Leaving.

Hey, heading off for Spashy Fen (woodstock for Africa) and really excited. Said goodbye to the fam today. I will really miss them and intend to visit them during my independent study which is just down the road.

Education in South Africa.

Where do I stand now? Well I returned to my homestay family last Friday and it felt like I was returning home. This week we have split into focus groups that are related to our independent research paper(ISP). I picked education, and have spent the week with a small group of students and Professor Johann Wasserman. I picked the group because my ISP is related to education, and because Johann is the man, and a great lecturer. He is Africaans, grew up on a farm, and teaches history to to-be teachers.

We spent Monday looking at a private boarding school in the hills of KZN called Kearsney College. It really blew me away. 50 acres, with multiple playing fields, state of the art class rooms with “smart boards” (computer screen black boards), and a menu that would put Beloit to shame. It was a very odd place-it was all about the Kearnsey club and we got the feeling they were creating little prototypes, or as one student said, “little capitalists.” I got the feeling that the school was more about the business then teaching; our tour guide called the head master the “ceo.” It was really weird: every student that walked by had to greet us all saying “sir” or “mam.” We must of heard sir and mam 1000 times.

Tuesday, we went to Johann’s college, KZN Edgewood which is a college for to-be teachers. Spent the first half talking economics with one professor, and then the rest of the day hanging out with students. I got a much different picture of white South African students. The first school I went to a couple weeks back I was slapped in the face with blatant racism that left me feeling ill, but these student were much more open to change. Johann said he had trouble getting students to tour us because a large amount of anti-American sentiment. It definitely started to come out with the Iraq war and Bush, and I tried to tell them that sometimes I was anti-America too.

Wednesday. Johann lecture in the morning about the history of education, the new “outcome based education” failures (Interesting topic because i went to an OBE school in Project Learn), and the debate surrounding the proposed pledge for all students. He set us up well for a discussion at a youth center in Chatsworth, an Indian township, later in the day which was about the proposed pledge. I sat back for a while listening to why youth need a pledge before I made a comment which went something like this:

“I have problems with putting blame on students when alot of the real problems lies with schools, teachers, school administration, and the government. Why are we talking about a pledge when the real issues is the lack of textbooks and computers, school fees, basic infrastructure, lack of qualified teachers ect. It seems like the government has failed students and and this is a last and sorry attempt to fix the problem. And, i'm wondering why the students should say this pledge when the government and teachers aren’t upholding these values.

While I don’t believe the pledge is necessary, it must say something about the current injustices that are happening in the country because this document makes it seem like everything is alright when it is definitely not.”

I got some applaud from the students. We then headed home. Tomorrow is my last day in Bonella.

Thursday update-Last day studying education with a professor of social justice. Interesting stuff-looking into class, race and culture, religion, and gender in relation to education.

Game Park.

Went to a game park.
Was told me weren't going to see much wild life-happy they were wrong.


The Lion. We also went on a Hippo tour.

Catching up to Speed.

Some picsMama Joyce really wanted a picture feeding Nick breakfast.
Mama Joyce and me with her beloved "Minky"


I want to continue to talk about the rual area experience but i want to catch up with what i am doing now. We had a Zulu test on the friday we were in Oldwebede, and then headed off to the beach. When we got home,people were in our kitcthen drinking some Zulu beer(utchwala isiZulu) which Mama Joyce made the day before. We had a great time together with Spiwe, Mama Joyce and others. I woke up in the morning with some sort of virus that gave me a rash over my entire stomach and arms. Nick and Brian went to buy a chicken for dinner which we later saw die by the knife of Mama Joyce.
On Sunday we went to some sort of celebration where we chowed with the man of the house who was drinking beer, Zulu beer, and vodka. We eat the sacrificed goat and some steamed bread.
Sunday night, we went to the pool hall. Woman are not supposed to go out at night which means that there were about 20 boys dancing together to very loud house music. We again were forced to attempt traditional Zulu dance. The boys told us how much they were going to miss us, and i felt really sad about leaving the following morning.
We got home, and took pictures with Mama Joyce.

