(From April 12)
My days in South Africa feel exceptionally, abnormally long. This was the case in Bo’Kaap, which lies in the heart of the City Centre, as we sat in classes from 8:30 AM to 4 PM and attempted to rally our energy, metaphorically slapping our cheeks and jogging in place, trying to fit in one museum, or one glass of wine, before retiring at home, exhausted, by 11 PM.
The story of long days rings even truer here in Langa. I feel as though the past 48 hours have been 480, as though I’ve been here for weeks instead of days. There are a few reasons, I think, for this phenomenon. First, as we wind down our program and celebrate/mourn the “last” class of this, our “last” community building session, our “last” whatever it is, I feel so many different feelings in the span of minutes and moments, it feels as though hours have passed. For instance, in one class yesterday, I felt a rage so potent it brought me to tears, I felt shocked at some revelations, I felt agreement and empathy with individuals with whom I’ve shared no such connection in the past three months… It’s as though my wheel of emotions and impulses has been gaining speed throughout the program and it’s now spinning so fast that I ricochet from glee to anger to sadness with barely enough time to actually register each feeling. So, that’s exhausting. We also have zero—zero—connectivity to WiFi here in Langa, meaning that I have almost nothing to do after class (which now ends at 2:30, of course, now that we are out of the city) except for read, write papers, and nap—all of which I engage myself in fully. I think that what I’m basically trying to get at with all of this rambling is that I can barely remember yesterday morning, so bear with me as I attempt to provide a full recount.
After the fitful sleep that characterizes almost every single first night in a homestay, Dorothy and I woke up to get ready for school. We ate breakfast with our host mom, and she then walked us to school. Along our route, we saw and met up with half of our program members; we all live so close together that our paths converge naturally. I observed my surroundings for the first time in daylight and was struck by its sheer familiarity. It felt like walking along the street in a Los Angeles suburb. The shrubby grass, the low one-story homes, the same open-space and open-air feeling of a neighborhood outside of the city, the kids playing in the street. Strangely, though this is meant to be our most impoverished and potentially difficult homestay site, it feels most like home to me. I think that will be helpful mentally in getting through the parts of staying in Langa that can be emotionally wearing.
As I stated, yesterday’s classes were pretty long and kind of exhausting; it’s hard to sit in the same spot for hours upon end without the distraction of a phone or passed notes. But, I really enjoyed the final lectures by those professors, and my final session of community building with the other twenty-nine students on the program was fun and touching and way less disastrous than past sessions.
Sally, Jenn, Michael, and I decided to explore our neighborhood for a few minutes before going home. We found the train station, some fast food restaurants, and a ShopRite grocery store in which I purchased chocolate and potato chips (aka the cornerstones of a healthy diet). When trying to exit the store, something in my stuffed backpack set off the alarm of the store. First of all, classic me, right? So I zipped open my bag and showed its contents to the completely ambivalent security guard, and he benignly waved me off with barely a glance. I feel like I experience moments of such confusion or weirdness quite often, and I never, I mean never, suffer any consequences from them—probably because I’m a young white woman who looks relatively innocent of pretty much anything. And yeah, obviously I am innocent—I haven’t stolen anything in my life, not counting a Blockbuster gift card that I mistakenly thought was a brochure when I was like six (that’s probs what sent them under, amirite). But how different would these encounters with law officials and authority figures be if I was, say, a black man, just as innocent of any crime but perhaps less believable by the establishment? Situations like this one really make me ponder my privilege a lot.
Anyways, that *traumatic* experience with law enforcement exhausted me, and so the four of us schlepped home, I for a nap. Sally, Michael, and I realized that we are all next-door-neighbors, which is extremely convenient in a neighborhood in which nobody (literally, nobody) can walk outside at night. When Dorothy tentatively asked if we could maybe just sit outside for some fresh air at nighttime, our host mother looked at her like she was out of her mind and emphatically answered, “NO.” Very comforting.
Dorothy and I napped pretty solidly until dinner time (which was so yummy) and shared dessert, Smencils, and commentary on some reality television show with our host family. We retreated to our rooms for a few hours of silent reading time (Dorothy and I are a homestay pair made in heaven) before crashing.
This morning on our way to school, Dorothy and I met a fascinating and super inspiring Langa resident named Lowelo. So six years ago, the shed in which Langa residents deposited their waste burned to the ground, and the city (as far as I can understand) dragged its feet in replacing this shed or providing any viable option for trash collection for this neighborhood. Lowelo and some friends then decided to start their own business in which they’re paid directly by residents and then collect the trash and clean the receptacles every single week. I was so inspired by his initiative and kindness and hard work that I actually wrote a paper on him today! These are the stories I’d never hear were I not actually living in these cities and learning through experience. (Just trying to validate my study abroad experience, don’t mind me.)
