the base of lookout hill draws parents and families for arts and crafts, which are then sold at the Waterfront to tourists and locals alike, town meetings to discuss shortcomings and possible improvements, and health and safety seminars (when we passed, a class was being held for all primary school teachers to learn health tips for their classes, including hand washing, and HIV risk and prevention. Posters were passed out afterwards for them to hang in their classrooms). NGO’s had set up “Hope Centers” throughout with day clinics, HIV clinics, counseling centers and more in one centrally located place. Government municipal buildings were scattered throughout, the country’s attempt at acknowledging this demographics existence. Some of the families had made their homes into shops, selling chips, gum, drinks, candy, basic things. Others had turned their residences into meat markets, cutting, cooking, and selling outside their front door (including sheep heads!). People were hanging out outside, watching the street from seats, walking, listening to music, playing soccer. It was so motivating to see poverty such that I could only have imagined and to be able to walk away with feelings of hope and change.

There are two health clubs, one for Side A and one for Side C. We will be working on Side A, which meets Tuesdays and Thursdays. Two CHW’s manage the clinic, with about 53 members. It is located next to a primary school, which was just letting out as we pulled up. The children all waved enthusiastically as they were met by older siblings to walk them home. The clinic was much bigger than I had imagined. It consists of an entry hallways, with bathrooms on each side, and a doorway to the kitchen. It then opens into a large great room with posters lining the walls. A bar area links the kitchen and main room wall. Plastic furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, probably allowing for exercise. We met the CHW’s briefly (SiSi and Madge) then continued on our tour. We will return here next Thursday and meet the members for the first time.

After the township we went back to UWC and set up our visitor passes and Internet rights before going home for the evening.

28/5

Thandi had to work today, and she wanted Brittany and I to rest after our flights in, so we woke up late late late and hung around the house all day. Once Bongi and Mbongisile got back from school around 4 we walked to the beach and saw Muizenberg for the first time. It is a quaint beach town at the base of a mountain that is unbelievable to me, but just a backdrop for locals. We passed a pole that has been left up from Apartheid that marked the black and white section of the beach. On the white side are the community center, good surf, and colorful changing rooms that line the shore. We then walked around the shops, through neighborhoods, past their schools, and eventually back home just before dark. Thandi got home a few minutes after us and we all sat down for dinner, soap operas, and bed. 

27/5

I woke up just in time to see the gorgeous 3-inch (from my point of view) strip of deep ruby red color marking the 27^th of May. It was so strange thinking that I was flying over AFRICA. I just kept repeating to myself “Oh my G-d, you are in Africa. You are in Africa. You are in Africa. You are legitimately off the edge of your comfort zone”.  The continent is so exotic to me. A place I have dreamt of going but had not actually imagined myself actually being there. As landing drew closer and closer, I did not fear the unknown, but rather was thrilled to see what lie ahead. It was the waiting that was so hard, almost like waiting for the dozens of shots I had to get at the Duke Clinic. Before my first one I saw the nurses stabbing the needles into other students arms and freaked. It didn’t help that the nurse told me before hand that I might want to look away, and would need to take a pain reliever as soon as I left the clinic. But once I was stuck, it wasn’t bad at all. Once I had no choice but to move forward, to embrace Africa and its unfamiliarity, I was thrilled. I had officially left behind the stresses from home and any drama that had been weighing on me over the past few months. A new continent, a new start, right?

