Amandla!

Long Time

2008-07-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

Hey all, sorry for my lack of blogging skills as of late, but being here in SA makes anything involving internet extremely inconvenient. I have been doing well and lovign SA more and more; I hope you are all well and I promise I will get back on the blog thing soon.

4 June 2008

2008-06-11T00:38:00.000-07:00

Today I went to Kob Inn and Jujurha with Tata Tshawe and Linda (from the Department of Arts and Culture). These areas are about 200 kilometers away from East London in the area known as the Transkei (pronounced like tran-sky). These are the real rural areas like you wouldn’t believe. Actually these areas are probably more like what many of you might think of when you think of Africa: dirt roads, open fields, no electricity, no cars (besides the rare passer through, people from the nearest town, or government vehicles), round houses with thatched roofs (called rondavels), and many women carrying things on their heads. I went to these areas with the Tata Tshawe (my boss; his name is actually MR Dumalisile, but he himself is a Xhosa chief, so we call him by his clan name which is Tshawe and tata means father or dad in Xhosa) and Linda from the Department of Arts and Culture (both of them are Xhosa; you might not think that with a name like Linda, she would be African, but Linda is actually a Xhosa word which means “to wait”). They, and every Xhosa person I talked to about these areas, said “So, you got to see the TRUE Xhosa way of life!” The way of life in this area is the closest things to real traditional Xhosa life as you can get, and the people in this area are the “true” Xhosas, the “pure” Xhosas.
We first went to a Great Place which is the name of the place that a chief lives. We went to visit one of the area’s chiefs because he knows his stuff and is Xhosa through and through. He had a family tree that traced like four generations back from him and shows his royal lineage. He explained how the Xhosa are from the Nguni peoples and that there are three brothers that all Nguni people trace their linage back to. He said that the Xhosa come from the eldest brother (and therefore are of greater importance and have more prestige) and that the Zulu come from the second born, and the Swati from the last born. He is very proud of his heritage. In fact, as part of my research, I am asking to video tape people from the different South African tribes first convincing the camera that they belong to the tribe they identify themselves as and then to convince the camera that they belong to a different tribe (then people will watch these videos and have to guess which one is a lie and which one is truth). When I asked this chief to say he was Sotho, he got very upset and asked “Why woul anyone say they are something they are not?” he explained to me that as the chief, he represents the whole Xhosa people and is a place of reference for what is pure Xhosa tradition and to even say he is something else (even in this context) would delegitimize him in front of his people and his leadership would be put into question. I apologized and we moved on, but I learned a lot about the important role that chiefs play (especially in rural South Africa).

When we left, we saw a lot of elderly women gathering together, and Tata told me that they we waiting for the government truck to come and give them their pension (which is R900 per month or about $120). We came across a car that was unloading four women, and one women was walking on all fours and all of us were heart broken. She must have broken her back sometime in life and can only get around by walking on all fours. So Tata said we should give them a lift to meant the government truck. That was my first insight into the fact that life is so much more difficult here. This women could not get proper medical attention (and cannot afford it anyway) but is making due with what life has thrown her.

We went further into Kob Inn and met a group of people that Tata knew (he is originally from this area) and had organized for me to include in my research. Now, I had explained my research to Tata, but there must have been a communication breakdown somewhere along the way (as there so often is for me here J). In the videos I am making I want people to wear there everyday clothes because if they are dressed in their traditional clothes, then their ethnic identity is automatically given away. He thought I wanted videos and pictures of traditional dances and clothing and traditional life (which I do want but are not part of my formal research project). Now I felt I needed to explain things to him, so as to avoid further miscommunications because we were planning to meet more people to help me with my research. It got quite heated because as I explained, Tata said “But people overseas must know our traditional clothes and way of life.” He did not understand that I wanted to film to videos in order to show other South Africans, not Americans. So, I was saying I wanted them to wear their everyday, more “western clothes” for my videos, and he and the people were saying they wanted to wear their traditional clothes. So, it sounded like I was saying they must dress as I want them to because it is more like me which is not what I was trying to say. That was the first episode that made me feel a little bit crappy because do want to know and understand their culture (that is why I am here), but I also need these videos to be done properly. So I suggested that I take some with and some without, but I think the damage had already been done.

Then, we chose a few people to do the videos, and it was a challenge. These people in this area did not have the luxury of school, so they are all “uneducated” in the formal sense and cannot speak English. Now, to keep the videos fare and controlled, I have to have the people (no matter what their tribe) speak English in parts of the videos. So, we began to coach them in how to say certain things, and some never quite got it, but we made due with what we had. So, in the midst of all of this, I thought to myself: “Self, would you be able to do this same thing if someone came and asked you to do it in Xhosa?” and the answer is NO, I could not do it. So, what gives me the right to ask them to do this for me? I was not necessarily harming these people in any way, but I felt very neo-colonial in my relationship to these people; let me explain. A white man comes in (and a get immediate respect because I am American and white in this remote area, I do not ask for or deserve this respect, but I get it none the less) with the government and tells people that they must wear their western clothes and speak English. Against the backdrop of apartheid that these people are coming from in which African culture was demonized and western culture glorified, my position there was anything but what I wanted it to be. I really really hope that I did not have a negative effect on these people, and I hope that they understand that I really do have a great respect for them, their culture, and their way of life. The last thing I want to be associated with is colonialism, and yet I found myself playing that role.