Spiwe, Brian, Nick, and Me. Mama Joyce with her fat boys.

Rural Education

The day was spent examining the school system in the rural areas. The first part was talking with the principle in Olwebede Primary School. The school did not have running water, but did have electricity. There was a pit toilet, though no toilet paper, and a water tap for the kids to drink from. There were no school fees, which is highly unusual in South Africa, and some sort of free lunch. We didn’t sit in any classes so it was hard for me to really gage the learning, but the infrastructure and the amount of teachers/staff was lacking.

We then headed to the High School where I saw some of my soccer buddies form the day before. Knowing the boys spoke limited English at best, I asked the principle what language the classes were taught in, and she said in English but in Zulu if necessary. The English-home language debate is interesting: the kids need to learn English to go to college and excel in the major cities, but at the same time, they might be getting taught in English but not understanding it which means they are lacking the skills. The balance between learning the material and learning English needs to be closely examined. We talked to the principle and some of the excelling students. I found the principle had to run the school, teach, and act as the disciplinarian and security. I thought that a security guard would not be too much money and possibly make the kids feel safer. I also found it interesting how the principle and the students knew nothing of scholarship opportunities.

After lunch, we were told the school had a performance for us. I thought it was going to be a play or something, but about 20 girls came into the room in traditional Zulu outfits, which means a small skirt and some beads, and danced for us. It was an amazing performance, but I was shocked at how comfortable these girls were topless infornt of their peers and us. I asked Langa if girls from Durban would do such a performance in high school, and he replied “no way”, which gave me the sense of the divide between the rural and the urban.

After the high school, he headed back and got ready for soccer practice. I was very sore from the day before. As we attempting to play, I realized that in the kid’s world everyone plays soccer. I got the feeling that they thought we played soccer everyday like them, but just weren’t that good. It did feel good to get back into the game which I really miss playing. Bathed in a water tap and headed home to Mama Joyce.

Tuesday: Traditional court and soccer practice

Woke up at 5:58 which seemed like the exact time Mama Joyce woke us up. We ate, and bathed again in the bathhouse with our basins which was weirdly becoming some what of a routine. Mama Joyce let Raymond’s sister take us to school, which meant that we arrived a lot quicker. We then headed for the traditional Zulu court. The traditional court was really interesting to see, and being interested in law, made it more exciting to see the differences between western and traditional law. In the traditional system, the Induna’s, the community leaders which are passed down through generation, sit on either side of the wall, while the Inkosi(chief) sits in a higher chair like a judge. The Inkosi is only present on extremely important matters. The crowd sits behind, but have the ability to ask questions and help with the procedure.

We got to see a hearing of sorts: a woman was coming for advise about her daughter in-law who she claimed was stealing from her. Her testimony was in Zulu and somewhat complicated. The problem was over lobola which is the traditional bride price. While lobolo sounds like putting a price on woman, I have learned the tradition is more about connecting two families and thanking and acknowledging the bride’s family for raising the woman. The story was that her son died before the entire lobola was paid, which was some cows and some furniture. The cows were given, but not the furniture. After his death, his wife took the kids, food, and furniture. The old woman said the kids were rightly hers, and the food was necessary for the kids, but since her son never gave the furniture, it was still hers. The Indunas argued that the first step for the woman was to go to the woman’s family. They also acknowledged that in current times furniture can be used instead of cows but agreed that it was necessary for the men who made out the lobola contract to come together to discuss the details of the agreement. I asked if there was anyway to speed up the process, since the old woman felt like she was being robbed, and she very well might have been. In the end, her Induna said he could call her and go to the woman’s family’s house with her. The system seemed like a really interesting and interactive way of law. In the van home, Sdu, our driver and friend, told me about the problems of the traditional system. In cases such as rape, the system many times fails with the woman’s family being paid off.

