August 2, 2009 - Khayelitsha

Mary, Jane, Kori, Heather, Erika, and I called Vicky as soon as we got back to the hotel, called several times because Vicky’s cell phone wasn’t working properly. When I finally got her, an hour and a half after I started calling, sometime around 5 pm, we arranged to be picked up at 6:30 to spend the night at the B & B. However, South African time is not exactly timely, and we were picked up at 7:15 by Vicky’s husband. By the time we got to Khayelitsha, it was dark. The shebeen was hopping, the streets were full of people walking around, most carrying beers, music playing. We were welcomed by Vicky’s children and niece, Olona. Olona is a senior in high school and she welcomed us, retold Vicky’s story and explained that Vicky was at a community party and would be home later. We were left upstairs to our own devices for some time before Thandile, Vicky’s 9 year old daughter came up to visit. She sat on the arm of my chair and we talked about the first time we had met her during the Kayelitsha tour in our first two weeks. She had stood shyly beside her mother as Vicky welcomed us and told us her story about starting her own business and how she has been giving back to the community.

Thandile was something else, a little drama queen. Her hero is Beyonce and she showed us some Beyonce moves that looked very grown up in her little 9 year old body. For some time she sat on the arm of the chair, petting my hair. The girls found it very amusing, but I remember when Twana Plair, back in elementary school liked to brush my hair because she said it was so much softer than hers. I asked Thandile if she liked my hair.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s soft.”
“Yours is very pretty, too,” I said reaching up to touch her extensions.
“This,” she said, yanking hard. “Is not my real hair.”
“I know, it’s a weave,” I said. “Did it hurt?”
“Yes, it hurts a lot.”
“And it took a long time.”
“Only forever,” she said.

A little later, Jane mentioned that she was from the same town as Beyonce, at which point, Thandile promptly begged for Jane to take her home with her. Jane told her she’d have to ask her mom. Thandile then, very dramatically, fainted across my lap, making us all burst with laughter. 9 year old dramatics cross language, cultural, and age barriers.

Olona and Vicky’s eldest daughter brought up our dinner then, baked chicken, pap, and beans. It was delicious, but Vicky still wasn’t home. It was obvious that the older children took responsibility for the younger ones frequently. Around 9 pm, Vicky returned home and with Lolo, her son, Pumna, her son’s friend, and Thandile, came up to visit for awhile. She told us that Sunday she would give us a walking tour of the township as it was too late to go out tonight. She mentioned that since it was the first Sunday of the month, she would be very busy that day, since the burial committee meets the first Sunday of the month to go over who has died and how much was paid out in burial fees so that the community can be asked to contribute and replenish the fund.

Just before bed, while the other children were cleaning up downstairs, Olona came up and visited with us. She talked to us about Umbuntu ngumntu ngabantu, “one hand washes the other.” In the townships, they have learned and continue to learn that to get by they must work together. Olona’s mother is a nurse, her dad is a principal and she plans to attend Capetown University after graduating from high school. She has worked hard, applied for and been accepted for a program that gives her extra assistance in physics. She says that even though she goes to Rhodes High in Capetown, she is a part of the township community and proud of it. She says her motto is, “perseverance is the key to success.” For a little while after she left, we sat up discussing events from the trip, people we’ve met, and childhood stories, but then went into our separate bedrooms.

In the morning, the first thing I noticed was the sunrise over the township, making the mountains a hazy purple in the background. For the past 5 weeks, I’ve been taking sunrise pictures, over the ocean in Tsitsikamma, over the Drakensburg Mountains, by the coast of Capetown, in the hazy valley of Bobanango, but it was the sunrise Khayelitsha that encompasses the beauty and the depression that is South Africa in a way I had not thought possible.

