Delving Deep into South Africa’s Bosom

I recently read Anthony Butler’s “Contemporary South Africa” (who is also my Policy and Admin professor) and through this book and a lot of my lectures, I’ve been able to get a better grasp of South African history and politics. It is really fascinating so here’s a bit of a crash course on the racially divided past of SA~

South Africa system of “apartheid” formally began in 1948 but had existed informally since British colonialism in the early 19^th C. The 1910 Act of Union embodied a racial politics, cementing an alliance between Boer and English-speaker by excluding non-Whites from political participation. Under this system of institutionalized racial segregation ended with SA’s first democratic election of 1994 when Nelson Mandela became president under the political party, the African National Congress (ANC). Apartheid in literal translation is the Afrikaans word for separation/division. This is the perfect way to describe the artificially constructed system of segregation that was used to divide South Africa into white and black zones. Black areas were called Bantustans and each Bantustan was a mini nation-state within SA. Africans were divided upon arbitrary ethnic and “tribal” lines that the whites in SA basically made up and put forcibly into these Bantustans. Whites remained in certain designated regions where land was more resource rich and the infrastructure was more developed. Only whites were accorded full South African citizenship rights. Blacks were given citizenship rights of their respective Bantustan (which remember, was COMPLETELY arbitrarily decided and imposed upon them by white’s conceptions and creations of African ethnicity, community, and tribe). It is actually highly contested whether African “tribes” are a realistic interpretation of the African community or if it is merely a European classification to make categorization of Africans easier. Butler states, “Africans were systematically ‘retribalized’, stripped of South African citizenship, their civic and political rights trampled in accordance with the ambitions of the architects of te Bantustans. Hundreds of thousands of people were forcibly removed to their ‘correct’ locations. The segregation of space and of public amenities were pushed to new extremes.” Black, Coloured (those who could not be definitely classified as either Black or White), and Asian South Africans were serviced by inferior administrations, which provided segregated public services and limited enfranchisement. Whites in South Africa are made up of the British colonialists who colonized the cape in 1806 and the Dutch Boer “Afrikaaners” who settled earlier beginning in the 17^th C because of Dutch trading posts in the cape.

Apartheid ended at the turn of the 20^th C when Nelson Mandela and then president F.W. De Klerk organized the first ever non-racilized election. In this historic election, Nelson Mandel was nominated South Africa’s president and he served for 5 years from 1994-1999. Mandela’s party, the ANC, has remained in power since and has a near monopolistic grasp on political popularity here. Thabo Mbeki was the president after Mandela but recently stepped down a year before his second term ended. South Africans are awaiting a new election in which the ANC’s candidate is Zuma who is a charismatic populist, who was also once charged with rape and corruption. However, people tell me that South Africans will still vote for him because its better than voting for “the National Party that supported apartheid”. South Africans need more political competition in order to have a fully functioning liberal democracy.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was created at the end of apartheid in 1996 with the mandate to investigate apartheid era human rights violations, to grant amnesty to admitted perpetrators who fully disclosed their actions, and to make recommendations concerning reparations. In hindsight, the most important role that the TRC played was to elicit and record the testimony of thousands of victims of human rights violations and to establish on the historical record the extent and nature of such abuses committed during this era. The ultimate efficacy of this commission, however, is contested. Even after a 7 ear truth and reconciliation process, citizens remain severely divided.

In Desmond Tutu’s words, South Africa is a ‘rainbow nation’ filled with diverse peoples, languages and cultures. This is manifested in the 11 official languages that SA possesses. This is why its so common to run into Africans here who speak 7, 8, or 9 completely distinct languages. The most commonly spoken African languages are Xhosa which is a clicking language and Zulu. Afrikaans is also used frequently- it is a creole language combining Dutch, German, and other African languages and mostly used by Boers and Coloureds here. Clearly, however, English and Afrikaans are the privileged languages here and most African languages are only spoken informally. Those who can’t speak English or Afrikaans cannot advance in the formal labor market and African children are profoundly disadvantaged by their need to acquire scientific and technical vocabulary through English. While most of the urban Black population speaks several languages, many are most fluent in African tongues, which do not serve as economic resources in the way that English and Afrikaans do.

South Africa is not yet truly a “rainbow nation”, however, it is actually two nations- white and black (in the words of Thabo Mbeki), divided by culture, history and wealth. The inequality of South African society is striking. Almost all of the poor in SA are Black and almost all of the wealth are white. Changes in the labor market have resulted in an ever growing gulf between the wealthiest in society and the poorest. “…an asymmetry of power and walth still almost accompanies South Africans’ relationships across races. They often seem to be guided by racial stereotypes and the potential for politicization of racial difference is everywhere evident.” This is most evident in famous photographs of sprawling townships adjacent to vast golf courses as well as in the affluent suburbs and blatant consumerism. South Africa’s poor endure a condition that would not be out of place in some of the world’s poorest nations. The unemployment is 25% and this effects Blacks much more than Whites. Economy remains overwhelmingly dominated by white owners. In a ranking of countries per capita, South Africa is 52st place out of 173. In a human development index, however, SA is 107^th out of 173 countries. South Africa lies some 56 places below the ranking one would expect judging purely on income. This reveals much about the huge income gap in SA society and the inequity that plagues so many South African poor.  Almost half of the country’s people live in poverty in townships with no access to public services, modern sanitation, electricity, or clean water. In some areas, like UCT, the stark segregation between white and black is less visible and marked instead with a forced courtesy, But behind closed doors, blacks and whites are rarely more than acquaintices and do not mix socially. When me, a black friend, and a white friend were chatting on campus, someone who passed by said “Wow, that’s the most diverse group I’ve ever seen on campus…” The diversity I take so for granted back home is apparently a spectacle here. Inter-racial mixing is slow, but I believe with improve greatly over time.

