Update B

Sunday, 28 September 2008

Oh my word! It seems like forever since I’ve been able to just sit down and type some thoughts… my ability to write by hand pales in comparison to my ability to type fast enough to keep up with the thoughts that have been stored over the past days. Yuuh! Certainly, much has happened over the past week or two.

First and foremost, the biggest thing that has impacted me since my visit to Bishop’s to see the one-act plays was the downfall of my old laptop, or rather, just the fact that I dropped my computer a few inches from the ground as I was putting it away for the night. Long story short, the LCD component was damaged in the fall and after going back and forth to Cape Town and Clairemont from Rondebosch by myself over the course of the past week or two, it ended up costing me just a bit more to purchase a new laptop than to replace the LCD of the old one. I must say I’m quite happy with the new computer I bought. The one I had intended to buy was half the size of this one, very light, and portable. It also had a built-in camera and a built-in card reader. Unfortunately, due to its size, there was no CD/DVD drive. For R700, I could buy an external drive, but would have to carry it everywhere with me (which I have been told is quite a hassle). For R500-ish more, however, I was able to buy this current laptop. It has its own issues, the biggest for me of which is the lack of a card reader. It was relatively inexpensive to rectify that situation (i.e., by buying an external card reader, which is quite easy to transport); the only thing left to purchase for this is a cover for the front of the computer, as the material seems to hold onto the fingerprint/oil residue. Okay, so enough talk about the laptop. From this point on, I’m going off on memory as to some things that have happened since I last wrote in my blog (before the fall).

Well, the week after my visit to the Langa Methodist Church, my classmates, Tabisa, and I, went to Simon’s Town to relax from the hustle and bustle of study abroad life. Thankfully we had beautiful weather for the weekend. We stayed at Topsail House, which was really a renovated Benedictine nun convent. The girls stayed where the nuns used to live; the guys stayed in the Chapel. Everyone was so hospitable and friendly both at Topsail, as well as in Simon’s Town itself. Naturally, we had wonderful food throughout the weekend, my favourite of all meals thus far at Bertha’s, a sushi and oyster grill. I ended up not getting sushi; I did, however, order my dessert to come at the same time as my entrée. I’ll have to remember to post a photo of it soon. Right next door to Topsail (conveniently) is the Catholic church in Simon’s Town. On Sunday, Amy and I went to the 9am Mass (which ended at 9:40am). The church is small, but the beautiful pieces inside it made the room bigger than it probably is. The majority of the people at this particular service were older, and definitely English-speaking (there were most likely some Afrikaans-speaking folk, too), which perfectly fit the demographics of Simon’s Town. There are evening services both on Saturday and Sunday, so I can only assume that the congregations itself is relatively large for that area. The organist was celebrating her 80^th birthday, and the priest gave her a bouquet of flowers in celebration. I didn’t know either of them, but I feel it necessary to write here that it certainly felt like I had known each of them my whole life. After Mass, Amy and I went to the parish hall (the building of which I had somehow mistaken as the actual church) where we talked to a few parishioners, as well as the priest. He’s Dutch and studied some years in France before coming to South Africa, at which time he didn’t speak any English. Aside from his regular pastoral duties, he teaches history at a nearby university. He was quite enthused to tell us of his past research and visits to his research areas whereby he has concluded that the Old Testament is one of the most accurate pieces in all of history. One example he gave was of the harvesting of manna. Afterwards, and as per his suggestion, we concluded our visit to the parish with a visit to the memorial garden, which had replaced a swimming pool which in turn replaced a tennis court (or is it the other way around?).

On Thursday, the 25^th, we were all divided into groups of five, with each group visiting two NGOs. Carrie, Collin, Jess, Willie and I, first went to the Institute for the Healing of Memories. In one view, it may be seen as a contemporary, small-scaled version of the TRC. In another, its primary role is to facilitate a retreat-style setting whereby, over the course of a 2.5-day period, people are invited to share their stories of the apartheid days and release and emotions (pent-up or otherwise) to those within the group. The NGO first began as a chaplaincy programme for those who underwent torture (now the primary group is focused on trauma-related incidents). The Institute for the Healing of Memories is staffed by eight people and the work that they do is life-changing. Equally life-changing on another part of the spectrum is the work that stems out from Ikemva Labantu, a sector of which we visited: Hoops 4 Hope. In partnership with the NBA, Hoops 4 Hope puts together programming that incorporates education and life skills with sport (i.e., basketball; there’s also another group known as Soccer 4 Hope). After speaking with our contact person in the main office, we went with two others to Philippi, where we all met some kids that participated in the after-school programme. We also met the head coach of that region who talked to us about his involvement in with Hoops 4 Hope. One of the cool things is that those that he coaches as youngsters eventually grow up to become coaches, as well, under his guidance. Also cool (well, at least for me) is the fact that among his multilingual background is a bit of French.

