Monday, July 6, 2009
July 6
I think I'm doing a really bad job of trying to explain what it's like here. Yesterday, we had a beautiful day at the ocean, taking pictures of ostriches, baboons, and light houses. Today, we spent five hours in the townships being mobbed by street children who want their picture taken and for you to show them the picture on the digital screen as much as they'd like a penny. We saw houses made of corrigated metal, one by two boards, newspaper for wall paper.
I saw bright shiny eyes of little kids who go to a community soup kitchen run by a woman named Rosie, who's own settlement home was burned down years ago and she badly scarred from saving her son.
I saw Vicky who started her own business and has had her husband at a second story to their concrete house so that she can run a Bed and Breakfast, giving tourists a taste of the real SA.
I met Beauty, Vicky's neighbor, who runs sewing classes for local women and children, who is HIV positive, a single mother, and "a woman who loves god."
They all want me to tell you that this is South Africa, people pulling themselves up by their bootstraps working hard and making a good living, but giving back to the communities in which they live. They want me to tell you that what they are doing is worth it, that they believe that it will get better. Beauty is set to have a real house next year. Rosie's hardwood floors up stairs are as lovely as any I've seen. They want me to tell you that they believe in their country.
I'm amazed that our tour guide and bus driver, both technically Coloured, have so little anamosity in them. They say Mandela said to forgive, and so they have. I look at the squaller of even the "Beverly Hills" of Townships and I am amazed. How can they not be angry? Could I be so forgiving?
Remember my professor who said, "the monster of apartheid came and went in one lifetime"? ONE lifetime. It seems to me looking at the young belligerent men on the corners in the townships, looking at the hopeful young faces in the day care, that one lifetime can make great changes. Can they make them for the better as easily as they make changes for the bad? And, if these people, these women in the Townships, can have such great hope for their country, can't we have just a little for our own? Race relationships in Cape Town are not healed, may never be healed, but neither are our own.
I saw bright shiny eyes of little kids who go to a community soup kitchen run by a woman named Rosie, who's own settlement home was burned down years ago and she badly scarred from saving her son.
I saw Vicky who started her own business and has had her husband at a second story to their concrete house so that she can run a Bed and Breakfast, giving tourists a taste of the real SA.
I met Beauty, Vicky's neighbor, who runs sewing classes for local women and children, who is HIV positive, a single mother, and "a woman who loves god."
They all want me to tell you that this is South Africa, people pulling themselves up by their bootstraps working hard and making a good living, but giving back to the communities in which they live. They want me to tell you that what they are doing is worth it, that they believe that it will get better. Beauty is set to have a real house next year. Rosie's hardwood floors up stairs are as lovely as any I've seen. They want me to tell you that they believe in their country.
I'm amazed that our tour guide and bus driver, both technically Coloured, have so little anamosity in them. They say Mandela said to forgive, and so they have. I look at the squaller of even the "Beverly Hills" of Townships and I am amazed. How can they not be angry? Could I be so forgiving?
Remember my professor who said, "the monster of apartheid came and went in one lifetime"? ONE lifetime. It seems to me looking at the young belligerent men on the corners in the townships, looking at the hopeful young faces in the day care, that one lifetime can make great changes. Can they make them for the better as easily as they make changes for the bad? And, if these people, these women in the Townships, can have such great hope for their country, can't we have just a little for our own? Race relationships in Cape Town are not healed, may never be healed, but neither are our own.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
July 5
Today we drove down to the Cape of Good Hope Park and Cape Point. The highway followed the Atlantic, winding around, similar to the Pacific Coast Highway, water on one side – mountains on the other, but as my friend Miley said, the mountains in Africa are “angrier” more jagged, cragged pieces that look as willing to eat you as pose for a picture.
I had my first near death experience, where I thought a baboon would tear my face off for a dry egg salad sandwich. There are signs all over the Cape pointing out that giving food to the baboons is dangerous and there’s even a statue that says “giving food to a baboon is signing his death warrant because aggressive baboons must be put down.” Erica, Melanie, Jane, and I were eating our dry sandwiches outside when a baboon came up and took food from a baby in a stroller, giving the parents and baby a pretty good fright. Initially we thought we might be ok, we were further away from the wooded area, closer to the restaurant and food store, but when the baboon came back we thought we should move inside. Melanie kept saying move slowly and purposefully, but by the time I had to turn away from him and glanced back he was running toward us. I shoved Jane and Melanie inside the store because they were trying to squeeze in and still be able to close the door, but I was having none of that, I’m sure there was some choice wording as I shoved my way through the door and the clerk got a big stick to tap on the window.
