Tom looking back with hopes for the future

So this is my last blog and I think it’s going to be a short one.  It still hasn’t dawned on me that I’ll be back home on Sunday.  I am very excited to go home, I miss it, but I’m realizing more and more that I simply do not want to leave this place.  I know I will be back, this place means too much for me not to return eventually.  I guess I’m so sad because I wonder what it will be like here when I do return.  Will the drive from the airport still feature the informal settlements on the side of the road?  Will the Cape Flats still look like they do today?  Next time I go to Muizenberg will there be more black people and colored people than white people (they are after all the majority)?  Obviously I do not know the answers to any of these questions but I really hope to see a marked improvement on my return.  Every time I saw a little kids face in Khayelitsha I wondered what his or her life was going to be like.  Were they going to be stuck in the same exact trap as most black people in this country right now?  I would like to think that this next generation is going to be the one to do it – to forcibly drag South Africa to the level that it should be.  When I come back I’d like to see electricity and running water in every home.  I’d like to see no more informal settlements.  I’d like to see all people treated with the dignity and respect that they deserve.  As I sit here and type I realize just how invested in South Africa I am.  This place has changed me; it has meant more to me than anyone could ever understand.  It was the exact right place at the exact right time.  I’m finally beginning to understand that this place is home.

Tom's mixed feelings on going home

So I guess I should write the obligatory “oh crap we’re running out of time in Cape Town” posts. My thoughts on leaving are mixed to say the least. On the one hand I am immensely excited to go home. I miss a lot of family and friends and frankly I miss a lot about the U.S. I thought that at this point in time I would be ready to leave. I thought I would be at the point that I enjoyed my stay in Cape Town and that I was ready to come home. While I am excited to go home I am certainly not at the point that I thought I would be. I am not ready to go. This has become a legitimate home for me and my program mates have become family. I feel the anxiety about going back to the states the same way I felt coming to South Africa. As I’ve said time and time again I cannot imagine living without my housemates right now. We have come so far as a group to the point where I can say that I will consider everyone in this program family for the rest of my life. I wish my thoughts were more complete. Right now I am so scattered but I guess this is a brief sketch.

Tom's frustrations preparation for road ahead

Internships ended this week and I have begun the process of reflection.  I’ve worked at Treatment Action Campaign in Khayelitsha this semester and it has been an interesting experience to say the least.  I know the experience has been a positive one – I have learned more than I could even know during my time at TAC.  I know for a fact that the organization and the people in it have had a profound effect on me and I cannot wait to see the changes in a different context.  It has not always gone smoothly and it certainly hasn’t always been fun.  Actually, working at TAC has been the most frustrating experience of my life.  The atmosphere in the office was so far outside of my comfort zone its ridiculous.  English is barely spoken, techno music is blaring outside and there is just a general disregard for American ideals of appropriate office conduct.  There have been many days of the past handful of months that I have wondered, pondered, and talked about whether I was getting out of my internship what I needed to get out of it.  I felt like I wasn’t getting enough meaningful work to do.  Hell, I felt like I wasn’t getting enough work to do period.  I have become immensely frustrated with how things are done at TAC.

After venting many frustrations to many people who are probably sick of hearing about them I have realized that I have in fact gotten out of my internshp what I’ve needed to.  How do I know this?  Because after the ups and downs the entire semester I was legitimately upset as I left on Wednesday.  I knew at that moment that the TAC office has prepared me for the tough road ahead; that I will never be challenged quite like that again.  As I said I have learned more than I could know.  For that…thank you TAC.

Tom's bittersweet thoughts on leaving Cape Town

I have been thinking about privilege a lot lately- what it means to be privileged and how far that takes a person in life. Through many sociology classes, I have learned about white privilege, Christian privilege, class privilege, and other categories we are born into that severely affect our well-being and opportunities. Yet, this semester in South Africa has really brought them to life. 