On Friday, the 26^th, was my 20^th birthday and one of the longest birthdays that I can remember. We were picked up at quarter to 8 in the morning and got home at half past 9 in the evening. Within that period, we all became part of the Journey of Remembrance. Together, we traveled from the main office to District 6 to Langa, followed by Athlone, Gugulethu, and finally Philippi (where we spent the rest of the day, in Victoria Ngxeshe - pretty sure I spelled that incorrectly). We traveled either by minibus or on foot (mainly minibus) and upon stopping at a particular memorial, we listened to our guides’ stories about the apartheid era and their experiences at that particular time. Their stories and the stories of the memorials came alive in a way that textbooks and non-interview research can never reach. At Victoria Ngxeshe, we found ourselves interacting with very energetic kids. I believe it was Brittany and Lara who had stickers with them; many of us had our cameras and took pictures of stickered kids, kids smiling and laughing with us, kids who are living in a world that none of us (I feel safe to say) have never really experienced.

Somewhere within all of this, everyone was at one point divided into groups of four, with each group visiting a different school. Alana, Amy, Carrie and I went to Zimasa, a school highly regarded for its well attended students and faculty, school behaviour, and academics. Throughout the day, I was amazed at the pride the students had for their uniforms, much like what I saw at Bishop’s (if I didn’t have an ISP subject in mind, I probably would have taken this somewhere…), as well as the notion that one teacher told us: Zimasa is a school run by Blacks for Blacks. As such, Zimasa is very much a product of the community and, therefore, there is no fear of vandalism, etc. For me, Zimasa brought me back to my days at St. Michael’s, (though St. Mike’s definitely had a smaller building).

This upcoming week is really our last week of Xhosa before we get to the Eastern Cape and our rural homestays (where we have been forewarned is predominately Xhosa-speaking). Before leaving for our NGOs, we all presented our group Xhosa presentations with much enthusiasm and energy. Amy, Kelsi and I tried giving directions to Emma with varying levels of complexity and speeds, with her having the right directions in the end. Today, I gave a speech in 95 percent Xhosa and 5 percent audible nervousness at our Langa homestay party. I heard some reactions of understanding as I clicked and made my way through the speech, so I assume that it was understandable. My homestay family told me I got it right, and thankfully I recorded it, so I was able to share it with Vuvu, as she was unable to make it. Mama, Sasa and Siya were there, along with the other students and their families. After Nomawethu and Shane spoke, we all had either a very late lunch or a very early dinner (Nomawethu simply called it a meal, especially as we were running on South African time, and thus lost the original taste of lunch). Instead of us being served--as we had been these past three weeks--it was our turn to serve our host families. Following the meal, was my speech, after which some of the girls danced in African, American and freestyle forms. Another group presented two skits, one regarding minibus rides to Cape Town and the other reenacting Nomawethu’s first Xhosa lessons with us. Since my slideshow couldn’t be shown as there was too much natural light in the room, we concluded our programme with our attempt at singing the South African national anthem. Shortly thereafter was dessert and dancing. I danced a bit with Mama and then we all left the party, in time to hear the new South African president address the nation.

Before I continue writing about today, my brain has switched to yesterday’s events, so I feel as though I must follow it. Since I hadn’t found my computer yet, Vuvu was kind enough to take me to a few computer centres to do some comparison shopping. Unsuccessful at either location, Bayanda, Siya and I went to Clairemont to check the computers there. Thankfully I had enough money in my account and was able to finally purchase my laptop in one of the Cavendish stores (the mall of which is amazing, btw). When we got back home, I took a nap and upon waking up began playing with my new toy. We went to Alana’s house shortly thereafter, as her host family was having a bit of a ceremony/celebration in regard to the good fortune that God had bestowed on them. The ceremony itself was rather short, but still quite meaningful. After people said some prayers and others added praises to the success and the like, they blessed their new cars. Earlier in the week, they had been making African beer (the consistency of which is relatively thick, though perhaps just a slight level higher than regular liquid drinks, if that makes any sense at all; and the taste of which is barely, yet recognizable, alcoholic) and it was the remnants of the beer that they sprinkled onto the cars. Afterwards, we all ate dinner and then Bayanda, Siya and I made it back to the house.

On a huge tangent, I would like to briefly make note of TV in South Africa, as I don’t recall ever already posting anything to that effect. In terms of basic channels, there are four in South Africa: SABC 1, SABC 2, SABC 3, and an « E » station, which I believe just stands for entertainment (I think it may even be called E4). In any case, the majority of the programmes can be divided into three main groups: American reality tv shows, soapies (at least one for every official language in South Africa, if not a combination of these languages within a single soapie, i.e., soap opera, if it wasn’t clear already), and the news (seemingly, at least one for every official language in South Africa). The usually line-up when I get home from school is the news in Zulu, « the Bold and the Beautiful », « 7 de Laan » (my favourite) (on that station, the news in Afrikaans follows), the news in English, and then the news in Xhosa, and then « Generations » (my classmates‘ favourite). I’ve been able to watch « Suvivor: Fiji » (I have no clue as to whether or not it’s finished in the States; if so, don’t tell me who wins!) and the South African version of « So You Think You Can Dance? ». One evening, during the English news broadcast, I surprisingly caught the American accent of the weather anchorman.

