26 March 2008: We are engaged!

Engagements in South African culture are a big deal. The woman who runs the NGO I work with, Nolitha, renovated her house for the engagement party of an ASU couple working with her. She cemented her floors and put down tile, got running water and indoor plumbing as well as painted her house. In the Xhosa, engagement and marriage are the same word. Culturally once you are engaged that status is more important and official than the wedding.

On Wednesday, March 26, 2008, Dustin and I got engaged!

For all you romantics out there, this was the proposal of my dreams. Dustin and I decided to go to Kierstenbosch Botanical Gardens Wednesday morning. The plan for the day was to go to the garden, grab some lunch at home, go to Greenmarket Square and hear a free jazz concert, and then have dinner at Mama Africa’s.

We entered the garden with the beautiful mountain in the background and some of South Africa’s most luscious and vibrant plants in the foreground. From there we walked around the garden for quite awhile, I mean what else do you do in a garden? Somewhere in the protea garden Dustin received a phone call for someone. He wouldn’t tell me what the phone call was about but I started bugging him with questions. As we passed my favorite tree in the garden, surround by a pond and running children, he had received his third call from this mysterious person and concluded at the end of that conversation that we would “see you soon.” From that statement I guessed that we were meeting up with someone from home, either a family member who came for work or a friend who just happened to have a spare $1,500 lying around. I know those are improbable situations but I still spent fifteen minutes interrogating Dustin as to who was coming: how did we know this person, was the person from AZ, was the person family, did Dustin know this person well, etc.

After his final conversation with the person though, Dustin finally knew where we were meeting this person. We came into view of the sculpture garden, a secluded corner of the garden that had a well-kept lawn and random pieces of rocks spread throughout it. In the corner of the garden, the last part to enter our view, was a beautiful picnic on the grass. I was speechless and amazed that Dustin had planned such a beautiful surprise for me. We ran up to the spread, laid out there were pillows, a bouquet of roses, bread, cheeses, spreads, fruit and veg, and champagne. Now here I must disclose to you that I had an idea that something might be up because of the champagne, why else do you need champagne but to celebrate something. We sat down in the shade of the mountain and talked for thirty minutes about nothing and everything. We got up after that and walked around the garden, admiring at what man can make out of such an impenetrable material.

When we got back to the blanket I began to get comfortable but during this time Dustin had gotten down on one knee. He grabbed my hand and as I stood before him, Dustin asked me to marry him. At this moment in the story, through my happy tears, I said yes and kissed him. He pulled out a blue Tiffany box and as we knelt in front of each other he put the most gorgeous ring on my finger.

For the next hour we sat toasting with the champagne to all the things we were thankful for, for all the things we hoped would be, for all the things we appreciated in each other, for all the dreams that had come true and for all the dreams we shared.

So know you have a first hand account of Dustin’s proposal. Ask him for his account I might have glazed over or romanticized parts of the story but in my memory it was a beautiful moment.

15 March 2008

I have almost conquered Table Mountain! I was ten minutes away from the summit and had to turn back but on my behalf, the work to get to the top should count as up and back twice. Now most of you will probably tell me after I explain the situation that I was stupid for attempting to hike Table Mountain this morning. That no one should ever be out in such conditions and that I need to be more responsible and yes you are right. I found out after returning that on average, ten people get blown off Table Mountain a year. On my behalf I think these people decide to stand up on the railing or climb the face or something exponentially more dangerous than the hike I was on, but for awhile this morning I did feel like I was going to blown off the mountain.

Thuy, Natalie, Matt (Natalie’s boyfriend), and I got to the trailhead at 11am. Last night was a windy night but except some lazy clouds traveling over the top of the mountain it was a beautifully clear perfect day. The hike was challenging but because it wasn’t too hot the experience wasn’t too painful. Now this hike is more like giant rock steps. Not a nice path but instead a straight uphill assent into a gorge on the side of Table Mountain. We were climbing at a nice speed and didn’t take many breaks but as we got up higher and higher the wind began picking up. My body was in a weird state: warm on the inside from the exercise but cold on the outside, like minute by minute I was freezing. I would like to compare this to leftovers being put in the fridge still warm. Oddly uncomfortable. But we continued our assent. Stopping every twenty minutes to check out or ever expanding view of Cape Town.

