Pics from my homestay sister Ntando's 4th birthday.Tuesday, March 10, 2009
waya waya
One lesson that I have learned over and over again (or in Zulu… waya waya…meaning over and over, or again and again) is cultural sensitivity. Although I consider myself a tolerant, open-minded, and sensitive person, I am continually reminded that despite all this, I am still ethnocentric. I still subconsciously, yet inherently, believe that the morals and truths that I grew up with, are correct.
For example, there is the time that I exclaimed “gross!!!” when a friend of mine talked about eating chicken feet. Perhaps the better response would be, “interesting, but I don’t think I would like that.” The same goes for other foods that are considered delicacies here, such as tripe (cow intestines) and pig ears. Just because this is not something that I grew up eating or that I would enjoy, does not mean that it is automatically “gross!!!” Lesson learned.
Similarly, everyday interactions are different here than in the US. Making a huge generalization, I would say that Americans tend to be more straight-forward and blunt, whereas South Africans are more subtle and have a tendency to beat around the bush before getting to the point. For example when you start a conversation with someone here you must ALWAYS begin by greeting them and asking them how they are, even if you are asking a stranger for the time or ordering fast food. So in comes the blunt American who gets right to the point, and this is considered very rude. After some reflection, I realize that it is actually quite rude to ask for something from someone else without even greeting them. Lesson learned.
Traditions here are also usually very different than in the US. For example: weddings. There is usually the “white wedding” in the church, followed by a reception similar to those back home. The major differences being that there is an emcee who basically narrates the whole ceremony and reception, and that the bride, the groom and the bridal party/groomsmen all dance, rather than walk, down the aisle. Then the next day is umabo (sp?) which is the traditional Zulu part where the bride’s family gives gifts to the groom’s family. My favorite part of it is when the bride makes the bed (it’s the couple’s marital bed, which has been brought out into the yard). The groom then gets into the bed, and all of the bride’s male relatives beat the groom with sticks as he jumps out of bed. All in good fun. As an observer, it is easy for me to compare this to American traditions and say “well we do this” or “at our receptions we have this kind of food,” or “it’s rude to beat your new family member with sticks” etc etc. But I have learned that Zulu culture has taken centuries to evolve. And for every tradition that seems new to me, there is a long history behind it and probably a very good reason that it came to be. Again, lesson learned.
I could go on and on (waya waya) about all of the lessons I have learned in cultural sensitivity and in recognizing that my way is not always the right way, and yet I still continually run into situations where I find myself acting like my way is in fact always right. One area where I seem to run into this ethnocentric attitude a lot is traditional medicine. Most Zulu people believe in traditional medicine (or what the Western world would call “witchcraft”) to a certain extent. I’ve heard several Zulu people say “I don’t want to believe in it, but it’s strong stuff and I wouldn’t want to mess with it!” indicating that they do in fact believe in it.
Traditional medicine can be used for several purposes, from keeping your partner faithful, to bringing harm to another person, to bringing yourself good fortune. I’m currently reading a book called Sizwe’s Test by Jonny Steinberg (in South Africa the same book is published under the name The Three Letter Plague). The book follows one young man’s interaction with HIV/AIDS in his rural community in SA and his attitude to antiretroviral treatment (the drug that treats HIV). The book talks a lot about traditional medicine and its relationship with attitudes towards HIV/AIDS. The young man in the book expresses the fear that a jealous neighbor will send a demon in the night to have sex with him while he sleeps, infecting him with the deadly virus. While I’ve never heard this belief before, I have no doubt that there are many people who believe this very strongly. While working on my dissertation, I found that the belief in traditional medicine was a major deterrent to seeking antiretroviral treatment (ART) and that people first turn to traditional medicine which claims to have the ability to cure someone of AIDS, and only go to a clinic for ART after it is too late for the medicine to save them.
There are many claims that traditional medicine can be used to cure all sorts of ills. And I’m sure some of these claims are true. Afterall, aren’t most of the Western medications that we have full faith in also derived from plants and natural substances? Who’s to say that a traditional healer cannot create a medicine that cures a headache or stomach pains?
I am, however, skeptical of the ability of traditional medicine in many aspects. I find it hard to believe that it can actually cause or cure AIDS. I also find it hard to believe that it can either bring one person good fortune, or cause harm to another. But this is where cultural sensitivity comes in. I have found that many Zulu people not only believe in traditional medicine, but are scared of it. Many would find my last statement about not believing that traditional medicine can cause harm absolutely absurd, just as many of my American friends would find the idea that it can cause harm absurd. Then there are those who could argue that just believing that something is going to bring you bad luck or good luck is enough to impact the outcome.
So how does someone compromise their own beliefs with those that are integral to another culture? I’ve learned that arguing it is useless. Likewise, it would be useless to argue with a Christian that it is impossible for Jesus to walk on water. Part of the reason that it is hard for me to wrap my mind around these traditional beliefs is that I don’t have anything similar to compare it to. Americans, it seems to me, are rather rational people who don’t place much value in mythology or traditional beliefs. If anyone can think of an example similar to Zulu traditional beliefs I would be happy to hear it.
And so I have found that in a situation like this, it is best for me to recognize that a belief like this does not come naturally to me, but that at times it is necessary to suspend this disbelief and accept that perhaps I don’t know everything. Afterall, I do knock on wood and I do kiss the roof of the car when I run through a red light. And I have a lucky pink ribbon that I have tied onto my suitcase whenever I’ve traveled for the last 7 years. The one time I forgot it, I was certain the plane was going to crash. We all have different superstitions and different beliefs. And they have taken centuries to evolve, and will take more than two years for me to understand. But I will keep learning my lessons, waya waya.
An excerpt from Jonny Steinberg’s Sizwe’s Test:
“The most commonly spoken of demon in these parts is the tikoloshe. He is no more than a foot tall, has an old man’s face and a beard to his chest, and a penis so long he carries it over his shoulder. (He can, some say, turn himself into a woman in order to seduce a man.) He is visible to children and to the adults he sleeps with. His favorite habit is to befriend children. Some Ithanga [a village in Eastern Cape, SA] adults have told me that tikoloshe lived in their homes when they were young, invisible to their parents. They were pests, like monkeys, impish and naughty, forever knocking things over and stealing food.
A tikoloshe becomes dangerous when his child friends grow up and he proposes love to one of them. In combination with a human sexual partner he is a killer. He murders those his lover envies, and if she envies nobody, he demands that she present him a person to kill. He needs human blood; he is insatiable. The human being who makes a lover of him has entered a deadly pact; she must become a murderer.
It takes many months before it sinks into my head that those who speak of the shame of the HIV-positive are a hair’s breadth from speaking of the shame of witches. Like the witch, the HIV-positive woman has a sexual appetite, and, again like the witch, her sexual appetite is murderous. As much as people try to strip AIDS of evil by giving it a strictly biomedical explanation, it nonetheless remains lodged in an old and poisonous well of fear, of suspicion, and of misogyny.”
Steinberg, Jonny.2008. Sizwe’s Test. Simon and Shuster: New York. Pp. 132-133
For example, there is the time that I exclaimed “gross!!!” when a friend of mine talked about eating chicken feet. Perhaps the better response would be, “interesting, but I don’t think I would like that.” The same goes for other foods that are considered delicacies here, such as tripe (cow intestines) and pig ears. Just because this is not something that I grew up eating or that I would enjoy, does not mean that it is automatically “gross!!!” Lesson learned.