With a large influx of refugees and immigrants into SA, the xenophobia in South African society has reached great heights. Estimates of this mostly illegal immigrant population is between 2-8 million. Mugabe’s repressive regime in SA’s neighbor Zimbabwe has caused many refugees to cross the border into SA. The infrastructure and economy of Zim is crumbling right now and this country is facing an enormous human rights crisis. This crisis is purely political, Mugabe’s regime is not at all accepting of opposing factions and political parties and there is huge violence and violations of civil liberties based on political affiliation. While I’ve been in SA, I’ve met SO many people from Zim who are studying or working here because of the Zim crisis. I’ve prob met even more Zimbabweans than even South Africans. The organization I’m volunteering with, PASSOP (People Against Suffering, Suppression, Oppression and Poverty) advocates for refugee rights and against xenophobia in SA. One of the most surprising things I’ve learned is that xenophobia is the fierest and most violent when it is directed towards other Africans. Blacks killing blacks… another sad similarity to the US.  Hopefully, I can learn more about the situation in SA while working here.

HIV/AIDS is a HUGE HUGE monolithic concern in SA right now. SA has the highest absolute population of AIDS victims of any country in the world with over 4 million infected citizens It also has one of the highest rates of infection in the world- leaping up to 32% or even 50% in some of the poorer of SA’s 9 provinces. President Mbeki recently stated that he wasn’t sure if the connection between HIV and AIDS was strong enough. He also called anti retro-viral treatments ‘toxic’ and said that it is not HIV that causes AIDS, but rather poverty. He makes an important impact of AIDS mortality and poverty but he misses the important connection between life-saving ARVs. Considering the level of sexual harassment in this country, I wouldn’t be surprised if a strong contributor to this would be rape. Gender discrimination is quite a problem in SA. Apartheid has effected women harder than men. Though less than half of the population lives under the poverty line, 71% of African women live under the poverty line. This means a lot of women-headed households and absent migrant worker fathers. Another interesting similarities to the poor black community in the states- many absent fathers. Obama’s absent Kenyan father was a strong shaping force in his search for his identity (read about this in Dreams of My Father). The cycle being that young boys with no father have no healthy role model to base their own fatherhood upon- thus perpetuating a never broken cycle of negligence.

The system of racial segregation in SA and white supremacy has even worked itself into conceptions of culture. Butler says, “The distinction between high and low culture is the product of western historical circumstances and it carries with it the assumption that the artist, poet, or composer stands at some distance from everyday society. It therefore doesn’t help us understand societies like South Africa in which oral traditions, dance, religious practice, music, and other cultural artifacts are deeply woven into and sustain ordinary life.” European settlers in Southern Africa used their economic and political power to enforce their own conception of cultural value. Typically high culture is understood as an attainment of whites, which gives rise to the cultural supremacy of European civilization. African art was see as products of static tribal cultures, only significant for their role in perpetuating tribal distinctiveness and division. After 94, however, African arts have been more encouraged and some genres like dance and singing have flourished. There is a far way to go before these stereotypes about culture are broken in the memory of history.

“Apartheid has left a residue of bitterness and suspicion. While some individuals transcended the segregation that blighted the twentieth century, generations will have to pass before race is no longer an impediment to trust.”

Asian Invasion

Being Asian in SA is certainly a very interesting and often frustrating experience. In terms of the dating scene, as an Asian here, you have to keep in the back of your mind that this guy may only be interested in you because you’re “exotic” and some fetishized version of some Asian orchid or something gross like that. It’s hard enough to deal with in the US where the Asian population is significantly bigger than the ~2% population here. SA is a country where racism and sexism, though no longer institutionally sanctioned, are shamelessly blatant. Everyday without fail, I will get at least a sprinkling of racial slurs, and a irritating barrage of sexual harassment. These may be catcalls, arm caresses, or some man yelling “I LIKE CHING CHONG” leaning out of a van taxi window. Whatever form it may take, it can be very taxing to constantly have my guard up. Ultimately, this is the life of a minority, and I know I’m strong enough to handle it. Plus, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger right? It’s even strangely invigorating to be somewhere where at least the prejudice is out in the open to see and deal with, rather than lying deep under the surface and in the subconscious like in the States.

            There are some definite perks to being Korean in SA though. I met a Korean family today!!! I was shopping in a gift store at the big mall complex here and realized that the woman at the register was East Asian. She was definitely Korean but MAY have been Chinese and I didn’t want to make an embarrassing assumption. So I looked frantically around her counter for some sign of Korean-ness- a word, a flag, anything. Finally, I spot a small notebook on her register… there’s Korean on it!! A huge leap of happiness wells up in me when I ask her “한국분이세요??” – “Are you Korean?” She looked so stunned- the look on her face was hilarious. Then she asks me if I am- she’s so surprised that I am because she thought I was “from here.” Does that mean I look South African? I dunno, I have gotten pretty tan I guess… We chat about when she came to Cape Town, her two kids (one of which is a first year at UCT), my family, etc. She then tells me to come back anytime if I run into any problems in Cape Town. Such a sweet lady and her daughter is really cute and sweet too. I love how the Korean Diaspora reaches so far and no matter how elitist and obnoxiously nationalist we can be, we’re undeniably a tight and awesome race. A little bit of home away from home~

Roomies Roomies Galore!

