Carpe Diem

Sanibona all!

It has been a while since I have last blogged. I’m a bit bored now, so I guess this is a better time than ever to recount my experiences over the past week. After my first unfruitful week of Independent Study Time, I was going to start off the week by staying in and not even trying to do anything. I was so let down by all of the major circumstances that were standing in my way. Fortunately (or unfortunately) I got into an argument with the lady who owns the hostel (she is so unreasonable!) over laundry. I decided to trek to the SIT house across town and do my laundry there. On the way I stopped at the library downtown. I found out that I could not get a library card, but I could go in and read the books there if I wanted. I made a plan to return pencil and paper in hand, to get some research done. (I wouldn’t dare take my laptop into the library…Durban city center is known for clever thieves).

Anyway, I returned to the library, but got absolutely nowhere. Books were not shelved in the proper place, there was no system to look up books (besides what the librarians used), and when I went to ask a librarian for help…she couldn’t help me. I gave that up quick.

I did manage to gather two interviews this week. I was supposed to get 5-6 interviews for my project…but because of the circumstances I don’t think that will really happen. I am shooting for 3 now, so hopefully I will surpass my goal

My mom really enjoyed the monkey story, so I think have another one to top that. I was riding in a minibus taxi the other day back to my hostel with a few of my friends. In comparison to other minibuses, this one was fairly nice…like an upgraded 1980’s astrovan. Now the minibuses go through a lot of wear and tear…driving up and down the mean streets of Durban (and other south African cities)…people jumping in and out (and these people aren’t the smallest)…I am sure those vans have a very high turn around. Anyway, I was riding back to my lodging, and we were making our way up the hill. We stopped to pick a lady up, and the attendant who opens the door/collects the money, opened the door. The door got stuck for a second, and he yanked the door to close it. Before we all knew it the door was laying in the street. We were in the middle of one of the busiest roads, and the door was in the street! The taxi was filled with laughs as the attendant desperately tried to reattach the door to no avail…my friends and I resorted to continuing the journey to our hostel on foot, all the way up the hill. Fun Times

Today, I also had an interesting experience. I was walking to the taxis in city center. I made a turn onto a busy sidewalk. Lo and behold, there was some large thing on the sidewalk blocking the way. There was a rope around this thing, but I couldn’t understand what it was. As I walked by it, I got a better view. Although it was completely covered, this thing turned out to be a corpse. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but there was a body on the sidewalk, and no one seemed to care. That’s an image I definitely will not forget.

I guess I should have started with the latter experience first…I feel like I’m ending on a really somber note. I guess that just makes it all the more real though. I am still in Africa.

Anyway, until next time!

Hambani Kahle!

- Ezelle

The Fantastic Journey Continues

Sanibonani!

I wanted to post an addendum to my previous post about being a black foreigner in South Africa. I don't think I included that I was called an umlungu by the school children (playfully of course). The direct translation of this word is "white man." Now granted, I am not a white man, but as it was explained to us in Zulu lessons, umlungu has been used to refer to foreigners." I thought this was a pretty interesting tidbit to include.

I also wanted to recount a conversation that I had with my homestay mama. She asked me "Where do you think you came from?" I didn't know what she meant, so I said..."I'm from America." "No!" she said while laughing, "how did black people get to america?" I then told her about the Middle Passage-that many black people came to America as African Slaves. She just nodded, but that wasn't the answer that she was looking for. At this point, I was a gently frustrated. In a polite manner, I asked "Where did we come from then?"

She explained to me the story of Shaka Zulu. Now, I've head this name before, but only in comedic sketches of sorts. I had no idea that he was an actual person! King Shaka was an intense warrior, and from what I understand wanted to take over Africa. Obviously his legend has become a tall tale, but one fact remains: he was a ferocious warrior. She told me that King Shaka wanted to gain the knowledge of the abalungu (the white men), so he sent black people all over the world to collect knowledge, and to bring that back to Africa. "You are," she told me, " one of the lost children of Shaka, coming back with the knowledge of the White Man"

Interesting story, I thought. That was a narrative that I had never heard before, explaining why there exists a black international cultural diaspora. I also did further reading, which said that King Shaka never married and never had kids (a strange thing for a Zulu man). Some scholars believe that because of this Shaka might have been homosexual.

Coming back to the present: It is almost a week into our allocated month for an Independent Study. I have yet to meet with my advisor due to staff protests at her University. Moreover, my first interview was postponed. I have been trying to get some reading and source-logging done, but it's just not happening. I'm hoping that next week will be VERY different. If not, I don't know what I will do for my project. Its been raining almost every day here, as the season changes to autumn. I mustered up the resolve to start working on my project today, and as soon as I began, the power went out.... I guess that's a sign for something.

Anyway, next week WILL be different. It has to be. But as I told one of my friends, difficulties make research more interesting. You just have to roll with the punches.

I also wanted to let my readers know that I am not intentionally trying to sound pessimistic in my posts. Regardless of the difficulties and challenges, I am enjoying myself in South Africa. The challenges are just more interesting to report.

- Hambani Kahle!

- Ezelle

The Joy of Research (with slight sarcasm)

Well, the month of endless research has begun for me. The Independent Study Project (ISP) is the staple of any SIT program, allowing students to follow a topic of interest and produce a lengthy paper about that topic. As I have said so many times before on this blog, I am researching physician-activists in the anti-apartheid movement. From previous posts, you may have been able to discern my enthusiasm for such a topic…yet instead of me embarking upon the world with a magnifying glass, I am siting in the SIT house writing this blog.

There is nothing wrong with that, of course, except….this is not what I envisioned my South African Research journey to be. It is getting off to a very rocky start, and things are not within my control. I think me blogged about the protests going on at the University of KwaZulu Natal campuses. If not…well...here it is: Students are protesting because of an issue with financial aid. I am not exactly sure why because I have gotten so many conflicting explanations. The protests, however, have turned disruptive, even violent. Police are now out in full force to make sure order is maintained….even if that means firing rubber bullets.

There are two ways in which to look at this situation (I am trying to maintain level-headedness by looking at all sides of the situation…but that is a task of the utmost difficulty) I could (and do) see this as a MAJOR inconvenience. These protests are preventing me from meeting with my ISP advisor to set up a research plans. Furthermore, I just found out that my interview at the medical school (scheduled for tomorrow) will have to be postponed due to disruptive behaviour and threats. At the moment, I am currently stalled, with no place to go. Moreover, this interview is critical because it will, undoubtedly, lead to more interviewees.

On the other hand, I could sympathize with my collegiate peers. Although I am not entirely sure of the motivation behind these protests, I am sure it is not done with frivolous intent. There is a back story which is motivating the activism of these students, which I respect and admire. I would be hard-pressed to find such readiness to put the active in activist in American university students.

And thus is the grand irony of my research project thus far. As I am trying to research the activism of the past, it is blocked by the activism of the present generation (it’s quite interesting how it is working out this way). I am sure that many though that the demonstrations of anti-apartheid liberators were also an “inconvenience.” Although these strikes are a barrier to my research, I must look at them in contest. I must also acknowledge that barriers happen all of the time in research. If this is something that I will be doing for the rest of my life, I should probably get used to it.