Similarly, everyday interactions are different here than in the US. Making a huge generalization, I would say that Americans tend to be more straight-forward and blunt, whereas South Africans are more subtle and have a tendency to beat around the bush before getting to the point. For example when you start a conversation with someone here you must ALWAYS begin by greeting them and asking them how they are, even if you are asking a stranger for the time or ordering fast food. So in comes the blunt American who gets right to the point, and this is considered very rude. After some reflection, I realize that it is actually quite rude to ask for something from someone else without even greeting them. Lesson learned.
Traditions here are also usually very different than in the US. For example: weddings. There is usually the “white wedding” in the church, followed by a reception similar to those back home. The major differences being that there is an emcee who basically narrates the whole ceremony and reception, and that the bride, the groom and the bridal party/groomsmen all dance, rather than walk, down the aisle. Then the next day is umabo (sp?) which is the traditional Zulu part where the bride’s family gives gifts to the groom’s family. My favorite part of it is when the bride makes the bed (it’s the couple’s marital bed, which has been brought out into the yard). The groom then gets into the bed, and all of the bride’s male relatives beat the groom with sticks as he jumps out of bed. All in good fun. As an observer, it is easy for me to compare this to American traditions and say “well we do this” or “at our receptions we have this kind of food,” or “it’s rude to beat your new family member with sticks” etc etc. But I have learned that Zulu culture has taken centuries to evolve. And for every tradition that seems new to me, there is a long history behind it and probably a very good reason that it came to be. Again, lesson learned.
I could go on and on (waya waya) about all of the lessons I have learned in cultural sensitivity and in recognizing that my way is not always the right way, and yet I still continually run into situations where I find myself acting like my way is in fact always right. One area where I seem to run into this ethnocentric attitude a lot is traditional medicine. Most Zulu people believe in traditional medicine (or what the Western world would call “witchcraft”) to a certain extent. I’ve heard several Zulu people say “I don’t want to believe in it, but it’s strong stuff and I wouldn’t want to mess with it!” indicating that they do in fact believe in it.
Traditional medicine can be used for several purposes, from keeping your partner faithful, to bringing harm to another person, to bringing yourself good fortune. I’m currently reading a book called Sizwe’s Test by Jonny Steinberg (in South Africa the same book is published under the name The Three Letter Plague). The book follows one young man’s interaction with HIV/AIDS in his rural community in SA and his attitude to antiretroviral treatment (the drug that treats HIV). The book talks a lot about traditional medicine and its relationship with attitudes towards HIV/AIDS. The young man in the book expresses the fear that a jealous neighbor will send a demon in the night to have sex with him while he sleeps, infecting him with the deadly virus. While I’ve never heard this belief before, I have no doubt that there are many people who believe this very strongly. While working on my dissertation, I found that the belief in traditional medicine was a major deterrent to seeking antiretroviral treatment (ART) and that people first turn to traditional medicine which claims to have the ability to cure someone of AIDS, and only go to a clinic for ART after it is too late for the medicine to save them.
There are many claims that traditional medicine can be used to cure all sorts of ills. And I’m sure some of these claims are true. Afterall, aren’t most of the Western medications that we have full faith in also derived from plants and natural substances? Who’s to say that a traditional healer cannot create a medicine that cures a headache or stomach pains?
I am, however, skeptical of the ability of traditional medicine in many aspects. I find it hard to believe that it can actually cause or cure AIDS. I also find it hard to believe that it can either bring one person good fortune, or cause harm to another. But this is where cultural sensitivity comes in. I have found that many Zulu people not only believe in traditional medicine, but are scared of it. Many would find my last statement about not believing that traditional medicine can cause harm absolutely absurd, just as many of my American friends would find the idea that it can cause harm absurd. Then there are those who could argue that just believing that something is going to bring you bad luck or good luck is enough to impact the outcome.
So how does someone compromise their own beliefs with those that are integral to another culture? I’ve learned that arguing it is useless. Likewise, it would be useless to argue with a Christian that it is impossible for Jesus to walk on water. Part of the reason that it is hard for me to wrap my mind around these traditional beliefs is that I don’t have anything similar to compare it to. Americans, it seems to me, are rather rational people who don’t place much value in mythology or traditional beliefs. If anyone can think of an example similar to Zulu traditional beliefs I would be happy to hear it.
And so I have found that in a situation like this, it is best for me to recognize that a belief like this does not come naturally to me, but that at times it is necessary to suspend this disbelief and accept that perhaps I don’t know everything. Afterall, I do knock on wood and I do kiss the roof of the car when I run through a red light. And I have a lucky pink ribbon that I have tied onto my suitcase whenever I’ve traveled for the last 7 years. The one time I forgot it, I was certain the plane was going to crash. We all have different superstitions and different beliefs. And they have taken centuries to evolve, and will take more than two years for me to understand. But I will keep learning my lessons, waya waya.
An excerpt from Jonny Steinberg’s Sizwe’s Test:
“The most commonly spoken of demon in these parts is the tikoloshe. He is no more than a foot tall, has an old man’s face and a beard to his chest, and a penis so long he carries it over his shoulder. (He can, some say, turn himself into a woman in order to seduce a man.) He is visible to children and to the adults he sleeps with. His favorite habit is to befriend children. Some Ithanga [a village in Eastern Cape, SA] adults have told me that tikoloshe lived in their homes when they were young, invisible to their parents. They were pests, like monkeys, impish and naughty, forever knocking things over and stealing food.
A tikoloshe becomes dangerous when his child friends grow up and he proposes love to one of them. In combination with a human sexual partner he is a killer. He murders those his lover envies, and if she envies nobody, he demands that she present him a person to kill. He needs human blood; he is insatiable. The human being who makes a lover of him has entered a deadly pact; she must become a murderer.
It takes many months before it sinks into my head that those who speak of the shame of the HIV-positive are a hair’s breadth from speaking of the shame of witches. Like the witch, the HIV-positive woman has a sexual appetite, and, again like the witch, her sexual appetite is murderous. As much as people try to strip AIDS of evil by giving it a strictly biomedical explanation, it nonetheless remains lodged in an old and poisonous well of fear, of suspicion, and of misogyny.”
Steinberg, Jonny.2008. Sizwe’s Test. Simon and Shuster: New York. Pp. 132-133
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
My corner of the world
Today is a big day. Whether you are republican or democrat, male or female, white, black or somewhere in between, it is a big day. It’s the inauguration of a new president, and what promises to potentially be a new era in the US, and the world. I’m not saying that this guy is Superman or that he can solve all the world’s ills or even that I agree with him on all of his policies; I’m just saying that he’s stirring things up and bringing hope to the world. Hope is a big deal and is nothing to be taken lightly.
Hope can be dangerous too, like the kids in Kenya that I saw on a CNN report saying that now Obama will move everyone to America. I find it highly unlikely that Obama will be opening the US borders to all foreigners. I also find it highly unlikely that he could ever possibly live up to the high expectations that have been set for him, especially those expectations abroad. While I certainly expect foreign relations to improve during his presidency, I also think there is a lot for him to focus on in the home front. Unfortunately global poverty most likely will not be his first priority. I am keeping my fingers crossed, however, that he will somehow move issues of poverty and justice a little bit higher on the American list of priorities and consciousness. I suppose my hopes are pretty high as well.
Two days ago was also a very big day, but on a personal level. It marked my two year anniversary of moving to South Africa. When I look back at the person I was two years ago, I realize that I was a bit naïve, a big optimistic and a bit wide-eyed. I like to think, however, that I am still a bit naïve, optimistic, and wide-eyed. After all, these are characteristics that I hope to keep my whole life. But I have certainly learned a lot, seen a lot, experienced a lot, and perhaps changed and grew a bit along the way. While I know my family may not be thrilled with my decisions to continually extend my stay here in South Africa, (first to finish my studies, then to take on a job), I feel strongly that this is where I want to be at this point in my life. Have I made sacrifices by being here? Certainly. There are events that I’ve missed and friends who I haven’t been very good at staying in touch with. These are things that I will always regret. But I think that regardless of what paths we take, we will always have to make sacrifices to follow through with the decisions we make and the dreams we dream. The best you can hope for is a little bit of peace in your heart, as well as a little bit of restlessness that keeps you always excited and always challenged. This is what I’ve found during my grand adventure.