After arriving home, I decided to stay home and study while Nick and Bryan went to the beach. At 5 O’clock, Spiwe came over to take me to soccer practice. He felt it necessary that we drink a couple beers before the practice for energy. We walked to the soccer field and met up with about 30 kids. The soccer field had a large hill on one side of the field, and high uncut grass on the other. We played intense soccer for about two hours which consisted of people running circles around me, and the occasional cow crossing. We headed home under the stars, and I felt completely comfortable and relaxed in the community. We ate dumbolo(dumplings) with potatoes and mutton for dinner which was amazing.

Some pics: South Coast.

South Coast: Set for "Blood Diamond"

Rural Area: Monday

The long weekend took its toll on me, and i had trouble waking up. This was the picture after we attempted to dance Zulu. I found it interesting the range of ages that could sit around together and hang out.

In the morning, took about 30 minutes to walk to school with Mama Joyce. Once we arrived we learned that Mama Joyce had called Langa, a SIT staff members, at 4 30 in the morning to tell him that we were having a good time and she was making us porridge for breakfast. We sat around in the morning studying Zulu, getting ready for the test we had on Friday. At around 9, we headed out to examine health in the community. First, we went to see a Inyama/Sangoma. He spoke to us about his ability to understand ones problems, while also having the capability to proscribe medicine. He had a P.H.D of sorts. We then headed to a clinic.
We arrived home and went into the room to sleep. Before we could sleep, some drunk men insisted we come out and teach us traditional Zulu warfare. We picked up plastic bottles, two for the shield, one for the spear, and fought each other like Shaka Zulu. After they explained multiple times to us that they were black and we were white, they left, we ate and slept early. We were told by Spiwe that soccer practice would be held at 5 the next day.

Sunday in Olwebede.

Mama Joyce woke us up at 6 to feed us porridge, coke, and candy bars. Sister Cindi works at the supermarket Spar so I assumed they bought a lot of food that they thought we would like. (When she was saying she worked at Spar, I thought she was saying “Spa” and asked her if they gave massages-she was somewhat confused.) After breakfast, we bathed. Bathing and using the bathroom need some explaining. There was an outhouse (that looked to be almost filled) with a stone seat that you could squat over. Next to the toilet was where we were told to bath. We were each given basins to wash/splash with according to size, which meant I got the little small basin while Brian got the big one, and nick the middle. I knew the three of us would become closer to each other as we squeezed into the outhouse and squatted naked over our basins and splashed ourselves. After a truly hilarious bathing experience, we headed out to go hiking with Spiwe. He took us over the clay cliffs which were beautiful, and then around the community to meet people. I found it fascinating that he knew everyone, and even if he didn’t, “Sawbona?” and “Unjani?(how are you)” were said to everyone. People continually stopped us and talked to us in Zulu. We were a big hit, and I felt Zulu beginning to click slightly. After a couple hours with Spiwe we were dropped off home to go to a funeral with Mama Joyce.

We walked about a half a mile to the funeral. How do Zulu funerals and weddings work? Well, there are no invites and you don’t need to know the family. You hear about something from somebody and you go; all are welcomed. After the walk, we arrived and Nick promptly brushed by a car and set off its alarm. We were ushered in and sat next to the priest. A lot of people were there, and the priest talked in Zulu, but definitely mentioned us at certain times. After people made speeches, and donations, there was a lot of beautiful singing. After singing, and walking past the body, we headed outside where we walked, singing, with the casket. There was a lot of crying. A woman would start to wail, and then be taken by someone into a house. We stood around the grave singing as the old man was taken from his casket and laid in the grave. After the priest said some things, the men took turns shoveling dirt onto the hole. We were told to take part, and we picked up shovels to help. Taking part in the ceremony made me feel like they were welcoming me into their community.