The entire hike changed when I was no longer able to hike on my two feet but instead had to scramble up the rocks on all fours. I came to cherish but hate the momentary calms in the wind because it often signified a large gust was on its way. Our rational for continuing on this path even though we felt it dangerous to continue was that going down hill would be worse. We were hoping to make it to the top and wait out the wind until the cable car began running again and we could get down easily.

With the summit in clear view, the goal just ahead, a group of three Americans hiked down past us. We spoke to them for just a few minutes but during that time our plan changed entirely. They said that the restaurant, where we had hoped to wait out the wind, was closed, the cable car was closed and it was 8 degrees up on top. Now I in my t-shirt and Nat in her tank…decided it was not a good idea to go into that type of weather. In a democratic decision we decided to brave the way down with the wind. Taking small steps and often sitting down to battle strong gushes of wind. The lower we got, however, the calmer the wind got until finally you could never guess the weather on top by looking around. It was once again a clear beautiful Cape Town day. With that hike under my belt I think I will take Dustin next week with me to brave it again. This time I’ll check the weather conditions on top of the mountain or at least ask a local what they think it will be like; our taxi driver often has a good idea if it is smart or not, I’ll make sure to call him up.

12 March 2008

In Africa, nothing is ever what I expect it to be. We have taken day trips that I expected to be boring and tedious but instead were glimpses into the true and undying love of God in the form of the South African scenery or people. But I have also gone into volunteering expecting a similar experience to the week before when instead my hopes are dashed and I leave with a depressed spirit.

This week’s lesson for Masizikhulise participants was how to write a CV or Curriculum Vitae (otherwise known in American terms as a resume). Simple enough lesson right? Well my eyes were opened to the lack of opportunity that has been available to some of these young men. I went around the group asking what career they were hoping to get into. Two of the four men wanted to be call center workers, one a typist and one same as last week hoped to counsel kids on life skills and HIV/AIDS. The first three then told me about how each could not achieve that job because they didn’t have the right certifications. For example one guy needed the call center certification class to get a job, another had that class but needed training in insurance sales to get a job, the typists had been trained but had to have passed Matric (graduated from high school basically). None of the men I worked with had graduated from high school and none had any college experience.

If I decided today that I wanted to become a doctor, I could change the course of my life and begin taking science classes. I could find help in applying for medical school, I could get a loan, I could move to a different city if I only got accepted in Philadelphia…I have some mobility, some power in choosing where my life is going. But if you noticed most of what I just listed has to do with education. Until coming here I have not really seen the true value of education. At home I take it for granted. But even at home, education is the ticket to a middle class life. Instead I was working with these four men trying to make handyman and Spur server look good on their CVs.

I left Khyalitsha worrying that no matter how fancy or initiative-driven their CV looked, many of the people in the Masizikhulise program will forever have a disconnect from where they would like to be and where they can actually reach. I would just like to ask for your prayers that God will give me discernment on how to reach into these people’s lives and show them God’s grace and hope. Also that he will bless their endeavors. The scariest thing about working with these people is that in the end if they don’t have jobs it will be a disappointing end to a great program. Well, God’s merciful will be done!

5 March 2008

Looking back, my expectations for my volunteering were met. As much as I set out not to have expectations for my semester here in South Africa, they too have been met and exceeded. I am unsure why I decided, as I sat in the airport on the way to D.C. a small jump compared to the large one I would make over the Atlantic and into the Southern Hemisphere, that I should try to guess and picture in my mind what my experience would be like. Cape Town is unlike any place I have ever been. Anywhere I look I see how stunningly beautiful Africa is. The people are friendly, the town open to be explored…all in all I was wrong in what I imagined and I am happy I was.

So back to volunteering, I just returned from three hours in Khyelitsha, a Xhosa-speaking township outside of Cape Town. Four other students and I had been working with adults; speaking with them about employment. The three hours had been so enriching, the discussion lively, and the people open. I had no hope for such a smart and driven group; that was my own fault, but today I met the new generation that many in the community lay their hope for the future on. I have never seen what lack of opportunity looks like. Back at home I could become anything I wanted…If I needed a class or degree to achieve my career goals then I would take the class or get that degree. This is not so for the people I had circled around me. Each of them had felt the effects of Apartheid, the effects of under-funded schools, the effects of supporting their families financially. Each person around me decided they would take it upon themselves to make their life better.