I did not get to take many “cultural” pictures, because by the time I was done doing the videos, everyone else was drunk. Unfortunately, drinking away ones sorrows is a principle that has even touched this part of the world.

We proceeded to Jujurha (pronounced jew-jew-gha where the gha here represents that guttural g that is so common in German and Dutch) where things got a little bit better. Tata Tshawe and the Heritage office (which is the branch within the Dept of A&C that I work with and he is the manager of) has adopted the Jujurha Women’s Heritage and Development Project by trying to give them a little bit of funding. They are promoting these women’s independence and self-reliance by providing resources for these women to further develop their bead-working skills and sell the items they make in order to create income for themselves. We went to visit these ladies so that I could get a few more videos and so that Linda to give them a report of what is happening from the offices’ side and what they can expect from the office. These women are amazing! They we so kind and friendly, and even though they spoke about as much English as I speak Xhosa (which is next to none, but two ladies did speak really good English), we still had a great time and I could feel their appreciation for me being there, and I feel they could feel my appreciation for them allowing me to come and visit them.

When I entered the house, there were dried corn cobs hanging from the rafters, and Tata told me that people here do this so that people that come into the house know that they people staying here are farmers. Then, we moved to the rondavel and sat in there, so I could do the videos. We had fun while I filmed the videos and they laughed when I spoke a few Xhosa words here and there. They showed me all their bead work they had done and even dressed me up in a bunch of it which again got lots of laughs and hopefully showed my willingness to learn about their culture). Then Linda gave her report, Tata gave thanks on my behalf (which I was very grateful for; it really pained me that I could not properly express myself and my gratitude for all they had done for me), and they had prepared a great meal for us. I did not do much of anything for them and did not spend a whole lot of time with them. They gave me a great meal and helped me see how women survive in this harsh environment that is rural life in South Africa. I know that we all grew so much. They were grateful for my visit and that I had come so far and had the opportunity to visit them, and I feel blessed to have been shown such great love and to have the opportunity to be a part of their lives for a short moment. They are inspiring and show me the power of the human soul to love and push forward in the face of so many challenges. I wish I could explain to you how difficult life really is here is the rural areas (it sucks), but these people push forward the live life and love it and do the best they can with what they have been given. I take too much for granted that is for sure, but that is only the first step . . . what am I going to do to stop taking these things for granted? That is the real question! There is a great different between realizing my unearned privileges and actually taking the steps to refuse these privileges.

I hope I do not sound like a romanticist and I really hope that I do not present these things in a manner that makes them out to be hokey. I hope that I present these issues and people in a proper light that can help in some small way.

Oh and on the way home, we stopped and met . . . guess who? . . . Thabo Mbeki (who is the current president of South Africa), we met Thabo Mbeki’s mom, she is sooo sweet, I will try to post her picture soon.

Rural South African life is unbearably heavy; and once again colonialism shows its ugly face but this time through me . . .

Ah Khululi Sizwe ("Free the Nation")

2008-06-03T01:42:00.001-07:00

29 May 2008

So, I have started interning at the provincial department of Recreation, Sport, Arts, and Culture. My responsibilities are not quite ironed out yet (today was my first day), but that will come. I went and explained my research project to a committee within the department that is involved with the arts and culture side of things. They were very excited about my research project, and we talked about ways they could help me as well as opportunities to for me to volunteer there. So they suggested (since my research focuses on cultural identity) that I go with them to this function today.

We went off to Keiskammahoek which is about 2 hours from East London and is another rural area. The department did a presentation about the importance of museums for the high school in this town. The department of arts and culture is charged with the responsibility to preserve culture. In light of apartheid history where African culture was demonized and European culture glorified, there is much need to promote culture. In the past Africans were basically told that they and their culture and way of life was inferior and backwards, now the department has the challenge of undoing centuries of such oppression. They want Africans to love being African by understanding and preserving their culture and traditions (because under the old regime; you were nothing if you were African). So it was a really great function and presentation. There were of course cultural presentations which I have some photos and videos of. My boss, Mrs. Nokenke gave a great speech about the importance of knowing and understanding our culture because it is such an important part of who we are; she of course said it much more powerfully than I can summarize, so that will have to suffice.

When we arrived, three boys on horses greeted us at the gate, and escorted us to the tent where the function was taking place. All the students and teachers and other distinguished guests were already there (we were last to arrive; we were really going by African time, which is basically get there when you can . . . “there is no rush in Africa” as they say), so we got out of the car and were welcomed by dancing, shouting, singing, large women dressed in traditional clothes (it was great). They then escorted us through the exhibits from the East London and King Williams Town (they brought the museums to the school, well parts of them). We then went and sat down. This big entrance and production was not on my behalf thank goodness because I hate it when people make a big fuss about the American. They unfortunately had me sit with the special guests (mostly because I came with one). The MC then went through and introduced the “important” guests; I put quotes around important because this introduction included me, and she introduced me first and of course said that I was from America. Once again I just wish I could sit in the background and be a face in the crowd, but the more I am here the more I realize that that just is not going to happen.

