Getting my Jesus on

I went back to the Rosebank Methodist Church today, which is super close to where I live and to campus. I went there the first time when PASSOP (the refugee advocacy group I volunteer for) invited us to be ushers for Susan Tsvangirai's memorial service a couple weeks back. Susan Tsvangirai is the new Zimbabwean Prime Minister, Morgan Tsvangirai's wife. He is the new hope for Zim, voted by democratic popular election by the people. Right now he is sharing power with president Mugabe who is supposed to be phasing out his term, an incredibly corrupt and murderous regime. There is more than a little doubt that the car accident Susan died in was actually an "accident". Mugabe's people have been known to kill people without hesitation if they were politically "misaligned" with his regime. Morgan even pulled out of the election a couple times due to the huge attacks on his supporters by Mugabe's people. It was a really cool experience to witness the coming together of the Zim community in this area to celebrate the life of an extraordinary woman. The gospel singing in Shona was my favorite part, such a beautiful language...

Anyhoo, I went back to the same church today to volunteer with the homeless ministry they have there every Tuesday afternoon. They have a special service, give out food, and donate clothing to the homeless in the area. The people in the church are wonderful people and so sweet, very generous with their time. As we were waiting to go into service, a drunk belligerent woman got into a HUGE brawl with another much older homeless man- like literally on the ground fighting, grabbing at each others clothes, pulling the man's mouth open, cursing like sailors, all that great stuff. It was pretty shocking to see happen right next to me, especially when the woman was saying "CHING CHONG" to me and calling me Japanese and all that jazz. Somehow I was an accomplice to that fight then I suppose? Then the drunk older man starts putting the pastor on blast telling him that his father was a good for nothing alcoholic, and that he's a f***-up, etc... strong words, man. That was adrenaline pumping I guess... It was especially surprising to find out that the two brawlers are actually lovers and apparently they get into these wild cursing fights all the time in the street. Who woulda thought? 

Anyways, the church service was quite nice, the singing was fun- the majority of the sermon and songs were in Afrikaans so I didn't understand much, but I always find the continuity in Christian themes comforting (the pastor talked about King David and repentance), probably because I grew up in the Church. All the homeless people were really sweet to me and friendly (other than crazy drunk lady) and they seem like generally great people. The only thing I felt bad about was I was always afraid I was going to gag at the awful smell in the small service room due to all the unwashed bodies. It was really suffocating but I kept my cool and just breathed out of my mouth. It makes me sad we live in a society where its acceptable for people to have to live like that. Where's the dignity? So unfair. A couple of the people there said they want to come back to LA with me in my suitcase, so funny how people are so impressed when they hear I'm from LA as if its the coolest place ever. (It is pretty awesome though :D) After the service, we sorted clothes for another couple hours and made packets for the different people with the clothing items they had requested. It made me feel really productive to be doing something that has some sort of tangible impact in helping people- which is really rare when you're volunteering for a larger organization. The clothing I sorted through and packed is going to provide comfort to these underprivileged people during the winter and that's something I feel is time well spent. A problem I have with my PASSOP internship is that I seem to just be doing a lot of administrative office work- filling out excel sheets and doing research, which is all well and good to a certain extent. Hope to continue working at this Homeless Shelter and working with the Adonis Musati Project (refugee humanitarian aid), a lot more rewarding than PASSOP I think... I feel really blessed to have the chance to help people at all, it's so ridiculous the disparities of privilege in this world, I'm constantly reminded of it here (don't get me wrong, it exists just as tangibly in America as well). It's also nice to be in a Church- as much as I don't agree with so much of Christian doctrine and the institution, the church is such a great community asset in its outreach for those who are in need- whether that be spiritual, emotional, or physical needs. One problem I did have with this church is that one needs to attend service in order to get the meal- which is unfair I think, its a spiritual imposition, takes all the free will and beauty out of faith, really. Almost like holding food ransom for another "soul saved".  I think the Church has a lot of power to impact so much positive change, but it also has the power (and has in the past) to cause a lot of negative destruction- imposing patriarchal mindsets, destruction of indigenous culture, evangelical superiority over other religions, etc. A boy came up to me while I was waiting for the bus and tried to tell me some regurgitated stuff about Jesus and it really annoyed me. I think that religion can be such a beautiful positive thing if only extremist Christians weren't so fanatic and imposing about their faith. Religion is definitely something I will continue to grapple with throughout my life but I think for now my religion is completely my own- based on compassion, individual dignity, empathy, love, humility and human rights. That is where I find my peace.  Amen to that! :)

Oceanview Homestay

This past weekend we stayed with a family in Oceanview, a coloured township. Most of the families in this area were forcibly removed from Simon's Town to make way for wealthy white families who wanted private beaches. They were relocated to Oceanview, to small project-like apartments in the 1950-60s. I've been looking forward to this homestay the entire trip- it's supposed to be one of the highlights. My main worry came from the nagging suspicion that 140 privileged American students going to stay for a weekend in a poor township sounded a lot like poverty tourism. However, our project director, Quinton, is coloured and has a long relationship with the people of this community and through these connections was able to find families who truly wanted to educate students about their community. We are assured that the families aren't hosting us for the money (of which a small amount is paid), but rather that they do it because they love meeting international students and teaching us about their community. 

