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)