Today was a much shorter day—we had a lecture, in which I came up with some pretty sick post-program resolutions that I’m really excited about, and then a panel with some social justice community members. My favorite part of the day, however, was an optional lecture with the head of our country program, Sally Frankental, on the history of Jews in South Africa. Since I jokingly refer to myself as an “honorary Jew” due to my three-month stay in Israel with the Morris family (still my surrogate family, love you guys), I felt like it was my duty (and honestly, my pleasure) to learn about Jewish culture in this country. I sat there enthralled for a full hour and a half; it was probably in my top three favorite lectures of this entire trip, and it was optional, of course. I was super proud of myself when I was the only person able to answer the year of the first Zionist conference in the world (1897) and the leader of the conference (Herzl) due to my day at the Herzl museum with three members of the Morris family back in July (you guys rock). Seriously crazy how worlds collide.
That also reminds me of this morning, as Dorothy and I sat watching the South African news with our host mom. We were each reading the little news bulletins scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and we realized that we could basically understand and/or empathize with every single piece of news! Brazil’s Congress pushes for impeachment—yep, we were there. India condemns five individuals for the desecration of a temple—we studied religious dissent in India for a whole month! And finally, the Gujarati cricket team beat the Punjabi team—Ahmedabad is in Gujarati, and though I don’t understand a single rule of cricket, I know where that state is!!!!!!! I have truly been inspired to become and remain a world citizen because of this program, and that makes me feel absurdly blessed.
After the lecture with Sally, a group of us students headed into the nearby town of Observatory, which is about six subway stops away, for some WiFi connectivity. (Yes, we are desperate.) I went through my 101 emails, about five of which were actually relevant; caught up on Facebook; and talked to my dad on the phone for a solid ten minutes—all good things! I returned home, napped, ate dinner, finished a paper, and then took a shower… Kind of.
So the shower nozzle in my homestay is broken and as a result, we can only take baths. Okay, I’m moderately disgusted by the idea of taking baths, as you’re kind of just sitting in your own filth, and so I’ve been struggling with a way to actually get clean by just kind of splashing water on myself when, finally, I realized today the perfect strategy.
Bucket shower.
Yes, my friends, I found myself a bucket and resumed my Indian habit of showering by pouring water all over my body. As Sally (my best friend, not the coordinator, quipped), I’ve come full circle. And yeah, it’s true. I really have.
From my emotional circle that is wildly out of control, to my non-WiFi life (that I’ve actually come to somewhat appreciate), to my feelings of hope and excitement for the future after a few months of despair and gloom and anxiety, to—yes—bucket showers, I really do feel like I’ve come full circle—but with all of the knowledge and maturity and experience of traversing that entire circle.
Can’t wait to see where I finish up.
tOOdles (two circles, get it),
Aubrey
My days in South Africa feel exceptionally, abnormally long. This was the case in Bo’Kaap, which lies in the heart of the City Centre, as we sat in classes from 8:30 AM to 4 PM and attempted to rally our energy, metaphorically slapping our cheeks and jogging in place, trying to fit in one museum, or one glass of wine, before retiring at home, exhausted, by 11 PM.
The story of long days rings even truer here in Langa. I feel as though the past 48 hours have been 480, as though I’ve been here for weeks instead of days. There are a few reasons, I think, for this phenomenon. First, as we wind down our program and celebrate/mourn the “last” class of this, our “last” community building session, our “last” whatever it is, I feel so many different feelings in the span of minutes and moments, it feels as though hours have passed. For instance, in one class yesterday, I felt a rage so potent it brought me to tears, I felt shocked at some revelations, I felt agreement and empathy with individuals with whom I’ve shared no such connection in the past three months… It’s as though my wheel of emotions and impulses has been gaining speed throughout the program and it’s now spinning so fast that I ricochet from glee to anger to sadness with barely enough time to actually register each feeling. So, that’s exhausting. We also have zero—zero—connectivity to WiFi here in Langa, meaning that I have almost nothing to do after class (which now ends at 2:30, of course, now that we are out of the city) except for read, write papers, and nap—all of which I engage myself in fully. I think that what I’m basically trying to get at with all of this rambling is that I can barely remember yesterday morning, so bear with me as I attempt to provide a full recount.
After the fitful sleep that characterizes almost every single first night in a homestay, Dorothy and I woke up to get ready for school. We ate breakfast with our host mom, and she then walked us to school. Along our route, we saw and met up with half of our program members; we all live so close together that our paths converge naturally. I observed my surroundings for the first time in daylight and was struck by its sheer familiarity. It felt like walking along the street in a Los Angeles suburb. The shrubby grass, the low one-story homes, the same open-space and open-air feeling of a neighborhood outside of the city, the kids playing in the street. Strangely, though this is meant to be our most impoverished and potentially difficult homestay site, it feels most like home to me. I think that will be helpful mentally in getting through the parts of staying in Langa that can be emotionally wearing.
As I stated, yesterday’s classes were pretty long and kind of exhausting; it’s hard to sit in the same spot for hours upon end without the distraction of a phone or passed notes. But, I really enjoyed the final lectures by those professors, and my final session of community building with the other twenty-nine students on the program was fun and touching and way less disastrous than past sessions.
