Marie: “A Resurrection of Hope: a reflection on Easter Sunday, Activism, and Returning Home”

Marie with Thandokhulu Metric Class 

This past holiday was, perhaps, the best Easter that I’ve had in a while.  It was my last Sunday spent in Cape Town at the Church of Christ—a community which I have come to know and love—and probably the last time that my African friends and I will all be in the same room together.  At an Easter party hosted by one of the girls on Sunday afternoon, I remember stepping back, looking around the room, and truly appreciating my new life in Cape Town—a life that will be over in just a few short days!  It’s futile to describe in words just how much I will miss the people of Cape Town, but I can say that I have never before had the privilege of meeting so many amazing people in such a short period of time.  My time in South Africa has been truly blessed and I thank God every day for allowing me the strength, opportunity, and finances to come here and enjoy this beautiful country. 

As my mind shifts to my old life above the equator, I am left wondering how I can incorporate all of my newfound knowledge gained during this experience into my life back in the States.  Undoubtedly, my American readjustment will be an interesting and memoir-worthy process that I’m sure will require me to draw upon much of the strength that I’ve amassed here.  However, as my Mother always says, “hope is the last thing to die.”  The kindness, generosity, and dedication to humanitarianism that I’ve witnessed here are more than enough to pull me through any obstacle and ignorance that I will encounter back home.  As much as I am outraged by the life situations of so many people around the world, I am also hopeful for the change that I can enact and see others enacting.  This journey has been a thrilling rollercoaster ride full of ups and downs—it’s exhilarating to be here and learn so much but it’s also unimaginably hurtful because I’m aware that it’s a sordid reality that I am learning about.  Now that I know, the torch of education has been passed to me and it’s my responsibility as a human being to educate and pass that torch to others.  We have the potential to live in a free world; we need to tap into that potential so that we all have an equal chance for happiness.

Remember: Live, laugh, love—the best things in life aren’t things!

Marie's view from the top

“Climb Table Mountain -- Ford every stream -- Follow every rainbow -- 'Till you find your Cape Town dream!” by Marie

Behold—Table Mountain!  After three months, I finally made it to the top (with the help of the lovely rotating cable car, of course).  I was surprised that it took me this long to make it to the top of the Table when almost everyone else has already been.  Now that I think back on my experience, however, I could not have picked a better time to go.  My time spent atop one of the most beautiful mountains in the world gave me a chance to look down on the city that I have grown to love and reflect on all of the life-changing experiences that I had there.  Perhaps the trip was so special because, in my eyes, it was the physical expression of an internal climb.  Over the past three months, I faced some of the greatest challenges of my life; all stemming from the sheer difference of the environment and the difficult situations that I was forced to deal with emotionally and intellectually.

It was so odd to go halfway around the world and be treated differently simply because I was white (if I ever experienced this back in the U.S., I never noticed).  When I say “treated differently” I mean in both negative and positive ways (although it all ends up negative in the end).  I saw people favor me and discriminate against darker skinned people; this made me feel guilty and angry.  I also experienced sexual harassment and racism against me because I am white; this made me hurt and angry.  In both situations, I felt angry (not a good emotion to be feeling a lot of the time).  In addition to my personal experiences, I went through the wringer while attempting to soak up as much knowledge as I could about: the difficulties of township life (especially for women and children), racism both among and WITHIN races, poverty, lack of healthcare, lack of proper sanitation, South Africa’s position as both the rape capital of the world and the country with the highest number of people infected with HIV/AIDS, the awful losses from which people are still suffering as a result of what happened during apartheid, the fact that for many life has not improved since apartheid ended, the awful situations of refugees, xenophobic violence……….I could go on and On and ON!

So, after all of the above, I found a quiet place on Table Mountain where I sat, looked down at the city, and considered my life.  I will never be at peace with the world (there are simply too many issues and too much suffering for me to sit idly and do nothing); but I am now at peace with myself and the new person who I have become as a result of being forced to climb such a tall and perilous mountain.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that my personal mountain was not only comprised of the emotional pain that I felt when forced to look upon the pain of others; but it also included the doubts and fears that I had about my abilities and talents.  I have never been surer of myself, of my life in relation to others, and of my faith in God than I am at this very moment.  This, I believe, not only puts me on top of the mountain, but on top of the world!