After the service, everyone sat down around the homestead, and woman come around with trays and feed everyone. For the most part, the men sat outside the tent, drinking beer, and “chowing.” Chowing is when food, usually a chicken or goat meat, is put on a wooden tray for men to sit around and share. They also pass around beers in a similar communal manner. After eating, and battling with Zulu, we left, exhausted, with Mama Joyce.

When we arrived home, we were ready to sleep. While I wanted to nap, little girls were outside playing. The three of us came from our room, and jumped into a game which involved using your feet to toss rusty cans into a basin. After an hour or so of playing, some men came over to meet us and we went and grabbed a few beers. We sat in the living room passing around the beer. They then made us dance the traditional Zulu dance and take pictures with them. Dinner was delicious imfino(spinach) and again too much.

Arriving at the rural homestay.

To Zululand and ready for an experience. As we turned onto the dirt road and passed different traditional houses, I felt nervous but exited knowing this would be one of the best experiences in South Africa. As I, Brian and Nick, pulled up to our homestead, a large woman came to the door to greet us. As the door open, her booming voice welcomed us and she gave us hugs and brought us to our room. We had a traditional hut to ourselves and the homestead overlooked the ocean and a beautiful red clay cliff. Like my first day in my Bonella home stay, I/we felt awkward, but our homestay mother, Mama Joyce, was very welcoming and exited to have us. Mama Joyce is a large-and-in-charge jolly woman with one daughter, Sisi Cindi, her boyfriend Raymond, and Raymond’s little sister. As the sun began to go down, some boys came into our hut to meet us. I was very happy to meet them, and they were extremely exited to not only meet us, but hang out with us over the 10 days we were there. One of the boys, Spiwe, spoke the best English and promised to take us on a tour of the red cliffs the next morning. After the boys left we went into the house to eat. We were fed a feast of muttan, beef, beans, pap, and more that was delicious. Mama Joyce told us we were going to become “fat ones” like mama as she slapped each of her large arms. We ate too much and slept well awaiting a day of the unknown.

Im back

updates soon.

Thursday and Friday: Pure South Africa.

I continually write about the two completely different worlds I constantly see right next to each other. Thursday we studied development for the poor in the amazing Warrick Junction. Lets see, it is a huge informal market that consists of a, as I call it, “food court” which serves some part of the cows head which are placed in bags on the sidewalk to thaw. It also has a long stretch of traditional healers, Sangomas, who sell herbs, dried animals and the likes. The most amazing thing about the market is that it was all planned. It’s definitely a highlight in Durban.

After spending Thursday talking and seeing the informal development, we moved to the first world. We went to the water front where there is a huge developmental revitalization project taking place. We saw newly built apartments with a canal moving along the buildings. Interestingly, the debate moved from the day before’s “where do we put the cow heads?” to “where do we put the huge lavish yachts.”

While my initial thoughts looked down upon the 1^st world development, I realized that both are important in the development of South Africa. A fancy water front doesn’t give you the impression that you are in Africa, but is that always the view of Africa you should think of? As South Africa continues to development, I can imagine there will be issues of it losing its African feel, which is an interesting question to think about and one that I struggle with.

I head to the rural on Saturday and i am ready for the experience. I will not have internet access for about two weeks. Talk to you then.

Kennedy Road.

Last Wednesday, the leader of Abahlali baseMjondolo came and talked to us about his community organization in the Kennedy Road settlement. The Kennedy Road settlement is one of the poorest shack areas in South Africa. Currently, the government is making efforts to kick out the people occupying the land. They say that the houses are near a trash dump, on the side of a hill, and not fit for humans to live on. The fact that the people don’t own the land is also something that is used against them. While these seem like somewhat relevant points, there are some major problems with how the government is acting which I will get to in a bit. One note: The government just went into the settlement and dug up all the power lines, as a way to move people out, so people have to use different methods of cooking and lighting which many times cause fires which spread like wild fire in the shacks.