Anyway, I guess I should be using my time more appropriately and find something do relating to my project.

I shall keep you updated.

- Ezelle

A Goodbye to Cato

I know I haven’t written in my blog for a very long time…and for that I apologize. I see now why I have so many hits! My mom has been blowing me up. I guess that’s a good thing. Over the past few weeks I have been completely invested in being a college student, both academically and socially. Work hard…play hard. Anyway, I had a few notable experiences yesterday, which I figure I should share.

My research advisor informed me that I should travel to the University of KwaZulu-Natal Nelson R. Mandela Medical School to see an exhibit about Steve Biko. I had no idea what to expect. Would it be a big exhibit or a small one? Would there be speaker? Would there be many people, maybe potential interviewees? Anyway. My first concern was how do I get there? I could have used the SIT provided transportation, but I figured I should begin using South African Transportation (During my Independent Study, I will have to use South African Transportation anyway). Mini-bus taxis are very popular...the largest informal economy in South Africa. I’ve spoken about Minibuses or “taxis” before….very small for my large stature, crazy driving, and people jumping in and out. I also asked my sisi about what taxis to take, where to get off, and how to get to the med school from the stop. My sister kept saying something about “row boats” and going past the “row boats.” Me and my complacent attitude, I didn’t ask if there were “row boats” around….I guess I would walk and see a row boat, and then make a turn or keep straight…It was only when she drew a map for me and pointed to an intersection and said “row boat” did I but two and two together---“OH ROBOT! “I said. (South African’s call traffic lights robots.

Well, after I got all of that sorted (another term used affectionately by South Africans). I caught a taxi in front of my Cato Manor house and rode to the “Chesterville Rank.” Now... I have never been to the “Chesterville Rank” before…but getting lost is good right? I made it there with little problems (other than transferring to a fuller taxi because the one I was on didn’t have any other passengers). There I had to ask around in broken Zulu for the cab going to King Edward Hospital. That was okay, other than I was stuck in the packed backseat with 3 other people... I could not raise my head completely, the ceiling was too low, and I had to sit sideways because my legs were too big. I MADE IT THOUGH! I followed the directions that my sister gave me, complete with the “row boats.” I made it to the Steve Biko exhibit in good time!

There I was the only visitor, and I found out that yesterday was the last day it was on display…which was a good thing for me. I went just in time. There I met the medical school historian/archivist/curator who offered the university archives to me as a student researcher. I also met the curator of the Steve Biko foundation who, as it turns out, has vested Charlotte. We had a few laughs over that, and my taxi experiences. She said my Zulu was great (I had no accent!), which was pretty awesome. All in all, I got some good information, and made very good contacts for my project.

Now some of you may be wondering, who is this Steve Biko person? If you are, you should watch the movie Cry Freedom. Steve Biko was a former Medical Student, one of the foremost activists in the anti-apartheid movement. He championed “black consciousness” which allowed those who were not white to embrace their heritage and fight the systems of oppression. He is quite a fascinating figure, and it seems that he is becoming a key figure in my research project. Also, my research advisor knew Steve quite well, which is also really awesome.

I made it back safely to my homestay in Cato Manor Township…and then I realized that it was my last night there. I already extended my stay for another month, unlike most of the students on the program (it was cheaper, and the food was AWESOME). AS much as I was uncomfortable, and had such interesting experiences, I knew I would miss the place. It was quiet and serene, yet simultaneously you could hear singing in the church down the street, or boisterous music playing in the house next door. I could go outside and look at the green glowing Pavilion Mega Mall, while looking out on the two valley townships from which most of its income comes. I would miss the hot nights there… the calmness of my homestay family, and sometimes even the water outages. All in all, it was a good time, and I know that those are experiences I will cherish for a lifetime.

Well, I will stop here. I noticed that I tend to write A LOT of information on these blogs. If something else interesting happens, I will be sure to include it.

PS- We saw a whole family of monkeys the other day at our SIT house! It was awesome!

- Ezelle

A Note from South Africa

A Note from South Africa!

As the Zulu say here in the province of KwaZulu-Natal, Sawubona! I am currently studying abroad with the School for International Training (SIT), studying community health and social policy. The primary aim of the program is to introduce students to Zulu culture and society while learning about health, healing practices and how they are informed by culture and policy. One of the key components of the program is the Independent Study Project, which allows students to choose a topic of interest, research and study in that area, and ultimately write an article length paper which critically analyzes their findings. As I am interested in the intersection of health and human rights, and more specifically the role of health care professionals in the fight for medical equality, I will be researching the role of South African physicians and other health care professionals in the anti-apartheid movement.

I am very excited and enthusiastic to begin my research project! The opportunity to conduct research in a foreign country and to produce knowledge to contribute to academic discourses is not one commonly afforded to undergraduate students. Furthermore, the parallels in development between the United States and South Africa are striking especially with regards to movements for equality. The civil rights movement, and later the anti-apartheid movement had similar goals, but it would be interesting to see exactly how the latter was influenced by the former. I am lucky to have a project advisor who not only studies movements for civil and human rights, but who was also a critical figure in the anti-apartheid movement. As I discovered upon our first meeting, her husband was imprisoned on Robben Island with Nelson Mandela! What is more interesting is that se and Winnie Mandela would often trade places, each wife speaking to the other’s imprisoned husband. Her insight and wisdom, along with her personal connections to other activists will, undoubtedly, be a major aid to my project.

As I start my journey of understanding my topic, I am beginning to understand the art of interdisciplinary research. This program is based upon the principles of anthropology and public health. In that light, all of the information that I have been learning thus far has dealt with research from multiple disciplines. While it is important to be grounded in a particular discipline, one cannot discount the obvious benefits of expanding the scope of knowledge: it allows not only more information to be critically analyzed, but also offers multiple paradigms in which information can be observed and manipulated. The world of interdisciplinary research dissolves the boundaries that traditional academic disciplines can construct.

Here, at this program we are encouraged to conduct research that is interdisciplinary. My research pulls from medical history, as well as the principles of public health and medical anthropology. Juggling these multiple disciplines requires much restraint and responsibility. It is so easy to get lost in the various aspects of each discipline of interest. Therefore, one discipline must remain dominant to all others. In the case of my research here in South Africa, I am focusing more on the principles of medical anthropology, while drawing from all other disciplines related to my research project.

The research journey is not going to be an easy one. Not only do I have to conduct a broad social analysis of my subject area, I must compose a list of physicians and activists to interview for primary data. I must also gather an amalgamation of secondary sources which will be used in triangulating the claims that I will be making in my final paper. This will be particularly hard, because I am in a new social and cultural context all together. Finding approximately 10 to 15 people to interview for at least an hour each is a feat I have never attempted to achieve before, but I am sure that my project advisor will have many suggestions.