I recently returned to South Africa from a three week visit home for the holidays. This trip was also special because I brought my boyfriend, Langa, home with me to meet my family and friends. It was really wonderful to finally bridge the gap between my two worlds, and as always it was great catching up with friends and family. My trip included Christmas in Rochester, then visits to NYC, Philly, and NJ, including a family reunion at Aunt Maddie’s (there’s your shout-out, Auntie M!) where I was able to see family members, some of whom I hadn’t seen in five or more years. All in all, it was great not only to see some of the people I love most in the world, but also to see that despite the distances and despite the lack of constant and immediate communication, we can fall right back into place as though I had just run out to the grocery store for an hour instead of moved across the world.
It is very interesting to have one foot on one continent and the other foot on another. This is how my life has come to feel. It is like I have two different realities in two different countries. In each there are people who are very important to me and memories which I cherish. And each life has both its struggles and rewards. I guess the great challenge for me in the future will be somehow bridging the gaps between these two lives and finding a compromise that lets me not lose too much of either world. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but what I’m trying to say is that being a foreigner living in another country is quite a unique struggle because you come to love a new place as your home and you grow and change in that country, and then eventually once you return to your home country are forced to fit a square peg in a round hole, if you will. I’m sure some of my friends who have also lived abroad can understand what I’m trying to get at.
But I’ve fallen off track. I’m still here in SA, so don’t have to worry just yet about fitting any pegs into any misfit holes. I think one way that I have changed in the past two years is that I’ve become a bit… cynical? I’m not sure if that’s the word I’m going for but I’m a bit less optimistic and my life goals are a bit less grandiose. Maybe that’s the result of having poverty and injustice and crime and disease in your face every day, and then also seeing the remarkable individuals who everyday strive to make a difference in their own little part of the world. Nothing I can do will stop the AIDS epidemic (unless I magically discovered a vaccine... unlikely). Nothing I can do will end world poverty. Nothing I can do will end injustice. It’s been there since the beginning of time and will remain until the end. All I can do is my small part, and if that means helping a few kids in South Africa get the education they deserve, then I’m completely happy to play my part. It's kind of about fighting the daily battle, even if you'll never see the conclusion to the war. I could find a job where I fight poverty and work hard everyday for the rest of my life, but I know that in my lifetime I would never see the end of poverty.
But perhaps my cynicism is also due to the realization of how much I have in common with the people I've met here and that we are all just ordinary people, doing the best we can every day. In other words, my reality here has become less about sitting in a classroom learning about the economics of a developing country and having my thoughts of the world shifted or challenged, and more about sitting in a soccer stadium cheering on the local team with my friends, or sitting down to dinner with a group of people my age, talking about the movie we just watched.
Perhaps I’ve become a little more humbled by my experience here as well. I remember as a child there was one day where ancient prophecies predicted the world would end on that day. Being a worrier even as a young child, I remember raising my concerns with my mom, who was ironing at the time. She put the iron down and said, “Jaime do you really think I would be spending my last night on earth ironing?” And this put my worries to ease. This memory helps me put my life a bit into perspective. The world keeps changing. Wars begin and end. Laws are passed and repealed. Presidents are elected and retired. The world keeps spinning, and we keep waking up every day to face it all over again, and to get our ironing done. And hopefully, somehow during that day, we are able to do something that makes a difference in someone else’s life.
This is why the revival of hope that Obama’s election has generated is so important. His slogan of “yes we can” goes far beyond “yes we can” get him elected. It means “yes we can” make a difference, “yes we can” imagine a better world, and “yes we can” be part of that change. Change does not begin with political revolutions or wars or even with grassroots protests. It begins, as Gandhi taught us, within each of us. It's about changing our own individual mindsets and doing our own little parts, while still watching soccer games and getting the ironing done everyday. So as millions of people flood the nation’s capital to witness this historic inauguration, I will be sitting on my couch on the other side of the world watching it live on TV. And someday when my children ask me where I was when Obama became president, I will say that I was on the other side of the world, living my own dream, making my own little difference in one corner of the world, and being the change that I wanted to see.
Hope can be dangerous too, like the kids in Kenya that I saw on a CNN report saying that now Obama will move everyone to America. I find it highly unlikely that Obama will be opening the US borders to all foreigners. I also find it highly unlikely that he could ever possibly live up to the high expectations that have been set for him, especially those expectations abroad. While I certainly expect foreign relations to improve during his presidency, I also think there is a lot for him to focus on in the home front. Unfortunately global poverty most likely will not be his first priority. I am keeping my fingers crossed, however, that he will somehow move issues of poverty and justice a little bit higher on the American list of priorities and consciousness. I suppose my hopes are pretty high as well.
Two days ago was also a very big day, but on a personal level. It marked my two year anniversary of moving to South Africa. When I look back at the person I was two years ago, I realize that I was a bit naïve, a big optimistic and a bit wide-eyed. I like to think, however, that I am still a bit naïve, optimistic, and wide-eyed. After all, these are characteristics that I hope to keep my whole life. But I have certainly learned a lot, seen a lot, experienced a lot, and perhaps changed and grew a bit along the way. While I know my family may not be thrilled with my decisions to continually extend my stay here in South Africa, (first to finish my studies, then to take on a job), I feel strongly that this is where I want to be at this point in my life. Have I made sacrifices by being here? Certainly. There are events that I’ve missed and friends who I haven’t been very good at staying in touch with. These are things that I will always regret. But I think that regardless of what paths we take, we will always have to make sacrifices to follow through with the decisions we make and the dreams we dream. The best you can hope for is a little bit of peace in your heart, as well as a little bit of restlessness that keeps you always excited and always challenged. This is what I’ve found during my grand adventure.
I recently returned to South Africa from a three week visit home for the holidays. This trip was also special because I brought my boyfriend, Langa, home with me to meet my family and friends. It was really wonderful to finally bridge the gap between my two worlds, and as always it was great catching up with friends and family. My trip included Christmas in Rochester, then visits to NYC, Philly, and NJ, including a family reunion at Aunt Maddie’s (there’s your shout-out, Auntie M!) where I was able to see family members, some of whom I hadn’t seen in five or more years. All in all, it was great not only to see some of the people I love most in the world, but also to see that despite the distances and despite the lack of constant and immediate communication, we can fall right back into place as though I had just run out to the grocery store for an hour instead of moved across the world.
It is very interesting to have one foot on one continent and the other foot on another. This is how my life has come to feel. It is like I have two different realities in two different countries. In each there are people who are very important to me and memories which I cherish. And each life has both its struggles and rewards. I guess the great challenge for me in the future will be somehow bridging the gaps between these two lives and finding a compromise that lets me not lose too much of either world. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but what I’m trying to say is that being a foreigner living in another country is quite a unique struggle because you come to love a new place as your home and you grow and change in that country, and then eventually once you return to your home country are forced to fit a square peg in a round hole, if you will. I’m sure some of my friends who have also lived abroad can understand what I’m trying to get at.
