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Monday,
July 8th 2013
I have just settled back into my hotel
room, am secluded on a couch in a corner of the hotel with a glass of wine and
am going to attempt to process the past 24 hours and document these experiences
on paper. During this trip, most of the
time is spent with 19 other beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, kind, warm
hearted people who have quickly turned into family. Time with them is invaluable as a learning
experience, but I am excited to finally be alone with my thoughts and begin to
reflect on what these experiences mean to me.
Sunday, July 7th began with a trip to the
hospital Nelson Mandela is currently at and a tour of the Apartheid Museum
(which I will blog about later).
Afterward, we arrived in Soweto, an urban area in the city of Johannesburg. Our group arrived at the Anglican Church
around 12:00 where we were to meet our host families that we would be staying
with for the next 24 hours. I was full
of anxiety and excitement, but mostly excitement because I knew this part of
the trip would help me to truly understand the lives of the South African
people. It is one thing to tour a town,
city, or country, and maintain an outside perspective, but being able to
immerse one’s self in the lives of the African people is what it truly is to
experience the land and what I have been looking forward to most. We entered the church as their service was
coming to an end. They were praying and
we slowly entered and sat down.
They
began to sing and our welcome began. The
priest announced to the congregation that the students from New York University
have arrived and they offered a warm welcome to us and Professor Moja. In many churches and places of gathering, this itself would be
considered a “warm welcome.” However, my
idea of a warm welcome was about to be shattered. They asked us to walk up to the front of the
church as they sang an uplifting song.
We stood in front as they sang a song and began to dance. They grabbed our hands and began to invite us
to join in the dancing.
The amount of
genuine warmth was indescribable. We
continued to greet the people around us, then took our seats after Professor
Moja spoke and expressed our gratitude for the incredibly warm welcome. After the service, we mingled shortly when
myself and a few friends held a baby girl who went to Amber, Gabby, then myself
with no hesitation, no fear, and no crying.
She was so innocent and easy going for a baby. After speaking with her father, I learned
that her African name was “Waanalo”, which means “easy.” How fitting I thought. I then learned from him that in African
culture, a baby receives 3 names: one from the parents, one from the mother’s
parents, and one from the father’s parents.
The name that begins to fit with the personality of the baby is the one
that sticks. This is an example of the
African peoples’ natural ability of reading one another and being in touch with
humanity and what it means to be a human.
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Me and Waanalo |
During this blog, I will mention the word
“Ubuntu” and relate my experiences back to this African word.
It means “humanism” and “a concern for the
well being of others.”
This word has
deep, deep, meaning that stems from the incredible struggles and strengths of
the African people.
I then found myself in a room with my
family from NYU and women from the church who were about to become our Mami’s
for the night. While waiting for the priest
to announce our match ups, I was sitting with Jo, a friend of mine, and we were
talking with a woman next to us who exuded such a bright light of
personality. Her name is “Nkele Bhengu”,
which means “tears of joy” She was
happy, go lucky, and I asked her, “Are you the youngest in your family?” She
replied yes, we laughed, talked, and our match ups were to be announced.
(During this time, she was holding my hand and Jo’s hand on and off, a little
detail that helps show this woman’s kind spirit)
|
Painting on the back of the church chairs while waiting |
The match ups were announced and I,
unfortunately, did not get placed with Nkele.
Instead, myself and Marc, got placed with a woman who came off not as
warm and welcoming. We believed she was
a nun and me and Marc joked that we were about to enter a conversion camp. When I told Nkele who I was placed with, she
gave me a look that said “Oh no!” and immediately began to find a way to get me
to stay with her. I was disappointed,
but did not want to leave Marc and was going to let this happen and go into it
with an open mind and trust that I was placed with my mother for a reason. We then went outside and met our three
“sisters.” Khensani is 11,Khaliswa is 17
and Patricia is 19. At first, things seemed a bit awkward as they
wanted 2 other girls to go with them and we had been afraid to go with the
woman we were matched with. I even
remember Khaliswa saying, “Well, this is awkward”, which perfectly fits her
strong, blunt, comical personality.
However, things were about to change. We walked around Vilakazi Street, which is
the street where Nelson Mandela grew up and one of the most famous streets as
it is the only street in the world where 2 Nobel Peace Prize laureates were
born and raised. “Granny” had gone home
to cook dinner.
We then began to wander around Soweto with
no agenda or no plans. The conversations
were abundant and very telling as we were beginning to learn about South Africa
from the minds of teenage girls, who were direct results of the end of
apartheid, which occurred in 1994.