I met my South African roomies! Finally!! We have a suite of 4 singles, 2 bathrooms, and a kitchen. Noa is my Jewish-American roommate from New York who goes to Brown. She’s a really sweet and chill girl with the prettiest green eyes and kind of looks like a petite, prettier version of Alanis Morisette. She’s also vegetarian so we cook together often. We’ve both agreed that our horrible endurance and natural clumsiness would make us perfect running partners as well. My male South African roommate’s name is Sibosiso (Sibu for short) and he’s awesome! He’s this super cute, collar-popping, pink-wearing, Whitney Houston-loving, Xhosa-speaking, hyper and fidgety, lovely being. We have a creeping suspicion that he is gay- this is to be determined. My female South African roomie’s name is Babs and she’s also from the Cape Town area and her first language is also Xhosa. She’s a very solid, grounded, real and strong chick who is studying music education at the School of Music at UCT. She’s really into jazz and does jazz singing. Can’t wait to hear her belt one day! So far, I really enjoy everyone I live with- we’re not best of friends, but they are so respectful, cleanly, and seem genuinely interested and kind. YES! Will keep y’all updated...

First Day Jitters

First day of class! First day of class! First day of class!!!!! I successfully found all my classes, did not say anything stupid, and giggled through my first day of class at ridiculously beautiful 170 year old UCT. I cannot begin to explain how beautiful the view from this campus is- both the landscape and the beachy-beautiful people. The professor for my Religion, Sexuality and Gender class is Brazilian and seems like a really sassy, cool lady. I like her already. In South African Politics and Administration, we’re going to be tackling the most controversial and challenging public policy challenges in SA including environmental issues, HIV/AIDS, and energy. My Afrikaans professor is a big teddy bear-ish man and I can’t help smiling and giggling all through class trying to pronounce the strange and hilarious hodgepodge of Dutch, English, German and African languages that is Afrikaans. I can tell I’m going to be the biggest doofus of this class already… I’m also taking a Medical Anthropology class that compares Western and non-Western techniques of medicine in modern medical dilemmas including AIDS. Another successful day in the life of a bumbling American trying to make it in Africa… Let’s hope there are many more to come! 

“Blown Away”

Cape Town Beach Attempt Round Two: Camp’s Bay Edition

Liesbeeck Gardens (my dorm) is sponsoring a trip to Camp’s Bay, a beach that is supposed to be much prettier, bigger, and less windy than Muisenburg (the beach experience from hell, if you refer to an earlier post…) We arrive and it is just that! By far the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been on, this huge expansive beach with its bright blue waters and white sand is reminiscent of Miami- still windy though. We’re pummeled with sand all day but thankfully find some rocks to hide behind. We’re hanging out with some Liesbeeck UCT students named Pious (a pudgy nerdy-looking dude from Uganda, who calls himself a “player” and gets progressively creepier), Simba (I KNOW! But it’s apparently a common name in Zimbabwe…), and Tamu (Simba’s friend from Zimbabwe). We end up having great conversations with these dudes about the issues of human rights and politics in Zimbabwe, the benefits of life in America, the lack of fathers in black communities, etc. Simba and Tamu have transferred from a university in Zimbabwe to UCT this past year because of the worsening political crisis in Zim. Mugabe has finally agreed to share power with new prime minister Morgan Tsvangirai, who is supported both by the Zimbabwean people and the international community. Over the course of 18 months, power is supposed to be fully transferred to Tsvangirai Zimbabwe has struggled with corrupt elections, rights suppression, and human rights atrocities involving political unrest for a long time now. This conflict has turned Zimbabwe, once the fertile and wealthy bread basket of Southern Africa, into a country that prints hundred trillion dollar bills that are only worth wiping your behind on. There are a lot of Zimbabwean students here, but Zimbabwe has closed its borders, so Simba and Tamu are some of the lucky ones. Talking to them makes me want to delve deeper into African politics.

            In other news, let me ask you what would be a good beach day without a shouting match with a crazy popsicle-selling Arab man? Well, for me at least, the two seem to go hand in hand. After we were having some good conversation and sun-bathing on this beautiful beach, a skinny middle eastern man comes up to us with his cooler selling water and ice cream. Our large group isn’t interested and so hardly pays attention to him. Then he starts saying how he’s Middle Eastern and so if we don’t buy his ice cream, he’s going to start throwing bombs all over the beach and kill all of us. He calls himself a terrorist bomber and keeps repeating that he’s going to throw bombs all over. At first, his hysterical jabbering was just the faint backdrop to my beautiful beach day- but once he started spewing those horrible threats and perpetuating stereotypes about Middle Eastern people… I snapped. I told him that he shouldn’t be saying those things about his own people and that he needs to get some self-respect and that he should leave and get away from us. No matter how much someone wants to disrespect me and Americans or Koreans or whatever, I’ll keep my cool, but once you starts dissing your own people- that’s when I KNOW you’re messed up. He got fired up by my comments and started saying calling me “Ching-chong-ching Ms.China” and saying I should go back to where I came from and that he was going to bomb China. I replied quite calmly “that’s fine, because I’m not from China, you dumbass.” Other students started shouting at him to go away and finally he puttered off still mumbling things about China and bombs. In addition to the annoying-ness, while we were walking back from the beach to our dorm in a big group, one of the petite shy girls got grabbed by the wrist by a large scary man on the street saying he wants "a white girlfriend". She kept saying "please let g of me... please let me of me..." but not being assertive at all because she was so scared. We all start yelling at the man and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing. He doesn't let go for a good couple minutes and finally I lose my cool and tell him to get some freaking manners. He's like "what are manners? Ms. PERFECT!" Wtf? Clearly he doesn't know what they are... Moral of this story- there are all types of crazy all over the world. After a little more sun, a yummy veggie burger and shake, I had forgotten all about it! The beach is definitely the best cure…

