"What are you guys so excited about?"

"We're making an assembly line!"

This is how most of our trips begin. Last Friday we left for the Drakensberg Mountains. I was still under the weather with stomach issues, doctor thinks perhaps some bacteria, which is finally going away with some Cipro, thank God, so I did not participate in the assembly line action. But water bottles and hot dogs and s'more fixin's were passed down until the trailer was unloaded and our lovely camp site (a building with dorm rooms lit by candles!) was all ready. We sat around and watched the rain, lots and lots of rain, for the evening. Oh- we also roasted marshmallows over charcoal. 

The next day was our hike through the mountains up to see the Khoi-Sans rock art. The rain had all cleared up and the scenery was so, so pretty. I can't even put it into words, but there were mountains on all sides, crumbled and eroded, with tops fading into the clouds. Our path, sometimes over streams, sometimes through reeds taller than we were, but mostly through knee-high grass and mud, snaked around the mountains. There was a range of colors from blue, blue sky to gauzy clouds to white rushing streams, and of course green- everywhere green, in different shades at different layers of the mountain. We got to a stream after about an hour, then began the climb upward. This was a grueling, but much needed endeavor. It felt good to sweat and get my heart beating fast after the monotony of Cato Manor. As we climbed, the air thankfully got cooler, though thinner. We eventually found our way to the rock art, still on the rock walls after about 200 years. Much of it depicted cows and horses, as well as a few battle scenes. It was wonderful, painted with such detail, and sometimes with several layers of shading. No one really knows about the individuals within the Khoi-Sans community who painted the art, or for what reasons, or really what all of it depicted. A mystery! 

We ate chocolate and cheese sandwiches and hiked back. Afterwards we bathed and swam in a river (cold and spring-fed with a swinging bridge over it!), which made me very clean-feeling, peppermint-smelling, and relaxed. Dinner and various other niceties made for a wonderful day. The next day was nearly better.  We walked out past some baboons up on a ridge, about 30 of them, to spring that formed a waterfall. We were afraid that, due to baboon's aggressive nature, they'd attack us when we jumping into their watering hole, but were just being paranoid because all they did was look at us. We all stripped down to sports bras and such (perks of being on an all-girl trip) and jumped into the very, VERY cold pool at the base of the waterfall (think NaCoMe for those of you who've been). We dubbed the pool Baboon Lagoon and hiked back, with a short sunbathing diversion by the same now rain-swollen rapids of the river. 

Mid-day we left for Impendle for our rural homestays. On the drive there it rained again for about 4th time- things were getting muddy. We got there and my friend Laura and I (who were rooming together) met our mama, who was awesome. She spoke very little English, and we spoke very little Zulu, so there was a lot of gesturing and more laughing. We met more neighbors and friends and family throughout the weekend. We were staying nearby two other girls from our program, as well as a few hippies, a couple who were cool and one who was new to the country, a little spacey, and oh yeah- and wore ENTIRELY purple. 

The following morning we went on home visits with home-based care workers. There were a couple of TB patients and a diabetes patient and 2/3 were bedridden. They lived in rondoval huts with their families looking after them. Poverty... well it sucks. A lot. The last patient needed to go to the doctor for a visit, but her father couldn't afford the fare to get her there. Also the closest hospital was an hour away, meaning that if you need an ambulance for any reason you are pretty much out of luck.  There was a bright note, one of the patients we walked past was busy hanging laundry and said she was near finishing her meds and would soon be moving back to Jo'burg to work!

Relapsed with getting sick at about 3:30 AM... with a long-drop toilet (think wooden port-a-potty). Thank goodness for my headlamp. Got driven back to Durban in the morning, saw a doctor and am now well for good, after two courses of different antibacterials. Take that weird germs. Please please don't worry about me with the whole sickness thing, it's pretty common here and I knew what I was getting into. Way worth it for the experience I'm having.

Otherwise I've been very busy lately figuring out things stateside. I have housing (hooray), have been invited to apply to the Senior Honors program to pursue my thesis (awesome), and various other things. I'm also figuring out contacts and specifics for my Independent Study Project for my last month here. Busy busy... Hope you all are well.

15 White Girls in a Mini-Bus Taxi. And Orphans.

First off, Happy Birthday Grandmommy! I played with some babies this morning, and while I was holding and soothing them I kept thinking of all the songs you used to sing to me as a little girl (though some Sound of Music may have snuck in). So, thanks for that!