I was in awe of the careers most of them wanted to pursue. One man, Chris, wants to learn conflict resolution tactics and counsel community members. Another, Attwel, wants to spread awareness about HIV/AIDS in schools. Another, Primerose, wants to be a teacher. I was humbled by their career choices. None of those careers were for their own personal glory or even for money but they recognized skills and abilities they had and attached them to a career that would benefit their community. This is only the first day I have worked with these hopeful adults but the depth of my awareness and learning today has far surpassed my expectations of an afternoon in the townships. I can’t wait for next week!

2 March 2008

As we drove through Harare a neighborhood-like area of Khyelitsha, children played out on the street, moms and babies carried laundry home, men gathered in their Sunday attire on street corners. This is a usual Sunday. It is an interesting combination of 1^st and 3^rd world life. Even things that belong to my middle-class day-to-day routine are present, although much of that seems run down and well used.  I am on my way to meet a couple who started an NGO in Harare. This couple, Mninawe and Nolitha, began a community organization called Sinethemba in 2002. They began with a community beautification project. Enlisting the help of 200 women to clean up their neighborhood, Sinethemba mobilized the entire community to invest in itself, preparing for the future generations who would inherit their community. Since 2002, Sinethemba has started a soup kitchen, a community garden, HIV/AIDS counseling, battered women counseling, weekend maths tutoring, and a youth group. A lot for one couple to tackle.

I stood with Nolitha by the community garden and heard their heart for the community. She expressed that they have built a park and would like to add a playground to the park as well as use the net ball court they have out back to begin teaching volleyball and tennis. I was amazed to see how the project had transformed over the years. It contrasts well with my service-learning group. We students had hoped to change the world, we each wanted to start our own program, one that would tackle every problem seen in the community and we hoped to implement and have it carry off within 5 months. Sinethemba instead had filled needs as they arose. The project was not supposed to become so big but if they could help someone or solve a problem, they did it!

I think this is one of the best strategies for NGOs here in SA. As my fellow service-learners and I went about figuring out our volunteering projects, I began to questions the effectiveness of such individual and short-term projects. We have brought no new ideas to the table; many programs have been tried and failed but the programs that are truly working last through each year, changing people’s lives and slowly making a difference. I guess my realizations form into two points: first, this is Africa and US timing and quick fixes do not apply here and second what all serious global problems need in order to be fixed are people in the mix of it all, fulfilling needs as they come up and maintain the big picture within their own community. Well…I am here for research, let me conduct some interviews and I will get back to you with my results.

Dwarves zipped in suitcases steal from Swedes

By Lucy Cockcroft

Telegraph.co.uk

Last Updated: 2:11am GMT 28/01/2008

Criminal gangs are using dwarves in a ruse to steal from the luggage holds of long-distance coaches, by hiding them inside suitcases, according to police.

The bizarre crime is on the rise in Sweden and officers say thieves have got away with thousands of pounds in cash, jewelry and other valuables in recent months. Gangs are said to sneak the dwarves into the luggage hold, hidden inside baggage. Then, once the journey has begun, the stowaways are free to rifle through the bags of other passengers without fear of being apprehended. Before the coach arrives at its destination the dwarves take their loot back into their suitcase, zip themselves inside and wait to be collected by their partners in crime.

Swebus, which takes thousands of British tourists on holiday across Sweden, is among the coach firms targeted. A spokesman said: “We have had reports about several thefts by dwarves on the stretch between Vasteras and Stockholm. “We’re thinking of installing video cameras.” Police in Stockholm have warned the scam is becoming a problem.

A spokesman said: “We are looking at our records to identify criminals of limited stature.”

Criminal dwarves have often been featured in books, film and folklore. The Artemis Fowl book series by Irish fiction author Eoin Colfer has a character called Mulch Diggums, a kleptomaniac dwarf. And in the Austin Powers spoof spy movies Dr Evil’s equally villainous side-kick is a dwarf named Mini-Me.

25 February 2008

After having worked to get to Kirstenbosch gardens, the best thing was to enjoy our accomplishment with a picnic. We found our way, Natalie, Sophie, Thuy, and I, from UCT to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. This trip included a bus ride to Claremont and a 40 min walk to the gardens. We entered the gardens a day after one of our hottest days and day before a storm. The sky had permitted distant clouds and a cool breeze but favored the deep blue canvas and sparkling sun that is a constant in the summers of Cape Town. The gardens are set at the base of Table Mountain and follow the contour of the mountain allowing the flora and fauna of the national park to enter into the gardens itself. The four of us made our way through the garden encountering ducks and wood gorillas and German tourists and sprinklers. After documenting well our escapades in the gardens we got tea and coffee outside and began planning our way home. I would like to suggest to all of you who visit Cape Town check out the gardens. My hope is to make it to a Sunday concert there…I’ll let you know how it is!