My time here in South Africa holds so much potential for growth and learning. ‘The skills that I gain from conducting interdisciplinary research in a foreign country will indubitably are a key component to my growth as an undergraduate researcher. I am excited to see where my research will take me, and what conclusions I will make I am even more excited about the knowledge that I will take back to the United States. I am sure that my research here, in South Africa, will ultimately give me a new perspective in which I can view my current Merle Kling Undergraduate Honors Project. In the future, I hope to combine my findings from both projects to form the basis of a senior honors thesis in anthropology.

That is all about my research for now. As the Zulu say here, Hambani Kahle! Good Bye!

Ezelle Sanford III

South Africa: From a black student's perspective

Hello All,

So I have been meaning to get my thoughts on paper about being an African-American (better yet a Black American) student in a country where I am no longer the minority—which does not translate to being the privileged power group. I feel that my experiences here in South Africa vary greatly from my peers, in part because of my racial identity. In the reflection below, I will attempt to describe my experiences here. In no way does this entry attempt to reflect all black-American student perspectives in South Africa, however I do not think that what I have experienced here is hyper-individualized either. Anyway, I would definitely appreciate comments to this post in particular. I hope to maybe re-work it into essay form….for what I am not exactly sure yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

“Sometimes it’s harder for the African-American students,”

Standing in front of a group of newly arrived students, the Academic Director of the SIT South Africa study abroad program attempted to prepare us for the cultural challenges that lay ahead in our semester abroad in South Africa. I arrived knowing that I would be challenged as a student from America, indeed which was the only dimension covered in my study abroad preparatory course. Furthermore, I thought: how different could it actually be? I was black going to a nation where people who looked like me would be in the majority. If anything, I could just blend in…right? “Sometimes it’s harder for the African-American students,” our Academic Director informed us. As the semester has progressed, I have understood what he meant.

Why did you choose South Africa? We would all ask each other to make conversation. My answer was a complicated one. I decided to come for several reasons: (1) I wanted to step foot on some part of Africa, as it is the cradle of humanity, (2) I saw incredible parallels between the development of South Africa and the United States, in particular the fight for human right and equality embodied in both the anti-apartheid and civil rights movements respectively, (3) South Africa seemed to be a bit more developed than other parts of Africa, which meant that I would not have to forfeit completely the western comforts that I have always been used to.

“Blending in,” has served as a double edged sword for me. On one hand, I am not readily identified as a foreigner. This means that I could be carrying R1, 000 in my back pocket and no one would even consider messing with me. Fortunately no one has attempted to assault me, even after constant warnings that South Africa is such a dangerous area. I have walked around in my host township at all hours of the night with no concerns. This could also be attributed to my large stature and male gender; however I am persuaded that the mere fact that I can “blend” into the fabric similarly to a chameleon has helped in this respect.

The fact that I don’t look like a foreigner has been more of an obstacle than anything else. More often than the reader may believe, I have walked into establishments and have immediately been addressed in Zulu (one of the 11 official languages of South Africa spoken by the Zulu people, an indigenous ethnic group). Only when I say in my classic southern American accent “Huh?” do they realize I am not Zulu. Moreover, at a home stay in Umtwalume, a rural town outside of Durban, another white student and I visited a Shabeen (an informal establishment similar to a bar located in a township) with our homestay brother. Almost immediately the other student was flocked with interested parties. He was obviously the only person in the establishment with white skin, which made him an interesting oddity in its own rite (also, white South Africans would not dare venture into a township, so my counterpart must have been American). As many South Africans who I have encountered perceive Americans as being rich, rubbing elbows with celebrities, my peer was quite the highlight at the shebeen. I however, sat in the background “blending in” while drinking my beer.

In no way am I upset at the occurrence at this shebeen. In fact it is not the first time that something like that has happened. In fact, I was informed by our Academic Director that some homestay mamas would even request not to receive African American students because they do not posses the visual external markers of an American. That perceptible difference, and the homestay families’ association with said obvious foreigner is a form of cultural capital. It brings prestige to homestay host families. Therefore, the role of homestay/host family is such a coveted role to play in the SIT program. Luckily my homestay mama has been very accepting of me. In fact, I would venture further to say that my racial background has allowed her to be more candid when describing cultural norms and race relations in South Africa. I cannot help, but feel excluded sometimes in situations like the one mentioned above. As a semi-introvert in novel situations, I am not one to initiate and establish social interactions. This made my acclamation to Zulu South African culture a bit more difficult.

Even as I am mistaken as Zulu, I have also had a bit of confusion about my actual race. In a minibus taxi, on the way back from the local mall, I struck up a conversation with a local Zulu man. I asked him what a man was arguing about in the taxi (as I did not even know Zulu at this point in my trip). At the end of our conversation as I was getting out of the taxi, he asked “Are you Indian or colored?” Now it is a little understandable that the low visibility at night may have impeded on his ability to make out my actual race. I responded “No sir, I’m a black American.” My homestay mama even thought I was colored asking “Is your grandmother white?” To the best of my knowledge all of my grandparents were black. Another South African told me, I would pass the “pencil test,” meaning I would be classified as “colored.” I do not doubt that I may have a relatively recent white ancestor, as many black Americans do. Systematic rape and miscegenation of black slaves has created an entire class of mulattos (or in South African terminology, “coloreds”). I do not, however, identify as such, particularly because all of my known family also identify themselves as “black.” One must realize, however, that there is absolutely no biological basis for what we consider “race.” The entire concept is social constructed, and maintains only social value. The contestation over my “race” is simple proof of that idea.

The experiences to this point have described my interactions with black (primarily Zulu) South Africans, but I have also had some experiences with white South Africans. Conceptually, I understand that that Apartheid was on its last leg more than 20 years ago, yet I have never felt entirely comfortable in majority white environments here. As the following experience points out, regardless of how long ago equality was theoretically reached, and as in the US, racism is still very much alive and well. A group of students decided to go to Warner Beach for a weekend. Upon our arrival, the African-American students immediately noticed the dirth of black Africans in the community. Another black student and I walked to a restaurant take out counter to get lunch. Upon our arrival we were not greeted. An Afrikaner man walked in behind us, he was immediately greeted and given one of the two menus that my friend and I were looking at. Even more to my surprise, he was served before we even had a chance to order. Now, usually I do not patronize establishments that do not respect me as a person; however, my friend was a vegetarian and this was the only establishment which suited her tastes, so concessions had to be made. What I do find interesting is that there is a distinction made between black Americans and black South Africans. Black Americans are perceived to be “better” here. We (African American students) have even been told by the staff of our study abroad program to champion our “American-ness” in order to be respectfully treated, particularly in restaurant establishments.

Although it is extremely difficult to live in any culture you are not used to, racial difference adds a different perspective to the entire experience. The aforementioned episodes have been learning experiences themselves…in the way that a society defines race, cultural norms, and discrimination. I do know that my experiences here have given me valuable life lessons. Although, in some respects have not been the same or even comparable to my peers, I would not have changed for the world. I have learned to value both the good with the bad, and to reflect critically upon everything. On the bright side, I will have SO many stories once I am back in the United States!

Anyway, that’s my reflection. Please let me know what you think!

