(From April 27)
It’s really beginning to sink in. That I’m leaving. That
this experience is ending. That I’m about to become an alumna of a program that
has shaped, transformed, shocked, overwhelmed me. These past few days have
provided ample free time to chill and giggle with friends, to process my past
four months and to begin an attempt to understand what I’ve seen. So I’ll give
you a little rundown.
Monday lacked any scheduled programming, as we were given
the entire day to work on our final papers. I headed into Observatory, the
nearby neighborhood, around 10 AM with three of my core five, and one of the
others joined around 11. We procrastinated heavily for a few hours, laughing
over brunch and savoring the delicious French toast along with the sweet
company. I honestly fritted my time away on YouTube, and Facebook, and Twitter until,
like, 3 PM, which I think I totally deserve, given my (forced) abstinence from
social media sites during this WiFi drought. But more than anything, I enjoyed
an entire free day with the people whom I adore. They’re funny, headstrong,
humorous, compassionate, and loyal—these women are by far some of the best
friends that I’ve ever had, and ever will have. I’m so lucky to have met them
on this journey.
I finished my CA on Monday, but more importantly, I
finished producing an unbelievable music
video of my safari to the song “Africa” by Toto. I literally watch it five
times a day, it’s beautiful.
Tuesday was technically my last day of spring semester.
We turned in our final assignment at 9 AM and academically became seniors in
college. WOW. How emotional to finish my second to last year of college in a
foreign country, away from my university and school friends and normal
environment. It was, funnily enough, one of the most meaningful moments that I
shared with my peers on IHP. That made me happy.
What did not make
me happy was the next four hours of class following the turning in of this
final assignment. I’m totally not used to just sitting around in a classroom
(or sitting around in general) following the finale of my academics. I’m
usually on a flight within five hours of my last final or paper. Last semester,
I was on a plane five days before my last take-home final!!! So, I was
extremely restless in the classroom, wistfully contemplating the fact that it’s
technically my summer and I’m still adhering to pretty rigorous programming.
But finally, class sessions had finished, and I shared a congratulatory lunch
with good friends. (See above for descriptions of such friends).
Dorothy, Cait, and I headed into the City Center a few
hours later to shop for books (wahoo!!!) at the Book Lounge. We had an
incredibly intriguing experience. First of all, we walked through the entrance
to discover that an author was present, about to give a talk on her book. The
first floor was absolutely packed with people, so we retreated to the basement
for some space to search for novels. We found below free appetizers and wine. Now that’s my kind of book store. As I
hovered by the hors d’oeuvres, distracted from literature by cream cheese and
strawberries (separately), the introductory speaker began the talk, which we
could hear over the intercom. Only a few seconds in, what sounded like a
heckler began chirping in the background. Cait and I glanced at each other
quizzically. Surely there was not a heckler
at a book signing.
But indeed there was. Oh, there was. The introductory
talker kept chuckling awkwardly as the heckler denounced, yes DENOUNCED (his
word, not mine), the speaker. The speaker explained, nervously laughing, that
this man was a “stalker” whom he’d convicted in court presiding as judge.
Caitlin hurried up the stairs to catch sight of the confrontation, I stuck by
the food table, taking advantage of the distraction to grab a handful of
crackers and spread.
The man was eventually escorted out by security, and with
the excitement dying down, the three of us checked out and made our way out of
the Book Lounge. We headed to Long Street, the main road in town, for quick
celebration of the end of the semester, then called an Uber to go home.
We ended up having an extremely frustrating and rather
saddening experience. Now, we have been taking Uber incessantly over the past
two and a half weeks, and drivers never fail to be surprised that they are
picking up random white girls from Langa. Langa, yes, is historically
black—indeed, was created specifically for the segregation of blacks from the
whites in the City Center—so surprise isn’t that, well, surprising. However,
last night, a driver refused—yes, refused—to take us back to Langa, because it
was, in his opinion, “unsafe.”
Um okay what? I was angry for multiple reasons. First of
all, how insulting to the individuals that live there (less even to the three
of us customers) to refuse service simply because of a stereotype of a place
you’ve probably never been. Second of all, helloooo, we are three
twenty-something girls going to the place that we live. We’ve been residing
there for weeks, and nothing has happened. And now you, a middle-aged man, are
too nervous to drive in and out of a residential neighborhood on a Tuesday
because of safety? Give me a break. FINALLY—what place is not unsafe??? As a woman, or as a man, when are you ever able to completely let down your
guard and just live with abandon? Show me one city in the world (besides
Singapore, apparently, which hasn’t had a murder in two decades) that is
“safe.” Refuse to drive me to Boston, refuse to drive me to LA or Manhattan or
Tel Aviv, because those are all “unsafe.” Pathetic. Lose me business, and enjoy
your one-star rating. Rant over.
I woke up multiple times throughout the night, because I
was simply so excited for the dawn of a day closer to the day I go home. But
first—retreat.
My entire program, professors, students, and faculty, are
on an apple orchard/vineyard about an hour out of Cape Town. For miles all
around is only gorgeous rolling hills and farmland. We moved into our dorms
(replete with eleven beds per room) and settled in for three days of
decompressing, synthesis, and preparation for reentry into our home countries
after four months abroad.
Wow. Tall order.
Today actually was really great, though. I read my book,
napped, went on a jog for the first time in months, ate food, watched movies,
and chatted with dear friends. But as I relax, I begin to feel melancholy and
anxiety and loneliness set in. It’s kind of like I’ve only been able to store
the past four months in my short-term memory; I’ve been living day to day,
attempting to just stay afloat. Now, I have the time to actually breathe and
think and reflect, and I’m beginning to put all of these memories into the hard
drive of my brain (sorry, mixing metaphors here). And, as I do so, I’m forced
to confront the discomfort of my failures over the past four months, as well as
the dejection of leaving behind all of the wonderful things I’ve encountered
and done. I’m quite tired, and I’m unable to lay out details about those two
categories, but I definitely feel quite lonely in thinking about how I’m going
to deal with all of the upcoming emotions and stages of memory/regret/sadness/etc.
in the coming weeks and months. Hopefully, though, I can shed some of this
instinctual introversion over the next few days in order to live fully in the
moment and appreciate those around me.
But now… It’s time for sleep.
All my love,
Aubrey
No comments:
Post a Comment