I suppose the last thing I want to conclude with was today’s homily message. (FYI: At 10 TNR, I am now about halfway down page three in Word.) When I first came to Langa, I went to St. Anthony’s knowing relatively little Xhosa, and I find it fitting that I went there on my last Sunday in Langa before heading off to the Eastern Cape. This time around, I got a better grasp of what was being said throughout the Mass; my only difficulty was trying to follow along with the readings in my Xhosa bible (perhaps mine’s simply a different version of the one they use?). Unfortunately, they didn’t have any songbooks, so Vuvu told me I should easily be able to find it in the Eastern Cape, especially since that’s where the songbooks they order come from. In any event, the priest concluded his homily by describing three Catholics (this also applies to Christians). The first group are those who are like kites: you need to hold onto the string, or else you lose the kite. The second are those that need to be pushed in order to believe or even participate in the Mass, just as you’d have to push a wheelbarrow. The final group are like donkeys, and are generally the best group. If a master ties a carrot to the end of a pole and dangles it in front of the donkey, the donkey moves, trying to get at the carrot. It may seem like an arduous task and perhaps near impossible to get the carrot, but the donkey will do anything for it, just as Christians follow Christ. Fr. Bafana also began his homily in a way that ties nicely to the end of his homily, referencing AA: no matter the difficulties/challenges, we must all take life one day at a time.

Until the next day I write,

MA

Update A

Following the previous entry:

Friday night, I came home from our first week of classes in Rondebosch. After putting away my things, Siya invited me to go to Bishops to see a performance of one-act plays. When we got to Bishops, he showed me around his dormitory and a bit of the campus, including their cricket field and tennis courts. Bishops is divided into seven houses (yes, think Harry Potter) and each house plays against each other. The students also have to go to Chapel every morning, as well as wear uniforms (both during the school day and at functions where the school is being represented, such as the Bishops Play Festival). Siya told me that, for them, the uniform is a symbol of the school and it is a matter of pride to wear it. The uniform consists of formal slacks, shoes, buton-down shirt, tie, and jacket. Seriously, it felt like I was at UDJ on Albion’s campus.

The evening’s performances consisted of seven parts, three dances, three plays and supposedly a professional dance group (we didn’t stay for the last bit). Of interesting note was the all-girls schools that did plays, and how they played male roles. It felt like men were clumped into a very stereotypical portrayal that worked, but was a bit awkward to watch. The dances were very beautiful and meaningful, full of form and a storyline. Most of them were cross sections of ballet, jazz, African beat, and at times, hip-hop. (Je dois écrire, malheureusement, que la première pièce que j’ai vu était le pire de tout des pièces que je verrais.) I should also note that all of these acts (minus the last one) were all done by high school students. Bearing in mind this fact, as well as the religious affiliation attached to all of them, I was quite surprised that much of the content and context of the plays, especially, were allowed to be performed (as in, I would be surprised if I saw this in the States): drugs, alcohol, rape, murder, abortion, suicide, as well as language, culture, ethnicity, history. In reality, the plays did portray just that: the historical and contemporary realities that South Africans have had to (and still do) face on a constant basis. The strongest performance was titled “Voices,” one that spoke for those who did not have a voice. At one point, one girl said “I will speak the language that I prefer. It is my right.” Another play, performed by students from Bishop, titled, “Waiting for the Storm,” was extremely good. Spoken with the obvious air of Shakespearian influence, the writing was masterfully written and could perhaps be seen as controversial yet entirely real. It followed a Muslim father and his son and the stereotypes attached to them, particularly within the context of being in the airport. Also cool was the fact that a single student provided the music for the entirety of the play (rather than having a recording).

After we got back home from Bishops, Siya and I tried watching a movie on my laptop, but to no avail as we were tired after the play. So, I packed up my things to bring back to my room and then it happened… I dropped my laptop about five inches from the ground. The battery popped out and bent a piece of the computer that I believe transports information from the CPU to the main computer screen. Mon coeur a brisé pendant mon ordinateur est tombé.

On Saturday, we aimed to go to Green Market Square and Sea Point. We took a van from Langa to Cape Town and got dropped in the vicinity where our drop-offs were the week prior. Everything didn’t look too out of place, and the group of us trekked to the open-air market. There were many vendors… many persistent vendors. Naturally, I ended up spending more than intended. Yet, overall, I was happy with the experience. I made the second of my three must-purchase purchases: my djimbe. In retrospect, though, it’s a bit too small for me, and so I’m in the process of finding a place where I can trade it in and upgrade it for a bigger size. Oh yeah, and I also have to figure out how in the world I’m going to transport it back to the States, especially if I manage to find a bigger one. In the meantime, it fits not-so-snugly into my backpack.

From Green Market Square, we headed for Sea Point. Midway through the van drive over (when we were supposed to get off), we unknowingly bypassed our stop and instead moved in the direction of Camp’s Bay. Finally agreeing that we weren’t too sure where were (and were getting hungry by this point), we got out of the van and walked to what ended up being Clifton Beach no. 4. The water was beautiful and the beach small, yet it was densely packed. After an hour or so, we continued heading on in search of Camp’s Bay and, ten minutes later, made it to our destination. We had lunch at Kuaui (sp?) and I took a bit of a catnap on the beach. The water was extremely cold, yet only took about five minutes to adjust to (okay, perhaps it wasn’t “extremely” cold). We then made our way back to Langa by 17h.

Overall, it was a highly enjoyable day, and of the many things to enjoy, the sun and heat was the rarest and best. It certainly felt like summer.