Hospitals and Rural Areas

Sannibona! Hello All!

It has been a very long time since my last blog

post, and for that

I apologize. It has been getting quite hectic here, as we are knee deep in the semester now. Paper deadlines are coming up rapidly, and on top of all that we are still taking our excursions which, quite honestly, are a bit disorganized. Nonetheless, the experiences I have had thus far have proven to be very valuable and I hope to share some of them with you below. I have quite a lot to cover yet again, so I hope only to include the highlights more will come though

HOSPITALS: The week before last, all of the SIT community health students visited various clinics and hospitals to volunteer/help

out, as well as to get a sense of the public health care system in South Africa. For the most part, public health care here is free, but the state of the public health care system is deplorable. I visited a hospital with several of my peers (I don’t think I can reveal the name of the hospital on this blog for ethical/legal reasons), but I was absolutely amazed. First of all there was not a computer in sight. Patients handled their own written records, which often got lost/duplicated/ or filed in the wrong place. Moreover the whole chain of treatment gave patients the run around before they could be seen by a doctor. Because doctors are so rare in the public system (and those that are there are only serving their required one year of community service), patients must first stop by their local clinic (staffed entirely by nurses). If the condition cannot be treated there, then the clinic refers them to a local hospital. Each area has a designated public hospital (in the case of the township where I am staying, it was the hospital where I worked…but that is more than 30 minutes away by car!). There at the hospital the patient may wait hours just to retrieve a file, then must wait in more lines to receive vitals testing, followed by any sort of screening or scan that needs to be done. The patient then waits in a queue of 150+ people to see 1 of 2 or 3 fresh-out-of-m

ed-school, community service doctors. If they cannot help as the secondary intervention, patients are then referred to a tertiary provincial hospital where surgeries, treatment, etc. are done. To receive relatively quick and effective service (and by relatively quick I mean 6 months to a year of trying to figure out that you have cancer and get it treated, for example), you must go through this entire chain of command. It is so much different from our system…if I am really sick, I go to the hospital. Simple as that. I can only imagine how many people have died in the process of trying to be treated. Days missed from work, transportation costs, standing, waiting, and more standing in lines could be a huge toll on patients.

Although the situation was so appalling to me at the hospital, I had a blast with the nurses. They affectionately called me “Mr. Uzi” because they could not get my name right. When I told them I was staying in a township with the Zulu’s, they laughed at me (because they were Colored). I got to fetch a stretcher for a lady who passed out while waiting to get her file. I got to conduct patient interviews of people who missed their appointments for the doctor, where I saw so many things. W/hat truly amazed me was

how many people were HIV positive! Not only that, people were finding out that they were positive, and it was as if nothing had changed. As I discussed with my peers later on, if I found out I was HIV positive, I would have had a fit of some kind, but here, it is so common that people don’t stress. One doctor even told me “I don’t ask about HIV status anymore. When a patient comes in, I just ask ‘What’s your CD4 count?’.” Assumption of a positive status is not unwarranted, KwaZulu Natal (the province where I am staying), has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in the world.

RURAL AREAS: My homestay family in Cato Manor scared me, when telling me about the rural homestays. They said “Kids come back crying,” “It’s so hard!” “You will fall in the poop hole!” Honestly though, I think I may have enjoyed my rural homestays more than I enjoy my homestay in the city! We made our first stop at Umtwalume a semi-rural area not too far from our base of Durban. There I met

with a faith healer (a traditional healer who uses prayer and water). I learned how to bead, a method of craft many women used to generate an income. Can I just say that using those small beads was the hardest thing I have ever done! (I guess my visual disability didn’t help much either). Luckily I had a mama there who was able to help me make m aids ribbon in no time…she was such an expert and so fast with it too! The time it took me to put one bead on the string, she had completed an entire row of the ribbon. At least now I have a memento I can say I made (or rather, I tried to make but the mama made it for me). In Umtwalume, I also had a traditional Zulu dinner—fresh chicken (as in jus

t slaughtered), amadumbe (a type of flour/potato dish), and butternut squash this was served to us on a tray, and we had to eat with our hands (a phenomenon I just cannot get used to).

Next we visited Impendle, which is in the Drakensburg Mountains. What a beautiful sight it was. Impendle was more rural than Umtwalume, complete with dirt, rocky roads. When one thinks of rural Africa, a picture of the landscape of Impendle might be appropriate. Cows were EVERYWHERE. Imagine, walking down the road, and a bull is walking toward you (that actually happened to me). We were walking from our home, and a herd of about thirteen cows greeted us. No harm was done, to my amazement, but being in the midst of a herd of cows that weigh several tons was not an appealing thought to me. The water here was definitely NOT safe to drink, although we did bathe with it. The people were so nice to us...our broken Zulu and their broken English made things a bit complicated, but we transcended those boundaries of language, which was excellent.

We have learned that it is Zulu custom of r a man to have more than one wife, but we had yet to see a husband in the families we have been with, let alone a husband with multiple wives (there is much to talk about in terms of the absence of fathers in the urban Zulu context). In Impindle, however, we stayed with a family with 5 wives! Two of the wives were present on the compound and two were in Joberg. The first wife actually ran away. We stayed with the second wife primarily (who is technically now the first wife). Because of her status as the “first wife” she is known as the head of all of the other wives. When asked if she got along with the other wives, she said “of course.” The way it has been explained to me is that “at least I know where my husband is at night.” But that doesn’t explain how he had the opportunity to recruit more wives Anyway, a man with 5 wives is a very rich man, as he must pay for all of them, and pay to sustain them. Moreover, our baba had twenty-two children! Think about all those people he must support!

Anyway, that’s about all of my stories. I did, for the first time, live without indoor plumbing, and I made use of the long drop toilets! Will I do it again if I had a choice, probably not, but it was definitely an experience I can reflect on. By no standard were the rural staying unlivable, but then again I must take into account that I am an American student, and although these environments have a changing effect on me, I also influence the environment in which I step. I am sure conditions could be much worse for those who are actual residents of the mountain-side town.

I think that is about all for now. Those were just the highlights... I have more stories for DAYS! Including stories about my hike in the Drakensburg (so tiring!), but I will save that for another time. I still would like to write a post on my experience as an African-American student in Africa, and how my experiences may be different from my peers, but that will have to come when I get a little bit more time to work on it. I hope things are well wherever you may be reading this!

Salani Kahle nobenosuku oluhle! (Stay well, and have a good day)

And the adventures continue

2/20/11

Sanibonani

It is so hard for me to believe that I am approaching my second month here in South Africa. The first week went by so slowly, but after that, time waited for no one. I guess it’s because I am actually taking classes now, and looking forward to deadlines accelerates time a bit. This past week has been SOO eventful, so this will be another long entry (brace yourselves). I will try to make it as entertaining/captivating as I can (I think all of these are important experiences that I sho

uld note...moreso for myself, than for a general audience). I will try to also include some pictures within the text of my blog to make it more cohesive. Don’t forget, I have pictures from my Flickr account at the bottom (I will update that soon too).