After the talk we actually went to the settlement to see it for ourselves. The leader, S’pu, kept going back to a story of a baby whose brains were eaten by a rat as she slept with her mother. My initial thoughts: I thought Bonella, my neighborhood was poor, then I saw Cato Crest shacks, where the KZN Youth group works, and thought that was poor. I didn’t think it could see worse until I saw Kennedy and thought to myself, “how much worse can it get?” The air was filled with the smell of the trash dump not too far from the township. Adding to the smell were piles of trash which the government has neglected to pick up. The shacks were on an extremely steep hill and some were held up by lines. Kids were out playing with deflated soccer balls and many babies didn’t have diapers.

Now, about the government’s claims. Well, standing in the settlement and looking across the road above me at large houses separated only by a road makes one wonder why those houses are fit to live in. They are near the same trash dump and are on a hill. Or what makes the college at the bottom of the hill, securely guarded from the settlement, fit to have classes in? Maybe the fact that the area is near downtown has more to do with the government’s motives? It became clear, in a discussion with the members of the movement, that the government has not made any effort to talk with the people of Kennedy Road about possibilities of reforming the area, and relocating those who wouldn’t be able to fit with the new development proposal.

After a good meal in the community center, using candles, a concert was put on for us. It was an amazing isicathamiya performance. Many people know this style from the group LadySmith Black Mambazo who also come from KZN. We ended the night signing the South African National Anthem and thanking the group and Abahali for quite a day.

Check out the website which has a movie and some pictures.

http://www.abahlali.org/

South Coast.

On Saturday, I woke up at 6 to get ready to go to South Coast which is a two hour drive south from Durban. I was tired from the long day in the sun and the night watching rugby. The drive was beautiful along the coast, but I saw lots of shacks, and thought, “if this is the “nice” part of Africa, what do the “bad” parts look like?”

We arrived and got ready for a tour. The tour was awesome, along the beach, and walking up a valley which I can only explain through pictures. The tour was also interesting because the movie Blood Diamond was filmed there and the guide had a small cameo. So we would here, “this is a cave which has fossilized shark tooths in it, and over there is where Leonardo (Dicaprio) died.”

After hiking along the beach, we walked up to a rural area where we were fed traditional food and sat on the ground devouring the great meal.(traditional food generally consists of Cole Slaw. Not sure where that came from but I like it.) After the meal, we went into a different tent where we saw Sangomas perform a dance in which they were taken over by the ancestors. After the powerful dance, John called me over to the cliff to show me something. “Look,” he said peering over the cliff at the boats and nice houses below, “we’re in the third world overlooking the 1^st.” It really felt like we were standing between two completely different worlds. I liked the one behind me.

That night we had a bri with the group and drank some brews. We stayed up at our backpackers playing cards and enjoying the time apart from our families. I love my family, but sometimes it does feel like I am in high school and don’t want to disappoint them. I just learned my home stay father is a pastor so I gotta be on my best behavior.

The next morning we held a discussion about what we learned in the week and had a discussion about how the group was feeling about each other. The meeting started out fine, but then turned into a disaster as racial tensions took over the conversation. I thought that the black students would have an easier time than the white students in South Africa but so far the opposite has been true. Social norms in America are different in Africa, and certain things that are said by white and black Africans might be unacceptable in America.

That afternoon, went to the beach, swam, ran and had a great time. Man you gotta see this. Must get photos. Its February and I am swimming in the Indian Ocean.

Productivity.

You know when those economists talk about productivity? Well I think I understand- I am having trouble concentrating when I am soaking my bed with sweat and getting tired at 9. The mosquito’s and black outs aren’t helping either.

One world to another. Friday.

Friday.