At Cape Point, I went to the furthest out point with a walk, basically I went to the end of the Earth…well at least the end of Africa. Not only did we see baboons, but also a variety of birds, ostriches, three whales (sorry no pictures…too far away), and a lizard. It was absolutely beautiful. Africa is not what I had imagined, well not this part anyway, but of course this isn’t the Serengeti. I took the funicular up to the base of the light house then climbed a number of steps up and around the lighthouse before climbing down and taking and hour walk to the furthest point of the Cape, where there is a sign that says “this is the end of the trail.”
After the Cape, we went to Boulder to see the penguins, many of whom seemed to be breeding, and unfortunately, I lost Geoffery. He has gone to claim his homeland and now lives in Boulder. He leapt to freedom from a ledge when I was bumped by a toddler. Poor fella, but at least he is home. This is where his journey must end.
On the way home, I slept the entire time doing that open mouth head bob thing that people always make fun of. All in all, it was an excellent and eventful day. Tomorrow we visit three townships, areas where most of the black and coloured still live, regardless of the end of apartheid. I expect to have a lot to write.
I had my first near death experience, where I thought a baboon would tear my face off for a dry egg salad sandwich. There are signs all over the Cape pointing out that giving food to the baboons is dangerous and there’s even a statue that says “giving food to a baboon is signing his death warrant because aggressive baboons must be put down.” Erica, Melanie, Jane, and I were eating our dry sandwiches outside when a baboon came up and took food from a baby in a stroller, giving the parents and baby a pretty good fright. Initially we thought we might be ok, we were further away from the wooded area, closer to the restaurant and food store, but when the baboon came back we thought we should move inside. Melanie kept saying move slowly and purposefully, but by the time I had to turn away from him and glanced back he was running toward us. I shoved Jane and Melanie inside the store because they were trying to squeeze in and still be able to close the door, but I was having none of that, I’m sure there was some choice wording as I shoved my way through the door and the clerk got a big stick to tap on the window.
At Cape Point, I went to the furthest out point with a walk, basically I went to the end of the Earth…well at least the end of Africa. Not only did we see baboons, but also a variety of birds, ostriches, three whales (sorry no pictures…too far away), and a lizard. It was absolutely beautiful. Africa is not what I had imagined, well not this part anyway, but of course this isn’t the Serengeti. I took the funicular up to the base of the light house then climbed a number of steps up and around the lighthouse before climbing down and taking and hour walk to the furthest point of the Cape, where there is a sign that says “this is the end of the trail.”
After the Cape, we went to Boulder to see the penguins, many of whom seemed to be breeding, and unfortunately, I lost Geoffery. He has gone to claim his homeland and now lives in Boulder. He leapt to freedom from a ledge when I was bumped by a toddler. Poor fella, but at least he is home. This is where his journey must end.
On the way home, I slept the entire time doing that open mouth head bob thing that people always make fun of. All in all, it was an excellent and eventful day. Tomorrow we visit three townships, areas where most of the black and coloured still live, regardless of the end of apartheid. I expect to have a lot to write.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
July 4
There were no fireworks tonight. No sparklers, in South Africa. There was a rowdy group of American tourists going down Main road, leaning drunkenly out of the bus hollering Happy Fourth of July, but I was not part of that. I was drinking wine and having South African pizza with my friends before hitting the internet café.
Today we visited Stellenbosch and the French Corner of SA. We visited the Huguenot museum as well as the museum of several old colonial Cape Dutch styled homes. In one, there was a room where the slaves slept. While the white Dutch family had cozy beds and quilts, the slaves slept on mats, wore short pants with no shoes, even in the winter, and were threatened with shackles. Remember that “study in contrasts” stuff I was saying. It was evident in Stellenbosch-wine country, where slaves picked the grapes and made wonderful wine. The best part of the day was at the Huguenot museum and French Corner, not because of the museum, but because I got to spend time talking with Xholani, pronounced with the Xhosa click and a K sound. Xholani is out 25 year old grad student and companion for our studies. He reminds me a lot of Darrin, quiet, somewhat shy, until you get to know him. He came from Johannesburg, bad years, as he says. His older sister died when he was born and his name means “to give comfort.” I can only imagine how proud his mother must be of this bright articulate young man. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for him growing up on the hard streets of Jo-burg, but he is now studying and teaching technology and a great asset to my understanding of SA. This is a short entry, but tomorrow we go to the penguins. I’ll have more then.