For breakfast, Vicky made us delicious muffins, coffee, and tea before we went on a short walking tour of the township. During our walk, I took numerous pictures of houses in various stages of construction. In Vicky’s area, the C area of Khayelitsha, home to 3.5 million people, there is a lot of construction because it is an older section and the compensation funds have been appropriated for many of them. The Khayelitsha building committee, which Vicky takes part in, receives money from the government, which they distribute to applicants when they are approved and ready to build. The building is supposed to take a month, but very rarely are the funds available for each stage of building on time, and those who are building do not always have the opportunity to work straight through on their homes.

While we walked around, we ran into several people heading to church and a group of boys still partying after Saturday night. I think Woody Allen made a movie about New York Stories, but, for me, it’s about South Africa stories. They’re all different, they’re all important, and they all change how you view this country.

August 1, 2009

We began this morning at 8:45 am. We went to Green Market Square in downtown Capetown, where I bought a wrap around skirt and cute new bag as well as some elephant earrings, all for under $50.00. It’s difficult shopping sometimes around here because I want to be fair for them and fair to my own pocket book and the Green Market is a place that expects haggling. Sometimes I’m really good at it, better when it’s a man than a woman. Other times, I feel the price they’re asking is fair, but I know they expect me to haggle.

We then went to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, Melanie and I walked through the sculpture garden which had a lot of sculptures to celebrate women and family. The gardens were not blooming very much, but they are wonderfully landscaped and encompass 48 hectares. We had a nice little lunch at the snack bar, butternut soup, Greek salad, and apple tart with coffee.

From there, we went to visit Groot Constantia, an estate and winery started in 1685 by Simon van der Steel, the governor at the time. The wine wasn’t really up to par, but the grounds were lovely and the company even better. The ride home took us through some long and windy roads above Capetown and lovely views of the city. It’s too bad that the day was overcast because Table Mountain was hidden under the clouds. I took a really cute picture of Melanie in a hallowed out tree, and she took one of me. I really enjoy hanging out with Melanie. She’s got a great sense of humor and has just the right amount of attitude.

Tonight, Heather, Erika, Mary, Jane, Kori, and I are going to stay the night at Vicki’s B & B in Khayelitsha, a township outside of Capetown. When I asked the crotchy deskman to help me dial the number, he made sure to tell me the story about the German tour bus that went there and was attacked and a German man’s finger was cut off for his diamond ring. Yeah, thanks Mister…that makes me feel so much better.

July 31

Today was a lecture day, three 1hour 15 minute lectures on South Africa in the 21st century, politics, and foreign policy. We also had a panel of four teachers, mostly from township schools, who came in and talked about education in SA.

Much of what they said is exactly what we face, but to a higher degree. We have 35-40 in a class, they have 50-55. Class size is an issue.

They have irrational pacing guides, theirs from the National Curriculum Board, ours from our states and districts, both created largely by people who aren't in the classroom. Although after talking to the teachers here and those around the states on this trip with me, I have to hand it to Puyallup that we have a lot more input than most on curriculum development. They have students coming to school unprepared to learn, just like we do, but for them the students come from the rural Eastern Cape province and are far behind.

They lack parental support. Parents don't see the value in education. Those who do, send their kids out of the township schools to schools like Oude Moulen, where Brigitt told me she gets a lot of parent support.

They are low paid. R11,000 per month, with a take home of about R5,000. More than half of their pay is taken in taxes. In a country where only 20% of the elligible workers make enough to pay taxes, the tax rates are very high. At least we are still at 1/3 of our pay going for taxes.

They have limited resources and money to enhance their curriculms. I can understand that too. I gave the drama teacher who spoke with us my email. I told her I'd like to share some resources with her. She was an English teacher with no training and is now teaching drama. Hmmm....been there, done that. But can you imagine 50 drama students in a room?

They talked a lot about how HIV/AIDS is affecting their teaching. It touches everything here. You can't walk down the street with out seeing signs about the rate of infection and safe sex, but still the teenage pregnancy rate is exploding, even with the government providing free contraception. Plus, it is a problem for teachers who have relationships with their students. It's not uncommon for a male or female teacher to have a series of affairs with his/her students, especially in the junior-senior high.