The Little Chicken Who Could (And her Adventures in Namibia)

We arrived at the Namibian border in style. Our dreaded 20-hour bus ride from Cape Town, South Africa to Windhoek, Namibia was actually rather pleasant. We were able to lean almost completely back in our luxury bus seats and stopped every couple hours to get out, stretch, and use the restroom. This comfort, however, did not last long. We were greeted at the border checkpoint in the middle of the night by the most disgusting cockroaches I’ve ever seen in my life. They were HUGE. Probably the size of a dollar bill… or a pickle… HUGE. I almost died of disgust, but after pulling myself together Lindsey, Jevan, and Amy (all fellow CIEE study abroaders) and I were happy to get 2 more international stamps in our passport! What glee!! Nothing makes me happier than seeing my humble little passport fill up with all the different countries’ stamps that I’ve traveled to. I even got to see whirling twinkling fireflies in the Namibian bush for a couple magical minutes on the road to Windhoek.

We get into Windhoek very early in the morning and are picked up by our tour guide, Martin, in his faithful steed- the notorious “Sexy Beast” (literally. that’s it’s name painted on the side…), our awesome safari truck. We are soon joined by one other safari-er, Annemarie who is a gentle and quiet 6-foot 29-year old blonde ex-computer technician from Amsterdam. She had quit her job in the Netherlands and taken 3 months to just re-evaluate life and travel around Africa (pretty ballsy, eh?). Here’s a quick word about my CIEE friends on the trip- you have all already heard about my trusty companion Lindsey (my lovely high school friend from Wellesley); Amy (aka Mexican jumping bean) who grew up going to international school in Mexico City and has traveled/jumped literally all over the world, hence earning her nickname “Mexican jumping bean”, Jevan a chill curly blonde field hockey player from Boston who goes to school at Colby in Maine. It was awesome to find out that it would only be us five ladies on this Namibian safari, considering we were all expecting some huge gaudy double decker bus with a ton of horrible tourists.

Our tour guide Martin is a young ear-pierced skinny dude from Northern Namibia who has lived all over his homeland and in doing so has mastered all 8 languages spoken in Namibia. It amazes me how many languages everyone speaks here. Because each ethnic group/region has a different traditional language in addition to Afrikaans, English, German, Dutch, etc, it’s a necessity to speak multiple languages. Martin claims he has an extra set of teeth because his smile is so big and it’s true- he has the whitest, biggest smile, the kind that forces you to smile right back. He also has a great sense of humor and says wacky things like “super duper” and “whatever’s clever.” He’s definitely not the type to take any shit though, and he’s told us stories of kicking finicky people out of his tour before. He calls all of us his “angels” and always refers to us this way. “ Good night, Angel!”, “Angel, you’re weird”, “Why don’t you eat sausage, Angel?” It’s really cute. We call our group of 5 girls “Martin’s Angels” (haha cheesy, I know…) He calls me “chicken” because I fall asleep constantly on the truck when we’re driving complete with the whole head-bobbing shebang. He says that chickens fall asleep suddenly and then wake up suddenly just like that- I think that the concept is a hoot and a holler. I am proud to be Martin’s chicken. Our loyal helper/cook is introduced as Mr.Faras, but he doesn’t speak much English (cooks like a CHAMP though!). We ask Mr.Faras if he is married after we find out Martin recently got married and Mr.Faras says that he doesn’t have enough money to get married right now. At the time we are retarded and so start singing, “All you need is love!!!!” courtesy of the Beatles, but it makes me realize how different our cultures/lifestyles are. I can’t help feeling conscious throughout the whole trip that we (privileged first world university students) are being serviced by these Namibian black men. At first I’m pretty uncomfortable, but I guess just like any good imperialist, I get used to being catered to. The whole idea of going on safari doesn’t sit that well with me (with all its historical and racial connotations), but tourism is the main form of income for many Africans so it doesn’t do much good to protest the industry.

After driving several hours south through Namibia from Windhoek (the capital city smack dab in the middle of the country) we are all awestruck at the beauty and expansiveness of Namibia’s landscape. Channeling Lindsey’s “Snapple lady” fact spewing, Namibia is the little known second most remote country in the entire world- Mongolia being the most remote. This lack of people is in part to the huge deserts in Namibia, and makes Namibia one of the best destinations to witness raw and unfiltered wilderness. With the bright blue African sky stretching out in all directions, we all marvel at the fierce beauty of the landscapes around us. The whole time, I am trying to drink in the rich red dirt, huge grasslands, colorful wildflowers, white butterflies, and purple mountains like a man dying of thirst.

We hadn’t traveled very far before we see our first signs of wildlife. Golden weaver’s birds’ nests I’d only admired from books were dripping from every Cassia tree like precious Christmas ornaments. We run into random herds of goats, cows, and wild horses periodically. We even see families of baboons near the road staring back at us curiously. A sly jackal scurries away from our truck suspiciously. We stop after a couple hours because Jevan has to go the bathroom (this is a repeated theme during the trip, we still joke that Jevan has a UTI-“urinary tract infection” because she had to go pee every 5 minutes). We get out to use the “bush toilet” (as Martin calls it) near a couple shrubs in the wild. A herd of baboons pass close by us and we all hurry to finish- we heard that baboons are quite shrewd and will steal things from tourists if given the chance! (Shout out to a helpful fact from my cousin, Mon) I accidentally piss on an angry anthill and get a couple warning bites on my feet as well as a painful poke from a thorny bush. Ah, how I love the camping life…