ELECTRICITY- I was sitting in my room reading the other day, and all of a sudden the house goes completely dark. At first, I thought that it was a problem that all of C

ato manor had….just like the water before. The house next door, however, was blazing with light. As it turns out, my family forgot to add more time to the pre-paid electricity. It was quite interesting. There was a little machine in the kitchen that regulated the electricity. As opposed to paying a monthly bill, my family would purchase electricity time (just like you would purchase pre-paid internet or phone minutes). My sister quickly ran, grabbed the receipt and struggled to input the pin number that would allow us to get more electricity. After a few minutes, power was restored, but boy; it was a scare for me. I don’t know what I would have done without power.

SCHOOLS: Last week began our excursions into the Durban community. I, along with a few of my peers, was sent to Claireview Primary School to be introduced to South African education. I had not seen anything like it before. As we got there students were walking from all over in their black and white uniforms. What caught my attention most was how well mannered and behaved the children were. The teachers did a very good job of teaching them how to greet (as we walked into each classroom, the multitude said in unison “Good morning ma’am’s and sir-as I was the only male in the group). What was more interesting was the sheer magnitude of students in each room. We visited two classrooms- first a grade 7 class, which had about 60 students. Can you imagine (60 students in one class?). That wasn’t the worst of it though. We visited a grade 2 classroom with approximately 55 students. Now imagine…55 6-8 year olds in one room for the entire day…it can get a little hectic, es

pecially with one teacher. It was obvious she was frustrated…some students understood the lesson of subtraction, others were not. Some kids were hitting each other, while others sat quietly while the teacher made her rounds. It was absolutely amazing—the classroom dynamic. What’s more, the primary school was known for its ability to deal with refugees and immigrants from war-torn parts of Africa, therefore students in classrooms often did not have English as their first language, which makes things even more difficult.

MONKEY’S- We travelled to Warner Beach, not far outside of Durban for a weekend out. The beach itself was an experience (and I have a lot of beautiful pictures to prove it). I have been talking about how I wanted to see a monkey (I’ve heard stories of them stopping by the classroom), but up until this point, I had not seen one monkey. As we were preparing to leave, my friend called me outside of our hostel to see a monkey…but I missed it as it ran away. I returned to the house to work on my laptop. When I got up to take my things back to the room, I looked into the kitchen and saw a monkey walking on all fours across the counter. Fear shot through my chest and I ran into the room yelling “there is a monkey in the kitchen!” One of my friends went to go investigate the claim, but she came back empty handed. Again I went outside to check for the monkey, and what

do I see? Lo and behold, the monkey is hanging on the bars which covered the windows looking outside! I again ran into the room and told my friends. Another came out and began to look for the monkey, but she could not find it. Our visitor never appeared again, yet no one believes a monkey was ever there. I guess we will never know for sure...but I know what I saw!

WORLD EVENTS: I don’t know how much news is reaching the states, but it seems like every day I am hearing about some protests, riots, or civil unrest in countries around the world. First we heard about Egypt, then Sudan, Then Yemen and other Middle Eastern countries, and now Libya is following suit. Even here in South Africa, protests are a daily occurrence, as people demand better pay and better treatment. I also meant to talk about Nelson Mandela’s hospit

al stay. He is in his nineties now, and he was in the hospital for a short while, but people made it seem like he was dying…there’s just so much going on in and around Africa. It is a time of intense struggle and change.

RACISM: As I said earlier, a few of my friends and I travelled to Warner Beach to escape the city for a weekend. What we found was so unlike what we have seen thus far… it was a small town full of Afrikaners. For t

hose who don’t know, Afrikaners are the whites descended from Dutch settlers who came in the ea

rly 1600’s to South Africa. I, as a black student, felt the racial tensions which were residu

al from Apartheid. I went to one take out counter with my friend, and as we were standing there, we were not greeted. A guy (white) came in after us, and he was immediately greeted and served. As there were only two menus on the counter and both were taken by us, the lady went to my frien

d, took her menu and gave it to the white guy… all while my friend was still trying to figure out what to get. The man made his decision and ordered

before us... even though he came in AFTER! That just goes to show you, apartheid is still relatively recent, and those sentiments still reside with some people. Until this point in my experience, I had never dealt with racism in South Africa…but now I see, it is still alive and well, just as it is in the states.

WATER: on a rather quick note, the township where I am staying water was cut off, yet again (for the second time since we have been here). That has not happened before in the history of Cato Manor. What’s more people were not informed that water would be ceased, and therefore were unable to prepare for the shortage. We spent more than 24 hours without water, without anything to drink, without any way to bathe, and without any way to use the indoor plumbing. I have never before treasured water so much when we got it back earlier today. It is absolutely amazing to me…my mama told me that they shut the water off, at times when most people are coming home from work, and getting ready to cook. They shut the water off without notifying people, and worst yet, the water can stay off for DAYS at a time. The water truck was supposed to come and deliver water (most often contaminated), but it never came until after I left for school. I believe this is one of the experiences that will change my life forever. Never again will I take water for granted...because you never know when you might loose it!

Those are all of my updates for now. I apologize for the length

- Until next time!

New Experiences every day

2/13/11

Sawubonani!

Here is another update about my adventures in Durban, South Africa. On Friday my friend Esther and I made dinner for our families. Our mamas are twin sisters who live right next to each other. Therefore we decided to combine forces and fix a big dinner for the two households. It was my first time ever making a meal by myself.without my mom/dad/grandma telling me what to do. Anyway, we came out successful! I fried chicken which turned out to be excellent (I didn’t know I had it in me). We used Paula Dean’s recipe, and our families really enjoyed it Esther made creamed spinach and sugar cookies, and we both pitched in to make two huge pans of macaroni and cheese. Now I know I can definitely cook from scratch. I hope to exercise my new-found skill once I get back to the states….especially now that I know how to fry chicken! I’ll be set once I go back to school!

This weekend, my friends and I have been doing a lot of hanging out around the township getting to know some of the local people...and boy do we have interesting stories to tell! Friday night I was having a coule of toots at Charlie’s corner (the butchery which turns into a shabine at night). We were hanging around after a cookout that one of the mamas had for us. Unbeknowst to us, two Hispanic guys drove past us in a truck yelling something which we couldn’t understand. They drove around and came right back, and we had a lively discussion. The guys wer both from Peru, and we asked—Why are you in Africa? I don’t think I got an answer to that question, but it was fun nonetheless. My Spanish skills got a little workout when speaking to them..they were a very lively bunch.

Saturday night, I was hanging out with my SIT friends again… this time, we were at a house party. As I was walking back home with some of my friends, lo and behold do I see my homestay brother outside in the street, hanging out with Esther’s brother (I guess they are both related). Mind you, I haven’t spoken a complete sentence to my homestay brother..he’s very quiet and reserved, and most of the times, he is working until very late at night doing the sort of job that my dad does. I had a pretty fun time with them….even though they were a bit drunk. Esther’s brother was carrying a 6 pack of bottled Heineken and offered me a bottle. I asked how to open the cap…a bottle opener maybe? I was then instructed to use my teeth! I tried but failed to get the cap off. But then Esther’s brother opened the bottle. I just could not believe that they used their teeth to open the bottles! That can’t be good for their dental health, but then again, that isn’t a priority here when you don’t even know what you will have for your next meal.