We flew over the Indian Ocean (my first time ever seeing this ocean!!!) with Table Mountain to our left. I swear I saw a shark’s shadow swimming about one hundred meters off shore. Though this was probably a figment of my imagination (hopefully…) I think this really shows the sense of magic and adventure that obviously was dominating my thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately I was brought back to reality rather quickly when my luggage was lost due to Heathrow’s entire Terminal 4 computer system shutting down. The thing most pressing at that moment was getting in touch with Thandi. My plane was already hours late, and then I had to wait in the baggage line for at least another half an hour. Finally I heard my name called on the intercom asking me to head to the information desk. I confronted a British Airways worker and asked her to escort me to the information desk so that I would be able to get back into the luggage area and report my bag lost. Finally I was able to meet with Thandi, tell her the situation, get my luggage sorted, and return to her. We drove along the coastline and I just kept repeating to myself, “Oh my G-d, you are in Africa. You are in Africa. You are in Africa. You are legitimately off the edge of your comfort zone”. We drove past townships, my first look at ‘informal housing’ as it is technically called, though ‘houses made of trash and scrap metal’ better describes them in actuality. Past white sandy beaches on our right and graffitied walls keeping in the Blacks and Coloreds on our left. Past large ocean front houses at the base of mountains across from groups of people walking in no direction, escaping boredom from unemployment. Eventually I saw the sign, Muizenberg. Gorgeous scenery (where else can you find mountains AND beaches?) passes until we reach Sunrise Beach Village. To be honest, I was basically a zombie this entire ride, too tired to much notice my surroundings let alone remember them enough to write about. As soon as we arrived at Thandi’s house I took a much needed shower and climbed into bed. When I woke up it was four in the afternoon. Thandi had run to work, but her neice and nephew had returned from school. They were both in eighth grade and were staying with Thandi for the first year. Bongilimpo (or Bongi) is a boy my height and weighing probably 110 pounds. He likes to rap and is always anxious to talk about ANYTHING, ranging from religion to the Oprah school to his home to girls to food to card games to soap operas to Zuma to the interest rates to apartheid. ANYTHING. Mbongisile is a thirteen year old girl just learning English, still too shy and unsure of herself to answer in more than 1-word sentences. Instead of responding, she will look at you coyly, lifting up one shoulder and hiding her head behind it as much as she can, and laugh. I will be told later that she loves having us here because when she is alone with Bongi and her brother they often beat her and harass her. She is the sweetest girl that obviously craves any type of attention and just wants to be near. That night we talked and watched South African soap operas including our new favorite, ‘Scandal!’ The characters speak half in Afrikaans and half in English. Other new favorite shows: an MTVesque program that plays African rap music and then has 5 year olds dance for 30 seconds, only to be judged and hopefully crowned winner. I have to say, the commercials are my favorite part. They are hilarious! I will have to check youtube for Chickin Lickin', the top competitor of KFC. There commercials make my world go round. I fell fast asleep that night around 11:30, only to sleep until 1:30 the next day… 

Look on facebook for pictures of Thandi's house.

25/5

I started this entry with some personal stuff, so I'm gonna skip ahead to the parts you can read...

I was still in a state of shock on the airplane ride from Salt Lake City to Chicago. In Chicago my plane was delayed (surprise surprise) so I had a little more time than expected to just hang out and people watch slash read Cry, the Beloved Country. Once I boarded the plane to London, Heathrow (I was in the very back, by the way, next to a Brit who wore a safari hat, khaki shirt, khaki shorts, high white socks, and tennis traveling home from a business trip in Houston. Despite the rough air, scary drops that I swear left our plane at least 12 feet closer to the ground, people flocking in and out of the bathrooms, and the stewardesses preparing dinner and drinks, I was able to fall asleep after about an hour thanks to the magic of Ambien. I awoke to the low-hanging clouds fully blanketing London and its surroundings. Immediately I felt the pangs of regret that I was not flying back to Scotland and knew at that instant that I would live in the U.K. for part of my life. I was more relieved to be back on British soil than I ever have been landing in the United States. Luckily I had over ten hours to enjoy myself in the Heathrow airport. Unfortunately, feelings of homesickness began to dominate anything else at the time. I missed my family, my home, the familiarity of Park City. At the same time, in all honesty, I dreaded what was ahead. Before hearing of the xenophobic attacks I was so excited. I had heard amazing things about Cape Town and South Africa in general, and was thrilled embark on a new chapter in my life, a new adventure, a new time to discover myself. That was before hearing of the xenophobic attacks that had spread from Joberg to the area I would be housed and working in. The second I read that news my stomach dropped. I had imagined working in a relatively safe urban area that had met racism face on and overcome it. Was I prepared to head into an unknown country that could possibly put me at risk for violent assaults? What was I thinking, heading two-days plane ride in a new direction? Why did I think I could handle this? Was I ready for the unknown? When I went to Scotland there was a group of familiar faces, and I eased myself into it by traveling with a friend before separating. This trip I had no idea what to expect, and it frightened me enough to doubt my abilities in handling a new situation and the choices I had made from the safety of the Duke bubble. I had to put trust in a stranger on the other side of the world to be at the airport, and more than that, to be my guardian for two months. And now, to work in an area with mobs looting and setting aflame foreign buildings, beating and even killing foreign neighbors. So, these doubts had over ten hours to manifest themselves before I boarded the plane pretty afraid. The plane left at 7:20 and was set to be in the air for over 11 hours, so I watched Walk Hard and a few episodes of How I Met Your Mother (if NPH couldn’t calm my nerves, who could?) and then gave in to the drugs…

Intro...

Sorry this has taken so long for me to get up but I finally found an Internet cafe, so updates should be consistent from now on.

I'm keeping all notes from my summer here; some of it may be cheesy, some may be boring, and some may not make any sense, but bear with me. I am not even rereading them over because then I'll attempt to edit them, make them sound better, leave some things out, you get the drift. Also, please comment! I would love to hear from each and every one of you...