I was holding babies this morning because 6 of us (we were spread out among various non-profits for the day) visited Inthemba Lethu (meaning "I have a destiny"), an orphanage for AIDS-orphaned children and babies. A few of the children were HIV+ themselves. Situated in a fairly nice part of town, the orphanage occupied two houses and an office building. Each house had rooms for the children, and each child had his own crib or bed. Most kids that were old enough were gone to school for the day, so all the ones we were with were about 1-2 years old. We only had 6 or so to care for, and as the day progressed the kids dropped like flies, one by one falling asleep in our arms. The "garden" (playground/yard) had plenty of toys and lots of playground equipment (many made of repurposed tires, pretty cool). The babies really liked to be cuddled, though that might have just been due to sleepiness. I rocked and held and walked until my arms hurt, but these were adorable babies, and each with his or her own personality. 

One girl was other than the babies and had been kept home from school for the day due to sickness. She was dressed in bright pink and happy, but very thin and small. She'd gone earlier in the day to have her blood tested due to being sick, so it was pretty evident she was HIV positive.  She acted just like any other kid, though, splashing around in the water where we were washing toys, trying so hard to help, but not really accomplishing much but getting wet. After that she cuddled with me for a bit, and fell asleep on my chest.

After all the babies fell asleep and all the toys were washed, we sat around and talked about food (we were all starving) until we left and that was that. 

Now, about the title of this post. Let me preface by explaining what exactly a mini-bus taxi is. Durban (and S.A. in general) doesn't really have any public transportation to speak of. So, people who can't afford a car rely on mini-bus (14 passenger van) taxis (see the beginning of this post for a little bit on them). Normally they are only used by the poor, that is, black Africans. And normally, white people would never set foot in a township.

Last night, 15 of us went to see an awful chick flick (He's Just Not That Into You) and to get home, all 15 of us took a mini-bus taxi into Cato Manor. (For any concerned, it was not late and weeknights are generally safe plus there were 15 of us, so don't freak out.) There were African women literally staring slack-jawed at the full bus as we pulled out. It may have been the first time a mini-bus was filled with English chatter instead of Zulu. Interesting night. 

After we got home (it was about 7:30), I ate with Mama and Baba then watched a scary scary zombie movie with a few friends. Good night. Tonight we're all going to an art gallery (at the prompting of one of our lecturers) for the opening of an AIDS awareness exhibition. Should be interesting. 

Just an addendum: I should explain that during apartheid, things were obviously VERY broken down by race. As such, everyone was classified (in order of hierarchy) as "White," "Indian," "Coloured" (what we think of as mixed), and "African" (what we'd think of as Black). These are still the acceptable terms, and sometimes I'll use them in an explanation because privilege- and most everything- is still very, very broken down by race. South Africa still has a lot of healing to do, 15 years after the end of apartheid.

Jungle Monkeys.

My weekend was not the greatest. Well, let me back up. The beginning was nice. I actually had a lovely Valentine's day spent hiking. We hiked through a village and into the grasslands along the coast. Our director hyped the hike up to be this big huge deal, only for the best of the best hikers, but it was fairly easy. A couple of hills, lots of mud, but mostly just cow paths through the fields. I will say that Tevas were not the best choice of footwear, I wore them because I didn't have my hiking boots (too heavy to bring on the plane) and they are pretty broken in. I ended up getting a blister on the bottom of my left foot though, right on the ball. It wasn't too bad though after I layered up a couple of Band-Aids. But we hiked to a beautiful waterfall; a river spilling over into the Indian Ocean. It was churning and crashing more than anything I'd ever seen. On the way back, we swam under a smaller waterfall in a big pool of water. That cooled us off nicely for the hike back. I didn't mention that the entire hike the scenery was layers and layers of mountains and hills, folded back into each other until they disappeared into the ether. I would have done that hike if I'd had to do it on crutches.

When we got back to our campsite (we were staying in rondoval huts!) it started raining. It started at dinner and didn't stop. The plan was to drive out the next day to Gwexlintaba where we had our rural homestays. After we left in the morning, we got halfway there before we decided the rest of the road, by which I mean dirt path through boulders and down a steep muddy hill, was impassable with the rain. We stayed in this hostel in the middle of nowhere, middle of nowhere being Port St. John's. This place was called Jungle Monkeys and I am never ever going back.

Before we left the hut campsite, a few people were already having problems with diarrhea. I consider this foreshadowing. The first night at Jungle Monkeys, right at 11 PM, about 5 (maybe more?) of us all got sick. Kirsten threw up and it set off a chain reaction: I heard her and got sick, Laura heard me and got sick, and so on. I was up all night along with several other people. It was pretty pathetic, but hilarious in retrospect. The few well people left the next morning for the village while we got left behind to lay around miserable. Everyone at the hostel thought we were just hung over, no matter how many times we told them otherwise, and even when it was 6 o'clock at night and all we could eat was saltines. -rolls eyes- We were pretty sad to miss the village, but it turns out a lot of them got sick once they got there, so maybe we had the fortunate end of the deal, since we had toilets and all. We eventually got out of that godforsaken place, covered head to toe in mosquito bites (I have them all over my face.) and some people in flea bites. One girl has a staph infection on her face. We got in the van, not exactly excited for the bumpy ride home but never so glad to be going back to Cato Manor. 