There are very few female administrators, and there is no specialized training to be an adminsitrator. Most are teachers who simply applied for the postion or were given the position because of politics and nepotism.

I could go on and on, but I'm sure this is not the most fun topic to read about. I'm going to Indian food tonight with my friend, Melanie, while most of the others go to a rugby game. Tomorrow we go for a wine tasting, shopping in green market square, and to the botanical gardens.

July 30 - School Visit

Today we met with Geraldine Goldblatt, the local director for this region of the Cape's educational curriculum. She organized school tours for us at four different schools, each one giving a different perspective of education in SA. I went to Oude Molen, the Old Mill, which is a technical high school that specializes in engineering. There were very few girls at the school and most of the students were Cape Coloured. The principal said there were problems with white flight because the school was originally established as a white technical school, one that taught shop and wood working skills, but since the end of apartheid the white population has been steadily decreasing.

The principal met us with tea in the boardroom and a 20-30 minute introduction about the school. He was very proud of his relationship with an area insurance agency that has increased the funding for astro turf on their sports field as well as providing for a club house that can be used by the school and the community. He said that his school accepts 18o students out of the 400-500 applicants every year. Students pay over R8,000 to go to school, about $1,200 per year, plus have to buy uniforms and supplies. According to him, they haven't had to turn down a student because of lack of fees and have programs that help support those who can't pay, but there are still only a limited number of spaces. He also had some interesting things to say about education, saying that American schools suck, and we only do well because we give green cards and Asians and Indians come to our universities, such as MIT, to study. It's an interesting perspective. I know that our education system is not perfect, but I don’t think that our foreign students are the only students who can achieve in our system. Those of you who know me can assume that as difficult as it was, I bit my tongue.

I sat in on two lessons. In the first class, Brigitt, a very kind English department head had about 30 11 grade students. What struck me the most is how much her students were just like mine. They had been working on an argumentative essay, and she was intending to collect it and go over it, but of course, since she'd been gone three days with the flu most didn't have it done. So, she did what all good teachers do, adjusted. She pulled out a poetry project she had been preparing. In the project guidelines, 3-4 students were asked to create a power point or poster presentation that explicated a poem. They were instructed to provide background, teach the poem to the class and lead discussion on it, then have a quiz about it. She originally presented it as a single student project, but because the directions (not rewritten) said group work, it didn't take the boys long to cajole her into making it a group project, but she gave the same dire warnings I always give, that one or two students shouldn't end up doing the majority of the work. She told them to come up with a plan of responsibilities by next Monday. I asked her if the students had access to a computer lab to do the power point, but she said that although there was a computer lab it was used mostly by the math department and hard to use. Oh, and she had a smart board, by the way! She used it too. I didn't get a chance to ask her about how much training she had on it. Near the end of the lessons, one of the boys showed me a drawing he had made of a boy holding a flag and a joint. He asked me what the boy was holding. I thought about what the appropriate answer would be, but I decided on the truth. I said, “I know what it is in English, or what we call it.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well we call it a joint, maybe it’s a blunt, but I think you call it dagga,” I said. He laughed and took the picture back, elbowing his friends and laughing. I was just getting to talk to them a little, including September (the boy right in front of me who immediately introduced himself when he came in the room), but the bell rang and they had to go to a different class. Bridgitt mentioned that September was usually really shy and they were much more rambunctious because I was in the room, and they were showing off for me a little.

Before I left Bridgitt, she told me she would be at a training all next week and her students would be shared among her fellow English faculty. They do not have a substitute system. She also mentioned that while the government would give the school some money to provide coverage for her, she did not think that the money would be used to compensate those teachers watching her students.