Then later on, one of the museum directors gave a speech and said that this high school should build a close relationship with one of the high schools in Grahamstown because both schools were built by missionaries many years ago at the same time. He said they are sister schools and there is history there they should learn about. Then he turned to me and said that it is because of people like me that they have the school and that missionaries and people who care enough to come and help and learn more about how people live here have made such a huge difference in this area. And he thanked me. He also said, “I am an African, and (turning to me) you are an African.” Which of course made me extremely happy :). I at first felt very uncomfortable, but then I realized once again that I got to sit in and take the thanks for what so many other people have done. Here, I represented basically all that is good about foreign aid and development projects (and one of the only good things that came out of colonialism, but I am not sure that even these schools are entirely “good”). A huge honor that I am not worthy to take, but did rather than refuse it. The key part was his acceptance of me when he said that I was an African. For him to include me in that way meant a lot to me, and as he looked at me I felt this connection and that he wasn’t just saying that to say it (people don’t do that here), but he really meant it. I don’t know if this really makes sense, but it was really quite an experience, and I felt a connection with him and everyone there as he said those words. This might sound cheesy but it really was an amazing experience.

One other really important aspect of the day was the presence of the Chief of this area. I am not entirely familiar with how the rural area government works and how the chief relates to the civil government, but he is responsible for a huge chunk of land and people. He is greatly respected as well. One does not greet him the same as you would greet someone else because of his position; to say hello in Xhosa, you say molo, but to the chief you say kululi sizwe which means “free the nation”, which is very interesting. I do not know why they say that, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with the important role that chiefs play in liberating and protecting their people. Mrs. Nokenke (my boss at my internship with the Department of Arts and Culture) talked to the chief about my research and he was quite interested. I talked to him, and he invited me to come to his house next week to talk about his culture and everything. I am really excited and can’t wait to meet with him again.

Has anything really “good” come out of the help from the west? and what is it to be an African . . .

Meat Continued

2008-06-03T01:34:00.000-07:00

Loyiso took us to his neighbors’ home because they were also having a traditional ceremony. The purpose of the ceremony was to say farewell to one of the sisters of the family because she was going away (I don’t know where or why). When we arrived, they were in the house singing and dancing. At any time, if someone wants to say something, they can stop the singing and speak. When we arrived, they wanted to welcome us properly which meant drinking Mqombothi (traditional Xhosa beer). We told Loyiso that we don’t take alcohol and he said that it was ok, but then he asked us again because the family really wanted to welcome us into their home and this is the way they do it. For him to ask us again was huge because it showed me how important this was to the family. Loyiso suggested that we just drink a little bit or to just put the bucket (Mqombothi is always drank from a small bucket or bowl) up to our mouths. So we were faced with a moral and cultural dilemma . . . what do we do? Would pretending to drink it compromise what I stand for? Some would inevitable get on my lips, tongue, or mouth, so I would taste at least a little bit, so would this be breaking the word of wisdom? How offended would the family be if I did not drink it? And would my not drinking it reflect badly on Loyiso who has been kind enough to invite us to his home village and would it damage our friendship? So, we decided to put it up to our lips. A little bit did get down my throat and lips, but I minimized it as much as I could. I did what I thought was right and hope that Heavenly Father understands. So that was an interesting situation: the conflict between culture and religion.

We ate some more meat after that. This meat had been boiled in pots and was really tasty as well. We also got to eat ulusu (stomach and intestines) once again, and it was probably the best ulusu I have even had. Oh and we drank the gravy that came out of the pots because it is supposed to help with . . . are you ready for it . . . now just go with it because I did . . . this gravy is supposed to help with erections. For this reason, the older men always get to drink it first. The guys kept telling us we should drink it, but they also said that we should have “plans” that night because the gravy really works J. Oh traditional superstitions.

That was pretty much the general picture, but one more thing: this country is beautiful: both its people and landscape. I tried to capture its natural beauty in some pictures, but the pics did not do it justice. It was an absolutely beautiful area and I ate it all up.

How much respect do we really have and should have for culture? and God’s green earth is awe inspiring . . .

A Few Pics

2008-05-30T02:49:00.000-07:00

The first piture is me and the guys eating our meat, it was pretty great, and the second is the boys that were briaaing (barbequeing) the meat, those two pots are also full of meat; one cow goes a long way.

Meat, Meat, and More Meat

2008-05-27T00:37:00.000-07:00

25 May 2008

Yesterday was an awesome day! I learned so much about so many different things, but especially about Xhosa culture. Matt, Jared, and I all went to a traditional/ancestral ceremony in the rural village of Chalumna (about 60 kilometers outside East London which is the city I am staying in while in South Africa). This, believe it or not, was my first time in a rural village and it was something else. In the urban areas, South Africa is not too different from a typical city anywhere in the US generally, so going to the village was quite a change from the westernized urban areas and the ghettoized townships. I saw a new side of SA that day.