“Simba, look at the stars OR a day at the Planetarium” by Marie

I love museums!  Love em’ and can’t get enough of em’!  I was fortunate enough to visit the National Gallery last weekend; it featured a fantastic exhibition about Earnest Cole’s apartheid era photography (some of which I had already seen at the apartheid museum in Johannesburg).  So, this weekend I decided to visit the South African Museum and Planetarium.  Considering how far up it is in my guidebook’s “Things to Do” list, I had high hopes for the place, which lies at the end of the Company’s Garden (just past the Delville Wood Memorial).  With all of the affecting humanitarian issues that tug at my heartstrings every day, it was nice to visit a place that displays some of humanity’s higher achievements versus its shame.  It always brings a smile to my face when I enter a place where I am met with fascinating aspects of the world that people want to learn more about and preserve.  The museum was an interesting mélange of natural history and featured everything from ancient rock art to the wonders of the ocean. 

One of the museum’s sponsoring organizations is the Save Our Seas Foundation, which presented a video with beautiful cinematography about sharks and the myth behind the prevalence of shark attacks.  The aquarium at the Waterfront (which I visited last month) also features a similar exhibit about sharks along with posters featuring the line: “Last year 652 people were killed by chairs. 4 people by sharks.”  Why the concern to bust the myth?  Apparently, the stigma about sharks is affecting the shark population quite negatively.  Because people view sharks as a threat, they are less likely to worry about those breeds of sharks on the endangered species list and show little concern when pollution affects natural shark habitats.  The Save Our Seas Foundation shark exhibit aims to promote the protection of sharks as beautiful and highly misunderstood creatures which will only attack after human provocation.  I only wish that everyone eager to go cage shark diving would view the exhibit and reconsider their plans because the practice (as cool as it may seem) is actually very harmful to sharks. 

On a lighter note, my museum experience concluded with a stunning show about the ancient Egyptian pyramids at the planetarium.  By far, it was my favorite part of the museum and I would gladly return any day!  Lying back in the soft reclining planetarium chair, I was able to look up and view the sky (projected onto the domed ceiling) as the ancient Egyptians had seen it four thousand years ago!  The presentation (an hour in total) explained the movement of the stars since ancient times and related the startling accuracy with which the Egyptians were able to build their pyramids in nearly perfect geometric alignment with certain religiously-significant stars.  I am in awe of the ingenuity and intellect of ancient Egyptian builders whose achievements provide proof that calculators are overrated!  I recommend the museum to anyone who has an interest in the natural world, or even Africa in general, as all of the exhibits and displays appropriately address some aspect of the ever-captivating African continent.

“Reflecting on Revolutions” By Marie

As wonderful as our group trip to Johannesburg was, it did not come at the most opportune time as I was left without much media access to follow the rapidly-escalating conflict taking place in Libya.  I much prefer international politics to domestic ones since, for example, question time with the British Prime Minister is exponentially more entertaining than anything in the U.S. Senate.  Lack of amusement, however, was not the main culprit in my frustration.  I am both fascinated and confused by the sudden outburst of protests around the globe and have found myself wondering “why now?” and “why did it take so long?”  In my hours of reflection spent on the bus in Johannesburg, being shuttled from various points of interest, I came across a thesis that may help answer my questions: Perhaps change can only happen when people face their fears in a two-fold manner by not only overcoming the fear of rebelling against an oppressor, but also by overcoming the fear of embracing a new way of life. 

Many are afraid of intense change; I’ve come across individuals during the course of my life who long for the old days of the Soviet Union because, for half a century, that is all they knew.  It seems illogical for people to desire a return to an oppressive regime but their yearning for stability (or rather their fear of instability and change) drives them away from logic.  Although I believe there to be two steps to social change, most people think it’s just the one. This is where my new favorite quote comes in: “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.” That thing that is “more important” is a better life! Stability must be sacrificed for a short time in order for you and your children and your children’s children to live in a better society. I’m not talking about anarchy, but simply social change. Society has been unstable in the past (and people have gotten through it) and it will be unstable in the future (and people will get through it like they always have) so, knowing this, why are people so afraid of change?  Why fight the inevitable since social change is a global phenomenon?  If it wasn’t, why would Libyan protesters shout “Amandla” (the South Africa anti-apartheid cry for power)?  When we witness others embracing positive change and working toward a free society, we are more likely to do so ourselves.  This, if anything, is the best promotion for global awareness I have ever seen!