In the second classroom, I watched Sandy Hendricks, a bright young teacher do a poetry lesson. The student I sat next to took copious notes on her PowerPoint analyzing the poem. However, they were all in his notebook, despite her encouragement to annotate on the handout she had provided. They read and analyzed a poem, The Watchman by a South African poet. She also gave me several copies of other poems by South African poets. I thought I might send her the acronym SOAPStone to help her organize her literary analysis; she guided them through analysis of sensory imagery, author intention, attitude of the author, and tone. Mostly it was with a few specific questions and then a teacher provided answer, but I can see how that could be a fundamental support for later independent analysis. I didn’t agree with all of her analysis completely, but I appreciated the chance to see how she explained her analysis to the students and guided them through their questions.

Her 9th grade students were obviously well managed. They came in just a little noisy and Sandy marched them right back out to do it again. The last few minutes of class, Sandy asked me if I’d like to address the students and after a brief introduction about me and what I was doing in South Africa, I asked them what they would like my students to know about them. I thought their answers were perfect. They said, wild animals don’t walk down the street here, you should be careful when you visit Capetown, and that I should tell my students how diverse they are in South Africa. I thought those were all very astute comments. They also asked me what my students knew about South Africa, and I said that before they came to me, most may know some geography, they may know Nelson Mandela, but beyond that there was very little. They asked me about American violence. I told them I didn’t know anyone who was a victim of violence in my circle of friends, but that there were very loose gun regulations. One student asked me if I owned a gun, and I said no. He looked disappointed. In addition, they asked about gangs and many other questions about American culture. They are great Eminem fans.

The other members of the group went to Siyabuela, a township middle school; Pinelands, a former model C school (advantaged); and Thandokhoulu, a school that specializes in math and science. Some of their comments included:

Thandokhoulu was an abandoned elementary school that was abandoned because of lead in the building and the Kaylisha township came to take it in 1992 to use as a squatter school. The police seized the school and tried to defend it from the township residents and didn’t want to permit them to use it. There were gaping holes in the school floors. 90-95% of the senior students are sexually active. The school principal never met them or addressed them and at least in one class the teacher never showed up and my colleagues taught the class by leading a discussion about economics. The six teachers who went here left early because no one seemed to direct them, but the met with a Canadian college student who was doing her student teaching here. She did 6 months at two different schools and will be qualified to teach in SA or Canada when she finishes. At Pinelands my friends were shown the school by the graphing and cad teacher. They attended an all school assembly where 800 students sat on the floor quietly. The counselor at the school, Judith Barren, is working on an integration and renovation campaign for the students called Rainbow camp, which is suppose to build student morale and teaming. One activity they do is blind-fold a pair of students and direct them not to speak. Then, they have to make something out of clay. Barren tells a story about two students who had been “enemies” since grade school who take off the blind folds and see that they created beauty. She says the kids experience a lot of emotional change because of the camp, but they only take a select group of students because of funds.

A fun fact from Tommy about Xhosa: Tommy noticed that the literal translation of the Xhosa greeting is, “I see you.” It’s an acknowledgment of them as a person, regardless of social status. To my colleagues and Barren it is this “seeing” of the other that makes the school work better. In the Langa township school, Siyabulela, my friends observed a language lesson in Xhosa and then in Afrikaans and English. The teacher did the lesson in all three languages to work on language development. Classes were large, 44 kids, tables and chairs. It was an eye opening experience in the township school. They came back with many pictures and stories about the difficult conditions and teachers who simply just didn’t show up to teach their classes.

July 30

Today we met with Geraldine Goldblatt, the local director for this region of the Cape's curriculum. She organized school tours for us at four different schools, each one with different problems and blessings. I went to Oude Molen, the Old Mill, which is a technical high school that specializes in engineering. There were very few girls at the school and most of the students were Cape Coloured. The principal said there were problems with white flight because the school was originally established as a white technical school, one that taught shop and wood working skills.