The campsite we’re staying at for the first 2 nights is AMAZING. It is definitely a luxury resort campsite, if there is such a thing. There is a nice outdoor bathroom/shower complex right next to the blue-tiled teardrop shaped pool, complete with awning and two story bar where we watch the breath-taking sunsets across the African savannah. The next morning we leave before dawn to try to catch the sunrise off the Sossuvlei dunes of the Namib-Naukluft desert. This famous desert is the oldest in the world (dubiously according to Martin) and is the keeper of the most beautiful, majestic towering red sand dunes in the world (according to me). We have a surreal day climbing some of the higher dunes, identifying wildlife footprints, chasing beetles (or sitting on them in Amy’s case) and lizards, and climbing beautiful Salvador Dali-esque petrified trees (all that was missing were the melting clocks!)- we definitely had the many splinters to prove it! It’s always been my number one travel goal to see these beautiful sand dunes (ever since reading the Little Prince which takes place in a desert…) and so I’m still in awe at how beautiful they are. It’s a sight I’m sure I’ll never forget.

We leave the dunes to see the famous Sesriem canyon and go on to visit a smelly flamingo lagoon and vast salt flats in Walvis Bay. The flamingos aren’t as pink as we’d hoped but they’re really cute. They kick their little webbed feet around in the sand looking to stir up the algae and shrimp that they eat. They prance around in little circles kicking their feet doing the flamingo dance! While driving through the Namibian savannah we see even more animals~ leaping springbok antelope (the national animal of South Africa), majestic long horned onyxes (the national animal of Namibia), and curious ostriches (which according to Martin do NOT bury their heads to the sand… shame on those lying cartoons I watched as a kid!). Best of all, we drive alongside a beautiful herd of zebras!!! ZEBRAS! There are even baby zebras! HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY! I’m too busy taking pictures to freak out about how cool that is.

We leave the Namib desert and say bye to our campsite with one last late night of story telling around the campfire while running frantically and screaming about HUGE flesh-colored scorpion carrying spiders that are running around our feet. Mr.Faras faithfully stands watch with his pokey-death stick watching out for these suckers. Meanwhile we all tell traditional myths from our homelands and as many jokes/riddles as we can remember. Aside from the bugs, camping is actually pretty cool… This little chicken survived it!

We leave the campsite hanging all our damp bras and underwear out the Sexy Beast’s windows (still wet from the night of rain we had). We must be quite a sight to see on the road… We make our way to Swakopmund, a coastal city on the Southwest coast of Namibia boasting to be the “extreme sports capital” of Namibia. Amy and Annie choose to go skydiving (they are CRAZY) while Lindsey, Jevan and I go ATVing (or quad biking as they call it here…) I’m retarded at first (granted, I STILL don’t have my driver’s license) and go off the track several times, but I get the hang of it as we go along. ATVing through the desert dunes was so cool! We “roller-coaster” off the higher dunes by going up really high along the side and then plummeting down again. As we continue on our journey through the dunes, we rise over a crest and suddenly have a gorgeous view of the ocean. Dunes behind us and nothing but open ocean ahead, I can’t imagine a more beautiful sight. We have dinner in Swakopmund after which Martin orders us to go “boom boom” at the dance floor upstairs, after which we quickly leave because Amy is busy getting it on with her sky diving instructor (scandalous!). Mr.Faras walks us back to our rooms- good ol’ Mr.Faras…

On our way back to Windhoek from Swakopmund, Martin asks us if it’s cool if he visits his sister on the way. He makes a couple tight turns on side streets and before we know it we’re driving smack dab in the middle of one of Namibia’s townships. The poverty is staggering to witness- bumpy dirt roads, scattered trash, the smell of decomposing flesh in the air orders all of our senses to pay attention. Her house is a relatively nice bright blue house next to the thousands of shacks in the township. She’s not home so we head back to the highway all trying our best not to gag (including Martin) passing by teenagers sporting their middle fingers and a man openly pissing in the street. On the way to Windhoek we stop at a shockingly poor craft village that is supposed to have the cheapest souvenirs. The people look sickly and desperate for some business, the heckling has us quickly leaving this depressing place. As we approach our destination, the staggering wealth of capital city Windhoek with its broad streets and German architecture quickly reminds us of the sobering remnants of colonialism that bear witness to past crimes all over Africa.

In Windhoek we share a bittersweet good-bye with Martin and Mr.Faras and give them a soccer ball we all signed for them- for them to keep in the Sexy Beast and kick around with their other tour groups (they both love soccer, just like everyone in this part of the world…) Windhoek is a huge, strangely empty, and frankly boring city. We wander around for a bit before heading back to our hostel. We’re staying at Chameleon hostel for a night before we have to catch our bus back to Cape Town the next evening. This hostel is more like a resort- we chill by the pool and then are invited by the crazy hodgepodge of Europeans staying here to having some watermelon and beers. We end the night at the bar celebrating a petite German surgeon Hendrick’s birthday amongst new friends including a New Yorker named Jenn, a Belgian university student named Tim, a hippie stoner from the south of France, a rude Englishman, and a loud-mouth Dutch pilot. Good times.

I’ll miss you Namibia!! Your chicken will be back before you know it! 

Beach Bummin' (Literally...)