I mentioned in an earlier blog about our experience in the minibus taxi ride to climb Lion’s Head Mountain. Our driver, despite being a Cape Town resident all his life, had no idea which mountain it was and we, the tourists, had to give him directions. It is clear that a lot of the beauty Cape Town has to offer is only available to the wealthy citizens; even something as little as climbing a mountain is impossible for so many because of the tiny cost of public transportation, needing sneakers to hike, exerting too much energy and needing more food after, and other things we normally do not think about. Thinking back to this past weekend, nearly everything I did revolved around the fact that I was born privileged. On Friday, I took a train to Simon’s Town and went on a boat ride to Seal Island, on Saturday I took a minibus to the Old Biscuit Mill and bought myself breakfast and continued on more minibuses into the city for some gift shopping, and on Sunday I took a minibus to a place to hike and then went food shopping for dinner. As amazing as this weekend was, it was only made possible because I have spare money I can spend. If I look into this idea further, I only have spare money because I worked two jobs last summer; I was hired for these jobs because I was qualified. I was qualified because of my education and other extra-curricular activities I am involved in. It never ends!

It saddens me to realize that although I had learned about privilege before, it never really hit me until I came to Cape Town. I started noticing things that I normally would have walked by; for example, an airport shoe-shining station where the men sitting in the chairs were white businessmen and the shiners were black, or eating at a restaurant filled with white people but with non-white workers. Privilege is everywhere in the United States also, and we need to start noticing it. Last night, we watched a documentary in Marita’s class about a privileged white family who traced their ancestors back to being leaders in the slave trade. Even after traveling to Ghana and having several discussions on race, slavery, and much needed reparations, one man still did not recognize how his white privilege along with his family’s wealth greatly helped him succeed in life including being a second generation Harvard alumni. With our time running out in South Africa, I need to recognize these privileges back at home where they are more evident than ever, and only hope that I take every experience I have in Cape Town and apply it to our society. 

Tom recognizing the spirit of UBUNTU: I am because we are

So I’m late again, I’m trying not to turn this into too much of a habit.  Recently I’ve been really struggling to find something to write about…and then I went to my friend (well of our friend) Abongile’s (Bongi) soccer matches yesterday.  Bongi runs a soccer program for youth in the township Khayelitsha as a way to keep them away from the omnipresent harsh realities of their lives, to give them a chance at rising above the situation that they have so unjustly been placed in.  Anyways, this isn’t the first time I’ve been to his teams’ games but it probably the most important and memorable time.

Last time I went to a match it was with Marita and Jessica and it was on their home turf – Mandela Park in Khayelitsha.  This time I went by myself and the match was held in dystopian suburbia…err I mean Claremont (quick aside – Claremont is actually a lovely place it just freaks me out, as do most suburbs since I’ve been here.  It is just so detached from the realities of Cape Town that it’s frightening).  Back on track, because of my singularity and new setting I think I was part of a unique experience.

The surface differences between the two clubs are apparent as soon as I walk through the gates to the fields.  The teams from Claremont are predominantly white and classified colored while Bongi’s teams are universally black.  It is an all too common separation harkening back to the Apartheid that is still one of the dominant social forces here.  Differences went beyond color, the facilities in Claremont were newish and it was immediately clear which team had funding and which team had none, I’ll give you one guess as to which one is which.  The most disheartening of the differences was fan support.  Parents attending the game in support of the Khayelitsha Fire Fighters were sparse while there were plenty for Santos FC (this would be the Claremont team).  This is not because there is a lack of parent interest in the Fire Fighters, au contraire I would guess.  No, this is a burning indictment of the state of things in Cape Town and South Africa as a whole.  Most parents simply can’t see their kids play for the Fire Fighters.  Transportation is too expensive and if not that the parents are working, trying to scrape by so their kids can eat insufficient meals to give them the energy to play soccer.  While this is something I’ve talked about with Bongi before it really hit me at these matches.