Before we got to Langa, Tabisa invited me to go to her church. This weekend, I was able to go. Tabisa goes to the Methodist Church in Langa, and now that I had this chance in South Africa, was ready for the experience; this was my first visit to a Methodist Church. The church seemed to be a bit bigger than the one at St. Anthony’s, yet by the time the service started, it was just as packed. To end the thoughts to this entry, following are some extracts of the observations written in my mini-ISP journal:

"A little girl played the djimbe (as did an even younger boy) and I noticed the djimbe I originally bought a few days prior was about the same size; definitely time for an upgrade. I also noticed that, just as at St. Anthony‘s, music played a very important role during the service. Moreover, that front, central floor space was reserved for soloists, instrumentalists and the occasional dancers. Indeed, it seemed that the room got brighter as they continued to sing.

La vie est belle

Life in South Africa is great. It's warm and sunny and now really feeling as it should be: spring. My health has continued to improve and I'm now sounding like myself again (as in, I can hear my own voice correctly).

Until my next great adventure here,
MA

I can finally update! Part 3

10 September 2008
Well, what can I say? I can say two things, really: the weather down here is so unpredictable and I’m sick. Actually, I’ve been sick since Monday and decided to see the doctor today. Before I get to that point though, I would like to mention that we’ve had so much Xhosa thrown at us, that it’s interesting how much we (collectively) have retained after only five lessons. Today was our sixth lesson, where we focused much on pronunciation, including clicks. The teacher told me that it seems as though I’ve been here in South Africa for a long time (since I can pronounce the words correctly). I’m quite glad that the practice is noticeable in my speech. In any case, after the lesson, we had a lecture on Langa history and development; on Monday, we had a lecture on the educational system in South Africa. After the lecture, we went to Lelape Restaurant, in Langa. The food was so good; I keep thinking that wherever I eat is the best place I have eaten, yet it seems to be getting better with each new place. I haven’t been disappointed with the food at all. Last night, we ate umngqusho, which is samp with beans; it’s very good. However, perhaps it was because I was sick, but I thought it was very spicy. In actuality, it’s quite tasteless unless you add spices to it. Sasa told me she didn’t add any spices.

So, anyway, I went to the doctor’s after lunch; Martin drove me to Rondebosch. On the way, I checked my temperature with the thermometer I brought. He said that the particular one I have is brilliant. It’s a very simple one to use, with a digital reader. What’s really cool is that it illuminates with a different colour, depending on the temperature: a good reading is green, a cautionary-high reading is yellow, and a high, you-better-go-to-the-doctor kind of reading is red. I got to the office about half an hour earlier than my scheduled appointment, so I had to wait around for a bit. However, I saw him on time, went through the checkup and was out the door in about ten to fifteen minutes. Prescriptions in hand, Martin and I walked to Clicks, a pharmacy store, and got my prescriptions filled within about five minutes. We were on our way back to Langa around 4pm; my appointment was at 3:30pm. Try going through all that in the States!

Part B:
For dinner, we had chicken (which, if my parents are reading this tastes just like the chicken you cook with that light green vegetable and the sabow (probably spelling that wrong); usually cooked with small dark green leaves of some kind, too…), and rice with a soup with tomato soaked into the rice, and some cabbage with carrots. I would have taken a picture of it (naturally), but I had given my camera to Elisabeth to take photos of Langa, as I was at the doctor’s office during the tour. Thanks Elisabeth!

Siya came back from his leadership camp today and told me that he’s got a field hockey game coming up, and will be starting with cricket soon. Hopefully I can see him play either/both sometime before I leave. He taught me how to play Crazy 8’s with a normal deck of playing cards, and he, Bayanda and I played many rounds before dinner. It was cool to see their interaction with each other.

One of the most fascinating things I’ve noticed is the use of the word “Preach.” Hopefully I can understand its use better; it seems like one can use it both when you’re hearing something you know is good for you but you just don’t want to hear it, almost like a broken record, or when you support what the other is saying, sort of like a “keep going” type of encouragement.

After dinner, Bayanda, Siya and I watched Epic Movie. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. Pfft.

Sobonana ngomo.
MA

I can finally update! Part 4

11 September 2008
A short entry for today: As people back home commemorate 9/11, I just wanted to note that South Africans are commemorating the death of Steve Biko, an important figure in the struggle against apartheid. After classes, we went to the University of Cape Town’s upper campus and listened to what I consider to be an eloquent lecture that brought forward the realities of living in South Africa. I shall not write about what others thought, but I will write that it certainly got us talking afterwards.

For dinner, I had beef (which, once again, reminded me about Filipino cooking back home in Michigan) along with pap and many “soft” vegetables—pumpkin, potato and another one I couldn’t quite tell in its cooked state. The meat was great (I even had tomato sauce with it!). As for the other foods, they were great on their own. However, try eating a bunch of that at once and eh… but still very good!

MA

Ps/ I’m feeling extremely better than the past few days, and the weather has been cooperating much more!

I can finally update! Part 2

7 September 2008
Well, just as I thought, I have so much to say about my first South African Mass, and as always, I hope I write down everything I wish to write.