Loyiso, one of the teachers at Nompumelelo Primary School which I am working at, was performing this ceremony at his home in Chulumna and invited us to attend. We went along with three of the teachers from the school (they were all drinking because any African get together that I have heard of or been to involves whiskey, beer, and of course Mnqomboti (African Beer), so I got to be the designated driver; yep driving on the left side of the road once again, I only made one “right-handed” mistake . . . oops . . . but no one died so it was all good J). Let me explain what this ceremony was all about. Loyiso’s family has this cow that has gotten really old, but it has been in the family for a long time and gave them many healthy caves, so they are ceremoniously slaughtering this cow to say thank you to the ancestors for the bounty that this cow has brought to the family. This is one of many cow slaughtering ceremonies that the Xhosa practice. Others include: slaughtering a cow when a family member dies to say farewell and to go with the deceased to where he/she is going, and slaughtering a cow to welcome that person’s spirit back to the family so that he/she can help guide the living family members. Both of these other ceremonies are to honor the ancestors as well. Let me only focus only on the one that I attended.

I will first explain what happened before we arrived and then I will attempt to give you a play by play of what happened while I was there. At about 08h30 they slaughtered the cow. Now Loyiso himself did the actual slaughtering of the cow because he has been chosen by his family to officiate because he is knowledgeable about cultural customs and he is a “good” person (responsible, faithful to his wife, etc, etc; they said that someone who is not those things can not be expected to perform such a sacred work). The key to the slaughtering is that the cow bellows. If the cow does not bellow, then it means that it is not accepting to be slaughtered and that the ancestors are not accepting this sacrifice. The slaughterer has a spear and pokes the cow and if it does not bellow, then the elders must be consulted. The elders decide how to proceed; sometimes they can try to slaughter the cow another day hoping that it bellows. If the cow does bellow, then it is speared a few times, then a knife is used to cut the spinal cord and spine. Then, the neck is cut so that it can bleed out. This is all done in the family Kraal which it the most sacred place on the homestead (cows represent a very sacred part of Xhosa society: wealth, livelihood, fertility, etc; this is an extremely oversimplified explanation of the sacredness of cows in the Xhosa culture; if you want a better explanation read Milk in Baskets or A Concise History of South Africa). The cow is then immediately butchered on the spot and everything is cooked and eaten (depending on which ceremony it is, sometimes ALL of the meat must be eaten that day which is why many people are invited to come J). Some of the meat is braaied (or barbequed) and some is boiled in pots, and only salt is used to flavor the meat.

We arrived at about 11h00 and some of the meat was already cooking in pots and being braaied (all done over a fire in the Kraal of course). They walked us into the Kraal and sat us down with the elders. Loyiso came over with a plate of raw meat and said that it is custom to present each visitor with meat, and the visitor may either braai it him/herself or ask someone else to braai it for them (we decided to braai it ourselves, but actually just ended up standing near the fire while one of the younger guys braaied it, which was probably best because they know what they are doing and I probably avoided one more opportunity to make a fool of myself). The whole day was basically spent sitting around eating the meat. When our meat was done, we put it on a plate and about 10 guys all ate off of it with our hands and it was great. Honestly it was probably some of the best meat I have even had because it was so fresh; I mean the only thing fresher would be raw (the cow was living and breathing at 08h29 and at noon we were eating it). So that was the first round of meat eating . . .

As we chatted and mingled, I learned and realized a few interesting things. The elders, men, and “boys” were all in the Kraal and the women and girls were in various places outside the Kraal but in the yard. The women of the family eat in one area and then the women that married into the family ate in another area. The genders and the various familial groups were very segregated which I found to be very interesting. I asked why only men where in the Kraal, and they said that this is the man’s place and that only the women that were born into the family could enter the Kraal (so a daughter-in-law can never enter her husband’s family’s Kraal). During the day, only one or tow women came into the Kraal and the only time there was a number of females in the Kraal was when they brought in plates of food (umnuqshu, spinach, potatoes, cabbage; this food was brought at the end and we need no more meat). Traditionally, the Xhosa culture is very patrilineal (valuing the father’s side of the family more than that mother’s; for example, a first cousin on you father’s side is considered a closer relation than a first cousin on your mother’s side). Even in the urban areas, men are still waited on and women are in many cases still treated as second class citizens (which is something that bothers me very much, but I try to be understanding and culturally sensitive to the situation and do not object when I am fed before the females in the room). Ok, so I am running out of time and want to get this posted, so I will end it here for now and pick up later with the promise of pictures

Culture is sensitive and gender equality is a constant issue . . .

Zamani Again

2008-05-15T03:21:00.000-07:00

So we went to Zamani Day care again on Friday. There was a German couple that chose to retire here in East London and they saw in the newspaper that Zamani burned down last August, so they wanted to help out and they came today to give their gifts and Mrs Yoyo wanted us to come, and we did. It was really great, so let me see if I can paint you the correct picture.

We got there before the Germans, so we sat with the kids and the teachers and waited for them to arrive. When they arrived they started the this amazing program of singing and dancing that was their way of showing thanks to those that donated to the school. It was really amazing! The young kids did a few numbers and man one of the teachers had a voice like non-other; it was AMAZING! I don’t want to dwell on the presentation (although it was amazing) because you really have to be there to appreciate it (I should have recorded it, my bad).
There were two main lessons that I learned from this experience: what it means to represent BYU here and reciprocity.