Yesterday CIEE took us on a trip to visit the volunteer sites we are going to be working at during the semester. This was a shit show of a trip- the driver had NO idea where we were going the entire time and we were trapped on a full bus with no air conditioner in the scorching heat. By the time we made it to the actual community centers, we could only have like 10 minutes long rushed tours through the facilities. Even though they were really short-lived, it was pretty cool to see the type of work that non-profits do here. One center called the Ark is a Christian Community Center that houses a school, nursery, senior citizen home, convalescent home, and so much more. I was so impressed by the amount of work they do~ it makes me realize what I like about Christianity. The babies at this home are the prettiest things I've ever seen- children are so beautiful, so fresh faced and bright eyed. They wave shyly at us the whole time we take the tour. Maybe my hatred of children is turning around? haha, let's not be too hopeful... The senior citizens are also so cute~ their beds are all piled high with old stuffed animals and colorful quilts. They are all sitting outside and gossiping with each other, it's great that community centers like this offer a place for older people to live out their days in comfort and company. We also went to Leap high school which offers math and science classes to disadvantage black youth who historically have been denied this type of advanced education. The last place we visit is a hospital for patients with TB. We barely get to see it though before we have to get back on the bus because we had no time. 

Now we're off to Muizenberg Beach- the closest beach to our area of Cape Town. Clearly, me and Lindsey are SOOO excited to go to the beach, being true California girls at heart. But by this point we're so exhausted from the shit show of a bus ride that I fall asleep with my head hanging on the bus and Lindsey is part dying from starvation. Once we finally get to the beach, I completely poo-poo the surfing lesson I was supposed to take and instead go find some food. The beach's waves don't look that big anyways so I think that I can do surfing some other time in Cape Town's sharf infested waters. Also, the "beach" is basically a 4 foot strip of sand along the coast... where the heck is all the beach to this beach? whatever, time to find some GRUB. We go hunting and gathering for some food and finally find this surf shack with cheap fried food. Linds gets a burger and "chips" (they call fries "chips" here, so what the hell are chips called??) and I get fish (the fish is called SNOEK? haha, but I try it anyways...)and chips~ all this food was about $3, but turns out you get what you pay for because this was THE WORST MEAL I'VE EVER EATEN! I think that my digestive system still has not recovered. We take our food to eat on the beach but the beach is so gosh darn windy that the sand is whipping our legs and our hair is out of control. We attempt to do the cool beach thing but so much sand gets into our food that we quickly retreat with our tail between our legs. We eat on a concrete stoop instead. with pigeons eyeing us evilly. Yes, pigeons. in South Africa. I also have sand plastered to every part of my face and body and hair and I want to slap someone. I'm eating the sandy snoek and fries fast because I'm starving, but they taste AWFUL. They're overly salty and greasy and the fish has the skin on and bones in. i eat with my fingers. pure class. I can't stop thinking that I should stop eating but I can't because I'm so damn  hungry. I'm STILL talking about this meal to Linds saying how disgusting it was and how traumatized I am by it. Thank god we find a cute gelato shop next to the beach and get some DEEEElicious gelato- cookies and cream, chocolate brownie, and coffeee... yum yum yum! (ironically the chocolate brownie flavor was called "Very Yummy"!) 

Now to the best part of this beach trip. My stomach is pissed at me, my body is covered in sand and i have never been more ready to BOUNCE. We're supposed to take the train back to Mowbray (where the dorms are) and Rondebosch (where a lot of the international houses are). The train is R$4.20 (which is $.42) and I'm confused at how cheap this is considering the CIEE leaders told us to bring R11 for the train. Turns out our SOLmates told us to buy third class tickets and so we're like "eh, whatevs, we don't need to sit down! we're in freaking Africa!" Little do we know that we will be in the worst possible train experience ever. ever. EVER. Let me preface this story by saying that I have been in crowded subways before. I've survived LA, NYC, Boston, Seoul, and Latin American public transport and NEVER have I endured trauma like this train. We were fine and dandy for a couple stops and then more and more people started getting on the train. Then at the stop of death, a HUGE MOB of working class people (or more like smelly unemployed homeless people) literally RAN onto the train with a look of terror and panic on their faces. They kept coming until we thought they were going to break Lindsey's bones and we were squished up against the wall- practically on top of the women sitting down in front of us. Lindsey said that she thought the people entering the train were running away from something or being chased because they ran on in such a fervor. The women sitting in front of us were really sweet and told us to sit on their laps, but we managed to stand up- they still held onto our bags for us though. This experience reminded me of the Girl Talk Pep Rally at Harvard which was the most crowded place I've EVER been in (where Rox got pushed under the stage and had both her shoes knocked off and Sophie was off her feet the entire time between two people while her bag was squished between two other people a couple feet away...) This train MAY have beat that. Yea. it was bad. Plus a homeless man breathed his very gross breath in my face. Yea. Welcome to Africa. 

Later that night after me and Linds had taken showers and gotten over our PTSD from the train incident, we started planning our trip to see the world famous sand dunes of Namibia. This has always been the number one thing on my list that I've wanted to see in the entire world ever since I read the Little Prince (the whole book takes place in an enormous desert and I always fantasized about the beautiful sand dunes~). We're going with a travel agency on safari to the Sossuvlei Desert and though I cannot even begin to pronounce the name of this desert, the woman at the travel agency manages to figure out what trip I want. So excited- we're leaving Sunday and will get back Thursday. 24 hour bus ride... yay. Namibia is apparently the only African country that was once a German colony- Namibia was also invaded by South Africa in the mid 1900s and remained under SA's control until the 1960s... weird, eh? Will report more on this trip later~ :)