After my breakfast of cornflakes with sugar (which definitely tasted like Frosted Flakes) and leftover chocolate chip muffin from Cape Town, I headed off to Mass at the Catholic church in Langa. Siya, Bayanda and I left ahead of everyone else and through the cold wind, which definitely made me feel as though I wasn’t experiencing a Michigan fall after all, we made it to St. Anthony’s. The structure of the church looked like a quaint little building, but I had eventually witnessed that it holds a lot more than I thought. In any case, there was a raised pulpit with a bit of an enclosure (which I hadn’t expected) and instead of being separate, the choir was a part of the congregation in the front of the church. I didn’t see any choir books in the pews and soon found out that everyone brings their own copy. (Side note: I need to buy a copy.)

The Mass opened up with two songs, both in Xhosa and the second one welcoming the altar servers and priest. Then, I sat in my seat following the order of the Mass, but still equally lost, as everything was said almost entirely in Xhosa. As I was toward the back of the Church, it was a little difficult to hear, but I eventually heard (often too late) a language I recognised and could actually participate in. Seamlessly, the readers, priest and congregation transitioned from Xhosa to Latin to English back and around again. Each section wasn’t translated into each of these languages, but rather, different sections were basically monolingual. For example, the opening greeting was in Xhosa, as well as the first reading, and the second reading was in English. I also caught the Gloria, a few Sanctus, some Ave Marias, a Thixo (God) now and again, Molweni (Hello), many enkosi’s (thank you), and so forth. Luckily I remembered the order of Mass pretty well to follow along. The priest’s homily was delivered in both English and Xhosa; I was able to laugh along with the rest of the congregation to his English stories and jokes, yet remember feeling lost when everyone laughed at a statement said in Xhosa. A statement the priest said stuck to me when he said it: “No one can make you angry. You choose to be angry.” This got me thinking; we all certainly have so many choices to make, and likewise, we may choose to be happy and enjoy life, whether we face good or bad. From the vibe of the crowd, everyone was so lively and happy to be at Mass. I even saw many kids from the community attending and sitting by themselves (at the end of Mass they also went to school; perhaps a Sunday school type of thing?). Though I didn’t know enough Xhosa, the music still very much filled me. As I heard what felt like Gospel/praise music, I was emotionally charged to see everyone swaying and perhaps semi-dancing in the music to the beat of the sounds, a beat that brought to mind a single, controllable heartbeat for the community. Even the priest was quite enjoying the music. Perhaps this may all seem like an odd image, but simply taking it from the context that I couldn’t understand the words, the musical component to it was simply amazing. Cognisant that there is a theological meaning to it, the experience was awe-inspiring. Much more than what we sing at Mass in the States was definitely sung today at Mass here in Langa; unsurprisingly, the Mass in total was two hours long.

For those environmentalist friends of mine who may be reading this, I’d also like to point out that, in the front of the Mass guide, was a very well written article entitled “Environmental Ethics Needs Reverence and Gratitude,” which is part of a larger series called “Greening the Liturgical Green Season: Faith and the Environment” (currently, Catholics are celebrating “Ordinary Time,” a period in the Church calendar that is represented in colour by the colour green).

There are a few things that I’d like to close with. First, during the shaking of hands portion of the Mass, many people moved around to shake hands and share a greeting of peace to fellow congregants. In contrast to what I see as a more or less robotic greeting back in the States, this certainly acted as a confirmation of an observation that I have been seeing regularly here: a great sense of family. In Xhosa culture, one often uses Mama, Tata, Sisi and Bhuti. Regardless of how many people are in a family, or how you’re related to someone else, you’re still basically recognised as one of the aforementioned titles. So, one’s aunt may still be considered as Mama; Cousins interact more closely as siblings. Moreover, there is a holistic sense of community involvement. The priest talked about those coming to St. Anthony’s becomes not one person’s responsibility, but the whole community’s responsibility. Within a Xhosa household, relatives or friends may drop by on a whim and many times without letting you know ahead of time; regardless, they are still welcomed in and are taken care of. This sort of community similarly reminds me of Filipino culture in so many respects. In terms of a sense of “home,” I was also moved to see that each of the altar servers wore the Coptic cross that also is represented of my home parish, the Church of the Transfiguration. Finally, a woman sitting next to me must have seen that I was a bit lost during the responsorial psalm and pointed out to me that the Xhosa version (which was being said, though the English translation was also on the Mass guide) was inside the Mass guide. It reads “Njengokuba namhlanje niliphulaphula ilizwi lakhe! Musani ukuzenza lukhuni iinhliziyo zenu.” I tried to get it right and at the right speed; by the time I was getting the hang of it, the responsorial was finished. I am entirely determined to learn this language as quickly as possible so I can work on speeding up my Xhosa.

Peace,
MA

PART B:
For dinner, we had rice, potatoes, cabbage, beans (as in pork and beans, sans pork), and chicken. As I ate the food, as has been the case with many other things here in Langa, I was reminded of home. The chicken, to me, tasted like adobo, one of my favourite foods, and the national dish of the Philippines. I explained this to Mama, Sasa and Vuvu. Vuvu, in turn, told me how she prepared the food and mentioned Worster sauce. I then followed up by explaining briefly how my mom cooks it; when I said that the chicken is usually cooked in vinegar, the reaction of the three confirmed my tasting ability. Worster sauce, apparently, is majority vinegar.