First, let me tell you what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo. Like I said BYU students have been going thre since 2003 and between then and now a professor has kind of adopted the school and put together a fund for them (about $10,000 if I remember right). This fund has paid to rebuild the school after its numerous fires have burned portions of it. BYU, or rather this professor independently, has done a TON for the school and really if that professor and other BYU students had not done all that they have done for the school, I really doubt that the school would still be functioning. This is what BYU means to Mrs Yoyo and the parents of the kids there. And to them, I and the other students represent all of that, so this whole presentation was for us as well even though these students have only been in South Africa for a few days and never really done anything for the school and I only went there a few times last summer and helped mop the floor and butter bread. Mrs Yoyo asked me to say a few words to the parents on behalf of BYU, and I said a few words about how much of blessing it is for us to be with them and what a great example of hope and love they are to us (of course right when I sat down I thought of all the millions of things I could have said). Then a parent got up and thanked us on behalf of the parents and it took me to tears. She thanked us for all that we do and how they appreciate that we leave our families and come to them and help. She even said that she and the other parents have seen changes in the kids when the BYU students started coming. I was touched that other have done so much for these people and hoping that I can do a little something for those around me. Another interesting this happened when they gave us food. Now keep in mind that we are in an informal settlement and all the people in that room have so little, and yet they put together this huge presentation for us and gave us a full meal with meat. This is huge given what little they have and that we are eating such a nice meal in front of them. It is really uncomfortable situation but so important that we don’t refuse, and I will explain why.

It was really hard to accept thanks for something we did not do and especially when we (and the other BYUs) did not expect or need anything in return. but to refuse the food or drinks or to refuse to sit in the “guest of honor” type seats would have bee rude and would have taken away a bit of their (and our) humanity. By refusing their thanks because we may have felt we did not deserve it or because we did not want them to give us food because they barely have enough to feed themselves we take away their ability to thank and take away the dignity that comes with being able to serve and help others in the best way that one can. I hope I am making sense. What I am trying to say is that we must (in all our daily interactions) give and take in an appropriate balance (reciprocity).

I was SO blessed that day to be with these wonderful people and feel of their love, hope, and thankfulness. It was truly inspiring and really got me thinking more about so many things, this post may not make much sense because I am still mulling things over, but I hope you can see what I am trying to say and the great importance of treating others with love and respect.

As I write this I cannot help but this of the Xhosa proverb: I am a person because of other people.

Ponder on that!

What does it mean to represent something greater than yourself and how does one handle that? and how does one master the balancing act that is reciprocity? . . .

More Reunions

2008-05-09T06:38:00.000-07:00

All the other students have arrived, so now I am no longer the lone American (although I like to think that I am more South African than American). We are loving being here and it is exciting as we go about and we all learn more about the culture here. So that is the first reunion: with Kristen, Jared, Trent, Matt, and finally Sam.

The next few reunions were even greater. We went to see Mrs. Yoyo. Let me give you some background on who Mrs. Yoyo is. She started an “educare center” or like a preschool (she has kids from 9 months to 6 years at the school) about 13 years ago (I think) in the skwatter camp of Duncan village (again this is an informal settlement; extreme poverty). She started the school because she noticed all the street kids (homeless orphans) and saw they had nothing to fill their time but trouble and starvation (to say the least) and felt she needed to do something to change that. It is basically a place for the kids to get off the streets and into a place that provides shelter, love, and what food she can afford. Some of the 325 kids (yeah it is amazing and only 13 teachers if you can believe it, how would you like to teach there Lindsey?) that attend the schools do live with their parents, so some do pay some school fees, but those that cannot afford it are not turned away. The school is made up of about five shacks made from corrugated iron and other scrap metal and wood. It has burned down (partially) three times, the latest time being last august, but she has rebuilt (with funds that are provided by a BYU professor that is involved with this program and has kind of adopted the school and done fundraisers for it). BYU students have been going and working there in different capacities since 2003, and as a result, she actually joined the church in 2004.

She really is a trooper and is such a great example of charity and true Christianity! I look up to and admire her so much. It was great to go today to visit her and see how she has been keeping this past year. I am lucky because I receive the love and joy that she wants to express to everyone and BYU that has ever helped her because I represent all of that (which I am unworthy to represent yet something that I must represent none the less). She expressed her great appreciation for BYU and its support as well as me and my parents for all that we do for her (I am not so sure exactly what I have done, and I feel inadequate to accept her thanks but I know that she is so grateful for all her blessings and I feel that was her way of expressing that).
I got to catch up with her and learned that one of the teachers passed away last year (I believe it was HIV/AIDS), her son was stabbed (near the spinal cord so that one of his legs is not working properly, but luckily he is alive), and the school has burned, but she is hopeful, joyful, and never complains.

I also took the students to see Nompumelelo Primary School in Duncan Village. I worked at the school last year and fell in love with it. The teachers there are amazing and have such a hard work to do (teaching classes of 65+ students, many of which are orphans, malnourished, among other things) and are underpaid and underappreciated, but they are absolutely inspiring, I know no better way to describe them! It was great because as we walked to the school the school had just let out so some of the students from Nompumelelo walked past us on our way to school and two of them even knew my name and shouted “Hi Adam” which really made my day! When I got to the school I shook hands, got hugs, laughs, surprises, and everything else, it was a glorious reunion and my heart was full! The school is still struggling in many ways but finally got the computers that they were promised (I mentioned this situation in my presentation and the Inquiry Conference at BYU; if you want the link to see it let me know, and I can post it). I hope that I can take some time to work with them some more.