Oh, but I did hear about Sarah Palin...hehehehehe!!!!
Today we visited Stellenbosch and the French Corner of SA. We visited the Huguenot museum as well as the museum of several old colonial Cape Dutch styled homes. In one, there was a room where the slaves slept. While the white Dutch family had cozy beds and quilts, the slaves slept on mats, wore short pants with no shoes, even in the winter, and were threatened with shackles. Remember that “study in contrasts” stuff I was saying. It was evident in Stellenbosch-wine country, where slaves picked the grapes and made wonderful wine. The best part of the day was at the Huguenot museum and French Corner, not because of the museum, but because I got to spend time talking with Xholani, pronounced with the Xhosa click and a K sound. Xholani is out 25 year old grad student and companion for our studies. He reminds me a lot of Darrin, quiet, somewhat shy, until you get to know him. He came from Johannesburg, bad years, as he says. His older sister died when he was born and his name means “to give comfort.” I can only imagine how proud his mother must be of this bright articulate young man. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for him growing up on the hard streets of Jo-burg, but he is now studying and teaching technology and a great asset to my understanding of SA. This is a short entry, but tomorrow we go to the penguins. I’ll have more then.
Oh, but I did hear about Sarah Palin...hehehehehe!!!!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Cape of Good Hope - July 3
July 3 Friday
Ever notice how being with a group of adults and being told to pair up suddenly makes you feel like you’re twelve again and you have to worry about being the last one picked for kick ball? We had to choose roommates for our field study, which starts Tuesday (so the blogging may be pretty erratic), and I jumped on the person closest to me, who happened to be Kori. Basically I think I guilted her in to being my roommate, but so be it. Kori’s nice and I’ll be nice to her. At least she’s too nice to say no, when someone just turns to her and says, “so, you wanna be my roommate?”
Our last day of official lecture and learning at the University of the Western Cape was a good one. The state of education in South Africa faces many of the same problems we do. For example the argument over education in “mother tongue” is very much like our argument about how to handle ELL students. Is it better to give them content knowledge in their native language at the same time that we build their English skills? Science seems to say yes, but parents in the Cape want their children learning in English. After a lifetime of oppression, they see a “mother tongue” education as another way of keeping their children down, out of contention for university. Many of the Cape coloured (what they call themselves – Not a racial slur) also suffer from a lack of respect for education and therefore under appreciate it. 97% of South African children attend grades 1-9 and access is successful in SA, but “access hasn’t made success.” 2.8 million of the 6.8 million children who have graduated from high school have not gotten jobs and are not furthering their studies. What are they doing? Well, gangs run rampant and petty crime and thievery is a huge concern. SA ranks last in the industrialized countries of the world in literacy, yet many Africans from other countries come here for university access. Like I said before, SA is a study in contradictions and juxtapositions.
After our lecture on education, the third group of teachers lead a discussion activity that was a blast. They divided us up into 4 groups and we had to analyze a piece of the last couple days. For example, our group was suppose to be an advertisement company that created a campaign that illustrates the SA identity for the world cup, coming to SA in 2010. We could have responded with a political cartoon, skit, speech, sermon, comic strip, etc. We chose to create a skit of the advertisement company brainstorming session. Detailing SA identity is MUCH more complex than the US, ok well maybe not. I think in the US we just tend to ignore what we don’t want as part of our identity, but the problems here in SA are too vast and looming to ignore. SA is a study in contrasts. They have 11 official languages, but only English and Afrikans is used in the work place, justice system, and parliament. You can’t even get mortgage loan papers in Khosa or Zulu (two other very common languages).
After school today, we went to the Castle of Good Hope, the Cape’s oldest building completed in 1679. For 150 years it served as the heart of the Cape administration and the center of social and economic life, also the home of the governor. The grounds were amazing, but the batteries ran out in my camera, so I didn’t get as many pictures as I would have liked. I hung out with Jacob, Dixie, and Debra, all very fun, witty, and sarcastic in the exact right way. We then went on to the Gold Museum, not my cup of tea, but they have an interesting restaurant I’d like to try and get to when we return to Cape Town toward the end of July. This evening, we went to a Cape Malay restaurant, kind of a blend between Indian and Creole food. It was a little pricey, but very good. I had chicken curry, lamb somosas, spring rolls, and Nan, but they don’t call it Nan. Dixie, who has done at least a dozen of these trips, told us all about some of the different places to look for opportunities like this with NEH. I’m excited to think that this might be the first trip of many that could be open to me. It is now 10 pm, and I know it’s Friday night, many of my colleagues are out partying, but I am beat. I think I’ll turn in. G’night, Gracie.