The principal met us with tea in the boardroom and a 20-30 minute introduction about the school. He was very proud of his relationship with an area insurance agency that has increased the funding for astro turf on their sports field as well as other benefits. He said that his school accepts 18o students out of the 400-500 applicants every year. Students pay over R8,000 to go to school, about $1,200, plus have to buy uniforms and supplies. They haven't had to turn down a student because of lack of fees and have programs that help support those who can't pay, but there are still only a limited number of spaces. He had some interesting things to say about education, including that American schools suck and we only do well because we give green cards and Asians and Indians come to MIT and such to study. It's an interesting perspective.

I sat in on two lessons. In the first class, Brigitt, a very kind English department head had about 30 11 grade students. What struck me the most is how much her students were just like mine. They had been working on an argumentative essay and she was intending to collect it and go over it, but of course, since she'd been gone three days with the flu most didn't have it done. So, she did what all good teachers do, adjusted. She pulled out a poetry project she had been preparing. In the project guidelines, 3-4 students were asked to create a power point or poster presentation that explicated a poem. They were suppose to provide background, teach the poem to the class and lead discussion on it, then have a quiz about it. She originally presented it as a single student project, but because the directions (not rewritten) said group work, it didn't take the boys long to cajole her into making it a group project, but she gave the same dire warnings I always give, that one or two students shouldn't end up doing the majority of the work. She told them to come up with a plan of responsibilities by next Monday. I asked her if the students had access to a computer lab to do the power point, but she said that although there was a computer lab it was used mostly by the math department and hard to use. Oh, and she had a smart board, by the way! She used it too. I didn't get a chance to ask her about how much training she had on it.

I visited Oude Molen and met Sandy and Brigitte, both English teachers, grade 9 and 11. Thandokhoulu, Pinelands High, Siyabuela Middle School. What things should I make sure to include in lessons about SA? That we don’t have wild animals walking down the streets, that we are diverse, that you must be careful here. They wanted to know if America is really violent, whether we wore uniforms, if I could speak Afrikaans, if I knew Eminem, no substitute program, smart boards, power points, but with poorly organized power points. Math department takes the computer lab. Principal said the American school sucks and our universities are only good because we take green cards. Our best schools, like MIT are filled with Asians and Indians. Very few white students, white flight from school.

Thandokhoulu was an abandoned elementary school that was abandoned because of lead in the building and the Kaylisha township came to take it in 1992 to use as a squatter school. The police seized the school and tried to defend it from the township residents and didn’t want to permit them to use it. Gaping holes in the school floors. 90-95% of the senior students are sexually active.

Pinelands, graphing and cad teacher showed them around. School assembly. 800 students sitting on the floor quietly. Judith Barren, integration and renovation. Rainbow camp. With a blind fold and no speaking, they have to make something out of clay. Literal translation of the Xoisan greeting is, “I see you.” It’s an acknowledgment of them as a person, regardless of social status.

Siyabulela, language – lesson in Xhosa and then in Afrikaans and English. 44 kids, tables and chairs.

July 28-29

We left Kimberely at 7:30 this morning and are still on the road at 11:21, likely to be on the road until near 5 pm or so. We are slowly making our way back to Cape Town. Tonight, we’ll stop in M
Matjiesfontein, Mikey’s fontayn. It’s described in the rough guide as “little more than two dusty streets,” but Rich has assured us that our hotel, the Lord Milner, has a bar and I am sure many of us fully plan to exploit the riches there in upon our arrival. I’m not very good at these long days on the bus, but we make frequent pit stops and that helps. I finished my fourth South African novel, Ways of Dying by Zakes Mda. He also wrote Heart of Redness, both of which I have read during our bus days. I have also read Disgrace and Thirteen. I have Nectar in the Sieve, not a South African novel, which I’ll begin today. I really liked the Mda books because they both have a magical realist style. In Ways, Mda describes how the two main characters decorate their shanty in an informal township with catalog pictures. Pictures of designer living rooms on one wall, kitchens on another, bedrooms, etc. The most moving part is that they put pictures of gardens and together they “walk through the gardens,” sitting and imagining themselves walking through beautiful gardens together. The way Mda writes is so matter of fact and simple, but somehow incredibly lovely and vivid. It is what he leaves out as well as what he puts in that makes the two novels so memorable. The last 100 pages of the book were so good that I wanted to go on reading. He has one more novel that I may pick up while I’m in Cape Town to read on the plane home. If not, I’ll order them from Amazon to have them delivered by the time I get home.