But I’ve fallen off track. I’m still here in SA, so don’t have to worry just yet about fitting any pegs into any misfit holes. I think one way that I have changed in the past two years is that I’ve become a bit… cynical? I’m not sure if that’s the word I’m going for but I’m a bit less optimistic and my life goals are a bit less grandiose. Maybe that’s the result of having poverty and injustice and crime and disease in your face every day, and then also seeing the remarkable individuals who everyday strive to make a difference in their own little part of the world. Nothing I can do will stop the AIDS epidemic (unless I magically discovered a vaccine... unlikely). Nothing I can do will end world poverty. Nothing I can do will end injustice. It’s been there since the beginning of time and will remain until the end. All I can do is my small part, and if that means helping a few kids in South Africa get the education they deserve, then I’m completely happy to play my part. It's kind of about fighting the daily battle, even if you'll never see the conclusion to the war. I could find a job where I fight poverty and work hard everyday for the rest of my life, but I know that in my lifetime I would never see the end of poverty.
But perhaps my cynicism is also due to the realization of how much I have in common with the people I've met here and that we are all just ordinary people, doing the best we can every day. In other words, my reality here has become less about sitting in a classroom learning about the economics of a developing country and having my thoughts of the world shifted or challenged, and more about sitting in a soccer stadium cheering on the local team with my friends, or sitting down to dinner with a group of people my age, talking about the movie we just watched.
Perhaps I’ve become a little more humbled by my experience here as well. I remember as a child there was one day where ancient prophecies predicted the world would end on that day. Being a worrier even as a young child, I remember raising my concerns with my mom, who was ironing at the time. She put the iron down and said, “Jaime do you really think I would be spending my last night on earth ironing?” And this put my worries to ease. This memory helps me put my life a bit into perspective. The world keeps changing. Wars begin and end. Laws are passed and repealed. Presidents are elected and retired. The world keeps spinning, and we keep waking up every day to face it all over again, and to get our ironing done. And hopefully, somehow during that day, we are able to do something that makes a difference in someone else’s life.
This is why the revival of hope that Obama’s election has generated is so important. His slogan of “yes we can” goes far beyond “yes we can” get him elected. It means “yes we can” make a difference, “yes we can” imagine a better world, and “yes we can” be part of that change. Change does not begin with political revolutions or wars or even with grassroots protests. It begins, as Gandhi taught us, within each of us. It's about changing our own individual mindsets and doing our own little parts, while still watching soccer games and getting the ironing done everyday. So as millions of people flood the nation’s capital to witness this historic inauguration, I will be sitting on my couch on the other side of the world watching it live on TV. And someday when my children ask me where I was when Obama became president, I will say that I was on the other side of the world, living my own dream, making my own little difference in one corner of the world, and being the change that I wanted to see.
Friday, December 5, 2008
A brief update
I am overdue for a blog update but I’m not feeling particularly inspired to write something interesting or exciting, so this will be an update in it’s most basic form.
First of all, I will be home for Christmas this year! I’m arriving in Rochester December 21 and then flying back to South Africa January 9. I’m planning on traveling to NYC, New Jersey, and Philly, so if you’re in these areas let me know and we can try to meet up.
Work is going well. It continues to be challenging and a constant learning experience, both through the research I do and through the constant cultural interactions and new experiences. I’ve recently started doing more HIV/AIDS related research, which has proved to be both very interesting, and incredibly frustrating. At times, the battles that we face seem insurmountable. And yet we fight on. I was going to share lots of shocking stats and figures with you in honor of World AIDS Day, but decided against it because it was just a list of figures that probably would mean nothing to most people. Let me just say that it is a heavy weight on my heart and on the hearts of most South African to witness the suffering of an entire nation. Everyone here is either infected or affected by the disease and the impacts will be felt and magnified for generations to come.
But it’s not all doom and gloom here on this side. There is always hope, and one of the aspects of this country that continually impresses and humbles me is the ability of the people to hold on to hope and to truly believe that things are getting better. The spirit of growth and community that exists in South Africa, despite all of the crime, poverty, corruption and disease that the media likes to talk about, is truly inspiring.
My life here in SA continues to feel more comfortable and more routine as I settle into this life and this city that has now been my home for almost two years. There are always new challenges and new adventures, but there is also the comfort of familiar faces and constant routines to counteract the never-ending newness of living in a country other than the one that I grew up in. It is still the rainy season here, which means that it rains every day without fail. There are sometimes sunny mornings, but they always end in rainy afternoons. I’m looking forward to the return of the summer sun, and thus the return to the beaches and barbeques. But for now, the rain continues. November and December showers bring January and February flowers I suppose.
So I think this is all I have to update you on for now. I’m sorry there aren’t any exciting stories or inspiring anecdotes to share. Perhaps those are better told in person anyway.
Wishing you all a wonderful and peaceful holiday season!
First of all, I will be home for Christmas this year! I’m arriving in Rochester December 21 and then flying back to South Africa January 9. I’m planning on traveling to NYC, New Jersey, and Philly, so if you’re in these areas let me know and we can try to meet up.
Work is going well. It continues to be challenging and a constant learning experience, both through the research I do and through the constant cultural interactions and new experiences. I’ve recently started doing more HIV/AIDS related research, which has proved to be both very interesting, and incredibly frustrating. At times, the battles that we face seem insurmountable. And yet we fight on. I was going to share lots of shocking stats and figures with you in honor of World AIDS Day, but decided against it because it was just a list of figures that probably would mean nothing to most people. Let me just say that it is a heavy weight on my heart and on the hearts of most South African to witness the suffering of an entire nation. Everyone here is either infected or affected by the disease and the impacts will be felt and magnified for generations to come.
But it’s not all doom and gloom here on this side. There is always hope, and one of the aspects of this country that continually impresses and humbles me is the ability of the people to hold on to hope and to truly believe that things are getting better. The spirit of growth and community that exists in South Africa, despite all of the crime, poverty, corruption and disease that the media likes to talk about, is truly inspiring.
My life here in SA continues to feel more comfortable and more routine as I settle into this life and this city that has now been my home for almost two years. There are always new challenges and new adventures, but there is also the comfort of familiar faces and constant routines to counteract the never-ending newness of living in a country other than the one that I grew up in. It is still the rainy season here, which means that it rains every day without fail. There are sometimes sunny mornings, but they always end in rainy afternoons. I’m looking forward to the return of the summer sun, and thus the return to the beaches and barbeques. But for now, the rain continues. November and December showers bring January and February flowers I suppose.
So I think this is all I have to update you on for now. I’m sorry there aren’t any exciting stories or inspiring anecdotes to share. Perhaps those are better told in person anyway.
Wishing you all a wonderful and peaceful holiday season!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
A political one
I wrote this update a couple of weeks ago and have been indecisive about whether or not I wanted to post it. But today I mailed in my absentee ballot, so in honor of that occasion, here's "a political one..."
In my blog updates, I tend to steer clear of politics. On occasion I will make a lefty comment about social justice or inequality, but for the most part I keep my opinions to myself and rather just tell my stories. But what with the political upheaval in South Africa and the exciting American election, in addition to the apparent collapse of global economies, I feel the need to have my say. Usually I avoid political issues because, well to be completely honest, I don’t feel like I am up-to-date enough on current events, nor do I think I’m smart enough to really understand what’s going on or to share my analysis. So let that be a disclaimer that what follows is the opinion of a layperson and the observations of a young American living abroad. And if necessary, I stand to be corrected.
Let me first talk about Barack Obama. I have supported him from day one, but this is not about how I feel about Obama, because my personal opinion is not very important in the grand scheme of things. Instead I want to talk about how he is viewed from South Africa.