The Human Factor…http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1057500/

Here is the introduction to Dustin’s thesis. The topic is racism and sport in South Africa. Let him know what you think or if you have any suggestions…enjoy!

 

It was on June 24^th, 1995 that South Africa and its people changed history. The Rugby World Cup final was taking place in a country that had been banned from international sport for over 40 years for its racial “apartheid” segregation. It was South Africa’s first world cup as well as the first time it had hosted such worldwide sporting event. Rugby was well known amongst the white Afrikaaner (boers) as their national sport and past time and carried with it years of pride, history and heritage. Rugby represented the National Party (Apartheid) party and its people well. In fact, you could say there were three dominant forces to Apartheid and its supporters; NG (State) church, Politics and Rugby – a white man’s game through and through and to this point, black citizens where not allowed to play – hence the international ban. The South African rugby team started with one black player and 14 white players that year, which was a landmark to South African sport. Nelson Mandela and the SA Rugby team knew that this tournament would be a catalyst to uniting the country so before each game, the largely white team, would sing ‘Nkosi Sikelele Africa’ (God Bless Africa), an old song of black resistance, which along with winning, was infectious to both black and white South African’s alike.

In front of a capacity 65 000 people, the final that day was pitted against the All Blacks (New Zealand), the powerhouse of rugby; who were favorites to win. South Africa (Springboks) had been the underdogs of the tournament and had done surprisingly well to beat Australia and France in the earlier rounds. The significance of this game went beyond the mere emotions of a sport. This game represented the end of one of the world’s worst racist regimes, the start to a new South Africa as well as its chance to show the world what it had to offer. Newspapers around the country headlined “One team, one country” to unite South African’s in their support for the game. In a nail bitter game, South Africa and New Zealand locked heads, literally, and scrapped for points for the full allotted time to tie the game at 12 a piece. 300 million worldwide and 45 million South Africans viewers sat glued to their screens as two of the most ferocious teams in rugby stood their ground in overtime, deadlocked. In a last minute attempt, South Africa’s kicker, Joel Stransky, took a gamble and drop kicked a shot at the posts from close to midfield. It went straight through and South Africa erupted as the final whistle blew, making them the champions of the world. Kneeling on the ground, Francois Pinaar, the team captain, led the entire South African team in prayer and thanked God for the victory.

The trophy and award ceremony was boisterous and the South African crowd continued to celebrate their victory as Zulu dancers took the field whilst a South African Airways Boeing 747 flew over the stadium followed by the South African Airforce. However, the moment that will forever be remembered was when Nelson Mandela, only a year after becoming president, took the field wearing a Sprinbok green jersey – the color that many black South African’s had learnt to hate. The 95% white crowd stood in unbelieving silence as Nelson took the field until someone in the crowd began a cry that ended in a roar yelling “Nel-son, Nel-son!” With complete joy whilst wearing Francois Pienaar’s jersey, Nelson Mandela congratulated the players and then lifted the William Web Ellis cup up in front of the 62 000 white South Africans. As he prepared to hand over the cup to his captain, he said: “François, thank you for what you have done for our country.” Pienaar, with extraordinary presence of mind, replied: “No, Mr. President. Thank you for what you have done.” Without a dry eye in the country, this gesture pierced and captured the hearts of South Africa. The most divided nation, both black and white, stood side by side celebrating their countries achievement. Beyond the politics and change in racial policies, the endless car honking and parties, the dancing and celebrating; this day showed South Africa and the world that change was possible, that people from all races and walks of life were proud of calling South Africa and its people, their own. From that day on, the violent Right barely uttered a squeak; the logic of white counter-revolution never materialized; South Africa was more stable than at any point since the arrival of the first white settlers in 1652. South Africa realized that sport would play for decades to come, a vital roll in removing racism and the wrongs of the past and would unite a new South Africa.

 

Nomvula

 

We heard this band last week at a free concert in the Armchair. It is a very small venue with a stage and 10ft of space in front. The concert was amazing. I just bought their older CD but check out their website and let me know if you like it. (ps this is an American Newspaper, cool huh?!?)

South Africa tunes in to racial harmony

‘Freshlyground,’ an ethnically mixed band, fuses culture, language, and sound to unite listeners weary of crime headlines.