As a brief aside, Sasa wanted me to try fat cakes after Mass and so we went to a local food stand (although a better explanation on my part is that it looked more like an outdoor cooking stand with an overhung roof, much like what one may find at a sporting event. In any case, this reminded me of the stands I remember seeing in the Philippines as we walked around the neighbourhood. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get the fat cakes (Sasa told me these are very similar to our American doughnuts), but we did get some great rolls (they also top it off with what seemed like a fish paste).

Anyway, after dinner I was given my Xhosa name: Ntsikelelo (Nasal N-tsee-keh-LAY-loh), the shortened version sounding something like ‘Nasal N-tsee-Kay.’ In Xhosa, ntsikelelo means “blessed.” Mama followed up by saying that they feel blessed to have me as their first Catholic home stay student. I certainly feel equally blessed to have such a caring home stay family, as well as this amazing opportunity overall. This has been such an amazing journey so far. It’s only day 10.

I can finally update! Part 1

6 September 2008
Wow. I feel as though I have so much to catch up on since I last wrote of my South African journey. I have decided to write in both French and English, so I apologise ahead of time if you can’t read in the language I write in; I have truly begun to recognise the importance and meaning behind practicing in a language of comfort. For now, it’s the language I can think most clearly in at the time I decide to write. Soon enough I shall translate, should the demand really exist. In any event, here is the continuation of my journey, starting from three nights ago:

We had moved from the backpacker lodge in Jo’burg, and after about a two hour flight, which included a wonderful dinner (I believe I had beef with pasta), we arrived in Cape Town, where we were greeted by Tabisa (the student liaison who will be travelling with us on our journey) and Fika (the third of our daily drivers and the one in charge of arranging transports). We made our way to Sunflower (Backpackers’) Lodge, in Cape Town, by the Waterfront. After a good night’s rest, we were introduced to our home for the next month or so: the SIT classroom and facilities.

The SIT office and classroom is situated in Rondebosch, about a 5-10 minute’s walk from the University of Cape Town’s lower campus. There, we were greeted by Maggie (the Office Manager), Shane (our Academic Director who has been with us throughout our orientation week), and a few messages from previous South Africa: MSC students. We signed a few pieces of paperwork to open up our accounts while in South Africa and had a medical briefing with the programme doctor. Following lunch (I had a wonderful pizza sub and chocolate milkshake at St. –’s… the name eludes me at the moment), we had our third Xhosa lesson, the first course taught in the new classroom (SIT transferred the classroom location, as well as a few offices). After a lengthening of our introductory Xhosa base, we went to a shopping centre; we have our first formal Xhosa class (i.e., with our text book) on Monday.

At the shopping centre, I perhaps bought more than I absolutely needed, but I was very happy with what I found. Among the items is a 2010 World Cup jacket that was very much discounted (I’m guessing it’s because much of the apparel has been produced, but there’s still a bit of time before the World Cup actually takes place). If I’m not mistaken, South Africa is the first African nation to host the World Cup, and everywhere I go the World Cup has a visible presence—from the building of stadiums to renovations and additions of shopping centres to posters. Looking at my list of things I really, really, really want to get, I noticed that I neglected to include something (which I ended up purchasing at the shopping centre): a Xhosa Bible. It’s so cool but there’s no translation, so perhaps I’ll have to read it along with an English Bible; heck, I better throw in my all-French Bible too while I’m at it. Anyway, I also bought a pocket Xhosa phrasebook. Emma, Lara, Jenny, Brittney, Amy, Dyana, Elisabeth and I went to a fabulous Thai restaurant that overlooked the Waterfront. The sky was dark, but the surrounding lights reflected against the water. I ate California rolls and Satay chicken (or is it chicken Satay?). In any event, it was delicious. Dyana and I also got Shirley Temples that ended up tasting like a fruit punch sherbet with Sprite/7-Up type of drink.

On Friday, we all took part in a “drop-off”. I don’t mean to spoil it for anyone that eventually goes on the programme, but this was one of my favourite experiences so far while in South Africa. Basically, imagine “the Amazing Race” crossing “the Mole” multiply it by twenty and realise you’re actually in it, rather than just watching it. That’s how great it was. I ended up having to find my way to the Bo-Kaap Museum. As I approached the cobblestone, I realised that things looked just a bit different. I ended up asking three people for directions, and they helped me without thinking twice about helping. (Ethnographic note: people who seemed to have a better grasp of English were more easily able to help me—obviously—but if I threw in a little bit of the Xhosa I knew, those people were just as keen to helping me.) The Bo-Kaap is the Muslim area of Cape Town, once known as the Malay Quarter during the apartheid era. In retrospect, it took me a while to realise that the Bo-Kaap is where we’ll be having one of our home stays. I can’t wait to go back, primarily for the following events.