You would probably be shocked to know how closely South Africa (and most likely the rest of the world) is following this election. In fact, it’s a pretty safe bet that none of you can name the current president of South Africa, yet every South African can not only name the current US president, but also the presidential AND vice presidential candidates. One of the most poignant observations that I’ve made over the past year and a half or so is that Americans, for the most part, are very ignorant of what is going on in the rest of the world, whereas the rest of the world watches very closely the happenings of other countries, including America. The first thing that I am usually asked when someone finds out I’m American is “so who do you think will win the elections?” Many South Africans, in fact, know more about the elections than I do. Both the Democratic and the Republican conventions were covered daily on the evening news here. In fact, South African news reports have followed the progression of the elections from the very beginning of the primaries when Obama and Clinton were fighting it out.
One of my favorite billboards in Durban is one for satellite TV. On the bottom it says “be inspired.” Above that there are three people pictured, one of whom is our own Barack Obama. Here in South Africa, he has become the face of hope, of success, of inspiration. It’s a pretty safe bet that there is no billboard in the world that includes both the face of George Bush and the word “inspired." I think that perhaps Americans don’t realize what Barack Obama signifies to the rest of the world. Most countries do not have very favorable opinions of the US, but Obama offers the world hope for change and for a new order. He is particularly loved here, I believe, because of his own African heritage. Although he did not grow up in Kenya, his connections to Kenya and his awareness of the struggles of this part of the world are very important. Foreign policy is, after all, more than the war in Iraq.
I think my true appreciation for Barack Obama came when I saw a video clip of him and his wife Michelle visiting Kenya and publicly taking HIV tests together. While in an American context this may seem like a minor event, in an African context it is monumental. Here in South Africa, for example, there is little political leadership in responding to HIV/AIDS. What action there has been has been marked by denial and suspicion over the past two decades. This includes a South African president who publicly questioned whether or not HIV caused AIDS; a Minister of Health who rejected the use of life-saving antiretroviral drugs, promoting instead traditional vegetables; and the president of the majority political party who was accused of raping a woman with HIV without using a condom, but said he took a shower afterwards so he wouldn’t get AIDS (just so there’s no confusion… taking a shower after having sex will NOT protect you from contracting HIV).
With political leadership such as this, it is little wonder that AIDS is the leading killer in SA. So the fact that Barack Obama, an African son in his own right, would recognize the importance of getting publicly tested for HIV in Kenya, is something to be commended and taken note of. Perhaps this signifies a new type of leadership and global awareness for the American presidency and the American people.
Now onto South African politics. Things here have been a bit rocky, but certainly interesting over the last month. Jacob Zuma, the above mentioned president of the majority party (the ANC) was recently on trial for something like 170 accusations of racketeering, bribery, corruption, and money laundering. He got off on a technicality. Free, for now, from the charges, it looks as though in the April 2009 elections he will become the next president of South Africa. But first, there was a bit of a coup as he and his cronies in the ANC dethroned the current president, Thabo Mbeki. Mbeki was accused of abusing his political power and apparently had something to do with the charges brought against Zuma. I don’t understand it all, but there appears to be a growing division in the party between Zuma and the more socialist ANC members, and Mbeki and the more conservative ANC members. So in one weekend the president was removed from office and a new one was voted in shortly thereafter. This was followed by the resignation of half of the ministers, as well as the premiers of three of the nine provinces.
This has all been very interesting to observe. I’m sure this has been brewing behind the scenes for months, but publicly it took about two days. And then it was less than a week before Kgalema Motlanthe, the new president, was put into office. In addition, I am disappointed by the low standards that politicians here are held to. In my opinion, it is terrifying that Jacob Zuma, a man who was accused of rape (although he was acquitted) and who is now accused of corruption, bribery, racketeering, and money laundering, in all likelihood will become the next president of one of the most powerful and influential African countries.
The current American and South African political transitions provide an interesting juxtaposition, particularly in the context of the failing world economies. It is certainly a very exciting time for America in particular and I wait anxiously to see how the November elections unfold and then in the coming months and years to see the impacts of the election both nationally and internationally. Whether we recognize it or not, the eyes of the world will be on us as we take to the voting booths on November 4. And most of the world will be holding thumbs (a South African phrase meaning “crossing fingers”) that January 20, 2009 will bring a new order and change that we can all believe in.
Some statistics, as a reminder that we are not only American citizens, but also global citizens:
September BBC poll of 22,000 people from 22 countries across the globe
49% have negative view of American influence on the world
Obama is preferred by a 4 to 1 margin
46% think that US relations with the world would get better with Obama, 22% that relations would stay the same, and 7% that they would get worse.
20% think relations would get better under McCain, 37% that relations would stay the same, and 16% they would get worse.
When asked whether the election as US president of Barack Obama would "fundamentally change" their perception of the United States, 46% said it would while 27% said that it would not.
The US public was polled separately and the results suggest Americans also believe an Obama presidency would improve US relations with the world more than a McCain presidency, with 46% of Americans expecting relations to be improved with Obama's election and 30% with McCain's.
From: http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2008/09_september/10/poll.shtml
In my blog updates, I tend to steer clear of politics. On occasion I will make a lefty comment about social justice or inequality, but for the most part I keep my opinions to myself and rather just tell my stories. But what with the political upheaval in South Africa and the exciting American election, in addition to the apparent collapse of global economies, I feel the need to have my say. Usually I avoid political issues because, well to be completely honest, I don’t feel like I am up-to-date enough on current events, nor do I think I’m smart enough to really understand what’s going on or to share my analysis. So let that be a disclaimer that what follows is the opinion of a layperson and the observations of a young American living abroad. And if necessary, I stand to be corrected.
Let me first talk about Barack Obama. I have supported him from day one, but this is not about how I feel about Obama, because my personal opinion is not very important in the grand scheme of things. Instead I want to talk about how he is viewed from South Africa.
You would probably be shocked to know how closely South Africa (and most likely the rest of the world) is following this election. In fact, it’s a pretty safe bet that none of you can name the current president of South Africa, yet every South African can not only name the current US president, but also the presidential AND vice presidential candidates. One of the most poignant observations that I’ve made over the past year and a half or so is that Americans, for the most part, are very ignorant of what is going on in the rest of the world, whereas the rest of the world watches very closely the happenings of other countries, including America. The first thing that I am usually asked when someone finds out I’m American is “so who do you think will win the elections?” Many South Africans, in fact, know more about the elections than I do. Both the Democratic and the Republican conventions were covered daily on the evening news here. In fact, South African news reports have followed the progression of the elections from the very beginning of the primaries when Obama and Clinton were fighting it out.
One of my favorite billboards in Durban is one for satellite TV. On the bottom it says “be inspired.” Above that there are three people pictured, one of whom is our own Barack Obama. Here in South Africa, he has become the face of hope, of success, of inspiration. It’s a pretty safe bet that there is no billboard in the world that includes both the face of George Bush and the word “inspired." I think that perhaps Americans don’t realize what Barack Obama signifies to the rest of the world. Most countries do not have very favorable opinions of the US, but Obama offers the world hope for change and for a new order. He is particularly loved here, I believe, because of his own African heritage. Although he did not grow up in Kenya, his connections to Kenya and his awareness of the struggles of this part of the world are very important. Foreign policy is, after all, more than the war in Iraq.
I think my true appreciation for Barack Obama came when I saw a video clip of him and his wife Michelle visiting Kenya and publicly taking HIV tests together. While in an American context this may seem like a minor event, in an African context it is monumental. Here in South Africa, for example, there is little political leadership in responding to HIV/AIDS. What action there has been has been marked by denial and suspicion over the past two decades. This includes a South African president who publicly questioned whether or not HIV caused AIDS; a Minister of Health who rejected the use of life-saving antiretroviral drugs, promoting instead traditional vegetables; and the president of the majority political party who was accused of raping a woman with HIV without using a condom, but said he took a shower afterwards so he wouldn’t get AIDS (just so there’s no confusion… taking a shower after having sex will NOT protect you from contracting HIV).