We arrived in Matijesfontain, Mikey's Fountain, around 4 pm. It's a quaint Victorian city of about two streets. I had a great night hanging out in the Tavern. The piano player did a wonderful impersonation of Nelson Mandela and showed us a little around the Milner's Hotel. It was quite nice and the dinner was lovely, partly family style with the veg and served meats.

However, this morning before we left is when the excitement really started. Jacob and I walked around near sunset to get some sunset pictures, and happened upon a bunch of weaver birds weaving their nests. I could have stayed and watched them all day.

July 27

Kimberely and the Big Hole. The Big Hole is the largest man made hole in the world. It is a gigantic crater, 214 meters deep and 17 hectares in perimeter. It was made as a mining site for diamonds from 1871-1914. It was a beautiful day to go out and see it. The tour begins with a 20 minute film that begins with the original discovery by children at the Orange River and ends with Rhodes buying out Barney Barnato to control the diamond production in South Africa. In the movie they show two little white kids and a black kid playing together at the Orange River. I’m sure that’s exactly how the diamonds were discovered.
At one point in the film, they describe a Zulu chief who became a mine worker and had to be stripped down and searched like all the other workers. This chief saved lives in a cave in and did several heroic deeds. He was well respected by his fellow black miners, but was still black and therefore treated as if he couldn’t be trusted. The Big Hole does a great job glorifying mining, but poorly addresses the inequities in the black and white miners.
While at the Big Hole, yes I know it’s funny, go ahead and giggle, we toured a recreated mining town and some of us played skittles, a game like bowling, but with ball. Melanie and I went around taking pictures of some of the architecture before I got an ice cream bar. I also picked up another award winning purchase - a pin for the 2010 world cup that begins June11 and ends on my birthday next year, July 11. It’s one of my favorite things I have bought because you can see driving around SA how excited they are for 2010 and how much pressure it is putting on the government to get ready. Right now there are strikes all over SA. It began with the doctors in Kwala-Zulu Natal. Then it was the construction workers, especially those who were building the stadiums for 2010. We saw several of them marching in Durban. Now, it has branched out to municipal workers, trash collectors, bus drivers, etc. In addition there are many service strikes. People in the townships are lighting fires and protesting because Zuma has yet to deliver on the promise of providing electricity, water, housing, and basic services to the people, especially those in the townships. On the other side of this argument though, how much can the government provide? There is over 20 % unemployment (an accepted number by the government, although it may be significantly higher), but children drop out of school and want to do nothing. I know the government needs to supply the basic needs, such as clean water, electricity, housing, heat, but what people really need are jobs. Zuma promised half a million by December. He has a lot of work to do to get there.
After the mine tour, we checked into the Horseshoe Inn. It’s in the shape of a horseshoe, duh! Each of our doors are the split doors and it looks like our rooms are created from renovated horse stalls. Kori and I have four beds in our room. I think we each spend half the night in one, then move to another.
Matt, Jason, and I walked down to the Wimpy’s restaurant after we checked in and used the internet for a little while, but I didn’t have all my entries done.
For dinner, we took four cabs and went to Mario’s, a small Italian restaurant. The proprietor of the restaurant came and talked to us twice to make sure everything was fine, which it was. However, Erika noticed that there were only white customers and all the serving people were black. Kimberely definitely has some of the throwback to earlier days and separation of the races.