I am tired. This weekend was intense but really fun. Friday was spent with the KwaZulu Natal Youth Empowerment Project. The project is run by kids, mostly recent high school grads, who live in the shack area in Cato Manor. The kids do a couple of things. They feed school children, try to empower the youth by talking about problems that children in SA face and set up activities like sporting events to keep kids busy and off the streets. While many people tell me that Bonella is bad, people in Bonella talk about the shacks as bad. I was happy to walk through the neighborhood which is huge with shacks running over top a large hill. We were split into groups with 1 KZN YEP leader. We saw the conditions that many were living in, and helped a man clean his shack and wash his clothes. I picked up a lot of medication packs which I thought might be for AIDS, which is rampant amoung the community. What I did see other than the poverty, was the strenghs of humans to live in such conditions, and how everyone seemed to know eachother(there weren’t walls and barb wired fences sourrounding the houses which is seen with almost all the houses that I have seen so far other than shacks. After helping the man, we went to a kindergarten and played with the kids. The kids were awesome and I loved playing with them but wished I knew isiZulu so I could communicate with them. The children were so cute, and the few that I saw with their body covered with sores made me extremely sad.

After playing with the kids, we went to meet with the whole group. There we were informed that we would lead a group discussion with about 30 kids on different subjects. I picked substance abuse and began to talk about with my group. Waiting for the bus to be shipped to the school where we would have the discussion, I began to talk with Malusi, who is the leader of the group. He is really smart, and went over his thoughts on the current South African political problems. He also invited me to play soccer which would be a nice way to meet some kids my age.

After the discussion with the kids, me and three of my friends, Nick, Bryan, and Etan hoped on a minibus to go see the rugby game. We took a minibus to downtown Durban, caught a bus to the beach front, and walked about ¾ of a mile to the stadium. The atmosphere was crazy, but the first thing I noticed was there were 40,000 white people. Where did they come from? It was an interesting experience, and one that I have experienced often in my short time here-going from the 3^rd world to 1^st world. I think both are important to see, I just wish there was more interaction. I have to admit the atmosphere for the rugby game was great. You could buy pitchers of beer inside, or a piece of cardboard which could hold 8 beers-people had one or the other. I enjoyed the game and found it confusing but very exiting. After watching the game, which the home team won, we headed outside where, as we were told by our teacher John, the party really begins. Live music, beer and food were served and the parking lot was filled with cars having a brie(barbecue). I headed home quickly not wanting to alarm my family, and because I had to wake up at 6 to travel to South Coast.

Thoughts on Education.

I am getting settled in with this family. I am happy to have the four kids, who I feel are opening up to me more everyday. Classes are good and I really liked learning about the state of education. John lectured us that the government has spent a lot of money on reforming education yet the results have been dismal. In actuality, less children are graduating under the ANC government then during apartheid. Of course anything during apartheid, like economic growth and Bantu education, cannot be compared with a free SA.

One positive thing is the government was able to consolidate 17 different school districts into one. Other than that success has been pretty limited. Reading about education opened me to a great conversation with my home stay mother, who used to be a teacher. I felt like I was getting an inside story of schooling conditions, and I was happy to see her interested in our conversation. What I learned from her is that kids are still paying school fees. The nice schools use the fees to improve their schools and the parents have the option to set the price high so that only certain kids can enroll. My mother pays R800 per child, which is really cheap in relation to the other schools, and also has to cover books, uniform, bus, lunch ect. She also told me that if kids don’t pay they get humiliated and punished in class which turns away some poor kids and orphans who cannot pay the fee. I learned in class that the government does have a program set up to help with school fees but it is a process, can be humiliating, and is rarely done.

The rich kids go to the nice schools where they can afford stages and art teachers ect, while black and white children are still segregated. Sounds so unfamiliar.

Durban and the homestay.

I am behind on the blog. I have to keep a journal, so I might just post my journal entries. With the time I have, I think going into detail about my homestay experience is the most interesting.