With political leadership such as this, it is little wonder that AIDS is the leading killer in SA. So the fact that Barack Obama, an African son in his own right, would recognize the importance of getting publicly tested for HIV in Kenya, is something to be commended and taken note of. Perhaps this signifies a new type of leadership and global awareness for the American presidency and the American people.
Now onto South African politics. Things here have been a bit rocky, but certainly interesting over the last month. Jacob Zuma, the above mentioned president of the majority party (the ANC) was recently on trial for something like 170 accusations of racketeering, bribery, corruption, and money laundering. He got off on a technicality. Free, for now, from the charges, it looks as though in the April 2009 elections he will become the next president of South Africa. But first, there was a bit of a coup as he and his cronies in the ANC dethroned the current president, Thabo Mbeki. Mbeki was accused of abusing his political power and apparently had something to do with the charges brought against Zuma. I don’t understand it all, but there appears to be a growing division in the party between Zuma and the more socialist ANC members, and Mbeki and the more conservative ANC members. So in one weekend the president was removed from office and a new one was voted in shortly thereafter. This was followed by the resignation of half of the ministers, as well as the premiers of three of the nine provinces.
This has all been very interesting to observe. I’m sure this has been brewing behind the scenes for months, but publicly it took about two days. And then it was less than a week before Kgalema Motlanthe, the new president, was put into office. In addition, I am disappointed by the low standards that politicians here are held to. In my opinion, it is terrifying that Jacob Zuma, a man who was accused of rape (although he was acquitted) and who is now accused of corruption, bribery, racketeering, and money laundering, in all likelihood will become the next president of one of the most powerful and influential African countries.
The current American and South African political transitions provide an interesting juxtaposition, particularly in the context of the failing world economies. It is certainly a very exciting time for America in particular and I wait anxiously to see how the November elections unfold and then in the coming months and years to see the impacts of the election both nationally and internationally. Whether we recognize it or not, the eyes of the world will be on us as we take to the voting booths on November 4. And most of the world will be holding thumbs (a South African phrase meaning “crossing fingers”) that January 20, 2009 will bring a new order and change that we can all believe in.
Some statistics, as a reminder that we are not only American citizens, but also global citizens:
September BBC poll of 22,000 people from 22 countries across the globe
49% have negative view of American influence on the world
Obama is preferred by a 4 to 1 margin
46% think that US relations with the world would get better with Obama, 22% that relations would stay the same, and 7% that they would get worse.
20% think relations would get better under McCain, 37% that relations would stay the same, and 16% they would get worse.
When asked whether the election as US president of Barack Obama would "fundamentally change" their perception of the United States, 46% said it would while 27% said that it would not.
The US public was polled separately and the results suggest Americans also believe an Obama presidency would improve US relations with the world more than a McCain presidency, with 46% of Americans expecting relations to be improved with Obama's election and 30% with McCain's.
From: http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2008/09_september/10/poll.shtml
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
(Un-) Acclimation Proclamation
And so I have returned to South Africa yet again. I’m going to refer to this as Phase III of my South African adventure. Phase I was the four months that I spent here in 2005 studying abroad as an undergraduate. Phase II was January 2007 to May 2008, during which time I was getting my masters degree and working part time. And now Phase III, I am working full time here from August 2008 to August 2009. I’m working for an organization called the Media in Education Trust Africa (MiETA). The mission of the organization is to improve the lives of children through improving access to education, particularly in rural areas. Basically development through education. If you want to learn more about it, visit http://www.miet.co.za/. I’m working here as a researcher. I monitor and evaluate the effectiveness of the education centres programme. While I’m not sure that research is my calling in life, it has been a phenomenally eye-opening experience thus far. As I’ve said before, I think I’ve learned more by working for this organization than I did in my year of classes at UKZN.
Speaking of class work, my dissertation is completed! I finished up the 100+glorious pages in May before I went home. I heard in July that it had passed and am currently completing a couple of revisions and will bind it and be done with it. I am also in the process of discussing turning it into an article for an academic journal. This will probably be a two year process, but it’ll be cool to be able to say I’m published!
From June to July I spent some much-needed quality time at home, which included a trip to the Bahamas for my sister Corey’s wedding. During this time I also went through the process of applying for a work permit. I was finally successful after jumping through some hoops and now have a one-year work visa. It was really great to be able to spend such an extended period of time at home and to get to see so many of my friends and family. As much as I love South Africa, there is no place like home.
Which brings me to the title of this update. Last week for work I spent a few days in a rural area called Mbazwana, about 4 hours north of Durban. Driving through the rolling hills of Zululand with my colleague, listening to Zulu gospel music, and eating some roasted corn that I bought from a lady who was cooking it over a fire on the side of the road; I thought “I am SO acclimated.” My Zulu language skills, while still lacking, have improved since I’ve been working because about 90% of the people I work with our first language Zulu speakers (they also speak English). Although I can’t really take part in Zulu conversations, I can usually pick up the gist of a conversation and every now and then impress people with a token phrase that I’ve picked up. To which they exclaim “hawu!” and slap me on the back with a friendly laugh.
And as shown by the street-corn that I enjoyed, I’ve also become much more adventurous in my eating. A couple weeks ago I tried my first sugar cane straight from the field (you suck on it and it tastes kinda like maple sugar candy). While I still avoid some of the more traditional meat dishes (such as chicken feet and cow intestines) I gladly take part in street-meat (I had some lovely chicken out of a paper bag purchased on the side of the road in a rural town last week) and have even learned how to cook pretty well, if I do say so myself. I’ve learned all sorts of Zulu music and pop culture. I’ve learned to walk slower and to talk slower and to somewhat alter my heavy American accent so people can understand me more easily. And even though I always stick out as a white oddity in the townships, I feel pretty comfortable there too. And I am now living with two white South Africans, so am gaining a better understanding of white South African culture as well. Yup, I’m pretty proud of my level of acclimation.
But hold on one minute. Does a more adventurous appetite and the ability to sing along to the latest Zulu pop song really indicate acclimation? Does the ability to take part in a South African political discussion or the ability to ask a question in Zulu really mean that I’ve acclimated to a culture? After all, there are still moments when it all sort of catches up with me and I feel tired of always being out of my comfort zone. There are times when Zulu customs get so confusing (well the customs aren’t confusing, but my understanding of my role/place in them is confusing) and I want to throw my arms up in the air and sing the American national anthem while I eat a hot dog and drink some lemonade.
I always wonder at what point someone can feel fully acclimated to a new country and a new culture. I used to believe that there was indeed a point when this happened, when someone could proudly say “I am a South African” (or whatever the country/culture they’re in). But I don’t really think that’s possible. I think that no matter how long I am in South Africa, I will always be an “ex-pat.” It will never really be mine in the way that America is. (As an aside, I’m not sure I can really group the whole of “America” as my home, but that’s a debate for another day.) I have, however, become much more comfortable here. It’s funny to think that after studying abroad here for 4 months in 2005 I felt like I understood South Africa, because my understanding now is much deeper and more diverse, but still not complete.
South Africa continues to fascinate me. I am fascinated by the clash of traditional Zulu culture and “western” culture and the exciting diversity that is the product of this clash. I’m fascinated by how traditional views about the place of women in society are being shaped by more liberal western ideas. And on the flip side, how western ideas adapt to traditional ideas such as respect for your ancestors and the strength of the extended family as a social unit. A friend of mine here recently told me that the essence of being human is the ability to adapt. The ability of traditional Zulus to adapt to a changing world, and the ability of an American girl to adapt to life in a new country. And yes, a year and a half after my “adventure” began, South Africa is still a new country. My life has fallen more into a regular pattern because of my newly acquired full-time job, but every day continues to throw new challenges and new adventures at me, even when I don’t recognize them as the challenges and adventures that they are. And so I continue to be “un-acclimated,” and to learn from all of the experiences, encounters, and detours along the way.