After planning, me and Linds head over with Chelsea (Brooklyn friend) and a couple other girls to a bar where Chelsea's Zimbabwean farmer roommate and his friends are chilling. I want to take up any offer to meet/talk to African students and so even though I'm exhausted, I throw some clothes on and turn on krunk mode. This ends up being the most fun I've ever had since I got here. I never meet Chelsea's roommate, but I do meet so many African students. This bar is apparently the spot on Thursday nights cuz the DJ is awesome and the crowd is down. Everyone is black expect for the few Americans there and it's great to finally mingle with some South Africans. Everyone is really friendly and interested- I meet an inspiring rapper named Tehn who looks and acts just like a buffer version of Dave Chappelle. He's awesome and so funny- he insists we have to come see him rap tomorrow night at another club, and we sing the lyrics to every hip hop song together.  All his friends are fresh and we have a great night just chilling with all different kinds of people in the club. My first taste of legit krunky town Africa and me likey. 

ballin out of control

We visit UCT's campus for the first time. It is breath-takingly beautiful. I have never been on a more stunning campus. Located on the base of Table Mountain, it offers a view of the entire city and coast below. It is a 160 year old university that is one of the best in Africa. I'm so excited to be taking classes here~ To make things better I'm one of the 40 CIEE international students that are allowed to live in UCT's dorms. BALLIN!!! I feel bad because Linds really wanted the dorms too, but she got placed in a international student house which most people got. They houses are supposed to be really really nice though- the dorm I'm staying at, Liesbeeck Gardens, on the other hand looks like a huge prison complex. not so ballin. The power apparently goes out at least once a week so we have "emergency lights"- also, the sinks drip, our refrigerator is gross and smells, our lock doesn't work, my roommate doesn't have a lightbulb, there are flies everywhere, and there's a pile of dirt in the corner for some weird reason. Also, i had to take baths for the first couple days while we were in the dorms because we have no shower. HOWEVER, my room is a single and it is HUGE. like HUGE HUGE. as in so big that I feel kinda scared when I go to sleep at night because there's so much open space. It's probably about 3 or 4 times the size of the cozy corner I had at Harvard last semester. It also attached to a BALCONY! I'm in room heaven. my new room also has a shower. SCORE.

I'm finally all moved in and have started cooking for myself because there is no meal plan. Either I'm going to A) Learn to Cook, B) Lose a lot of Weight from Starvation, C) Spend a lot of money on Eating Out. Considering "eating out" here ranges from $2-5, I think I'll be ok, but I'm still going to learn how to cook, dammit! I made some prepackaged Indian food tonight with rice and it turned out well! :) I'm way too proud of myself. 

Luxuriating in the Racial Deliciousness

I arrive in Cape Town and we have to deplane down the airplane's stairs~ I feel the beautiful warm breeze on my face as we step off the plane and I totally feel like a aviator-rocking celebrity coming off their private jet. or Air Force One. or whatever. Anyways, we make our way into the airport, get our baggage and step out where an entire CIEE greeting party is waiting for us. They're a bunch of UCT students holding welcome signs and shouting happily- it's the cutest thing. I come up to them and ask "Are we the first ones??" haha, and they laugh and say NOOOOOO- there is a huge group already waiting for the bus. There are 140 people all together on CIEE's Cape Town program. yup. ONE HUNDRED FORTY! We are a veritable horde of Americans wherever we go. It's fine in the beginning, but then it just starts getting really annoying that we stick out like a sore thumb. While we're waiting to board the bus, I look at my luggage and notice that my duffel bag has a huge rip on the bottom of on of its pockets. All the while I'm saying "please let it be the pocket with the lotion. PLEASEEEEE." and its not. of course not. It's the pocket with all my chargers, my external harddrive, and my guidebook. PERFECT. I have to stay behind to fill out a claim- they give me paperwork to mail in and I have to take my bag to a luggage store to have them assess it. On the plus side, one of the CIEE staff- a beautiful beautiful man named Ramon- is the one staying behind with me. The security man thinks that someone slashed the pocket on purpose to steal its contents. Apparently someone else got their retainer stolen out of their bag... of all things, why take someone's retainer? Lovely- thanks for the beautiful welcome Cape Town. 

We are staying at the Garden Court Hotel for the first three days for CIEE Orientation, its a really beautiful resort-y hotel in Cape Town.I It's a great place with a wonderful continental breakfast spread and two espresso machines, but I can't seem to get my calling card or internet to work so I'm slowly dying on the inside. I'm sharing a room with a Jewish hipster-y girl from Brooklyn named Chelsea who goes to Occidental. She seems pretty unfriendly at first but then we bond and we're tight now. Orientation is pretty annoying in general- very summer campy where we have to play ice breakers, do silly dances, and talk about safety for like a majillion hours. Turns out a CIEE boy last semester died during the midterm break of drowning and two people got in serious accidents and had to be airlifted out of Mozambique. This is pretty scary news, but I plan on being really safe. 

We are also not supposed to walk around by ourselves. EVER. and especially at night. which is going to be really really hard for me considering I'm really used to doing my own thang in the states~ It'll take some major getting used to, but I think I'll be able to adjust. We are also supposed to be really careful about the types of taxis we take. There are van taxis that are crazy and all over the place. They are packed completely full of people and honk wildly at you when they pass you to let you know to hale them~ apparently there's a large chance of having to sit on someone's lap in these taxis but they are only R10 (R10=$1). The meter taxis are much more legit, but more expensive and can also be really unsafe if you are alone. Apparently taxi drivers have been known to assault and sometimes rape women who ride them alone at night. Cape Town's level of crime is definitely my biggest concern while I'm here. I'm planning on getting some pepper spray ASAP- they sell it in all the pharmacies here. We have to lock all our valuables away and have to put padlocks on our room doors. All the windows and doors have bars in front of them~ even during open hours, stores have grills in front of their doors so that you have to be buzzed in in order to enter. All the locks and security has me a little paranoid. I even wake up in the night suddenly sometimes thinking someone is trying to get into my room. This, also, is going to take a lot of getting used to. It just makes me think that Cape Town, even with its relative wealth and first world infrastructure has a LOT of developing left to do. 