I walked to the front of what looked like a house, rather than what I would expect to be a museum, and was greeted by a woman dressed in traditional Muslim clothing. Upon entering, I paid the entrance fee and began the self-guided tour. There was so much interesting information that I shan’t write about all of it here, but in any case, I did come to learn that this museum is meant to represent what life was like for Cape Malays in the 19th century, which would explain why I walked up to a house. As I continued on, I realised that perhaps there was more to this drop-off than met the eye. It was certainly convenient that my research interests and potential direction for my ISP/thesis is on ethnolinguistics and religion. In short, I began formulating questions about the museum itself, but started to frame my thought processes around the sort of work I will soon be doing in a few month’s time. At the end of the tour, I began asking my questions and the lady who had first let me into the museum was so kind as to answer them. Even more so, I began feeling the kind of personal connections that makes me feel as though I really do have a purpose here in South Africa, that I belong here. I suppose semi-unexpectedly, I have truly begun to fall in love with South Africa. In any event, the museum worker told me about her family and the importance of Islam in her life and within the context of South Africa. I also shall not inundate my blog with my research findings per se, but I would like to mention that this first “interview” certainly built up confidence in my research and the direction I plan on taking with it. After our conversation, another museum worker took a great picture of the two of us, and the former provided me some contact info for a city tour guide. Have I mentioned already that South Africans are wonderful resources and so caring and helpful?

After I left the museum, I talked to a black South African sitting on some steps near the museum and briefly talked to her about life in the area. I’m not so sure how much we understood each other, but just sitting next to her and seeing her in her current state moved me. With that said, as I was walking down to try and find a nearby café, I stopped into a shoe shop and asked a guy in there if it was okay to ask him a few questions about life in the Bo-Kaap. He told me that his family is the only Hindu one in the area, and that during apartheid, his family was forced to move out under the laws and regulations; luckily, the business itself was allowed to stay there, and to this day, it is still in operation (and he plans on keeping it open). From what I gathered between him and the museum worker, it seems as though there is a sentiment of sadness/concern that those in the Bo-Kaap may be witnessing the encroachment of wealth and prosperity for those not originally from the Bo-Kaap, especially since that area is considered as “prime” territory. At one point, I heard a phrase that caught me by surprise: “selling one’s heritage”. How true is that today?

Along my way to finding a café, I stopped by an African music store and saw djimbes (at least I now know a price to which I can compare future djimbes). I did buy another Xhosa CD and a really sick bracelet. (I feel I must insert that I’ve recently heard/read the following terminology in the past few days: “sick”=cool, “chick”=girl, “paw paw”=papaya, “relieved”=stolen, “shame”=an expression of sympathy, “okay!”(varying tones)=you’re welcome, it’s nothing.) With that money spent, I then realised that I didn’t have that much money with me, as we were told not to bring our backpacks with us. (I had also been seeking out the Long Street Café for about an hour, with about half a dozen to a dozen people pointing me in so many directions.) After finding a bank and waiting in line for about 20 minutes, I was told that their exchange bureau wasn’t up and running. Pressed for time, I retreated to a nearby café, and ordered from the menu with the exact cost in mind (tax is already included in the prices, which makes for easier math). And that’s when it happened… two guys walked in quietly speaking in a language I thought I recognised. I quietly ate my mocha muffin and drank my fruit cocktail juice as I tried to pick out the accent and random words. I gathered up some courage and after the suspense, I was right… they were FRENCH! French flew out of my mouth so quickly I wasn’t sure if I sounded nervous or just really confident. In the end, they commented that my French is very good (who knows in actuality), which in any case comforted my fears that I would lose my French as I learned Xhosa. After our conversation, it was time to pay the bill and that’s when I found out that it was three rands more than I expected, and ordering based on exact amounts, I didn’t know what to do. Well, I explained my situation and one of the workers (perhaps even manager) explained why the costs were different (a matter of updating the menus); instead of the expected accosting and frustration, she kindly pointed me out to the nearest bank and trusted I would return to pay the bill after I exchanged my money (which I ended up doing). South Africans are so kind here! I can’t stress this enough. With time closing in on me, I decided to head over to my final destination. Along the way, two things happened. First, I came across a Methodist church and realised that it was on the same street as the Bo-Kaap, but just on the other end. Second, I walked upon an outdoor market, which means only one thing: I had to stop and look around. The first and only stall I ended up visiting had a variety of necklaces. For one necklace in particular (one for myself), the vendor took particular time for me and helped me choose a necklace that I ended up fitting me perfectly. The last act of kindness I experienced on this particular journey was on the last leg of my “mission”. I asked a street vendor where the destination was and he told me that he didn’t know where it was, but brought me to a public safety officer because he would be more likely to know. It turns out he didn’t know, but told me to wait a minute while he radioed the other public safety officers, ensuring that he would get me to where I needed to be. Eventually, he got a confirmation as to its location and walked me directly to the destination.

Everyone then met up at the classroom and debriefed this spectacle (okay, perhaps not that extravagant). Nevertheless, we all learned something from this experience and heard amazing stories as to what others experienced. Of the many things I learned, one holds much importance: in South Africa, look right, left, right, when crossing the street, rather than left, right, left, as in the States.

While I’m thinking of it, I’d like to mention that while in Jo’burg, we visited Museum Afrika, the Market Theatre (where Collin bought a bag of caterpillars, and I stumbled upon an office of the Institut de la République Française), the Constitutional Court, Regina Mundi, the Hector Pieterson Memorial and the Apartheid Museum—al of which were excellent, but not of them which I remember mentioned 1984 and/or the Kairos document (both being aspects that are important to my research).