Ever notice how being with a group of adults and being told to pair up suddenly makes you feel like you’re twelve again and you have to worry about being the last one picked for kick ball? We had to choose roommates for our field study, which starts Tuesday (so the blogging may be pretty erratic), and I jumped on the person closest to me, who happened to be Kori. Basically I think I guilted her in to being my roommate, but so be it. Kori’s nice and I’ll be nice to her. At least she’s too nice to say no, when someone just turns to her and says, “so, you wanna be my roommate?”
Our last day of official lecture and learning at the University of the Western Cape was a good one. The state of education in South Africa faces many of the same problems we do. For example the argument over education in “mother tongue” is very much like our argument about how to handle ELL students. Is it better to give them content knowledge in their native language at the same time that we build their English skills? Science seems to say yes, but parents in the Cape want their children learning in English. After a lifetime of oppression, they see a “mother tongue” education as another way of keeping their children down, out of contention for university. Many of the Cape coloured (what they call themselves – Not a racial slur) also suffer from a lack of respect for education and therefore under appreciate it. 97% of South African children attend grades 1-9 and access is successful in SA, but “access hasn’t made success.” 2.8 million of the 6.8 million children who have graduated from high school have not gotten jobs and are not furthering their studies. What are they doing? Well, gangs run rampant and petty crime and thievery is a huge concern. SA ranks last in the industrialized countries of the world in literacy, yet many Africans from other countries come here for university access. Like I said before, SA is a study in contradictions and juxtapositions.
After our lecture on education, the third group of teachers lead a discussion activity that was a blast. They divided us up into 4 groups and we had to analyze a piece of the last couple days. For example, our group was suppose to be an advertisement company that created a campaign that illustrates the SA identity for the world cup, coming to SA in 2010. We could have responded with a political cartoon, skit, speech, sermon, comic strip, etc. We chose to create a skit of the advertisement company brainstorming session. Detailing SA identity is MUCH more complex than the US, ok well maybe not. I think in the US we just tend to ignore what we don’t want as part of our identity, but the problems here in SA are too vast and looming to ignore. SA is a study in contrasts. They have 11 official languages, but only English and Afrikans is used in the work place, justice system, and parliament. You can’t even get mortgage loan papers in Khosa or Zulu (two other very common languages).
After school today, we went to the Castle of Good Hope, the Cape’s oldest building completed in 1679. For 150 years it served as the heart of the Cape administration and the center of social and economic life, also the home of the governor. The grounds were amazing, but the batteries ran out in my camera, so I didn’t get as many pictures as I would have liked. I hung out with Jacob, Dixie, and Debra, all very fun, witty, and sarcastic in the exact right way. We then went on to the Gold Museum, not my cup of tea, but they have an interesting restaurant I’d like to try and get to when we return to Cape Town toward the end of July. This evening, we went to a Cape Malay restaurant, kind of a blend between Indian and Creole food. It was a little pricey, but very good. I had chicken curry, lamb somosas, spring rolls, and Nan, but they don’t call it Nan. Dixie, who has done at least a dozen of these trips, told us all about some of the different places to look for opportunities like this with NEH. I’m excited to think that this might be the first trip of many that could be open to me. It is now 10 pm, and I know it’s Friday night, many of my colleagues are out partying, but I am beat. I think I’ll turn in. G’night, Gracie.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
July 2, 2009
This morning began at 7:35 AM, meeting on the Atlas bus with our driver, Richard, who took us out to the University of the Western Cape. Our first speaker was very interesting, he was supposed to talk to us about early religions in Africa, which he didn’t at all. However, he did let us know that the room we are using for our lectures was the parliament for the colored during apartheid at the Cape. He then spoke quite a bit about the amazing accomplishment of the Dutch Reform Church to pass the confession that discouraged the separation of the races. It only took the church 32 years to make their decision that apartheid was not very Christian.
The second lecture was a bit better, and we didn’t think the third lecturer was going to show up, but he did, which delayed our lunch by about 45 minutes. I have learned that I need warm clothes and food every day that we have lectures because the room is an icebox and you never know when we’ll actually get lunch.