“Sweets and Stories: an eye-opening experience in Observatory” by Marie

Marie's on top of the world...or perhaps it's just Lion's Head!

One of my favorite aspects of Cape Town is the diversity of its suburbs.  The look and feel of Cape Town alters from neighborhood to neighborhood with surprises around every corner; I’m always thrilled to discover something new (particularly when that something is food).  It so happened that one day, after fighting a losing battle with my sweet tooth, one of my housemates and I decided to venture to the suburb of Observatory (about a 15 minute walk from our house in Mowbray) in search of a bakery rumored to have scrumptious cupcakes.  The good news: we found the bakery.  The Bad news: it was closed.  If we hadn’t taken a detour to check out a beading shop (where I purchased some beautifully-crafted bracelets) we probably would have made it before closing time; this, however, turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  After the bakery debacle, we were sorely disappointed (and my sweet tooth was practically weeping in angst); so, we decided to find another place worthy of our patronage.  What we found was a little place called “Café Crespella” where we were treated not only to delicious crepes and cappuccinos, but to a story that was begging to be told.

Upon entering the little creperie and being greeted by the owner, Mr. Shendi, I immediately noticed that his accent was one that I had not heard before.  After inquiring about his origin, my house mate and I learned that he was an Iraqi originally from Baghdad.  Wondering just how an Iraqi made his way to South Africa to start a café, we asked him to kindly divulge some of his history.  What we got was a captivating story of struggle and strength from a man who had seen so much of the world and its many facets.  After leaving Iraq, Mr. Shendi made it to Bulgaria where he met Lubka, the love of his life.  After marrying in Bulgaria, the happy couple decided to stay in Lubka’s home country but passport issues forced Mr. Shendi to return to Iraq where Sadam Hussein’s oppressive regime had taken hold of the country.  After clearing away a hefty load of Bulgarian red tape, Mr. Shendi was finally able to gain Bulgarian citizenship and move to Bulgaria permanently to be with Lubka.  However, what was initially supposed to be a permanent move would eventually turn into a temporary stay as husband and wife could not thrive under the oppressive communist regime in Bulgaria.  Although not a part of the USSR, Bulgaria has a history of oppressive 20^th century communist politics.  After Mr. Shendi and Lubka left Bulgaria, they lived in a long series of places around the world (including Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Egypt, and Canada) before deciding to settle in South Africa.

When I asked Mr. Shendi where he preferred to live, he responded with a big smile and proudly said, “South Africa!”  Mr. Shendi and Lubka have found such happiness here and, after several decades of marriage and four children, are still very much in love.  Neither their religious differences (he is Muslim and she is Christian) nor their lack of a stable lifestyle have ever infringed on their happiness.  It was fascinating to meet a person who has experienced so much oppression in his life (first under a tyrannical dictatorship, then under a corrupt communist government) yet who still manages to see the best in people and actively seeks his happiness.  Upon our arrival to Cape Town two months ago, we were told to engage as many locals as we could in conversation.  We were told to listen and learn through our many encounters and experiences.  However, it was not until I met Mr. Shendi and heard his fascinating story that I fully realized just how much stories can change those who hear them.  Thank you, Mr. Shendi; I will undoubtedly return for more of your stories and (of course) more yummy crepes!