Patricia was more soft spoken, yet confident. Khensani was quiet and was
the young girl following us around and interjecting once in awhile and Khaliswa
was the strong willed, feminist, confident, blunt, hilarious teenage girl in
which I got further into conversation with most. I learned from her that her father was not
around and her mother was a strong woman who took care of her family. I learned that she thought the youth of the
world, specifically South Africa, were “dumb”, were too worried about being
“cool”, valued the wrong things shows from American shows like Real Housewives
of New Jersey and Sweet Sixteen. I
learned that she was okay with being smart and not giving into the typical
teenage pressures, even though she still has plenty of friends. I praised her strength and we continued to
discuss important topics, even politics of South Africa as well as
America. She was curious to hear
America’s politics as she told me the African National Congress party was beginning
to lose support by the South African people for not following through on
promises, but people were hesitant to vote for the DA because of the white
woman in charge. She also expressed her
love for Eminem, Jay-Z, Drake and Rihanna, but criticized Adele for expressing
her emotions from a break up so much. I
had to interject here and asked her if maybe it was admirable and showed more
strength to show vulnerability and she saw my opinion and agreed (Phew!).
|
(Me, Patricia, Marc) |
I
learned much more about this extremely intelligent woman, but one thing that
stuck out was when I asked her about her views on apartheid. To my surprise, she had said she saw it as a
positive thing and wanted it to return.
While she was very smart and was educated at a private school, I of
course took this for what it was as she is seventeen, but I had to know
more. She said this was because she
believed that during apartheid, the youth of South Africa had something to work
for and fight for. She continued to
express her frustrations with the youth as being lazy, not valuing education,
and saying they are becoming lazy and spoiled.
She said she would not want the horrible treatment of non-whites like in
apartheid, but she said at least during that time the struggles of the Blacks
led to motivation to be better.
During these two hours, not only did I
learn about this incredible woman and the people of South Africa, I learned the
importance of storytelling as a means of sharing a people’s history and the
importance these details and stories.
These experiences are what make, build, and maintain a people and you
can see the people of South African recognize and appreciate this through
generations of beautiful story tellers. If
it for this reason that I feel obliged to share my experiences. These subtle differences we can make with one
another through the sharing of experieces, the sharing of struggles and
knowledge, is the way to truly change the world. In fact, Nelson Mandela’s words say it best that
“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the
world.”
About 2 hours later of walking around the
neighborhood, we stopped at a local store to buy “fatcakes”, which are very
similar to Italian zeppoles, without the sugar; delicious. We brought them to our new home where we were
greeted by Granny who was ready to feed us dinner.
|
(Patricia, Khensani, Khaliswa---left to right) |
We presented one of our gifts of a new blanket to the
house for having us over, were brought into our room (a room in the back ‘guest
house’) then sat down in the living room for dinner. I was anxious for this part as I was unaware
what traditional African food would be served, but was prepared to eat what was
served and be grateful for the food prepared for me.
We sat around the table in the living room
as Patricia helped bring out the food Granny was cooking. During this entire
time, Granny did not say much, did not eat with us, but was rather insistent on
just feeding us. She even said “Granny
will take care of everything” and other words spoken were “Are you alright?” or
“Are you well?” Again, very interesting to see the results of South Africn’s
history in the people I encounter.
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Granny and her son to the left |
As the food was being brought out, the
girls all waited for everything to be placed on the table, helped serve, and
eventually we all held hands and said a prayer together, once Granny came to
the room and said “let us pray.” We were
served warm bread, something that looked like ham, the fatcakes from before
and….. tripe. The tripe was goat tripe
(stomach), which was off putting for me as I saw goat wondering the area before
arriving. The smell was foreign for me
as well, but I tried my best to keep polite.
Khaliswa of course called me out on taking just one piece as I had said
I was hungry before. However, I mixed
the tripe with the bread, got it down eventually and moved on. What was most interesting to me was having
this traditional African meal in a South African family’s house and on the
television was MTV playing American music videos that we discussed with the girls. Quite the juxtaposition. Also interesting was Patricia and Khensani
saying this was their favorite meal and was eating every last bite. During this, Khaliswa was trying her best to
make other plans with us, such as meeting up with her friends to smoke “hash”
and going to see a movie at the mall. She
said she only stays overnight at Granny’s 1-2 times a year, but did so for us,
even though she believed Granny’s house to be “boring.” I don’t blame her, since I would think the
same thing if I were a teenager.