Sally, Jenn, Michael, and I decided to explore our neighborhood for a few minutes before going home. We found the train station, some fast food restaurants, and a ShopRite grocery store in which I purchased chocolate and potato chips (aka the cornerstones of a healthy diet). When trying to exit the store, something in my stuffed backpack set off the alarm of the store. First of all, classic me, right? So I zipped open my bag and showed its contents to the completely ambivalent security guard, and he benignly waved me off with barely a glance. I feel like I experience moments of such confusion or weirdness quite often, and I never, I mean never, suffer any consequences from them—probably because I’m a young white woman who looks relatively innocent of pretty much anything. And yeah, obviously I am innocent—I haven’t stolen anything in my life, not counting a Blockbuster gift card that I mistakenly thought was a brochure when I was like six (that’s probs what sent them under, amirite). But how different would these encounters with law officials and authority figures be if I was, say, a black man, just as innocent of any crime but perhaps less believable by the establishment? Situations like this one really make me ponder my privilege a lot.
Anyways, that *traumatic* experience with law enforcement exhausted me, and so the four of us schlepped home, I for a nap. Sally, Michael, and I realized that we are all next-door-neighbors, which is extremely convenient in a neighborhood in which nobody (literally, nobody) can walk outside at night. When Dorothy tentatively asked if we could maybe just sit outside for some fresh air at nighttime, our host mother looked at her like she was out of her mind and emphatically answered, “NO.” Very comforting.
Dorothy and I napped pretty solidly until dinner time (which was so yummy) and shared dessert, Smencils, and commentary on some reality television show with our host family. We retreated to our rooms for a few hours of silent reading time (Dorothy and I are a homestay pair made in heaven) before crashing.
This morning on our way to school, Dorothy and I met a fascinating and super inspiring Langa resident named Lowelo. So six years ago, the shed in which Langa residents deposited their waste burned to the ground, and the city (as far as I can understand) dragged its feet in replacing this shed or providing any viable option for trash collection for this neighborhood. Lowelo and some friends then decided to start their own business in which they’re paid directly by residents and then collect the trash and clean the receptacles every single week. I was so inspired by his initiative and kindness and hard work that I actually wrote a paper on him today! These are the stories I’d never hear were I not actually living in these cities and learning through experience. (Just trying to validate my study abroad experience, don’t mind me.)
Today was a much shorter day—we had a lecture, in which I came up with some pretty sick post-program resolutions that I’m really excited about, and then a panel with some social justice community members. My favorite part of the day, however, was an optional lecture with the head of our country program, Sally Frankental, on the history of Jews in South Africa. Since I jokingly refer to myself as an “honorary Jew” due to my three-month stay in Israel with the Morris family (still my surrogate family, love you guys), I felt like it was my duty (and honestly, my pleasure) to learn about Jewish culture in this country. I sat there enthralled for a full hour and a half; it was probably in my top three favorite lectures of this entire trip, and it was optional, of course. I was super proud of myself when I was the only person able to answer the year of the first Zionist conference in the world (1897) and the leader of the conference (Herzl) due to my day at the Herzl museum with three members of the Morris family back in July (you guys rock). Seriously crazy how worlds collide.
That also reminds me of this morning, as Dorothy and I sat watching the South African news with our host mom. We were each reading the little news bulletins scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and we realized that we could basically understand and/or empathize with every single piece of news! Brazil’s Congress pushes for impeachment—yep, we were there. India condemns five individuals for the desecration of a temple—we studied religious dissent in India for a whole month! And finally, the Gujarati cricket team beat the Punjabi team—Ahmedabad is in Gujarati, and though I don’t understand a single rule of cricket, I know where that state is!!!!!!! I have truly been inspired to become and remain a world citizen because of this program, and that makes me feel absurdly blessed.
After the lecture with Sally, a group of us students headed into the nearby town of Observatory, which is about six subway stops away, for some WiFi connectivity. (Yes, we are desperate.) I went through my 101 emails, about five of which were actually relevant; caught up on Facebook; and talked to my dad on the phone for a solid ten minutes—all good things! I returned home, napped, ate dinner, finished a paper, and then took a shower… Kind of.
So the shower nozzle in my homestay is broken and as a result, we can only take baths. Okay, I’m moderately disgusted by the idea of taking baths, as you’re kind of just sitting in your own filth, and so I’ve been struggling with a way to actually get clean by just kind of splashing water on myself when, finally, I realized today the perfect strategy.
Bucket shower.
Yes, my friends, I found myself a bucket and resumed my Indian habit of showering by pouring water all over my body. As Sally (my best friend, not the coordinator, quipped), I’ve come full circle. And yeah, it’s true. I really have.
From my emotional circle that is wildly out of control, to my non-WiFi life (that I’ve actually come to somewhat appreciate), to my feelings of hope and excitement for the future after a few months of despair and gloom and anxiety, to—yes—bucket showers, I really do feel like I’ve come full circle—but with all of the knowledge and maturity and experience of traversing that entire circle.
Can’t wait to see where I finish up.
tOOdles (two circles, get it),
Aubrey
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