“Lessons on Long Street: the absurdity of socially-accepted sexism” by Marie

I love theatre! I love everything about theatre—the lighting, the staging, the excited feeling I get right when a show is about to start. I also happen to love comedy. I doubt that anything has the potential to cheer me up more than a night at the theatre laughing along with a bunch of strangers with whom I share a brief, yet special, theatrical connection. But, if I spent this entry talking all about my love of theatre, then I suppose I would need to change the title. So, now comes the important part; this entry isn’t about my love of theatre but rather about my first theatrical experience here in Cape Town. To say that it was not the most pleasant of experiences would be a gross understatement—it was the most insulting show I had ever seen in my life! This is not to say that all Cape Townian theatre is bad, in fact, I believe that Cape Town the leading performing arts hub in South Africa with groundbreaking work being staged all the time. I, however, was unlucky enough to pick a show from the not-so-groundbreaking set. Given the nature of the show, I think it only appropriate that I introduce my evening with a joke. So, here goes: A feminist walks into a stand-up comedy show…

Get it? No? The joke is in the absurdity of the situation. Why? Because most feminists I know would not want to spend time watching 99% of stand-up comedy shows knowing that they will undoubtedly have sexist jokes and one-liners? Perhaps that wasn’t the cleverest joke I’ve ever told, but you get the idea. The stand-up comic I, and some of my fellow classmates, went to see based a large chunk of his show on the idea that our society considers sexist stereotypes amusing. I, for one, was certainly not amused. One of the most unpleasant moments in the show came when the comic (a man) decided to read a poem entitled “What if there were No Girls.” That “poem” just made my skin crawl! Firstly, let us take note that the title features the word “girls” versus “women” (an obvious nod to our society’s constant infantilization of women). The title, however, was the least of the poem’s problems. The entire thing was simply one big sexist stereotype of women recited in a comedic fashion and aimed toward a male audience (despite the even division of the sexes in the actual crowd). The comic recited lines like, “if there were no girls, who would cook us dinner?” I wanted to stand up and yell, “Cook it yourself!”

While in the restroom after the show, I overheard a conversation between two young women who were discussing just how funny the comedian was and how much they enjoyed the show. It sickened me that they enjoyed the abundance of sexist stereotypes in the show and had nothing but a positive reaction to it. Critics of my negative reaction might argue that the sexist jokes were meant to sound so ridiculous that they couldn’t possibly be supporting sexism in society. However, I still consider it a dangerous risk to take as there are many people who would not see the horror of such sexism and further internalize the negative stereotypes presented by the comic. Yet, I do have one positive note; I highly enjoyed his jokes on the insane South African mosquitoes and their relentless determination to suck me dry of blood. See, it is possible to do stand-up comedy without insulting anyone…the mosquitoes, of course, don’t count; those little bastards deserve every bit of misery they get!

“Lessons from Learners: Focus on Women’s Issues” by Marie

I could open this entry with some HIV/AIDS statistics or an example from literature about teen pregnancy but I’ll let one of my 11^th grade students do the honors by extracting a quote from one of her essays: “Most of the people that get HIV are girls because they don’t wear proper clothes when going to parties.” Now, let’s all take a moment to contemplate the horrific cultural norms that support that statement……….

Perhaps I should back-track a bit…I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to intern as a teaching assistant at Thandokhulu High School this semester; a position which I find both challenging and rewarding. The main challenge, however, lies with the learners; who must struggle with a multitude of economic, social, and medical issues on a daily basis…issues that we Westerners rarely consider. At the first school assembly I attended, one of the administrative speaker’s main points came in the form of a plea directed toward the students. The message: respect yourselves and don’t get pregnant. With pregnancy remaining one of the top reasons for the high drop-out rate, it’s obvious why emphasizing sexual responsibility is key. However, I was irked that the address was mostly geared toward the teenage girls. Just as the opening quote suggests, it’s almost as if teen boys are not accountable for being sexually responsible. Oftentimes, women are viewed as the root of sexual issues, whether it is rape, HIV/AIDS, or pregnancy. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that South Africa is not the only country where women are held more accountable than men for unplanned pregnancy…U.S. society holds the same ideas; ideas which are changing at a glacial pace.

Until the status of women improves in our world, things like pregnancy will continue to remain solely a woman’s responsibility. Still, there is hope for the future…I found it in my very own classroom. Another student and, may I say, quite a blossoming feminist; wrote a strong essay promoting women in positions of power. I was pleased to find similar essays as my reading went on and, just as I began, I would like to close this entry with a quote from one of my brilliant pupils:  “People say that we are free and equal, but this is not so. It is very rare to find a president who is a woman, but people still say that we are equal. Women have the ability to do more but they are demoted by men. Women are hard-working and dedicated both at home and in the work place. They are powerful but they are not recognized. It is believed that men are the heads of households but, if you look around, many families are headed by single mothers.”

