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.

Molweni!!!

Molweni from South Africa! Sorry I haven't updated this thing in forever... even though I've been here for something like two nights. We're currently in Jo'burg right now, and I must say that the transition to this country has been fairly easy for me. Then again, it seems like much of our adventure thus far reminds me of a rather European-esque voyage. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying my time here and getting to know my classmates. There are twenty of us on the programme, our academic director, student liaison, and two drivers, that travel together, exploring, enjoying, and making the memories.

It was interesting at JFK when we slowly came together and met for the first time, as many seemed to recognise me as the creator of the Facebook group for our class. Now, I'm getting the nice vibe that everyone's getting comfortable around each other. I'm being recognised as Mark Anthony, Mark, M.A., Ma, and the occassional Mark Antony (or so it sounds).

Speaking of sounds, I'm really loving the accent down here, or rather, the variety thereof. In an area with so much multiculturalism/multilingualism, there's a heavy sense of diversity in race, ethnicity, and language. I think I'm slowly picking it up; though, I'm levitating just above a Canadian/Australian voice.

We're staying at Diamond Diggers for the time being, a backpacker's place in Kensington, Jo'burg. It's quite nice, and in a rather safe neighbourhood. The cell phone service here is pretty good, as well, as long as I can find the nice cell phone receptors... or whatever they're called.

Yesterday, we went to Museum Afrika and the Market Theatre. En route to the museum, I was so excited to see the Institution de la Republique Française as I walked into the market area. Never did I realise that there was a bit of a French presence. I was told that many folks from the DRC are in South Africa.

This morning, I couldn't make it to Mass (the closest Catholic church was in Portuguese and at 6am). So, I decided read the Mass readings, and pray in Xhosa. It was really nice just sitting in the cool air and relaxing away from the noise, early in the morning. I followed up by practicing some Xhosa phrases I found on an on-line list that was created for a World Youth Day gathering in South Africa. Today, we went to Soweto and Regina Mundi, as well as a local tourist-type restaurant called Wandies. I was sooo excited, as I have been itching to get to Regina Mundi, especially, and after having studied Soweto for what seems like forever. Today at Regina Mundi, we were fortunate to hear many young and adult performers play/sing in the church, in dedication to the Oppenheimer Trust Foundation. It certainly felt like apartheid was a thing of the past; in the back of my mind, I still remained cognisant of the events that affected Regina Mundi a few decades ago. (See Yew Perbi's works.) I told a few of my classmates the story of Regina Mundi, and they noticed the bullet holes in the ceiling. Unfortunately, I couldn't see the statue of Christ from the attack on Regina Mundi, but I did see the Black Madonna. It was very much a bit of an overwhelming experience for me.

There's so much that hasn't been touched upon here, so if I remember anything else, I'll certainly include it in future posts. One last thing: as soon as we landed in our brief layover in Dakar, my mind switched over to French... and a bit too much, I think. Currently, my recorded reflections and a pre-programme reflection are all in French; hopefully I'll remember it all after a semester of Xhosa!

Sala kahle,
MA

Officially: One Month to Go

Well, this is it. Officially, I have one month to go before getting on the plane to New York and then with the group to Jo'burg. My FURSCA research is nearly complete, I've begun learning Xhosa, my thesis is well underway, and the yearbook... well, that's another story entirely.

I've been reading up on the cool things that students I know already in South Africa for their study abroad adventures have been doing, and have seen amazing picture after amazing picture. I can hardly wait for it all to begin for me.

Current questions: Thinking psychologically

I'm beginning to wonder...

What are the psychological implications of being forced into exile and then returning back home?

Why did people (South Africans in general, as well as students, protesters, antiapartheids, etc.) leave?

Where did they go?

What did those area citizens think of them?

How did they personally change while they were away from their native land?

Did they continue to choose to speak their language(s) of choice?

What emotions did they feel when they returned home?

How did they know it was safe to return home?

What was it like to be charged and then have the charges dropped due to the “insufficient evidence” that so many had?

How did “home” change upon arrival?

Was it what they perceived?

Did aspects of the language change?

An Important Correction

I originally posted this in a group folder on 20 June 2008, referencing a presentation I had made the day before:

Over the past twenty-four hours, I have been contemplating my response to Erica's inquiry of the Soweto uprisings. Doing some internet tracking, I feel that this is indeed a much better reflection on 16 June 1976. The important correction is that the students were not marching onward to the government building in Pretoria, but rather, to Orlando Stadium.

Congregating to their final destination, and taking different routes at the site of police blockades, were thousands of students and their supportive teachers, teachers who sided with students that I believe to have demonstrated a consciousness of peace and justice. Along the way, students held up signs declaring the end to Afrikaans, and many students--as well as rising anti-apartheid leader Desmond Tutu--did believe Afrikaans to be the language of the oppressor. Indeed, English was seen as a way to communicate outside of South Africa. It was the rising language of commerce and communication, just as we see it today. So, when I also made mention of Spanish, Japanese, etc., being our "Afrikaans," I intended to drive the fact that any language other than English--the language we are familiar with and use in our daily communications--would most likely be seen as invasive and unwanted, if any other language was forced upon us as Afrikaans was on these students. Such an action may be seen as restrictive in this sense, as opposed to opening greater paths for communication. Moreover, the Afrikaans Medium Decree may also have been seen as a way to bring back more attention to the language that was often used in government but less in these educational settings, i.e. Afrikaans.