Mrs. Yoyo is amazing, teachers are a vital part of the foundation of a nation, and I am blessed to have these people in my life . . .

Alletta and Amber

2008-05-09T06:36:00.000-07:00

“Wanneer trou jy?” When are you getting married? A lady in Jet (a department store here) asked my friend Amber and I as we were shopping (I bought myself some rad Rastafarian slip slops; you’re jealous and you know it). I can’t get away from the pressure of marriage even when I get away from BYU :) . It was just really funny, and I thought I would share that with ya’ll.

So my good Coloured friends Amber and Alletta took me around today (I will explain what a Coloured is just now). They and I had to go to Mdantsane (the township outside East London). They make and sell posters to teachers such as ABC posters, vocabulary of the body posters, etc, etc for teachers to use in their classroom, and they had some teachers they were delivering to in Mdantsane, and I needed to drop something off at one of the schools I volunteered at last summer. It was a good time especially because Alletta had no idea where the schools were that she was delivering posters to, so after we dropped my stuff off we more or less just drove around the township with Alletta continually telling Amber to turn around and go back (we did more u-turns than anything else) and Amber telling Alletta that she should drive.

A little background: Alletta and Amber are mother and daughter respectively, and they are two of the craziest people I know! I love them to death! I was going to live with them this summer, but Alletta had to sell her house (the economy is really struggling here; we think we have problems in the states right now with rising gas and other prices, just come down here and you will see how we really don’t have much room to complain; but their housing market is not in as bad a spot as ours), but she still wants so much to help me out which I really appreciate. She told me that “We are not here for you 100% but 300 or 400%.” And oh how it is nice to know that there are people around me that are willing to help me out and look out for me. I have no doubt that if I needed a ride at 3 am they would come rushing to help me without hesitation (and hopefully that makes my mom sleep well at night).

Ok, so Alletta and Amber are, like I mentioned earlier, coloureds. Now the racial category of “coloured” was created, yes created if you can believe it, by the apartheid government (yes those ones are at it again) in the early 1950s (the term may have existed before this, but the apartheid government with the passing of the Population Registration Act and Group Areas Act really pushed this identity onto people) for everyone who was not black, white, Indian, or Chinese. So this includes people that are descendents of the Khoi San (the original inhabitants of South Africa), descendents of the Malay slaves that were brought over centuries ago, those coming from mixed backgrounds (e.g. white father, black mother, or even grandparents in that situation), and anyone else. So this group needed to be identified (thought the apartheid government) in order to properly place them because all races had to be separated. So to find out who belonged in what group they would stick a pencil in people’s hair and if it fell out immediately you were white, if is remained for a few seconds you were coloured, and if it stayed you were black (this is oversimplified but hopefully it gives you the jist; it really was quite arbitrary, in fact in many instances people were reclassifies from coloured to white and back again; if you can believe it: changing racial identities. In fact in some instances in Cape Town if a coloured person began to gain prominence then they were often times reclassified as white . . . think about that). So once the coloureds were identified they could be placed in coloured areas.
So coloureds have a very interesting cultural and racial identity which is the topic for a dissertation and not one I can tackle (or want to) here. I hate making generalizations but in my experience, coloureds are very energetic, exciting, and “colourful” people and Alletta is definitely all of that!

Alletta (much like my friend Deanna) will give you her left kidney if you simply asked. She will also tease you and give you a hard time till the day you die. Things are difficult for her because she has been cut back at work to only working three days a week, but she does not despair. She has her poster business, is doing project assessment (she works for and NGO and within it her focus is on CBOs (community based organizations) that, for example, teach people to plant gardens to sustain themselves and then turn around and sell in order to gain income, so she has experience in assessing how to make a project work) for people independently and can get some income from that. She is powerful, fun, resourceful and inspiring. I really do admire her a lot and wish that each of you could meet her and laugh till you hurt as I did today.

One interesting comment she made came when we passed a school that she worked at last year. She taught them how to plant a garden, provided seeds, helped them plant, and produce. We passed this school and the yard had become weeds and there was no garden anymore. Now this is really really disappointing because this school is in an area where many of its learners are only eating once a day and they could use a garden to feed the learners a descent and nutritious meal, but for some reason the garden has been abandoned. As we looked at the school, Alletta asked: “Is that (the garden) really what they wanted?” This blew me away and has been something I have been thinking about a lot lately. In terms of development, the world is trying to do so much for the developing world and those in poverty, but are the things that the US, Europe, the World Bank, the IMP, and the millions of NGOs actually doing things that the people what? This is huge and something that I continue to think about and wonder about. This is why I, like Alletta, love the idea of grass roots, bottom up, projects that people start themselves. There needs to be more listening to those in need rather than simply telling them what they need and how they will get it; maybe, just maybe, they know what they want and need but simply need some help (financial maybe) moving these wants and needs and these plans to achieve them from dreams and plans to actual reality.

I have simply rambled on far too long and I will be surprised if anyone (besides my parents) has even made it to this point, if so you are awesome!

Apartheid once again did something crazy, and my bleeding heart continues to bleed . . .

Day 3

2008-05-05T02:02:00.001-07:00

As time goes on, I am sure that I will not have time to make a post for each day I am here, but I have some time and I have been thinking a lot lately about being here again, so I thought I would make sure to put these thoughts down before I forget.