Let us look, let us look around indeed!

"Building a Boat to Sail the Capetonian Wave” by Marie

In our first class with the incomparable Vernon Rose, the man himself told us that there was a “Cape Townian wave” which we were encouraged to ride. Seeing as Cape Town is a city that is inordinately connected to the sea, I was quite keen on the idea. However, for 23 American youths (most of whom had never travelled outside of the States before), letting go to ride the wave might pose quite a great challenge. Fortunately for us, we were all equipped with the proper tools for, what I like to call, BYOB (Building Your Own Boat). Through the series of lessons, lectures, field trips, interviews, presentations, meals, stories, sights, sounds, and smells we have experienced over the past three weeks our student tool kits are filled to the brim with the proper equipment for building a boat to ride that Cape Townian wave in both calm and stormy seas.

Despite the shortness of the sojourn so far, I (as well as the other students, without exception) have already experienced some of the most memorable moments of my entire young life. In Cape Town, every day is not simply a rising and setting of the sun but an entire journey within itself. From Joe’s moving presentation at the District Six museum to the sun and sand of Clifton Beach, Cape Town is bursting at the seams with extraordinary people and places. Both the best and the worst things in life exist in this enigmatic and vibrant city and I can only imagine each night wha the next day will bring…sufficed to say, I am always surprised at each new discovery. For those diligent readers who peruse our humble blog in order to gather even some semblance of our well-being to you I say: “Have no fear!” Your children, friends, and siblings are all excellent carpenters and well on their way to building masterful ships of strength, tolerance, and heart to ride that notorious wave…and ride it we will!

“Analyzing Apartheid over Coffee” by Marie

During my lovely and sunny Cape Town breakfasts I often find myself thinking about apartheid. Why? Because I have been indulging in segregated breakfast foods. The South African brand, “Pot O’Gold,” has a yummy spread that features equal amounts of chocolate and hazelnut cream separated in a jar. However, to create the sumptuously delicious combination which is the chocolate-hazelnut spread, the two parts must be integrated on a piece of finely-toasted bread to create the full effect. All of the items are good by themselves, but together they make my breakfast much richer and exponentially more indulgent. Perhaps this might be the corniest analogy ever, but my breakfast is akin to South African history.

The chocolate (Africans) the hazelnut (whites) and the toast (coloreds) which were separated at first, all come together in the end to make a breakfast (country) that is rich and diverse. Over the past week, I have been carefully considering all of the contributions that each race makes to South Africa and realized that, should the influence of any one group be missing, the country would lack the enormous cultural affluence that it possesses. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about “The Struggle” and my morning meal is only a small reminder that post-apartheid South Africa is truly a “delicious mixed spread.”

Marie's trusting she'll be inspired in many ways

After a decade of dreaming, I finally mustered up the courage (not to mention the time) to learn the basics of the acoustic guitar over the summer. There is just something about the sound of a guitar that I absolutely love and, since I tend to move around quite a bit, it should provide me with a portable way to channel my musical talents. For the past few months, I have been looking at various New York venues in search of a guitar performance to educate my fingers and entertain my ears. You can imagine the sheer delight that I felt when I discovered that the sensational Kareyce Fotso (from Cameroon) and Bholoja (from Swaziland) would be in New York in November to perform a concert dedicated to the South African legend Miriam Makeba.

I’ve been a fan of “Mama Africa” since the 5th grade when my class did a dance performance of “Pata Pata” for our annual spirit day. Sufficed to say, I enjoyed the concert immensely and absolutely loved how both performers used the guitar as well as their incorporation of traditional African instruments. My excitement to experience and discover new music has grown exponentially and I can hardly wait to discover all of the wonderful new sounds that Cape Town has to offer. From small local bands to the Cape Town Opera Company, I have no doubt that my time in South Africa will inspire me in many ways.