Today I went to Zulu Church with Esther, her little brother (bhuthi omcnandi), and her mother. She was quite happy to show us off to the rest of the congregation. It was quite an interesting experience. The service itself wasn’t too entirely different from church back home. It was an interesting experience to look, and not wholly understand what was going on. At some points, we were to shake our neighbor’s hand and say something, but I always missed those ques. Children freely walked in and out of the open building, playing outside, then coming to sit in the back in child-size plastic chairs. We sat in larger lawn chairs, and welcomed the large fan that was blowing behind us. At most there were approximately 50 people there. The service was very lively, and one woman kept fainting. Overall though, it was a great experience. They translated the sermon to English, which was an added bonus for us.

I think that is about all for right now, I have to go and get ready for school tomorrow, and it is getting dark out. Another of our local friends is having a party tonight…which I might get dragged out to by my friends.. we shall see though.

Anyway, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

P.s. I've had some interesting inquiries about my race while I have been here. My mama asked me if my grandma was white, and said that my hair is very soft. One guy told me I would be classifed as "colored" because my hair is too straight. The other day, I was riding in a minbus taxi, and a guy asked me if I was "indian or colored" (colored refering to those of mixed race). I told him I was black, and he looked quite confused....

hmm. It's all very interesting

Irony of all Ironies

So, the whole point of this program is to get the "authentic experience." That is why we stay in a township, as opposed to a hotel, or a dorm room. How can you truly understand the health issues and problems of South Africans, particularly those in poverty, if you don't have any personal, or primary understanding of that lived experience?

I sat with my mama yesterday to watch the State of the Nation address by Jacob Zuma (South Africa's president). While watching, we couldn't help but discuss pertinent issues. One of those issues was the mater (amanzi). I came home yesterday, and she sadly informed me that the water has been shut off. Why? I asked. "I don't know" she told me. "Sometimes they just forget about us here. They don't notify us." I was utterly amazed. They didn't notify the families that the water would be shut off. Moreover, the water was shut off in the evening (after 5). That is when almost everyone returns from work to come home, eat, and sleep. Now, int he United States, that would not have happened. If water was to be shut off for any reason, neighbors of a particular community would be notified, and the water would be shut off during the day--a prime time, when almost everyone is out and about during their daily activities. This water stoppage absolutely shocked me. What if you needed to drink water to stay hydrated? (it was quite warm yesterday). What if you needed to take a shower or brush your teeth? We couldn't even use the toilet because there was no water to flush with. Perhaps the most amazing thing, is that it did not shock anyone, or cause any havoc. I could hear people chatting about amanzi, but it seemed as if this happens often. In fact it does. My homestay mother told me it happened once or twice every year!

The water returned this morning, but now it isn't flowing properly. The faucets "cough" in a way, producing an uneven flow of water... I hope things get better by the time I return home in the evening.

on a different cultural note, I found out that Jacob Zuma has multiple wives. Polygyny (multiple wives) is an accepted phenomenon in zulu culture, particularly if you can pay libolo for all of your wives (a dowry). My mother explained it to me that its better when a man has multiple wives because you know who he's sleeping with, as opposed to "girl hunting." And it shows a man's wealth.. I though tthat waas pretty interesting.

Well, that's all for right now!

Food and Horns

Sawubonani! Ninjani? (Hello! How are you?)

I have had some new cultural experiences today that I would like to share on my blog. First off, I have been initiated into the amazi club. Amazi is a South African dish made of sour milk, plain yogurt, cream, and putu which is a grain (also called mealy-meal it is the staple of poor people…a necessity. If you cannot afford mealy-meal it is given to you by the government). This is all combined together to form a dish. When I came home, I thought I smelled food being cooked... I guess I was wrong. My mama told me I would be eating something “very different” for dinner today. Amazi has a reputation in our program, because many of the homestay families love it… it is a nice break from cooking, a nice break from hot food (particularly in hot weather), and a break from all of the spices. The dish, however, does not sit well on the American stomach. Some of my colleagues were introduced to the dish earlier in the homestay, and I felt lucky I wasn’t in the number...but I got it today! I tried it...as I am open to trying new thigns. It wasn’t unbearable, but I am not used to consuming sour milk. I think I might be a tad lactose intolerant anyway, so I try to stay away from milk as much as possible…but having a dish filled with sour milk didn’t appease my taste buds, or my stomach. I had to take an antacid tablet just now to try and calm my stomach from the flips it has been doing. Luckily my homestay family noticed my lack of enthusiasm for the dish, and allowed me to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I felt really awful about the whole situation! Mama’s like when guests clean their plates…and I usually do… but this time, I barely touched my meal. Anyway, here’s to new cultural experiences!

I began to watch my first soccer game on television tonight, although I had to retire to my room, because it is already past my 9:30 bedtime (I have to wake up at 5 am tomorrow). Before I retired to my room, however, I learned that South Africans really love their soccer. Moreover, every time RSA scored, you would hear the vuvuzelas (the horns) blowing… not only on the television, but in around the township as well. Hopefully we will go to a soccer game sometime soon, and maybe I will purchase a few of them to bring back.

Lastly the violence here is awful, and it struck close to home a few days ago. A grandson a few houses down have begun to take an up-and-coming drug called wonga which is made of HIV antiretroviral pills, rat poison and methanphetamines. The boy stabbed his grandmother several times because he got into an argument with her. As the gogo or grandmother was bleeding, and ambulance was called... but it did not arrive for 4 HOURS! By the time it arrived someone took the gogo to nearby Westville Hospital (in the rich suburbs where the megamall Pavilion is located). The gogo tried to get treatment there, but she was informed she had to pay R10, 000 upfront before she could be treated. Imagine, bleeding all over your body from stab wounds, and a hospital is refusing to treat you because you cannot pay upfront. The gogo was then transported to another public hospital, King Edward. Although she had to wait in a long line there, at least the services were free. These are the issues of the current South African medical system.

It’s a travesty.

I once was lost.....

2/7/11

Sawubona! Unjani? (Hello! How are you?

Well, I have not updated my blog for a while now. I am long overdue for another entry. Things have just been so hectic here over the last week or so that I haven’t had adequate time to sit down and process my experiences, for the world to read. As you can see below, I have begun to upload some pictures of my stay here in South Africa! Do not be alarmed by the bar and lounge photos…I’m not there every day, and those are not representative of my entire stay here. Those pictures are the most recent ones from last weekend when the program had a few days on the town, away from our homestay families. We stayed in a backpacker (hostel) called Tekweni (based on the Zulu name for Durban eThekwini). The lodge had quite a hippie/liberal/carefree college student type atmosphere. It almost felt like college on the beach. My friends and I frequented Cubana, a bar and lounge….it was very nice, inexpensive according to American standards, and it had everything: good food, drinks, and hookah! It was a nice get-a-way considering I have been struggling to get the things that I am used to back home: air conditioning, a hot shower, a table to put my food on, mirrors (so I can shave), ice cubes, and oh yeah, can I say AIR CONDITIONING?