After the meal, Granny’s son arrived. He is a lawyer for the government who drove
up in a white BMW which the girls squeezed into, as well as Marc and
myself. We drove around town as Granny’s
son stopped people in the town to say hi to and introduce us. I began to realize we were being shown off as
his “American visitors.” I later learned that his name means “hope” as I
imagine he is where the money comes from and Granny’s other daughter is “kind”
who is more personable, but Granny told me later that night, “But that’s just
how he is.”
We eventually made our way
to Granny’s son’s girlfriend, where we met her sister, whose name is “Mmbali”
and she was the explosion of energy me and Marc needed as we were getting tired
from a long day. She was in her Sunday
pajamas and when she walked by the house and saw we were from New York City,
screamed with excitement, took pictures with us (which she said she was going
to show off to her friends at work), then took mine and Marc’s hands and had us
go to her friends’ shack-type house across the street where she jokingly said
we were going to be her “best friends from New York City.” She was beyond excited as she showed us to
her friends and jokingly looked at her friends and asked, “So how is it to live
in the ghetto of Sowetto?” in an American accent. She wanted us to go out with her in Jo-Burg
and said she often goes out Thursday night, Friday night, Sunday night and
Monday at work is Monday Monday, or “Monday blues” and even sometimes Tuesday
Tuesday or “Tuesday Blues.” She could not
be more different from her sister who seemed more “put together” for lack of a
better term, and was a paramedic.
However, Mmbali made my day and it was hilarious to be treated like a
celebrity. It was also interesting as
she introduced herself as “Precious,” a name I heard many times. I asked her what her African name was and
asked her why “Precious” was so common.
She said during apartheid, many Blacks went by “white names,” but I
insisted on calling her Mmbali. She also
explained to us that the first time she saw whites come into Soweto, at least
her neighborhood, was during the World Cup.
She said many people actually stayed in houses in Soweto during then and
that was the first time she saw white people in the neighborhood. She explained that some of her closest
friends are white, but none of them have ever been to her house---EVER. And she was 100% okay with that. Interesting to see this as she is a product
of apartheid South Africa mixed with transitioned post apartheid South
Africa. This was her reality and she saw
nothing wrong with her white friends not wanting to ever go to her house in
Soweto. As much as I wanted to talk with
Mmbali longer, Granny’s son wanted us to see more of the area, including
Khaliswa’s university (college).
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Mmbali |
|
Mmbali as we were leaving |
As it was Sunday, the university was
closed, but the guards let us drive through quickly since we were American
visitors visiting to study the education of South Africa. The family all got out and were proud to show
the school.
Next stop was the hospital. This was a government run hospital that
people could go to who did not have money or insurance coverage. Granny’s son’s girlfriend was familiar with
the place as she is a paramedic, but said she was afraid of hospitals, as were
the girls. This was interesting to me as
I know death is an interesting topic in South Africa as death is a common
reality, so much so that people save up money for their funeral arrangements as
to not burden the family. Bank
advertisements even advertise support for funeral arrangements, which I saw
today at the ATM. I heard through the
grapevine that our Professor has said it is highly unlikely for her to ever
return to South Africa and not have a funeral to attend. This is a sad reality, but also made me think
of my students in the inner city where death is also common as related to
gangs, and violence.
|
Quick group shot after the hospital tour |
We eventually ended up at a mall where we
got coffee, ice cream, and the girls went to see a movie. It was a local South African movie in which a
white guy befriends a black guy and causes tension in the families. Myself, Marc, and Granny’s son and his
girlfriend (who I do not know his name as he was fairly quiet), decided to go
meet our friends and their host mother at a local “well” for drinks and
dancing. Nkele, the happy Mami that I met at the church earlier gave her number
to Patricia for us to call so we could meet up.
She even said she would come drive to pick me up from the house so she
could see me later. Jo and Gabby told me
she was asking all day, “Where is Daniel? Is Daniel okay?” so I was happy to
finally meet up with them. The night
continued with drinks, food, and great dancing.