Needless to say, I LOVED my family. My "moms" name was Iris Abrahams. She is a petite sassy corn-rowed 30 something lady who lives with her boyfriend, Curly, and their 12 yr old daughter, Kelly. They live in a small, but comfortable 2 bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room apartment that used to belong to Iris' grandmother. Iris' grandmother was a diabetic and had to get her legs amputated toward the end of her life. During this time when she was bedridden, Iris was one of the only family members to tend to her and cook for her. After her grandmother passed away, she was so used to coming straight home from work to take care of someone that she says she still has no social life. Iris is a G. She also is the rock of her family (like many women...). Her sister, brother in law, mother, and nephews are over literally everyday. Random neighbors and friends from the area are also constantly popping by to just hang out or say hi. The house is always bustling with some new visitor or cooking or blaring music videos. Iris' boyfriend Curly is funny and opionated- we talk a lot about race in SA and politics, the corruption and the lack of faith in the system. Curly and Iris met in high school and they are still together- crazy! He used to be a gangbanger, but apparently cleaned up his act when Iris got pregnant with Kelly. Kelly is a shy, reserved girl who is already recruited to play for SA's national Badminton team. Iris' cute 2 yr old nephew, Ryan, is also over all the time. He is literally the cutest boy I've ever seen. He's a little hurricane and is so hyper- crying one second and laughing the next, I had so much fun playing with him. I thought he hated me because he would cringe when I hugged him, but apparently whenever he left Iris' house he would ask his mom where the "aunties" went (ie. Me and another American, Maria, who was staying with Iris as well) SO CUTE! He makes me want kids, which is a huge feat in itself. He is my new baby and his parents agreed to give him to me. The details of this arrangement will be worked out soon... 

Anyways, Iris and co treated us unbelieveably well- constantly making food for us, force feeding us box wine and taking us camel riding on the beach. haha, though their lifestyle was so different from mine and their struggle so much more articulated, their hospitality and generosity was more than anything I could have imagined. They are amazing people- can't wait to go back and visit- I'm going in a couple weeks. When I got on the bus to leave for UCT, they stood outside the bus and waved till we left and as soon as I got back to my room, Iris SMSed me "We're fighting over the last potato, miss you already!" How freaking cute is that? The whole potato reference is because I ate like a mountain of fried potatoes they made that day... Quinton says that the point of our study abroad experience is to gain "positive experiences of marginalized people". Mission Accomplished. 

Sibu Love

Just had an amazing discussion with my roommate Sibu. Sibu is my pink-wearing, shoe-addict, soaps-watching, giggly amazing South African roommate. We were talking about race and inequality in South Africa and he started telling me how he’s from the Eastern Cape, which is one of the poorest regions in South Africa. His father left when he was 2, moved in with another woman from the same community (very scandalous, apparently) and started a new family with her. Growing up, Sibu had to watch his father’s new children get new fancy clothes and go to private school while his siblings couldn’t even afford books or decent clothes. He is really resentful of his father and when I asked said, “That bastard is dead, thank god.” I wrote in an earlier post about the huge chronic problem of absent fathers and single mother households in African communities. Sibu and his 6 siblings were raised by his grandmother, who apparently is a force to be reckoned with. His grandmother’s marriage was arranged for her when she was 16 years old. She went walking to fetch water and was kidnapped by 5 men who then took her to live at her in-laws, according to custom. She believes deeply in education and wanted to be a teacher but couldn’t because she had to be a wife and mother at such an early age. So she always pushed education on her children and her grandchildren, whom she single-handedly raised on a government pension (a pension that she walked 3 hours to get). Sibu and I both agree that women are unbelievably strong….

Sibu’s community is so poor, many people have resorted to alcoholism or prostitution just to cope. He is one of two men from his community that go to college and he is the only person in his family to have gone to college. So when he goes back home he says everyone is so curious about college life. He is a Social Work major because he wants to effect some kind of positive change in the social climate. He was talking about how much he hates school but how much is riding on him. He wanted to drop out and become a police officer but I convinced him that its important to have a degree as a safety net- it opens up your options and its something that will always follow you. He threw the police officer application across the room and then started laughing- haha. Love this dude.