By Scott Baldauf | Staff writer of The Christian Science Monitor

from the February 22, 2008 edition

Johannesburg, South Africa – To find the sunny, hopeful, postapartheid “rainbow” nation that South African politicians talk about, close your eyes and turn on the radio. There, you’re likely to hear a group called Freshlyground and their delicious mixture of African jazz and R&B, and lyrics in English and Xhosa.

Possibly South Africa’s most well-known up-and-coming band, Freshlyground is a breath of fresh air in a society struggling to put its ugly racial past behind it. Its seven members are as diverse as the society they come from, a group of blacks and whites who seem to have moved beyond race.

“There are quite a large number of young South Africans who grew up in a multiracial society, who were unencumbered by apartheid, and music is starting to reflect that,” says Richard Nwamba, host of the Africa Connections show on SAfm radio network in Johannesburg.

Reaching out to one other

Today’s music-lovers are less interested in politics, says Mr. Nwamba, but they still want to make a better South Africa.

“The fact that Freshlyground is so successful shows that a lot of blacks and whites want to reach out to one another,” he says. And the fact that the lead singer of Freshlyground, Zolani Mahola, is black “shows that society now accepts blacks in position of leadership, in terms of culture.”

But the members of Freshlyground – the name of a popular South African pepper-grinder – say they’re just a band.

“Everyone likes to sit in the sun and listen to good music,” says Aron Turest-Swartz, the keyboardist. “People are hungry for positive stuff, positive energy, having an uplifting experience. I think that is the commonality.”

Freshlyground’s sound is so different from other bands – a blend of Afropop, R&B, and jazz fusion – that many music stores don’t know where to put their albums. The African section doesn’t quite work, because many of their songs are in English. The English-language section isn’t right either, because they sing in Xhosa, too. Many stores solve this by putting the albums out front, because Freshlyground is selling so well.

With South African radio stations playing mainly American hits – many of them stuck in the primordial ooze of the 1980s, a time of fond memories for white South Africans – Freshlyground is one of the few South African bands that gets airtime. Many popular bands here find that success only comes by mimicking American musical trends, particularly rap and R&B.

Peter Cohen, Freshlyground’s veteran drummer, says that after so many years of being cut off from the rest of the world, South Africans have decided to drink it all in. But the growth of South Africa’s black middle class means that there are more opportunities for musicians, and more support for music in general.

Freshlyground’s lyrics are a revolution of a gentle sort for a country tired of headlines of violent crime, government corruption, and corporate misdeeds.

When young South Africans sing along to “Doo Be Doo,” an intensely idealistic song named for its infectious chorus, they are imagining a world that doesn’t yet exist, where politicians “have agreed to honor and obey,” neighbors greet each other as sisters and brothers, and enemies become friends. When they sing along with singer Zolani Mahola’s tune “Pot Belly,” they are celebrating the curvy, non-fashion-mag human form.

Seeing rhythm, not race

A Freshlyground stage show is surprisingly vibrant, with band members taking turns to dance in a variety of African styles, and Ms. Mahola is often credited with “teaching white people how to dance.” She laughs. “Of course I didn’t do that. That’s what they are, that’s what they listen to.”

The truth is, very few people point out the band’s racial composition, she adds.

“A lot of people confront that issue [of race] in South Africa, because our past is still so much a part of our present,” says Mahola. “But when we get on stage, what we see is all these people dancing to the same rhythm. We just wanted to be regarded for who we are, instead of for race, or color.”

• Listen at www.freshlyground.com

 

21 February 2008

It was disorienting as we sat in a mini bus taxi traveling to Clifton beach to hear on the radio the latest Obamaisms. For example the radio personality defined some of the newest definitions in the media these days including:

            Obamaraderie – Goodwill and lighthearted rapport at a campaign rally

Obamateur – A person who gives rousing stump speeches for pleasure rather than financial benefit

            Barackberry – A modern alternative to the Barackie-talkie—Lauren Dula

Barackracy – Government in which Barack Obama has uncontrolled or unlimited authority over others

                        And my personal favorite…

Obamammia – A musical based on Obama’s life, with music by ABBA—Michael Sargent

Natalie and I laughed as we listened to US campaign news in Cape Town, South Africa. It goes to show something I am slowly learning and experiencing; America and the actions it takes greatly affects the world.  We cannot escape our country but I am interested in learning about through South Africa’s eyes. Even though in most cases we have to defend our country, it is worth it. I am learning so much from others.