Dancing is a staple to African culture and I admire their rhythm, soul,
and groove. It unites and a further
driving force of “Ubuntu”. During the
night, it was fantastic to see any one person at a table feel the desire to get
up and dance at any time. If other
people felt this, they rose to dance as well as others around the room shouted,
praised, or pointed to give it a little “Yes, I feel ya. Dance it up”
It was great when one person felt the music, danced, which led to all of
us dancing and singing. Nkele brought
her neighbor, son and his friend, and 2 woman next to us also joined in dancing
and the fun. A moment that sticks out is
when I talked to Nkele’s neighbor about the values of our countries and asked
her what she thought of America. She
said she saw America as a place where there is no struggle and people live
great lives. She sees this from
television, but I explained to her as best as possible that the people of
America have great struggles as well and we connected on a human level about
that. I told her I admired the African
people’s ability to appreciate the values of humanity that matter and explained
that Americans have lost sight of some of these values. She said to me, “Ubuntu: when my neighbor is
well, I am well. When my neighbor is not
well, I am not well.”
It was a night I will never forget, for
sure. By about 10:00 pm, we all returned
back to our host families’ houses. The
girls were watching TV with Granny. I
sat next to Granny to get to hear her stories and get to know her and we
discussed life and we discussed that struggles are what bring about strength in
people and it is a necessary part of life and without it, a sense f humanity,
or Ubuntu is lost. She believed her
children have not had to struggle and they do not realize that yet.
Eventually, Marc and I were in our room in
the back guest house with the 3 girls in our pajamas/comfy clothes all squeezed in on the full bed. I had just given the girls a deck of cards
with pictures of New York on them so Marc and I explained to the girls all of
the places in New York, such as Times Square, Central Park, the Brooklyn
Bridge, etc. The girls
listened with wide open eyes and were excited to talk about visiting New York
City sometime in the future. We then
played cards as they taught us games.
Eventually I got out and began to doze off on the bed as the girls
continued to play with Marc. They kept
yelling “Daniel! Wake up” so I fought to keep my eyes open as I knew sleeping
would be a terrible use of time during this unique, once in a lifetime
experience, and they knew this too. At
one point, I woke up to two girls doing what I used to do with my mother and my
mother explained she used to do with her siblings. While they lay on their backs, they had their
feet touching and replicating the motion of riding a bicycle, what my mother
said in Chinese was “Chi On Chaya” (phonetic spelling?) This was great for me to see as I saw these
girls appreciate their company with one another the way my mother did with her
siblings and with us. There was no Xbox, Playstation, computers, etc....just the company of one another.
As we nonchalantly hung out, Marc and I were
writing in our journals as the girls would gather up and snuggle asking us what
we were writing. I asked them random
questions to answer such as “What animal would you be?” “What is your African
name and why?” “Where do you see yourself in 5 years” etc and eventually asked
each of them if they would write in my journal a short note for me to remember
them by. I am going to share Khaliswa’s
as I believe it is beautifully written and deserves to be shared. Patricia asked me to not share hers with
anyone.
|
My letter from Khaliswa |
I am and forever will
be amazed at the humble strength and Ubuntu these girls showed us and I've truly developed feelings of familial love for them in such a short time.
We have promised to keep in touch.
|
Me and my family in Africa before leaving to walk to the church to meet back up with the group |
Marc and I, sleeping in one bed together in the guest house, fell asleep amazed
at the experience we had and both went to bed thinking “Wow” and we could feel
the absence of their presence already.
However, I slept like a rock until I was awoken at 7:30 AM by Khaliswa
knocking at the door (which is locked with a key from the inside) saying she
prepared a bath for me and that I should go first since Marc was still
sleeping. I did so, although I did not
bathe, but brushed my teeth (Yes, there was running water).
We had our last meal that Granny cooked made of brown porridge. Patricia wrote in my journal for me “For
breakfast on Monday morning we had Mabele (brown porridge).” Khensani said at breakfast, “Can I get a cup
of cawwwffeee?” and I burst into laughter as I remember from the night before her
asking “Can I learn how to speak in a New Jersey accent”? They all knew of the
Jersey Shore, Snooki, The Situation, Pauly D etc. Ah, the knowledge I am spreading to South
Africa. We quickly finished up the meal
and began our 20-25 minute walk to the church.
When we got there, I embraced friends and my Mami. She then gave me my African name, "Thabo",
which means “happy.”
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Collage of some pictures with my Mami in Soweto and at the well |
We hugged several
times before leaving and took pictures.
When I said goodbye to my sisters, Patricia said to me in her cute,
soft, voice, “Okay, I am going to close my eyes when you walk away” and
Khaliswa said “I can’t believe you’re leaving already” but continued to smile
and move on. I told them I will never
forget them and can’t wait to hear about who they become, what they accomplish and joked that I
would save their letters for me until they've won the next Nobel Peace Prize...