I didn’t realize how nervous I would be entering my home stay but as I left the bus my mind was racing about the awkward situation I would be put into. I am staying in Bonila which is in Cato Manor a couple minutes drive out of downtown Durban. Cato Manor was a township that was cleared out during the Group Areas Act in the 50s. In the 80s people started to move back in, which is happening in large numbers (Black and Indian), but there is still a lack of businesses. There are “tuck shops” which are stores out of peoples houses, and the legendary Shabeens, which are homes that brew beer and act somewhat like a bar. How can I explain Bonila? Well we have been told taxi’s wont go there, but I have been running so it can’t be that bad. I think people don’t like to drive there because you have to drive by shacks to get there, but the neighborhood seems pleasant enough. I did recently visit the shacks with a youth group, but that is for another time.

…Back to the home stay: my “mother” welcomed me and I sat on the couch as she got my bed ready. They have a TV, which is constantly on-not an abnormal thing for the families we are staying with. Most of the times, soaps are on which are pretty painful to watch. I was told prior to getting dropped off that I would be staying with a single mother and her 24 year old son. Well, the son doesn’t live with her, but she remarried to a man who had 4 previous children all staying in the house. A 16 year old boy, and three girls- ages 18, 13, and 10. When I arrived, there was a girl there who I assumed to be one of the daughters but she was my mother’s niece and the children were away for the weekend. (In Zulu culture, you don’t ever call your mother by her first name, and husbands and wives don’t call each other by their first names. Instead its “mama,” or in the husbands case, it would be “Mother of…the first born male.) The house is one story with three bedrooms. I got put in a room by myself with a nice size bed that pretty much takes up the whole room, while the four children cram into one room with a couple bunk beds. I feel kinda bad, but enjoy the time that I can get alone to read and write( Though the noise from the Shabeen next to me is sometimes distracting).

I didn’t realize how conscience I would be about my actions not wanting to be rude. After getting served, which I haven’t completely gotten used to, we prayed. Note: the Father never touches a dish, and even when he is sitting next to the spoons, he will make one of the girls get up to get one for him. Its an interesting relationship, the mom jokes around with him and tells him to go running with me to lose a little something (ie his stomach.) The Friday was very confusing. There was the girl, who I thought was the daughter, and there were two older woman, who turned out to be my mother’s church friends staying for the weekend. After dinner, they gathered around to pray. I was pretty awkward and didn’t really know what to do- I’ve never prayed. The mother asked her niece, Sibahle who is 13, to sing. I was truly shocked when the girl began to sing. It was the most beautiful voice I had ever heard-it made me somewhat emotional (I wonder what the father would have thought if I would have started to cry.) After Sibahle sang, everyone joined in a harmonized religious song in Zulu. The experience was extremely overwhelming but something that will definitely stick with me.

After going to bed I woke up in the morning not really sure how to conduct myself in their culture. I was very confused about the bathing. I was wondering if they fill the water up a little and kinda splash it on themselves. Do they stand? I definitely heard splashing. I decided to fill it up not too much, splash myself, and get out quickly. The whole day Saturday I spent with Sibathle. We watched TV and movies and talked about a whole bunch of things. She continued to shock me the whole day with how smart she was. She plays a different sport on each day of the week, sings choir during lunch, and somehow does art too. Later in the night, we ate dinner, WHICH SHE COOKED!! Later we drove her home to her parents and I got to meet her family. I was happy to meet her family, but sad that I wouldn’t be seeing her for awhile.

On Sunday, we went to church. Quite an experience. The morning was hectic: the mother had to pick up the car at the cleaners, go get the pastor from the airport, my father, Sazi, was calling his kids seeing if they were going to church ect. We sat outside the church for a while waiting for a previous service to end. They then told me to go upstairs to where the service would be held while they waited and talked outside. While I assumed their church would be large, it was not, and I awkwardly walked into the room on the second floor of the YMCA where there were a couple people getting the place ready. After sitting in a chair for about 20 minutes, my mother came in. At this point, a man told me to come sit in the front of the church. (Again awkward-kinda the theme of the weekend). The mother told him to translate the service into English for me which he did. I felt like the service was almost like an AA meeting, where anyone could get up and tell their story about how they were lost and then found Jesso Chisto. One woman started singing and began crying while she prayed. Definitely overwhelming for me (another theme of the weekend). Another awkward moment was when they collected money at the front. Everyone could see me, and I felt pressure to give some money. I wanted to give money but only had an hundred on me so I sat their, awkwardly, and did nothing. The service was quick and after, my home stay parents stood around talking to their friends. While I have problems with how Christianity was brought onto South Africans it reminded me of a central reason why people go to church: the community.