Despite the cries for peace and justice, and even the underlying call for the end of apartheid, the events of 16 June 1976 are so difficult to fathom. These students--children, brothers/sisters, best friends, perhaps even only family--faced the horrors of evil, and in my eyes, the epitome of over-the-top repressive behaviour that many adults had to face throughout different points in history: attack dogs, tear gas, guns, death, struggle, neglect, pain, sorrow, suffering. If we imagine this ever happening to our youngest of generations today, it would be hard to do, to contextualise the experience of the Soweto students.

So, in short, the students were marching a peaceful march to a protest rally (let us be further mindful that these students were also organised under student leadership) and not directly to the steps of the government halls. Try to fathom a brutally devastating reaction to one's resistance to a government practice. Is it truly possible to deal with a language issue and language policies when the other side is holding a gun instead of using words?

With this in mind (and especially now that I've definitely thought about this particular area of my research more closely), the Soweto uprisings are but a small sector of what I want to focus on this summer. Even more so, I hope to be able to have the chance to do my own first-hand account research via interviewing when I get to South Africa in the fall.

Sala kahle (Stay well)!

ps/ Alongside general info from Wikipedia, here are some other sites I found worthwhile to read in regard to the Soweto uprisings. The last source is a cool interactive map that shows the different routes leading up to Orlando Stadium. (I don't think it works in Mozilla.)

http://www.ccds.charlotte.nc.us/History/Africa/04/kistner/kistner.htm
http://www.sahistory.org.za/pages/governence-projects/june16/extract-soweto-uprising.html#events
http://www.sowetouprisings.com/site/

Poem

I recently came across this poem in my reading that I need to post now, perhaps just for my future referencing.

"Nineteen seventy-six
You stand accused of deaths
Imprisonment
Exiles
and detentions.
You lost the battle
You
were not revolutionary
Enough
We do not boast about you
Year of fire, year of ash."

--Oupa Thando Mthimkulu, regarding people's feelings of the Soweto uprising
Originally printed in Staffrider (Johannesburg), 7:3,4 (1988).
Reprinted in A History of South Africa by Leonard Thompson (pg. 238).

FURSCA - 1st entry

Molo! or Molweni! (depending on how many people are reading this right now)/[, or I suppose] Hallo! depending on who's reading this right now...

This is my first entry for my FURSCA summer, and I didn't quite realise how exciting and overwhelming everything is until this very moment. As I'm typing this intro, my mind is trying to recall everything I've done in the past few days.

Well, I arrived here this past Friday, so I suppose I'm still adjusting to the FURSCA lifestyle while everyone is assumably getting into the groove of things. In retrospect, I find it funny how I was greeted to Albion by a weekend full of storms and even a day without power. In any case, the weekend transition was great; it was really nice to see friends and colleagues from the past two years, and equally as nice to be meeting many more professors that I otherwise would never have the chance to meet. My host family's really great, and I'm excited to be back in Albion. (I'm also very happy that Rafa won his fourth straight Roland Garros. How I wish I was on the crushed brick of Paris right now.... Oh well, the Albion courts are great, too.)

After my orientation meeting with my advisor on Friday, I felt like I knew what I was doing. However, when he, another student and I came back from our first research trip to Michigan State University, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Anyone who's familiar with my research will know that most of my research interests these past couple of years has focused on the Philippines, France, and/or Catholicism. This time around, I'd say my focus is somewhat new-- and a great challenge.

In the fall, I'll be going to South Africa. From what I can tell, I'll be taking a month of classes in Cape Town, and then do a two month independent study project, potentially outside of Cape Town. I've already submitted a plan as to what I want to do my ISP on to the programme supervisors. Essentially, I'll be continuing my FURSCA work. With that said, I feel like I can explain my FURSCA project a bit.

The title of the project itself is "Linguistic Apartheid: South African Lingual Identity". I'm looking at pre-, during- and post-apartheid South African linguistic identity. As this is definitely covering a lot of territory, I'm in a constant state of trying to key in on a few topics, though I think that'll come as I near the completion of my research before writing my thesis. Since most of my research so far has centred around the Philippines, France, and/or Catholicism, I'm currently in the stage of bringing myself to that level in terms of my knowledge about South Africa. As I'm doing this, I'm trying to figure out what I really want to study. At this point, I'm thinking more of the "why" as opposed to the "what," truly making this an IS/Ethnic Studies kind of thing rather than a lot of history. Also, I'm thinking of spending a majority of my summer analysing past interviews and getting a grasp of the Soweto uprisings in 1976. The general thought coming into my project was that if Spanish reached the same level as Afrikaans and was mandated by the government to be an educating language alongside English, would American students uprise just as Soweto student rose against their government when it was declared that Afrikaans (the language seen as closely tied to apartheid) would be an educating alongside English? My answer would be no. Thinking into the future, my big question for my theisis is how post-colonial Africa views language and how it affects their identity. It means something to me to know French, understand Tagalog, know bits and pieces of German, Italian and Spanish, recently interested in Japanese, and will know Xhosa...so what does it mean for South Africans, Cameroon, Burundi, etc?

So, in summary, that's that, I suppose. I've just finished working with a single chapter in an in-depth sort of mode. The process is kind of complicated so it's taking me a while to get used to it (since I kind of just made it up a few days ago) and which would explain why it's taken me maybe about 5-6 hours just to read about 30 or so pages. After working on this project for essentially two years, I surely hope that this will work and benefit me in the end.

Before I close and begin the next chapter of my reading, I just wanted to mention (for my memory's sake, at least) that I'm both excited and surprised with the number of people who just seem to come out of nowhere and can provide tons of help with my project. It's simply amazing to be working with the connections that Albion and so many others have to offer.

Sala kahle!/Tosiens!

ps/ For the record, I'm learning Xhosa, not Afrikaans. :) If I do include Afrikaans in my entries, it'll be separated from Xhosa with a "/", as I have done here.