The high point of the day was to go to the BoKapp Museum, Muslim museum, in the Muslim section of Cape Town. I bought a couple of hand-made wooden animals, my first real purchases, aside from a warm cap that I purchased for the mountains and Johannesburg, where it is supposed to be colder than Cape Town. While we were in the Muslim area, there were many children playing in the streets. My friend Kathy took pictures of a group of cousins and I’m including a picture of her showing the kids their pictures.
Additionally, on face book, I’m uploading a brief video of my bus ride from the hotel to the University. In it, you can see the townships and the shanty towns that spring up from nowhere. It’s a study in contrasts, here in Cape Town. There are million dollar condos overlooking the water and then around the next corner there are townships and the settlements, shanty towns, thrown together with scrap metal and two by fours. There are tourists with a lot of money and little boys selling oranges on the side of the road. For dinner I had a pleasant visit the two Amy’s and Melanie and Willy. We had decent Chinese food and a little wine. Now I’m at the internet café doing a quick upload. Check facebook for more pictures.
The second lecture was a bit better, and we didn’t think the third lecturer was going to show up, but he did, which delayed our lunch by about 45 minutes. I have learned that I need warm clothes and food every day that we have lectures because the room is an icebox and you never know when we’ll actually get lunch.
The high point of the day was to go to the BoKapp Museum, Muslim museum, in the Muslim section of Cape Town. I bought a couple of hand-made wooden animals, my first real purchases, aside from a warm cap that I purchased for the mountains and Johannesburg, where it is supposed to be colder than Cape Town. While we were in the Muslim area, there were many children playing in the streets. My friend Kathy took pictures of a group of cousins and I’m including a picture of her showing the kids their pictures.
Additionally, on face book, I’m uploading a brief video of my bus ride from the hotel to the University. In it, you can see the townships and the shanty towns that spring up from nowhere. It’s a study in contrasts, here in Cape Town. There are million dollar condos overlooking the water and then around the next corner there are townships and the settlements, shanty towns, thrown together with scrap metal and two by fours. There are tourists with a lot of money and little boys selling oranges on the side of the road. For dinner I had a pleasant visit the two Amy’s and Melanie and Willy. We had decent Chinese food and a little wine. Now I’m at the internet café doing a quick upload. Check facebook for more pictures.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Heart Transplant
July 1
Today I was feeling much better and ventured to the University for a wonderful lecture on the inequities of education and how language plays a role in it. We also had our small group presentation today, leading discussion on the state of culture and society, including music, healthcare, gender, and literature. We also went to Groode Schuur, the site of the first heart transplant. In the first room, they had a dog strapped down to a table as an experiment. It was a fake dog of course, but nonetheless, I was grossed out. I couldn’t really look at the thing. However, the Dr. Barnard was a hotty and quite the ladies man, I gather from his photos with Diana, Princess Grace Kelly, and his three progressively hotter wives. Of course they had wax figures set up for the process of both the removing and replacement of the heart from the 13 year old donor to the old guy who didn’t live very long after the replacement. I’m sure for a scientist, this would have been all very fascinating, but I was not really into it. I could appreciate the amount of work put into the process and the fact that it was breaking ground, medically, but I don’t think I got the full impact of the significance of the whole waxed statue three dimensional recreation. However, as Rich (my professor) said when we got back onto the bus, “it is quite unlike anything we had ever seen.”
Today I was feeling much better and ventured to the University for a wonderful lecture on the inequities of education and how language plays a role in it. We also had our small group presentation today, leading discussion on the state of culture and society, including music, healthcare, gender, and literature. We also went to Groode Schuur, the site of the first heart transplant. In the first room, they had a dog strapped down to a table as an experiment. It was a fake dog of course, but nonetheless, I was grossed out. I couldn’t really look at the thing. However, the Dr. Barnard was a hotty and quite the ladies man, I gather from his photos with Diana, Princess Grace Kelly, and his three progressively hotter wives. Of course they had wax figures set up for the process of both the removing and replacement of the heart from the 13 year old donor to the old guy who didn’t live very long after the replacement. I’m sure for a scientist, this would have been all very fascinating, but I was not really into it. I could appreciate the amount of work put into the process and the fact that it was breaking ground, medically, but I don’t think I got the full impact of the significance of the whole waxed statue three dimensional recreation. However, as Rich (my professor) said when we got back onto the bus, “it is quite unlike anything we had ever seen.”
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