These Days

           Lazy days. A fly buzzes by, breaking the ‘silence’. But really, in Africa, it is never silent—if you listen closely. There’s always the comforting hum of the crickets at night and during the day there are layers upon layers of different bird noises coming from all directions. The distant purr of a motorbike, the monotonous dinging from a bell that is tied to the neck of a goat, children laughing wildly. Today, the sun beats down from a cloudless sky onto the brown shoulders of hard-working builders. They are constructing a simple house made of red bricks. Kids are playing soccer on the orange dirt road. People walk leisurely past them in a manner that suggests ‘I don’t have anywhere to be, at least not any time soon’.

            Herds of cows aimlessly roam the village, searching for fresh sprouts of green grass. The people say that they belong to someone, but I’ve never seen them under supervision. The same goes for the wandering groups of goats… and donkeys... and chickens. The town is overrun with livestock. Yarrow and I try to catch them, but never succeed. Yarrow almost caught a chicken, once.
 

            We entertain ourselves by playing guitar, crocheting hats for the people at the center, playing soccer with the locals and wandering. Life is simple here, there’s not too much going on. I think the Africans like it that way. We eat simple, we play simple, we breathe simple. I can’t complain. During the heat of the day, life is stagnant… still, dry, hot. During the night, well, the night is forbidden. We are not allowed to leave the house. ‘It’s too dangerous’ they say, but they will never tell us why. I can only imagine.

            Make-up has become a memory. Showers have gotten more difficult—I call it ‘the third world shower’: where you sit in about an inch of water and splash it over yourself repeatedly. I don’t mind it. We hand wash our clothes. Air conditioners are non-existent. The power goes off at least five times a day (which can be annoying when trying to cook dinner), but at least we have power. It’s a different lifestyle… I could get used to it. It’s remote, but not extremely… I mean, we have (slow and unreliable) wireless internet for crying out loud!

              

The Positive Side

This morning, things were still feeling a little uneasy… I had to teach Photoshop to fifteen people. This would not have been so much of a challenge if we had the necessary resources. I finally truly understand what it means to be a teacher without the funds to teach—we have two computers, fifteen people and one teacher. The ratio is completely off. It’s stressful. It’s impossible. I realized that I must get creative; I have to come up with a way to teach everybody… I have a new plan that I’m going to execute tomorrow—let’s hope it works.

            After a semi-traumatic morning, I was beginning to feel deflated. My teaching techniques were failing. I was failing. Then, things took a swing for the better… I had forgotten about the most important rule in teaching: “one mustn’t only be a teacher, but also a friend”. I started talking to my ‘students’ and getting to know them… sharing stories, making jokes. We began to really understand each other. We compared our life stories; languages, cultural norms and we began to realize that we really are not so different. I even learned how to speak very simple Setswana, the language of their tribe.

            After the day was over, I was feeling high again—energized by the fact that I finally felt welcomed into the lives of the people around me. I felt like I was one of them, skin color and differences were irrelevant. The culture shock was beginning to ware off. 

As the sun began to sink in the sky, I sat on the hood of an old truck, taking shelter under the shade of a widespread thorny tree. I watched the ladies soccer team practice, kicking up rust colored dust as they dribbled and passed the ball. The big ants were migrating hurriedly across my toes, but this time I was too content to care. A tall, beautiful African man from SEDYEL (South East District Youth Empowerment League—the place where I’m giving the Photoshop class) came and sat next to me and flashed me a big, white smile. We began chatting—he spoke slowly and gently in a smooth Setswana accent. We talked about his tribe and the hierarchy of chiefs within his village. I asked him when he would be chief. He asked me about California. He told me he had never seen the ocean before. Or snow. It made me realize how much I’ve seen and done. I am lucky that I have the means to do so.

African skin is so beautiful. It’s velvety and silky like 80% dark chocolate. It’s flawless. It makes me yearn for dark skin, or at least a good tan…

                                        Over and out… until next time!

The Reality

We arrived in Ramotswa, Botswana yesterday around 6 PM after a short, sweaty bus ride. Once again, we were the only two white people on the bus, this time out of about fifty. I’m beginning to get used to the gawking and staring. The way they watch us, it sometimes seems like everybody in Ramotswa, from small children to elders, has never seen a real white person before.

            Life is not easy here, I can see people know and assume that because of my skin color, I have an easy life. It’s true… it’s painfully true. I’m here to help, but how can I help if I don’t truly understand what it is to have an underprivileged life. It’s only now that I realize I have not witnessed or experienced any true hardships in my life. There is pain in the eyes of the locals. I have not yet seen anyone who is HIV positive and on his or her death bed, and I can already feel the pain, the reality of it all.

            Yarrow and I have been experiencing a bit of culture shock. We’ve stayed in hostels and camped our way through Namibia… but even then, we still had a haven to call home and run to when we felt uncomfortable. Here, not so much. We are right in the midst of it all—the only two white girls for miles. We are living in the house of the program coordinator, Kitso. So far, things seem very unorganized… I guess that’s part of the reason why we are here—to organize things.