It took me back to my own experiences as a kid playing sports.  I remember being able to look to the sideline and see my Dad holding the coaches clipboard for almost every sports season I ever played (3 sports a year from too young to remember to high school).  I remember seeing my Mom standing and cheering from the bleachers or the collection of lawn chairs on the other sideline often holding a camera to add to our collection of home movies and offering her protection from sideline (sometimes I was certain during games that she would throw on the uniform just to make sure the other kids stayed off of me).  I remember seeing grandparents and aunts and uncles, all there to support me – to watch me play football, basketball, baseball, and soccer; to watch me swim and later run cross country.  Every game or meet or match I would see them all after, they would grin and bear it and tell me how great of a job I did even if I didn’t.  

I went back even further into the recesses of my memory.  I remembered the time in 5^th grade when I failed the fitness test mile.  I remember the embarrassment of an overweight kid who called himself husky to save an iota of self-esteem, a smidgen that was lost when he couldn’t even realize the benchmark of not being fat (simply passing).  More important than all of this I remember my mother.  I remember her walking with me to Duffy Elementary School the day after with a stopwatch where I ran and practiced.  She would not let me quit until I passed that day.  A few days later I retested and passed.  As I look back on this moment I look at it as maybe the first seminal moment of my life – something I can look at and define myself with (hard work, determination, and never-say-die-attitude).  I also realize something else, how my parents – in this case my Mom – were always there for me, always involved, always pushing me when I needed it and comforting when I needed that too. 

This is such an immense privilege that I never fully realized until yesterday.  In the past I’ve always considered myself ‘the self-made man.’  I’ve managed to tell myself that I am who I am because I am.  I’m here because of what I think of as uncommon work ethic and drive.  I’m learning that this is not the case at all.  I’m here for a lot of reasons.  I’ve always known that I am immensely fortunate, that my ‘hardships’ are borderline laughable, I’ve never been more keenly aware of that as I am now.  It broke my heart yesterday when I realized that many of these kids have never had that feeling of comfort, security, and confidence that comes with looking to the sideline and seeing parents and family cheering them on.

I was in the middle of despairing about this when I realized something else about the Khayelitsha Fire Fighters – this is a special group of kids.  How do I know this?  Anyone could know this by watching them for a day.  There are a couple of teams with different age levels (seems to be about 11 to 16).  Every team was present for all of the games – every kid from every age level was watching every game intently.  This is unheard of.  For comparison the Santos FC kids showed up only for their games and left right after barely even interacting with their own, immediate teammates.  Anyways, the Fire Fighters cheered, they jeered, they were concerned for their teammates and they laughed at them – it goes even beyond this.  I constantly saw the older kids with the younger kids – they were teaching, mentoring, and keeping them out of trouble.  It was chilling seeing a group of 16-year-old boys (but really men) showing maturity beyond their years, fulfilling the role of positive role model to the younger kids when they themselves could have very well never had one.  What hit me the most was when one Fire Fighter went down during the game he was immediately surrounded by every Fire Fighter on the field and sometimes every Fire Fighter watching the game.  What made this stand out more was the fact that it appeared as if the kids from Santos FC could care less about each other when the Fire Fighters were a bonafide family.  I attribute this to Bongi; he has done a better job with these kids, building this team, nurturing this family than I could ever possibly envision as possible.  It really comes as no surprise to me, if anyone can do this it would be Bongi, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.  I’m always in awe when I’m in his presence and he is simply someone you want to root for, there is no one I respect more. 

Abongile with one of his Khayelitsha Fire Fighters Football Teams 

Well I sat down to write about the game and I didn’t even get to that.  The Fire Fighters played great, as always – it just so happens that Bongi is a master soccer technician in addition to his other qualities and his players are uncommonly good for their age.  I guess I also learned from yesterday that it simply isn’t about winning and losing, it’s about what it takes to get there and beyond.  I’m looking forward to thanking Bongi and his teams for teaching me more in a day than I’ve learned in almost 21 years about love, family, commitment, and being part of something far greater than the self.  Now, I’m going to go ahead and call my parents.

