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.