That night the children came home. First the oldest. She didn’t talk to me and I felt *awkward* that I didn’t say hello and introduce myself to her (I have found out that she talks to me in great depth, but only when her parents are out). The other 3 came home and the boy sat down and talked to me. I went to sleep exited to see my classmates who felt distant after a weekend away.

Next up: a week in school, going into the shack area, going to my first drinking rugby game, and a weekend traveling to South Coast where we walked along the beach, ate traditional food, and saw Sangomas, traditional healers, perform a traditional dance.....

Arriving and Week 1

Hello All,

I finally have the time to sit down and write about what is going on here. I am sorry this has taken me so long to do but they have kept us extremely busy and only recently have we begun to get into a routine. I have been here for about 10 days so far but it has felt like a lot longer and I will try to remember the important things that I have experienced.

Week 1: Orientation Week in Jo’burg

First off, when I arrived at JFK, there must have been over 70 students going to SA. It was an extremely exiting feeling which I thought kinda resembled the first days of college. After I think about an 18 hour flight we arrived in Johannesburg, or “Joburg” as they call it. There I was finally was able to see which SIT students were in my specific program. The group is huge because some students joined after the Kenya program was ended. I think there are 23 girls and 5 guys, which apparently ties the record for gentleman on the program. I am not exactly sure why men don’t go to SIT-maybe they don’t like to express their feelings which is essential to "experiential learning." The program director Vanessa seems very nice and is a “colored” from Zimbabwe. The academic director is named John Daniel who is from British decent and was in exile after leaving illegally to pursue college. When he was in SA, he was involved in the student originations and personally knew Steve Biko (he also is a coeditor of a book that I bought on Amazon about the current situation in the country.) We have two Zulu drivers/tutors, Langa and Stu, who I get along with very well.

Jo'burg

In Jo’burg, we were in a villa type place in a suburb outside of the city. We spent the next four days seeing the city and its surroundings. We saw the Apartheid Museum, which was created by a casino to get the lease (supposedly because the Apartheid gov’t didn’t allow casinos, the casino is some sort of example of freedom which is somewhat odd to me.) I loved seeing historic videos which gave me a visual into the things I’ve read. There was also a casspir you could get into, which were the huge and infamous anti-riot trucks the apartheid government used. The next day we went to the new Constitutional court which was built in the old holding cells during apartheid that almost every political prisoner spent time at awaiting trial. They kept some of the jail cells in place which I got in to try to understand what the living conditions for political prisoners was like. I enjoyed seeing the court which also had a really nice art gallery put together by one of the judges.

(Me at the court. Cow skin covers the front of the bench. The bricks are used from the old jail.)

After the court, we headed for the infamous Soweto. Soweto was awesome to see in person and definitely left me with a different feeling then what I’ve heard of the place. There were extreme levels of poverty, but also an awesome feeling of life and excitement that I did not feel in Jo’burg. In Soweto we visited a museum for the 1976 student uprising which was a huge turning point in the struggle. The museum was built on the street where the march took place and was dedicated to the first child killed by the police. After the Museum, we saw Nelson Mandela’s old house and a huge church that was used to hide the student organizers.

The orientation week in Jo’burg was nice but I was ready to settle down in Durban and feel that I was more then just a tourist seeing the sights….

The Drive into Kwa-Zulu Natal.