Tom on housemates, contentment, and having all he needs

Taylor, Logan, Tom, Joe

So my blog’s late, its definitely not for lack of stuff to write about though.  Quite the opposite, I’ve been experiencing nothing short of sensory overload.  It would be easy for me to write about all the profound experiences that seem commonplace here.  With that in mind I decided to write about something that may seem smaller to most but something massive to me.  I just want to talk about the people that I am so undeniably fortunate to be a part of here.  I have begun to feel so much at home here at Loch Road, we are an absolute family.  If I take anything from this trip it is going to be the times and experiences I have had with my housemates.  I’m not even talking about seemingly seminal moments.  I’m talking about walking into the kitchen and seeing Julian and Logan peeling potatoes to the tune “Apache” (you may know it better as “Jump On It”).  Hell, I’m talking about all the dinners the five guys have cooked together (we’ve shocked just about everyone in the house with the intricacy of the meals we have cooked).  I’m talking about looking outside and seeing Dana and Meaghan running through the front yard with Joe’s mattress in tow.  I’m talking about our now notorious ‘darty.’  I could go on forever about all of the little things that go on in this house but I think talking about them so specifically makes them lose their luster a little bit.  All I know is that no matter what is going on, no matter how hard work was that day, no matter how much work needs to be done, and no matter how overwhelmed I might be at the issues I see on a daily basis I can always count on coming home and being with my housemates and maybe for the first time in a long time just feeling content in being able to say that this is enough, this is all I need.

Tom feeling at home and having fun

Yesterday was one heckuva day and I can finally say that I feel like I’m heading in a direction.  In the morning I went with Marita and Jessica to watch my friend Bongi’s soccer (check football) teams, the Khayelitsha Firefighters, play some matches.  This has been something I’ve been looking forward to for awhile, because I think youth sports, especially for under privileged kids, are the most important institutions that a community can develop.  Lessons like teamwork and the simple fact that for a few hours a week these kids are away from the gangs and other hardships of Khayelitsha alone are justification enough for creating youth sports teams.  Suffice it to say, I was quite inspired by what Bongi had done in creating this soccer program and I look forward to staying as involved as I’m wanted to be until I go home in April.  On an even more base level, the games were fantastic, I was amazed at how good these kids were individually and in the context of the team.  I have never seen anything close to the teamwork displayed on that field by such young kids.  While, I was only at the game for a few short hours that was the most at home I’ve felt since I’ve been here.  I guess I’m just comfortable around sports and teams; I’ve been playing them since before I can remember and coaching them occasionally from when I was in the 16-17 year old ballpark.

Moving on to the rest of the day, as soon as Jessica pulled into the Loch Road driveway Joe and Taylor were on their way out to the driving range, I’m not one to turn down an invite to the range.  It was abundantly clear that I hadn’t hit a golf ball in a long time and while I may not be the next Tiger Woods there was something cathartic about hitting the ball (who the hell am I kidding I didn’t hit the ball near well enough for catharsis I was at that I just hit golf balls for an hour level of frustration, if you’ve ever played you know what I’m talking about).  Anyways from there some of us went out to celebrate Ashley’s birthday, what a grand celebration it was.  We went to a Kurdish restaurant, which was quite new to me, that had great food, hookah, and belly dancers.  Since I love all three of those things I figured it was going to be a good time.  I love being right, it was an absolute blast.  The highlight of the night was no doubt when everyone got up to belly dance during Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie.”  While this was not an entirely true for me, my hips do, on occasion, lie; it was still the most fun a guy could have with his clothes on.  There is just something special about having that many people up attempting, some of us succeeding, to belly dance together.  I know I’ll never forget it and I hope Ashley feels the same way.