The townships scattered throughout South Africa are huge shantytowns of brightly colored tin-roofed shacks. The ironic thing is that many townships are located next to the golf courses and mansions of Cape Town's elite country clubs. The crushing poverty and crime contrasted with the immense imperialist wealth of South Africa is so indicative of SA's history of apartheid and racial hierarchy. This country is teeming with overbrimming racial tensions and I eat this stuff up. Everyone talks about it, the headlines are crawling with it, and you can't talk about education, health or politics without bringing in race. In a country that has just emerged from huge racial segregation in 1994, it makes sense that the scars are still fresh. I feel really lucky to be here in such a transitional time in SA's history. There aren't many countries left where racial hierarchies are so clearly defined and institutionalized. Even at University of Cape Town (UCT), a school that championed racial equality even during apartheid, the racial segregation is shocking. Whites and Blacks and Indians don't really mix at all~ our white student orientation leaders for CIEE (they're called our SOLmates) say that they did not have any black friends until they met the black SOLmates, and vice versa. weird, eh? The different race students even have different areas of the main steps they sit on in front of the University's main hall. I tell them that America still has a long ways to go and its only been about 50 years since we ended our institutionalized racism through the Civil Rights Act. There's always hope, give it time. 

My assigned SOLmate is Blandina who is Tanzanian. She's AWESOME. and has a banging booty. but that's beside the point. When I first met her, I thought she was pretty shy and reserved- I honestly kinda wished I had one of the more outgoing super friendly SOLmates, turns out she's pure platinum. She is so open to talking frankly about anything we want to know about UCT and SA, which I can't say for everyone here considering race is still a pretty touchy and taboo subject. She tells us about the huge socioeconomic differences between white and black UCT students, the racial segregation, interracial dating, xenophobia, etc etc. She's Christian and invites us to go to a black church with her which sounds a lot like black churches in American (gospel music, a lot of soul). I plan on taking her up on this offer. I hope that Cape Town can offer some sort of spiritual knowledge for me too- I feel like I need more God in my life. 

In terms of partying, almost everything happens on Long St. which is where most of Cape Town's clubs and bars are. It's kind of depressing though because poor children will run up to you and ask you for money and you have to be really cold and turn away or else they will hassle you till the morning dawn. People will also come up to you and offer weed and ecstasy- apparently prostitution is pretty common too. I've been to a couple bars and clubs on Long St., they're chill- not too different from the states. Funny enough (and really suckily) a lot of the prostitutes here seem to be asian. I was sitting at dinner the other night and an asian women came up to me and started talking mad fast to me in Chinese. She then propositioned the entire table for massages- I think she was soliciting more than that but whatever... I also saw an Asian woman with a gross white tourist in a club the other night- not sure if she was a prostitute or if her type is just weird white dudes that can't dance, but my spidey senses were definitely tingling and so were my friends'. It's definitely a weird country to be Asian in. Everytime I see an Asian at UCT I clap a little in my head (which isn't that often...). It's gotten to the point where I want to join the Republic of China club just to see some Asians. I don't think I'll be able to fake being a China fan though so I've given up on that notion.  

Have I mentioned how beautiful the people are here? This place was made for me. The style is super beachy beautiful- very California, Australia-esque. The men all have beautiful surfer-y shaggy hair, tans, and dress very casual. The women are really beautiful too- both white and black. I am loving the dress code and weather- my wardrobe was made for this shit. Everyday is about 80 degrees and its gets windier and cooler at night. While its blizzarding in Boston, I can't be happier to be in this warm land of ridiculously gorgeous people. 

The Terminal

Never have I felt more like Tom Hanks than on this 2-day epic journey from North America to Africa. A fairly pleasant 6-hour flight from Boston to London Heathrow’s airport on Virgin Atlantic involved individual TVs, a wide selection of movies, video games and flowing wine. The most brutal aspect of this journey was by far the ridiculously long layover in London's Heathrow Airport. For thirteen hours, I wandered around the god-forsakenly biggest airport I've ever seen, waited for the freaking South African Airways booth to open, and searched for hidden benches to sleep on without looking like a complete degenerate. I ended up sleeping on a bench outside a cafe for like 5 hours while waiting for Lindsey (my friend from Wellesley who is also doing CIEE in Cape Town, thank god!) to arrive in Heathrow. I couldn't meet her at her gate as originally planned because I'm retarded and went to the wrong area outside the airport and couldn't get back inside for hours. When I finally went inside and searched frantically for Lindsey throughout this entire airport (did I mention its HUGE), I laid down in defeat in fetal position and tried to go back to sleep so this entire nightmare would be over. Then I hear someone call my name... it's LINDSEY!!! We're both a hot mess- sleep deprived, hungry, and frazzled. She apparently was looking for me too and noticed a girl reading Obama's Dreams of My Father and realized it must be me. 

Reunited and It Feels SO Good

So me and Linds catch up and all that good stuff~ we finally board the plane for our next 12 hour flight from London to Cape Town. This flight isn't that bad as well- more wine, more movies, some Planet Blue (courtesy of Lindsey), more Obama, and sleep.

I have a confession to make. I know this is wrong and everyone thinks its gross... but I really love airplane food. It's so freaking cute! Everything is individually wrapped and portioned like the dressing, and sauce, and salad, and desert, etc. I love opening the little different packets in chronological order and mixing things together and thinking about how the airline made it keep so long. haha, I know. shameful... and I call myself a foodie... Anyways, the moral of the story is that international flights are SO much better than domestic flights- even when they are 2 day long epic adventures.