My Home Stay Experience in Soweto

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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.  

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. 

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).  

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.”    

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...