Speaking of class work, my dissertation is completed! I finished up the 100+glorious pages in May before I went home. I heard in July that it had passed and am currently completing a couple of revisions and will bind it and be done with it. I am also in the process of discussing turning it into an article for an academic journal. This will probably be a two year process, but it’ll be cool to be able to say I’m published!
From June to July I spent some much-needed quality time at home, which included a trip to the Bahamas for my sister Corey’s wedding. During this time I also went through the process of applying for a work permit. I was finally successful after jumping through some hoops and now have a one-year work visa. It was really great to be able to spend such an extended period of time at home and to get to see so many of my friends and family. As much as I love South Africa, there is no place like home.
Which brings me to the title of this update. Last week for work I spent a few days in a rural area called Mbazwana, about 4 hours north of Durban. Driving through the rolling hills of Zululand with my colleague, listening to Zulu gospel music, and eating some roasted corn that I bought from a lady who was cooking it over a fire on the side of the road; I thought “I am SO acclimated.” My Zulu language skills, while still lacking, have improved since I’ve been working because about 90% of the people I work with our first language Zulu speakers (they also speak English). Although I can’t really take part in Zulu conversations, I can usually pick up the gist of a conversation and every now and then impress people with a token phrase that I’ve picked up. To which they exclaim “hawu!” and slap me on the back with a friendly laugh.
And as shown by the street-corn that I enjoyed, I’ve also become much more adventurous in my eating. A couple weeks ago I tried my first sugar cane straight from the field (you suck on it and it tastes kinda like maple sugar candy). While I still avoid some of the more traditional meat dishes (such as chicken feet and cow intestines) I gladly take part in street-meat (I had some lovely chicken out of a paper bag purchased on the side of the road in a rural town last week) and have even learned how to cook pretty well, if I do say so myself. I’ve learned all sorts of Zulu music and pop culture. I’ve learned to walk slower and to talk slower and to somewhat alter my heavy American accent so people can understand me more easily. And even though I always stick out as a white oddity in the townships, I feel pretty comfortable there too. And I am now living with two white South Africans, so am gaining a better understanding of white South African culture as well. Yup, I’m pretty proud of my level of acclimation.
But hold on one minute. Does a more adventurous appetite and the ability to sing along to the latest Zulu pop song really indicate acclimation? Does the ability to take part in a South African political discussion or the ability to ask a question in Zulu really mean that I’ve acclimated to a culture? After all, there are still moments when it all sort of catches up with me and I feel tired of always being out of my comfort zone. There are times when Zulu customs get so confusing (well the customs aren’t confusing, but my understanding of my role/place in them is confusing) and I want to throw my arms up in the air and sing the American national anthem while I eat a hot dog and drink some lemonade.
I always wonder at what point someone can feel fully acclimated to a new country and a new culture. I used to believe that there was indeed a point when this happened, when someone could proudly say “I am a South African” (or whatever the country/culture they’re in). But I don’t really think that’s possible. I think that no matter how long I am in South Africa, I will always be an “ex-pat.” It will never really be mine in the way that America is. (As an aside, I’m not sure I can really group the whole of “America” as my home, but that’s a debate for another day.) I have, however, become much more comfortable here. It’s funny to think that after studying abroad here for 4 months in 2005 I felt like I understood South Africa, because my understanding now is much deeper and more diverse, but still not complete.
South Africa continues to fascinate me. I am fascinated by the clash of traditional Zulu culture and “western” culture and the exciting diversity that is the product of this clash. I’m fascinated by how traditional views about the place of women in society are being shaped by more liberal western ideas. And on the flip side, how western ideas adapt to traditional ideas such as respect for your ancestors and the strength of the extended family as a social unit. A friend of mine here recently told me that the essence of being human is the ability to adapt. The ability of traditional Zulus to adapt to a changing world, and the ability of an American girl to adapt to life in a new country. And yes, a year and a half after my “adventure” began, South Africa is still a new country. My life has fallen more into a regular pattern because of my newly acquired full-time job, but every day continues to throw new challenges and new adventures at me, even when I don’t recognize them as the challenges and adventures that they are. And so I continue to be “un-acclimated,” and to learn from all of the experiences, encounters, and detours along the way.
Monday, May 26, 2008
"Waking up every morning and loving the world all over again"
Last week for work, I had to hire a car to go visit some of my organization’s sites for a project that I’ve been working on. So for the first time in my year and a half here, I learned to drive on the other side of the road and how to navigate my way around not by public transportation but rather on my own. For those of you who do not know, I have a terrible sense of direction. And by terrible, I mean I have no sense of direction whatsoever. You might say I couldn’t find my way out of a paperbag. Last Thursday, I got lost in downtown Durban at rush hour and ended up going around in circles for a pretty long time. It was scary because I’m still not overly confident driving on the left side of the road and I don’t know the streets of Durban that well (aka which ones are one-way) and the driving of South Africans is erratic at best. So I ended up in tears in a McDonalds parking lot, totally lost and feeling hopeless.
Eventually I got home, safe and sound, but I really hate being lost. I feel frustrated and mad at myself for not being able to figure it out on my own. It’s also a very scary and belittling feeling to really have no idea where you are, how you got there, or how to get back home. Someone once told me that whenever he gets lost, he figures it means he wasn’t supposed to know where he was for awhile. That maybe it’s okay to not always have direction, to not always be sure of where you’re going or how you’ll get there. But inevitably, we always manage to find our base again, to find our way back to the path where we were meant to be. And there is that wonderful sense of relief when you see that familiar landmark or that familiar face (who may or may not be laughing at you because you’re sitting in your car crying in a McDonald’s parking lot). Lesson learned.
My last blog update was a bit lacking in the hope department, but I guess you could say I’ve been able to navigate my way back to hope again over the past month. Nothing miraculous has happened. I still feel overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs to be done and by my own personal inability to make a difference. But there is something so beautiful about the enthusiasm and joy that I saw in the schools that I visited last week. For work I’m monitoring the impact of a reading program that the organization I work for is funding. So I’ve been visiting the schools that are participating and sitting in on classes and meeting with learners. I visited a third grade class yesterday where there were 120 students in the class, sitting four or five to a desk. Many of the desks didn’t have surfaces on them and almost none of the students had any books. And yet the students were SO enthusiastic and excited. When they know the answer to a question, they snap their fingers in the air and yell “teacher, teacher” while jumping up and down. Buy my favorite part was the beginning of class when the teacher had them all stand and say “I love you neighbor” and hug the person next to them. Now there must be some hope in that. Afterall, who’s to say that learning to read is any more important than learning how to love your neighbor?
During this past week I have also been reading the book I know why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. There is one chapter in which Angelou discusses faith among poor communities. She says that “People whose history and future were threatened each day by extinction considered that it was only by divine intervention that they were able to live at all. I find it interesting that the meanest life, the poorest existence, is attributed to God’s will, but as human beings become more affluent, as their living standard and style begin to ascend the material scale, God descends the scale of responsibility at a commensurate speed.” Funny that I, a person who has never had to wonder where my next meal would come from, lose hope so easily. And yet all around me people who very often have absolutely nothing, have more hope, more faith, and more joy in their hearts than I could ever imagine. It’s quite humbling. The silly things that I stay awake worrying about at night are absolutely nothing in comparison to the problems that many people face, and yet they are able to thank God everyday for what they’ve been given and have hope that things will work out.