Adventure!

I'm going to the bush for the next few days, be back in Durban Tuesday, around the internet either Wed. or Thurs. I'm going to go on a sweet hike that involves swimming in natural pools. we'll also be beside the ocean for the first couple of days. Tonight we'll have a "braii," which is a barbeque/cookout. The second half we'll be in homestays in a Xhosa-speaking rural area called Gxwetlintaba (the "x" is a click) in the Eastern Cape. We'll be in huts, bathe in buckets, plant mango trees... We'll mainly be observing and hanging out, since we can't speak Xhosa, but rural conditions are a huge part of our theme of Community Health, so it'll be good to see that. We get to see washing day too! I'll post pictures.

Otherwise, I'm going to make chili for my host mama next week. I'm missing some creature comforts, like ketchup that's salty not sweet and milk that does not come in a box. Oh, and frozen pizza. I'm adding that to the list. I love it here, though, don't get me wrong. 

A couple more photos

The area/house where we have class. Note the palm trees and pool scum. Lots of plants.

Class and Choice: The Elephant in the Room

[This is pretty long, but important, so take the time to read it.]

“What is privilege but multiple choices?”

–Zed McGladdery, SIT Community Health Program Director

I’m staying in a lower class area called a township, all black government owned projects remaining from apartheid. Staying here has made me realize what incredible privilege I have been raised in, what powerful circumstances everyone in America lives in. Even the color of my skin means that because of the history of this country, I am granted more reverence and more respect, whether or not I ask for it.

This weekend on the phone my mother asked me how it felt to be a minority. She was surprised when I answered, “Guilty.” When I got to my homestay, my bag took up the entire path on one side of the bed. “So much stuff!” my new mama said.  I unpacked, placing my name brand shampoo and my name brand face wash on the tub, which had socks drying on the washtub inside it.  I placed my soap, exfoliating with a small dove carved in the surface, beside the generic green bar.  I was so thankful that at least their toothpaste was name brand to ease my mounting guilt.

Before I left home, my sister and I had been whining that the hot water heater had an element out and only provided hot water for the first 5 minutes of a shower. On arriving in Cato Manor, I did not have a shower at all, much less hot water.  We don’t even use half of my house in the United States, whereas the living room here is used for basically everything, and is, well, small, at least by my previously held standards. Dinner is very heavy in starches and fats, and fruit and vegetables are sparse. The ones that are around are typically only served to me. The meal that is prepared is eaten for every meal of the day (though lunch is generally sparse) until it is finished several days later. I am served Cornflakes and specially prepared jam and butter sandwiches. Even within my home, my family treats me as a special guest.

I realize now how much stuff I have. I thought I only brought the essentials with me. A week’s worth of clothes, 3 pairs of shoes, various cosmetics and toiletries, 2 cameras (one is for my photo essay later on), an iPod, 3 books, 2 journals, some outdoor things… Granted, I have used most of these things, but I could also live without most of them.  They are comforts that I have learned to see as necessary to life, but many of them, such as books, never mind cameras or an iPod, people in Cato Manor have never had. My first night, my mama offered that I could watch TV after she went to bed. When I replied that I would read, she said, “Oh, always good to keep learning.” Education is held in high esteem, but book are too expensive to afford.

That we have the choice to educate ourselves, our children, especially at the university level, is remarkable. Many of us can choose to study without worrying about having to send money home to support the family.  I know probably one girl my age in America with a child. The fact that I can pick up an leave the United States, have the money and the freedom to just wander the globe, speaks to my incredible privilege. Mama has no choice but to work, and even still she couldn't afford a gift for her daughter's 13th birthday last week.

Though I am living within the lower class homestay environment, everyday I detach for a time being in class, situated in a higher income area. We have our classes in a house in an area that was classified as “white” under apartheid. There we have showers, fruit, vegetables, air conditioning, a pool. All twenty-two students type away on our laptops. We have this space to be “rich.” I’m still wrestling with the ethics of this situation. Should we have fruit, cameras, laptops, a spacious area and time to debate health policy, when as a whole the people of Cato Manor do not? Of course it’s impossible to totally balance the playing field, but there are some steps we can take to not be so spoiled, as well as some things we can do to improve the situation of people like our homestay families (for example, in access to health care). In the meantime, people on both ends of the wealth spectrum are taking time to appreciate and learn from one another.  As cheesy as it sounds, it’s pretty comforting. 

Photos!

No pictures of people yet (coming soon!) but this is the street (Dromore) I live on in Cato Manor, and to the right, my house! You might be able to see mama in the door if you look closely. 

On the left, you can see a "tuck shop," which is part of the informal economy. They are all over and sell various things. This one sells bread, eggs, onions, oil, super glue, coke, maybe some other stuff.