Tom reflects on many things

A little more than three weeks in and I still haven’t gotten over my living situation.  I am living in a beautiful home in Cape Town, South Africa with 16 incredible people…what?!  Usually if it sounds too good to be true it is, except in this situation.  Living in the house has surpassed my lofty expectations and is already one of the greatest experiences of my life.

On a slightly more somber note, internships started last week and, for me at least, it has been an eye opening and not always easy to handle experience.  I am working at TAC in Khayelitsha.  I have found that Khayelitsha is not even close to anything I have ever experienced before.  Coming from a semi-sheltered life in an affluent suburb in Connecticut the idea of no running water or electricity is not even fully in my consciousness.  I have realized that I have taken advantage of this incredible privilege the entirety of my 20 years of living (even know I’m taking advantage of it as I type this).  One of the big challenges is avoiding the inevitable feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach.  I’m learning that guilt accomplishes nothing; au contraire…it is completely counter productive.  Guilt is an excuse to do nothing, to sit on your bed and cry or pout.  Instead, I am working on motivating myself towards action (actively combating the injustices I am seeing in any capacity I can). 

On a completely other note (as you can tell I am all over the place right now) I am still reeling from my experience climbing Table Mountain.  I had never really been hiking before; suffice it to say that this one up Table Mountain will not be the last time I do it either.  I’m not sure if it was the endorphins rushing through my brain or what but I, at least temporarily, figured stuff out.

Right now I’m just trying to get better every day (this is always the goal).  Sorry this post is so scattered and unfocused and not particularly in depth.  It is a reflection of where my mind is right now.  It is not quite wrapping around what I’m experiencing yet, I’m sure when it does the blog posts will improve a little bit and they may actually say something.

Tom's experiences are beyond what words can express

The toughest part of writing this blog entry is to somehow try to express what exactly has been going on in words.  With my own personal blog I have found that this is an impossibility.  So much has happened the past several days that it’s tough for me to put it together.

One of the highlights for me was the trip to Robben Island.  Nelson Mandela is a personal hero of mine (as I’m sure he is to many people) and to see where he was in lock down for so long was harrowing and inspiring.  I wish I could explain my reaction more concretely but suffice it say that it hit me…hard, harder than I expected.  Another highlight was the church service we attended this last Sunday.  Going into the day I was pretty legitimately concerned about how I would react.  Many of my personal beliefs are in direct conflict with the very idea of religion (this is an entire conversation for another day that I’m sure none of you would really want to hear about it anyways, sorry for the side tangent, back to the service).  Regardless of context the church service was the most real, raw thing I have been a part of, simply unbelievable.

As orientation winds down I’m finding that it’s ending at the right time.  I could not function here without the orientation that we had.  I learned so much over the past (almost) two weeks and I firmly believe I have already changed at the most base of levels.  That said, I believe I am ready to go explore, expand, and experience exactly what this wonderful place has to offer.

Tom's counting down until departure

YESSSSSSSSSSS.  This was pretty much my reaction when hearing that I got into the Cape Town study abroad program.  This is something that I have been looking forward to for a long time and it was a good feeling to get into the program.  The past couple weeks have been stressful and exciting at the same time.  I’ve really enjoyed beginning to get to know the entire group.  However, it has made me realize that I’m even worse than I thought at remembering names, and I thought I was bad to begin with.  Everyone seems really nice and I couldn’t think of a group of people I would rather go on an excursion to South Africa with.  On the other side of the token it has been stressful getting all of my stuff together to make sure that when I touch down in Cape Town they will actually let me leave the airport, what a bummer it would be if they didn’t.  However, it’s not half as bad as I thought it would be and these are tasks that I would gladly take on; the pay off is definitely worth it.  I have already started counting down and departure day cannot come soon enough.  Right now I’m trying to think of what the first thing I’m going to do when I get to Cape Town is going to be.  Truthfully, I have no idea.  There are just too many things I want to do.

Until Next Time,

Tom