Back to the rest of the story, after the debriefing, we all dressed up and went out to Marco’s, an African-themed restaurant. We met with many staff members and their families, including Martin’s son, and the three Xhosa tutorial leaders. After an AMAZING meal (the pasta and especially the lamb were superb), we all decided to check out Long Street and the night life. Eventually, Elisabeth, Jessica and I broke off from the rest of the group went to Tonic before settling in Jo’burg (the club, NOT the actual city two hours away by plane). We were soon joined by Brittney, and the four of us went to the adjoining club, Pretoria. There, we danced to hip-hop music (though house music is very popular) and met four local guys who were SO nice to us. One of them does stand-up was hilarious and the eight of us formed a dancing circle and had tons of fun (they even got me to dance in the middle a few times). We got a taxi afterwards and the driver (accidentally dropping us off a few buildings away) stayed close by until he was sure we got back to the lodge. I think I need not reiterate again…
Then, it happened: the day all of us were anticipating the most—the day we meet our host families. Today, we had a debriefing session with Mama (Nomawethu) and after checking out of our rooms, went to lunch. Elisabeth and I went to a nearby store and chose our meals (it’s still taking some getting used to the fact that a complete meal costs no more than ten American dollars). I, naturally, also bought some chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin (a common reaction of this being a normal thing for me was finally established within the group). We then drove to Langa and were greeted by a police officer, who filled us in on Langa, the township that is to be our home for the next month-ish. Following this, we went back to our vans (grouped just as we would be during our morning pick-ups), and one-by-one were dropped off at our home stay locations.

Prior to this, we recently (before lunch) received letters from our host families. On the way to Langa, I constantly re-read my letter from Siya, and continuously checking just to make sure that this was really happening; it certainly was. With open arms (just as Siya had told me), his family welcomed me as one of their own. I met Vuvu, Siya’s mother and soon met Mama (Nomalizo), Vuvu’s mother. I chatted with them briefly and easily transitioned to the area I was quite excited about: we (the family and I) are all Roman Catholic. I was so happy at the reaction that followed (not to say I wouldn’t be equally happier elsewhere). I then left the house just as quickly as I had come in, as Sasa, Bayanda and Siya came to fetch me, as we were all to go grocery shopping. Along the way, I spoke with Siya (of whom I had known for just a brief hour or so, based on a single letter), and began getting to know him. Sasa is his aunt, Bayanda being Sasa’s son; both Sasa and Vuvu are Mama’s daughters. Siya just recently turned 17, and though he is younger than me, I certainly look up to him—not only literally—but more so in the sense that he knows the area a lot more than I do. He speaks English, Xhosa and Zulu, and has a wonderfully deep, South African accent, undoubtedly influenced by the fact that he also recently returned from London about a month ago; he’ll be going to Argentina next year. He plays hockey and cricket, and goes to an all-boys boarding school. After our grocery stops, I visited his campus, which to me seems about as big, if not bigger, than Albion’s campus. Bayanda is certainly like a younger brother to me, and is full of so much energy it’s amazing. I also met Victor, one of Mama’s two sons.

When we got home, I helped Sasa cook dinner (and by the time she plated it, she mentioned that I should have had a picture taken of me cooking my first meal in Langa; I at least took a photo of my first meal in Langa). As we awaited the potatoes to be done cooking, Mama, Sasa, Vuvu and I talked about many things: life in Langa, the different priests in the area, languages during any given Mass, families, and so forth. I feel so lucky to be here, especially as reality is certainly matching (and exceeding) any expectations I may have had. Of the things we talked about, two things seemed to surprise them most: the number of guys in this particular group and the fact that I’m Catholic. As Shane had mentioned earlier in the week, guys are always in the minority, with two or three guys in the group; this time around, we have five. I also feel confident in saying that the five of us have bonded quite well in the past week, and I certainly hope we continue to do so. Moreover (and especially good news), of the 15 or more students Mama and her family have hosted, none of them have been Catholic. Apparently, then, I’m the first one, and I’m so excited to go to Mass tomorrow. It’s about midnight as I write this, and will have to end shortly. Mass is at 9:30am, and goes on for about two to two-and-a-half hours. It’s said in multiple languages (including Xhosa and English), and there’s to be a lot of singing. Afterwards, Siya and I are supposed to walk around Langa.

I then presented my gifts for the family. Alongside the book of Michigan that I got for them, I shared some dark chocolate with Mama and the family, and they quite enjoyed it. Moreover, they seemed to be impressed with the Target zip-up red pocket bags I got and gave each of them (Mama, Sasa and Vuvu) their own bag. I then showed them pictures from my surprise birthday party. (They said I look like my mom and my sister looks like my dad.)

After eating dinner (pasta with a homemade sauce that was of Sasa’s creation), Siya, Bayanda and I watched a movie before heading off to bed. I then commenced writing to catch all of you up with what’s been going on here in South Africa. I think I shall read a bit from my Izibhalo Ezingcwele and practice some new Xhosa phrases before I sleep.

Until next time, sala kahle!
M.A.