Today I attended the Mdantsane 1st Ward and it was great. I was reunited with two guys I served mission with, and man these township wards are always something else. The elder’s quorum president spent the entire lesson teaching us the home teaching lesson, which was actually great, but I kept expecting him to get past the regular home teaching chewing out that is universal among all elder’s quorums throughout the church and move to a lesson. Also, in elder’s quorum, one elderly man would not really sing the hymns but would every once in while let out a bellow that was only somewhat to the tune of the hymn (it’s the corky members that make the church true; I have a testimony of that J). He also was asked to read a passage of scripture and he stood up and read it with very loudly with great gusto and authority and then concluded the verse by saying “that’s great!” He is my new favorite person because he just goes with the flow and does as he feels and he has one of those jovial faces and really big, think glasses that look like they come from a cartoon or something.

I had a great conversation with Wilber (my host father who is Xhosa) today before church. He studied political science (heck yes!) and became a high school teacher, so we had a lot to talk about and he is VERY knowledgeable and sensible about South Africa’s current situation mostly because he has lived through all the most monumental moments in SA’s history (he is about 60). The most interesting part for me was the land reallocation talk we had. I brought this up because it worries me. First Zimbabwe is the mess that it is in large part due to the governments crappy (understatement) land redistribution policy (aka force whites off their farms many time murdering them) that placed people that did not know how to farm on the land; thus the “bread basket of Africa” has become a famine ridden wasteland. Also, many whites here say that SA is just a few years behind Zim and will soon be experiencing the same thing. Wilber told me the following:

When the old government ran out of land (they had given some white farmers farms that would stretch from Provo to SLC or from East London to King Williams Town) to give to solders returning from WWII, they began giving the whites land that blacks were living on and working. The blacks there were however allowed to work for the new white farmer (slap in the face!). so many people do feel wronged by this and rightfully so, but you cannot simply give them land. He said that if someone wants to apply for a farm, then they should first show that they can manage land by planting small gardens in their yards, get training on how to farm, be giving small trial farms to prepare, etc. There must be preparation! He also mentioned that people must first try to feed themselves an then work toward running a farm (many people complain about hunger but are not taking the time to grow their own veggies etc). he talked about cooperatives that sounded a lot like what Heber J Grant started in Brigham City (I believe it was him there) that really sent the Utah economy on the right track. Grant and others, who were farmers, all put some money into a manufacturing business that made nails and other things, but they would each only work there part time and the other days keep working their farms. Wilber suggested that people get together and work together on farms while keeping their current employment.

He is very much so all about self reliance (him and Brigham Young would have gotten along).
On another note, Wilder also gives no sympathy to those that blame bantu education on their current situation. Now bantu education was the education that the old apartheid (white, pre 1994) government gave to the blacks; it’s main goal was to keep the blacks ignorant so that they couldnot progress further than their “appropriate” place as subservient to whites. Here is what Hendrick Verwoede (Prime Minister of South Africa in 1954) said about bantu education:
“What is the use of teaching the Bantu (black) child mathematics when it cannot use it in practice? The school must equip him to meet the demands which the economic life will impose upon him . . . There is no place for him above the level of certain forms of labor . . . For that reason it is of no avail for him to receive a training which has as its aim absorption in the European community.”

This education was by no means valuable or useful and I detest it in all fronts and makes me sick to think about (if you want some good reading on this let me know and I would love to oblige!), but (as Wilber, a black man, pointed out) there were those that became doctors, teachers, and lawyers in spite of this terrible education such as Wilber and Nelson Mandela (although Wilber did say that he had great support from his family and Mandela was much more well of than the typical South African, so the typical black South African did not have much of a chance). This was a very interesting point that sheds light on the bigger issue of entitlements and affirmative action. In this country I have been traditionally in favor of affirmative action (as long as those that are getting the jobs are qualified and not ONLY given jobs based EXCLUSIVELY on race although I do feel that race is a consideration in light of the past inequalities, and before you disagree with me research SA history and then we will talk! If you are South African and reading this PLEASE give me your opinion!!!) this really got me thinking about the limits that entitlements have and how in the end if someone wants something bad enough they will work for it (again wilber’s words).

Corky people make life worth living and entitlements are delicate things that must be handled with prudence . . .

Day 2

2008-05-05T01:59:00.000-07:00

First, I slept for 15 hours last night! Heck yes! Oh did I need it! That plane ride here is anything but pleasant, but it was the best it has been this time around. Yeah, asleep at 8 pm and wake up at 11 am! My host family probably thinks I am some lazy American, but I think they understand why I was so exhausted! I was actually fighting sleep as my host father was talking to me, rude I know, but I was really tired!

