Exactly one year ago this week I was boarding a plane in New York City with one suitcase in tow, wide-eyed and ready for the adventure of a lifetime. And one year later, I sit in my apartment, my home, on the other side of the world, a little bit wiser, a little bit more experienced, a little bit more independent. But mostly, a little more aware of how big the world is and how much I still have to learn. In the past year I have completed the coursework for my masters degree, I have traveled to six new countries, I have met countless friends from all over the world, I have learned some (but not enough) Zulu, I’ve learned how to cook, I’ve learned how to fix a clogged drain, I’ve learned how to navigate Durban via public transportation, I’ve learned how to deal with the daily challenges of living in a new country away from my family and friends, and I have in every sense of the word had the adventure of a lifetime. And the adventure continues. I am now working on my dissertation (slowly but steadily proceeding) and have taken on a part-time job working for an NGO that is working to enhance education in South Africa. My plan is to wrap my dissertation up by April, and then… who knows?! If nothing else, I’ve learned in South Africa that making plans is pretty pointless because chances are, life will ensure that your plans do not unfold as you envision them. And so, South Africa is teaching over-organized, obsessive-compulsive Jaime to take it one day at a time.
Many people have asked me what it is I love so much about South Africa. I often give different answers, ranging anywhere from “I love the beaches!” to something as ambiguous as “I love the culture.” But one year in, I’ve finally realized a way to verbalize what it is about this country that has captured my heart… ubuntu. This is a Zulu word that has no direct translation into English, but roughly means “I am because you are.” In other words, we exist not in and of ourselves, but rather we exist as part of a community, we exist through each other. A person is a person through other people. The philosophy of ubuntu lies behind the amazingly peaceful transition from Apartheid to the post-Apartheid Era in South Africa and behind Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s preaching about there being “no future without forgiveness.” It is ubuntu that is at the heart of South African culture and what makes this country so unique and so dear to my own heart.
Let me try to explain this more clearly. In one of my classes on Social Policy last semester, the professor was talking about the South African right to health care and that every South African is guaranteed access to emergency health care, if resources reasonably allow. In other words, if it is unreasonable to use resources on one person and if these resources could be better used to benefit the community as a whole, then that person does not receive the emergency health care. I questioned the professor on this, asking if this means that South Africans do not have individual rights. And she acknowledged that because I am an American, this is a very foreign idea. In South Africa people do not have individual rights, but rather rights as part of a community, and that the greater good is more important than your individual well-being, that the greater good trumps individual rights. I guess the difference is whereas in many western countries we follow the philosophy of “I think therefore I am,” here it’s more of, I am part of a community, therefore I am.
Although I learned about ubuntu three years ago when I spent a semester here, it took me a year of living here to realize just how much this philosophy is at the very core of South African society. This was never clearer than during the holiday season. Now I’m not going to lie, it was very difficult being away from home on Christmas and on New Year’s. There is no place like home. I was, however, well taken care of by friends and by my home-stay family during the holiday season. I was warmly welcomed into the homes of friends and treated like a family member. Christmas day is celebrated here in a similar fashion to home: family and friends get together and eat a lot, the only difference being that here we wear shorts and t-shirts and go swimming on Christmas day, rather than wearing sweaters and scarves and going shoveling.
During the holiday season, which lasts from mid-December to mid-January in South Africa, no one goes to work, but rather they spend everyday having braiis (South African word for a BBQ) on the beach and having parties. Again, ubuntu prevails. If you know someone who knows someone at a party, you are also invited to the party, or wedding as the case may be. So I have spent the last month showing up at random parties and in a couple of cases weddings, to eat the food and join in the party. And every time I have been warmly welcomed, and every time I have been the only white person. Whereas I feel like I’m being a mooch or a party crasher, the ubuntu philosophy ensures an open-door policy. I once asked how people can possibly plan for a party when they don’t know how many surprise visitors may show up, and was answered with a shrug and a reply of “you just make extra food.” One day I went to a little girl’s third birthday party with a few friends because one of my friends was friends with her uncle, or something along those lines. And as soon as we sat down I was given a plate full of food and a piece of birthday cake. I laugh when I think of the photographs that I’m in the background of, and of the three year old girl someday asking “who’s the white girl at my party?”
Now I’m not going to sugar-coat this country too much. You may ask, what about the frighteningly high crime rate in South Africa? Where’s the ubuntu in the rape, murder, car-jacking, and mugging? Well I don’t have any answer except to say that when poverty and inequality are extreme, people act out of desperation. But regardless of crime, or perhaps despite the crime, ubuntu is the heart and soul of this country. As an outsider, I have been met far more often with kindness and generosity. I could give many, many examples, such as the woman on the bus who rather than giving me directions when I asked for help, actually took me by the hand and brought me to the location I was looking for. Or the fact that when someone asks you “how are you?” they actually stop and wait for a response (I’ve noticed that in America we far too often say “hey, how are you?” in passing and do not actually stop and listen).
In December, I spent a week visiting Mozambique with a friend of mine. We spent a couple of days in the capital, Maputo, and then a few days further north in a beautiful beach town called Tofo. Although the trip was hindered by a few rainy days, it was, as always, great visiting a new place, learning about a new culture, and meeting new people along the way. On the 8-hour ride from Tofo back to Maputo, the door of the mini-bus that we were in wouldn’t shut, so the driver tied it shut with rope. When that didn’t work, two men had to hold it shut. In the 18-person vehicle, we somehow squeezed about 25 people, plus their luggage. The driver neither slowed down nor swerved to avoid potholes in the road. And the woman in front of me was carrying a package which smelled like rotten fish, but which I later learned contained coconut beer, that dripped on my bag the whole ride. And so, sitting in a not comfortable seat in a stuffy and smelly mini-bus, with my legs folded under me because there wasn’t enough leg room, and a coconut carved to look like a monkey that I had purchased in Tofo sitting in my lap, I had to smile. More often than not over the past year, I have found myself in situations similar to this. Situations where I think to myself “how did I end up here?!” When I think of myself just 12 months ago, boarding the plane in New York City, both excited for what lay ahead of me and terrified that I wouldn’t be strong enough to handle what this new adventure held in store, I have to smile because I now find myself sitting with coconut-beer lady and a bunch of other strangers in a mini-bus with the door tied shut, bouncing through Mozambique, and I somehow feel perfectly at home.
As a new year begins, I hope that you all find yourselves in similar situations. Similar not in that I hope you are also in mini-buses that smell like rotten fish, but rather that you are faced both with new challenges and adventures, and with the contentment that comes with taking on these experiences. And in the spirit of ubuntu, I hope that should you find a stranger at your party this year, that you will welcome them in with open arms. Trust me, they’ll appreciate your kindness.