It is incredibly hot here, although I have experienced worse. St. Louis gets pretty hot in the summer, but here it is a different type of hot (I like to call it Africa hot!) I think it is the proximity to the South Pole that is probably making it hot (I’m just postulating, I am not sure) last night though, I could barely sleep. I was lying on the bed (not even in the sheets!) In my boxers completely drenched. I could not find a comfortable position to sleep, and at one point between full consciousness and sleep, I had a semi-dream semi-hallucination. Crazy right?! Wherever I go, there is ABSOLUTELY no A/C (i.e. my homestay house, and the house where we have our classes). Anyway, those are my complaints thus far. It’s just something I have to get used to. Although, I don’t think I will ever come to terms with the lack of trashcans and napkins…..their absence has really made me realize how reliant I was on them…

Back to my weekend travels. We stayed in town, and my friend Esther and I decided to get lost on our way to Victoria Market. Okay…we didn’t intend on getting lost... it just happened, but it was one of the best experiences I had thus far. We first rode a minibus taxi to the Workshop, a shopping center right next to City Hall. There we ate a little Indian place, which has good, cheap food. We then successfully found our way to the Market on the People Mover (We were informed that the People Mover busses were meant for tourists only, not locals... so many locals don’t even know what the bus is for). We made our way to the Market and walked around the block. This is when I felt like I was really in an African urban center. Let me see if I can paint a picture of what I experienced. Let’s start with the smell. Think body odor in heat, add the smell of curry and other spices, ripening fruit from stands, and grills going cooking meat on the side of the street for people to buy. Now imagine the sounds… taxi’s beeping every five seconds to attract potential clients, the sounds of Zulu, Xhosa, and Sutu all with their numerous clicks ricocheting off of one’s ears. Along with that is the continuous soundtrack of African drums, techno, and American pop and traditional African music from multiple radios. Now imagine being on a crowded sidewalk. Established stores on one side, while on the other are street vendors. There are ladies walking around balancing tremendous loads on their heads, and men are handing out pamphlets for Zulu traditional healers. I hope that gives you some Idea of what we experienced. There I found gifts that I will probably take home. I bought a little music maker for 60 rand (about 8 USD). That seemed pretty cheap, but as I was leaving, the shopkeeper was speaking to another, and they both laughed at me…I think I w supposed to haggle the price…eh, either way, I got a deal.

After we left Victoria Market, we walked in the outside spice market a bit more (we saw more traditional healing and hanging chicken carcasses, to name a few of the sights). After looking at how the poor population of RSA lived, we were to meet our friends at gateway Mall, the biggest mall in South Africa. We had a time though! We wanted to find a minibus taxi—they are cheap (4-6 Rand). The only downfall of those taxis is that they drive CRAZY and motor vehicle fatalities are the number 3 cause of death in the country. We spent two hours in the hot sun, walking from taxi bay to taxi bay asking the drivers if they go to Gateway. If they didn’t understand English or our heavily accented Zulu, they pointed us in a different direction, which got us further lost! We found a taxi later in Warwick Junction…a place we were warned NEVER to go because it was so dangerous… needless to say we made it to the mall safely. The mall was incredible and huge! Even bigger than the Pavilion (which if you recall, is bigger than any mall I have seen back home). It was so interesting to go from Victoria Market, where people are there trying to make a few rand a day…to Gateway Mall, the epitome of opulence. That just goes to show, how alarming, how steep the disparities are between the haves and the have-nots.

When I got back to my homestay, my Mama commented “: Ezelle, you lost weight this weekend!” Zulu mama’s are sticklers about their kids… they want them to be FAT, and apparently I wasn’t fat enough anymore. She has given me even bigger helpings of food to put some weight back on my bones.

Well anyway, I think those are all the adventures I will share at the moment. If anything else happens, I will be sure to let you all know. In the meantime, I have bunches of work to take care of!

- Until Next Time!

Umlunku (The White Man)

1/29/11

It is so very hard to believe that I have been in Africa for a week now. It seems like I have been here forever. First off, I have travelled a great distance from Johannesburg (Jo-berg) to Durban. I have lived in 3 places: two hostels, and one family homestay, and I have already begun to get in the groove with classes at the SIT house. I am trying to enjoy this experience as much as possible, and so far I have been doing just that! As our classes started, I began to realize that I have been stuck in “tourist mode,” soaking up everything through the lens of a tourist. The purpose of this program, however, is for students not to be tourists but to integrate themselves into the Zulu culture. As an aspiring Anthropologist, or at least, someone who deals in the social sciences, I have realized I have not been adequately integrating in the sense that I am a participant-observer. I guess I am excused in a way, after all this is only my first week in South Africa. Next week, I want to get into anthropologist mode (I have to in order to begin working on my independent study project). This is good training, particularly when considering which path I want to take: the public health route or the anthropology one.

Speaking about anthropology, I always thought it was really interesting hearing my professors give their field anecdotes. As most of my anthro professors have been white, it came as no surprise to me when they referred to a term which meant “white man” in the indigenous cultures that they were studying. At the back of my head I could not help but wonder...what if you are of a different ethnicity? Are you still the “white man”? I got my answer today. My sisi told me that a few kids came by the house looking for me today to play. And they asked (in Zulu of course) where is umlumku? Where is the white man? My sisi responded: There is no umlunnku here! What are you talking about? But the children were adamant that there was an umlunku staying at the house. She later figured out they were talking about me, but I am not white! Speaking with other black students in the program, we figured it was a word that just meant foreigner as opposed to “white man.” So I guess my questions were answered, regardless, you are still the white man!

I think I have spent more time outside here, than I ever had when I was a kid. Children are everywhere in this neighborhood! I went out with some other students after school, and they swarmed us! A mob came, grabbed us all by the hand, walked through the streets to the park and back again. I was absolutely amazed by the number of them. It was like an Oprah moment (I don’t know how else to describe it). There is, in my mind at least, a generic image of someone going to a village in Africa, and kids swarm them, and the kids look poor, and dirty, and have no shoes on, but are still smiling and laughing and are very appreciative of the smallest things we take for granted in America. That’s what my experience was. Although I am not living in a rural village, I am living in a township, which means that the people here are close to the city, but am still living in extreme poverty. There were kids who had on torn and tattered clothes. There were many kids who did not even have shoes on. (Can you imagine walking on an asphalt street with no shoes on? Waiting to step on broken glass, or nails? Or walking in dirt? Or stepping in the droppings of chickens and dogs?) It was absolutely baffling and astonishing to me. The kids loved to be photographed (once you pulled out your camera, they would not stop posing!) I have a lot of pics, so I hope I can post them one day! (By the way, I have to pay for my internet here... BY THE MEGABYTE! That’s something I have to get used to. It is all prepaid, even the cell phones are prepaid. The positive is that I have a mobile internet key which can travel with me anywhere, but I have to be really frugal with the time that I spend on the net).