I still feel discouraged when I visit a grade 6 class and meet a twelve year old who not only cannot read but also cannot write his own name. I get discouraged when I look around the classroom of 120 enthusiastic seven year olds and think that statistically at least 30 of them will die of AIDS. And I have been especially discouraged lately by the xenophobic attacks that have been sweeping across South Africa. In the last two weeks, something like 50 foreigners have been killed by mobs of South Africans, mostly in townships in Johannesburg, but a couple here in Durban. Some South Africans are angry about foreigners from other African countries who are taking already very scarce employment opportunities. Although I am in no way at risk (this violence is not aimed at Americans or Europeans, just immigrants from other African countries) it does strike close to home because I am also a foreigner, I just happen to be from a more acceptable country. The stories of violence are truly horrific… people being burned alive, women being raped, people being chased and beaten by angry mobs… all because they were born in a different country and do not speak the right language. Not since the last days of Apartheid has violence to this extent erupted in the townships. It has gotten so bad that the president has dispatched the army to the townships to try to keep things under control. I drove by a police station near one of the townships last week and saw a make-shift refugee camp that had been set up for about 500 foreigners who were living there temporarily. Men, women, and children, who are terrified of being attacked and murdered… all because they came to South Africa in hopes of finding a better life. It just makes you want to scream… are these not our brothers and sisters as well? Where is the spirit of ubuntu: “I am because you are.” My humanity is bound up in yours. I cannot hold another person down, without also holding myself down.
Well I seem to have navigated myself back to a feeling of hopelessness. Sometimes I guess it all just gets too heavy to carry in your heart. It reminds me of a quote that says “anyone can slay a dragon, but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero” (Brian Andreas). The world can be unjust and senseless, cruel and brutal, terrifying and confusing. But there is still hope to be had. Whether you find it in the faith of those who have nothing, in the beautiful smile of a seven year old girl who cannot read and wears tattered clothes but is still filled with joy, or in your own undying belief that the world is fundamentally good in spite of, or perhaps because of, all of the struggles. I guess if I cannot believe that the world is fundamentally good, then I don’t really know what we’re all fighting for, what the point of it is. And so I have found hope again not through my faith or through some wonderful hope-restoring event, but rather out of necessity. We must have hope. We must wake every morning and love the world, for all of its pain as well as all of its joy, all over again. We must believe that a better world is possible, and that we have a role in creating that world. Perhaps if we truly believe that, we can find our way back towards the path of hope. Perhaps it is necessary to get lost and have a good frustrated and hopeless cry every now and then, in order to be reminded of how important hope is. Without hope, we have nothing.
Eventually I got home, safe and sound, but I really hate being lost. I feel frustrated and mad at myself for not being able to figure it out on my own. It’s also a very scary and belittling feeling to really have no idea where you are, how you got there, or how to get back home. Someone once told me that whenever he gets lost, he figures it means he wasn’t supposed to know where he was for awhile. That maybe it’s okay to not always have direction, to not always be sure of where you’re going or how you’ll get there. But inevitably, we always manage to find our base again, to find our way back to the path where we were meant to be. And there is that wonderful sense of relief when you see that familiar landmark or that familiar face (who may or may not be laughing at you because you’re sitting in your car crying in a McDonald’s parking lot). Lesson learned.
My last blog update was a bit lacking in the hope department, but I guess you could say I’ve been able to navigate my way back to hope again over the past month. Nothing miraculous has happened. I still feel overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs to be done and by my own personal inability to make a difference. But there is something so beautiful about the enthusiasm and joy that I saw in the schools that I visited last week. For work I’m monitoring the impact of a reading program that the organization I work for is funding. So I’ve been visiting the schools that are participating and sitting in on classes and meeting with learners. I visited a third grade class yesterday where there were 120 students in the class, sitting four or five to a desk. Many of the desks didn’t have surfaces on them and almost none of the students had any books. And yet the students were SO enthusiastic and excited. When they know the answer to a question, they snap their fingers in the air and yell “teacher, teacher” while jumping up and down. Buy my favorite part was the beginning of class when the teacher had them all stand and say “I love you neighbor” and hug the person next to them. Now there must be some hope in that. Afterall, who’s to say that learning to read is any more important than learning how to love your neighbor?
During this past week I have also been reading the book I know why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. There is one chapter in which Angelou discusses faith among poor communities. She says that “People whose history and future were threatened each day by extinction considered that it was only by divine intervention that they were able to live at all. I find it interesting that the meanest life, the poorest existence, is attributed to God’s will, but as human beings become more affluent, as their living standard and style begin to ascend the material scale, God descends the scale of responsibility at a commensurate speed.” Funny that I, a person who has never had to wonder where my next meal would come from, lose hope so easily. And yet all around me people who very often have absolutely nothing, have more hope, more faith, and more joy in their hearts than I could ever imagine. It’s quite humbling. The silly things that I stay awake worrying about at night are absolutely nothing in comparison to the problems that many people face, and yet they are able to thank God everyday for what they’ve been given and have hope that things will work out.
I still feel discouraged when I visit a grade 6 class and meet a twelve year old who not only cannot read but also cannot write his own name. I get discouraged when I look around the classroom of 120 enthusiastic seven year olds and think that statistically at least 30 of them will die of AIDS. And I have been especially discouraged lately by the xenophobic attacks that have been sweeping across South Africa. In the last two weeks, something like 50 foreigners have been killed by mobs of South Africans, mostly in townships in Johannesburg, but a couple here in Durban. Some South Africans are angry about foreigners from other African countries who are taking already very scarce employment opportunities. Although I am in no way at risk (this violence is not aimed at Americans or Europeans, just immigrants from other African countries) it does strike close to home because I am also a foreigner, I just happen to be from a more acceptable country. The stories of violence are truly horrific… people being burned alive, women being raped, people being chased and beaten by angry mobs… all because they were born in a different country and do not speak the right language. Not since the last days of Apartheid has violence to this extent erupted in the townships. It has gotten so bad that the president has dispatched the army to the townships to try to keep things under control. I drove by a police station near one of the townships last week and saw a make-shift refugee camp that had been set up for about 500 foreigners who were living there temporarily. Men, women, and children, who are terrified of being attacked and murdered… all because they came to South Africa in hopes of finding a better life. It just makes you want to scream… are these not our brothers and sisters as well? Where is the spirit of ubuntu: “I am because you are.” My humanity is bound up in yours. I cannot hold another person down, without also holding myself down.
Well I seem to have navigated myself back to a feeling of hopelessness. Sometimes I guess it all just gets too heavy to carry in your heart. It reminds me of a quote that says “anyone can slay a dragon, but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That’s what takes a real hero” (Brian Andreas). The world can be unjust and senseless, cruel and brutal, terrifying and confusing. But there is still hope to be had. Whether you find it in the faith of those who have nothing, in the beautiful smile of a seven year old girl who cannot read and wears tattered clothes but is still filled with joy, or in your own undying belief that the world is fundamentally good in spite of, or perhaps because of, all of the struggles. I guess if I cannot believe that the world is fundamentally good, then I don’t really know what we’re all fighting for, what the point of it is. And so I have found hope again not through my faith or through some wonderful hope-restoring event, but rather out of necessity. We must have hope. We must wake every morning and love the world, for all of its pain as well as all of its joy, all over again. We must believe that a better world is possible, and that we have a role in creating that world. Perhaps if we truly believe that, we can find our way back towards the path of hope. Perhaps it is necessary to get lost and have a good frustrated and hopeless cry every now and then, in order to be reminded of how important hope is. Without hope, we have nothing.
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