I got to ride on the taxi again today which was great! Now all of you that know what the taxis are like or have ridden one before may laugh, but it really is great. The public taxis are these huge volkswagen mini buses/vans, and all of them are on their last leg or even to the point where you awe at the fact that they actually still run. Most look as if they should be or were found in a junk yard, but they serve their purpose and that is enough! Also, white people once again do not ride these taxis, so again I am very out of place, but I am accepted. I did hear this older lady speaking in Xhosa (very vocal, loud, and excited about whatever she was talking about); I heard her say uMulungu a few times which means white person, but I don’t think she was talking about me. It is tough riding the taxis because everyone speaks Xhosa, so the driver asks things in Xhosa and the people shout out their stops in Xhosa, so sometimes I don’t really know what’s going on, so I just go with the flow (pretty much the best way to approach any situation in SA). It is also kind of weird to hear my own voice when I do shout out my stop because my accent cuts the flow and air of the conversations going on in the taxi, and I definitely don’t like drawing attention to myself. Once again I am relearning and trying to understand the dichotomy that surrounds my place in this community and country, a place that I might not ever find . . .

Sleep is good and finding one’s place is a continual struggle . . .

Day 1

2008-05-05T01:58:00.000-07:00

Back in east London once again. I had an interesting conversation with mrs nduna (our housing coordinator with whom I stayed last summer) on the way home from the airport. A lot has changed since I stayed with them last summer. She has recently overcome a brain tumor of sorts (in South Africa people will go to the doctor for whatever ailment and the most common result is the doctor giving them medicine but not knowing exactly what is wrong with them, yeah much less than effective), so we don’t know exactly what it was but we will call it a brain tumor for simplicity’s sake. She has spent a year trying to get through this and even spent a few weeks (maybe even a month) at a “healing school” in which a pastor encouraged them to seek healing not only through medicine but through the healing power of the savior. She is a woman of great faith. Her husband lost his job with the government and has started working with an NGO that focuses on rural development (I still need to learn more about this NGO). She on the other had quit her job at an insurance agency last summer in light of her illness and has not returned. She is instead focusing her efforts on her church’s soup kitchen in Duncan Village (an informal settlement a.k.a. a skwatter camp) and planning to start a non-profit organization that focuses on building the skills of women that are HIV positive and unemployed gain employable skills so that they might be self sufficient. And finally, on the day I left mrs nduna’s home last summer at the end of august, mrs nduna brought a young lady home with her: this young lady’s name is Memory and she is technically a Zimbabwean refugee. When I arrived at the nduna home today, I was reintroduced to Memory and learned that she has been staying with Mrs nduna this past year. Now I do not go on about this to romanticize these two individuals, but to illustrate how some people here are really trying to give back and build their community; caring, sharing, giving, building, healing, in short being Christ-like; the world needs more of this.

I took a walk through the suburb of Beacon Bay so that I could use the internet at the internet café, and I really learned a lot. Now, in South Africa blacks walk and whites drive cars for two main reasons: the vast majority of blacks cannot afford a car and whites would generally say it is “too dangerous” to go walking around. Therefore, I was the only white person walking, so I felt quite out of place. I walked nearly everywhere last summer and was nearly always the only white, but I was slapped in the face once again with this definition of what I should and should not do as a white person. I noticed some people in their cars watching me and tried not to take notice or allow it to bother me. All of this made me very aware of my skin colour and what is appropriate for me to do and not do. There are huge walls build up between the races here which is something I have known for a long while but again was brought back to the fore front of my thoughts. As I walked I began greeting everyone that I passed because, from my days as a missionary, I learned that in the black culture whether or not you know a person, as you pass by you greet (which is something I have thought about starting on the BYU campus but I know that the only thing that would be accomplished would be a lot of “what are you stupid” looks shot at me and besides the ipods are a huge barrier to that), but the white culture is more like ours at home, you only really greet those you know (although they do greet strangers more often then we do at home) and it is extremely rare that a white person will randomly greet a black person they know let alone one they do not know. So, I was greeting and the responses were not shocked or confused mostly but simply a returned greeting. Maybe I am over-thinking, but I feel that just that simple interaction made me feel more a part of SA again and helped (in a small way) break down some barriers between me and those that I came in contact with.

In short, a simple walk to the internet café helped me think more deeply about where I fit in the mess that is the South African race situation, the need for simple gestures of kindness in order to build humanity and unity.

One final story about gender. Mrs nduna has been housing BYU students for at least 10 years and commented to me about a trend she finds in the married male students. She said that she asks the male students, in a kind of joking manner, “Did you get trained differently?” She said that the married men work hard and try to take care and that the girls are generally lazy and that it is the direct opposite here in SA. The African woman is the truly the unsung hero! As I walked to the internet café, I walked past an elderly woman, and couldn’t help but see how she hobbled along at an excruciatingly slow pace as she clutched the bundle in her hand. It seemed that every step caused her entire body to pain. I could not accurately guess her age, but she was well beyond the age of retirement, and yet she was working either as a domestic worker, raising her grandchildren, or any other number of things. And she does all of this with her own two hands and legs. Let me tell you this is not an uncommon occurrence to see such a woman on a daily basis.

Fear of the unknown destroys humanity and the power of the African woman is great . . .

the beginning

2008-04-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

i am sitting at home in idaho falls with my parents on the eve of my flight back to south africa. i am starting this blog in order to journal my time in south africa this summer. i named my blog "amandla" which is Xhosa and Zulu for "power" because i want to capture the power of individuals, of this country, and of experience. we are shaped by the people and environment around us, and i hope this blog will help track how the people and the country shape me. i also hope that this blog will help show everyone who reads it another side of the world they may have never seen and that this side of the world may have the power to shape even those who are not experiencing it first hand. amandla!