Speaking of frugality here, I feel that I have reduced by the power of ten. Where I have been, there are NO paper towels, and paper napkins are few and far between. The only hot water that I have encountered has been in my tea. Trash cans are not as frequent as they are in the US.

I know my family would like to know if I am eating well. Indeed I am! Mama Fakile is a good cook, and I haven’t had anything yet I thought was absolutely disgusting. The diet consists mainly of starches, meal and beans. But that’s okay! The large stove in my house broke the other ay though, so Mama can’t cook like she used to, so we are using the smaller stove for the moment. Hopefully it will get fixed soon. When it does, Mama Fikile wants me to make pizza! I guess I have to look up an easy recipe so we can make it, or at least get one of those frozen ones to just throw in the stove. We shall see (speaking of food, she is cooking dinner right now…some sort of pancake. I can’t wait to see what it tastes like!! It smells absolutely delicioso!)

Staying with my host family has been an absolute delight thus far. We get along wonderfully, and they are so open and willing to talk to me, especially my sisi Pumzile. We were talking about music last night and my mama is very fond of Ne-you. I was taken aback! She is maybe in her late 50’s/early 60’s. I didn’t know she kept up to date with the latest pop music! But she has a granddaughter (my sisi omcnani—the c is a click sound by the way, and means younger sister) who is a teen, and listens to all of the latest music. We bonded over Alicia Keys, Mariah Carey and Beyonce. My sisi keeps it real, and I like her for that. She’s a die-hard Christian who is willing to speak to me about anything. Most of the students in my program have yet to speak about the pink elephant in the room with their families (HIV- South Africa is the HIV capitol of the world). Pumzile speaks openly and freely with me about it. She has told me many stories... about her aunt (mother’s sister as she refered to her) died of “the sickness” because her partner was sleeping with other women. The partner is still alive today, spreading “the sickness,” but her aunt died a few years ago. She told me about a doctor (white) who was knowingly infecting patients with HIV. She also told me that no one really used the Public ARV clinics because there was such a large stigma attached to the disease.”So many problems” she told me. Family structure is so loose here, which is a problem contributing to the spread of the disease. Marriage is a costly affair, 20,000 rand is the figure I heard, just for the negotiation of cows (a necessary step for the families of the two parties to get to know each other). Some people barely have 500 rand in their pockets (that translates to about $70! (And here I am going to withdraw R1, 000 so I can live for the next few weeks comfortably). Talk about privilege!

In my experiences here, I have seen more wealth than I have ever seen in the US, but experienced more poverty also! The gulf between the rich and poor is so large here. I was speaking to my sisi, and she told me when she was pregnant, the first time she went to seek medical attention was when she was 8 months pregnant! She had her first sonogram at 9 months! The situation is dire. Although I am living pretty comfortably with my family, these situations are real. I’m appreciative that I am experiencing these things first hand. One gets a different perspective on these issues once you are in the midst of them.

I, of course, had more things to say, but they have conveniently left my mind at the moment. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this pretty long blog entry. Once I buy more time, I will upload some pics for you to look at! See ya

To Home I Go!

1/25/11

Sawubona!

Hello All! So I have been in Durban for several days now, and I seem to be getting a handle on things, but that doesn’t mean I am quite settled yet. Today was a very busy day, beginning very early with us moving out of our hostel (I apologize for misspelling it in the past few updates…thanks Prof. Zafar!). It seems that things get started very early in South Africa, I guess because the sun rises significantly earlier than it does in the states...around 4 am! That means early to bed, and early to rise (which has also been quite disappointing for my study abroad friends and I trying to find nightlife at11pm). Anyway, then we began our second day of Zulu lessons. I think I am picking up the language nicely, except the clicks still trip me up a bit. There is so much more mouth involvement with this language. More tongue is necessary, and coordination of the breath is super important when making sounds. I don’t want to brag, but I think I picked the clicks up faster than some of my companions in the program. One has to have a natural command of the mouth…which apparently I have.

But that isn’t even the most interesting part of it all. After Zulu, we went to the Megamall (shopping centers in SA are split into two groups Mega and Minimalls). Please believe when I say Mega, that this mall was HUGE. I have never seen anything like it before. For those back home in North Carolina…think of South Park (that’s how nice it was) and then multiply that by 3 or 4. The mall was very nice, obviously catering to the rich, but we only had time to eat lunch. We practiced some of our Zulu on some of the workers we met at the restaurant. Zulu People are so excited when they learn we are learning their language, and are so willing to help.

After that, we heard a lecture about Cato Manor, the township in which we were going to stay. But nothing could have prepared me for my initial trip into the place. Everything that this program does, it does for a reason. The Megamall (also called The Pavilion) sits on a hill overlooking the valley where Cato Manor is situated. The difference between the two places is incredible, surpassing the extreme differences of economic class that I have seen in the US on both sides. The Pavilion glows ironically green on the hillside at night, and is visible from the valley. Cato Manor is a township with much history (too much for me to delve into at the moment…that was an entire two hour lecture today!) But it is a neighborhood of working class people in Africa. The houses are small, but comfortable. They are really close together. I can’t really find words to describe the place…it’s just very different. I can only say that the impoverishment is obvious. There are no tin shacks, which you may see in movies, but the cinder block homes only took the place of the tin shack shantytowns…Anyway, I will post pictures later and you can definitely see for yourself.

The biggest part of the day was that I began my homestay in Cato Manor. I am actually sitting in my room right now. Boy was I nervous when I stepped foot off the minibus to look at my abode for the next month or so. A very small 3 bedroom house with a living room and a kitchen. I don’t come from a huge home, but even for me, this is the smallest living arrangement I have been in. My current room is about half the size of my single room last semester. But I am not complaining! My host family is really nice. My “mama” is very nice and very welcoming. She has two adult children both of whom live at home, and one grandchild who is 13 years old. We spent the rest of the evening talking about SA and the US, finding out more about each other, and watching television. South Africa has soap operas I might add. Maybe I will get more into them as time progresses (although the languages span from English to Zulu to Xhosa (the x is a click), to Sutu) which means I will have to get more used to reading subtitles.

Anyway, it has been raining here a lot which has cooled it down a bit My host family says it is too cold tonight, so they put a heavier blanket on my bed (although I have a feeling that took this one off of their bed to make me feel more comfortable) I, however, am still hot (it's about 75 right now). So, we shall see how that goes. I am absolutely not used to being treated like a guest; however Zulu people make sure that their guests come first. I noticed at dinner that I had the most of them all 9we had rice, beans and potatoes). I cleaned my plate, but did not decide to get seconds. The lack of money here is painfully obvious to me. I don’t want to be a burden to my family, and I don’t want them to surrender their comfort, even though it is their custom. That’s just something that I am working through at the moment. Anyway I think that is about all for now.

Salani Kahle! (Stay well!)

PS. I just wanted to add this morning that I woke up the the crowing of the rooster!