         Then there’s the culture difference. Today, I found myself staring in sheer disgust at a grey slab of frilly cow stomach on the butcher’s cutting board, the smell of rotting meat made me nauseous. I realized, to somebody, this might be a gourmet meal. I spook when large, fast-moving ants climb onto my feet and sting my toes… the locals are used to it. The claustrophobic, over-crowded, clammy bus rides are definitely an experience, but they still make me appreciate my air-conditioned car. I have grown up privileged, there’s no denying that. Being here makes me really feel the imbalance—the universal imbalance between third and first world. I feel that it’s time to start leveling things out. I want to prove to myself that I can live like the people of Ramotswa… I want to challenge myself. I want to understand. This is why I’m happy to be here, to start working towards balance… to give what I can and start pushing for social equilibrium. 

This has been very difficult and draining... I guess that's what I expected, but now it's more real than ever.

From Etosha to the Desert

Unfortunately, Yarrow and I were plagued by some bad travel luck... We took off on a five day safari with three men we hardly knew. It seemed like the best idea at the time because we were not old enough to rent a car... and they graciously offered to take us along. Also, upon arrival in Windhoek, Namibia, we were feeling a little bit uneasy and were feeling the culture shock. These new travel friends were our comfort in the initial period. I won't go into detail, but halfway through the trip we realized that they were not the kind of people we wanted to travel with... SO we ducked out of the situation and made our own way. This scenario sort of masked my experience in Namibia so far, but now we are free and able to focus on the good things. We learned along the way from both the positive and negative aspects that occurred. So here's to new beginnings...

 

We began our journey in Etosha National Park in central Namibia. Namibia is exceptionally beautiful. The freshness of spring is in the air. Tiny, helpless baby animals are everywhere—frolicking in the greenness that will soon turn into dryness. The summer is the wet season… it lasts only two months and then for the rest of the year, extreme desert conditions. Within the park we managed to spot lions, zebras, giraffes, ostriches, jackals, and countless species of birds. The scenery was unreal.

The sky is endless. There is no sky like the African sky—it stretches on for miles and miles with hardly any mountains to interrupt its vastness. Clouds are delicate and bubbly. Light shines through them like the heavens are stretching down to meet the earth. When it rains, it rains like the gods are furiously trying to punish and drown the world below… And the winds, the winds are like a stampede of a thousand wispy horses, dashing and thrashing through the atmosphere.
Lighting wildly cracks its whips on the dry earth of the Savannah. The midday sun is so blisteringly hot that even the lion is humbled by its ferocity. Then the fog rolls in to blanket the sun and the scarce mountains like they never even existed.

I’ve never felt so close to the heart of the initiation of everything. I know they’ve got some new theory about how humanity began in Israel, but I’m fully convinced that Africa possesses the soul of the world. In my opinion, after seeing it first hand, this is where we all come from—the raw, intense, vast lands of Africa. I can feel the history. I can see it in the ancient rock art that will forever be engraved into the stones of the desert. I can feel it in the wind that blows from the sand dunes, out over the sea. I can sense it in the eyes of the natives. This is home, Mama Africa.

Side note:

On the shuttle ride home from Swakopmund to Windhoek… Yarrow and I were the only two white people on a bus of about fifteen. The ‘shuttle bus’ was actually an old beat up Volkswagen—the speedometer was broken, the side window was hanging on its hinges, the seat belts didn’t work and to top it all off the driver was blasting Britney Spears as we sped (at an unknown speed) through the desert of Namibia. It was a beautiful moment.  

CAPE TOWN

         Last week I was a part of the coldest winter in Amsterdam and today I’m sweating in my bathing suit in the midst of an Africa summer. Saying goodbye to Amsterdam was sad—I didn’t realize how strong of bonds and friendships I had created until I left… it was a good experience. Europe taught me to be tough—not only in a physical sense, but in a mental sense also: I braved the coldest winter in 1,000 years, but also learned from the Dutch people to be straight forward…to say what I want, to be honest, to not care too much about what other people think. So, cheers to closing this wonderful and educational chapter in my life.  I’ll miss it.

            On to the present—I’m in Cape Town, South Africa. I’m staying with a friend at the moment, Brian, whom I met in New Zealand last year during my travels. He so courteously picked me up from the airport yesterday. This morning we went together to pick up Yarrow Jones, my travel partner/best friend. We are staying for a week at Brian’s home near Muizenberg before we head onto Namibia.

Let it be known, South Africa feels like home to me—my father grew up in Zimbabwe and spent his college years here in Cape Town. I adore exploring his old stomping grounds and can feel the positive energy everywhere—I love seeing where he learned to surf, where he went to college, the bars he used to drink at!  My father was right around my age when he lived here and I’m excited to experience South Africa through my own eyes, but in sort of the same way that he viewed it. I feel like I'm reliving his childhood.

Cape Town is a fantastic spot. Try to imagine… rock, craggy mountains encircling the city. crashing waves. children laughing. wind blowing through the swaying pine trees. the smell of freshly caught fish. cloudless skies. Also, It’s a town of breathtaking views, whether you’re high up marveling at the city below, or ground level feeling dwarfed and humbled by the surrounding mountains. I love it here.

 

So far, we have only got a taste of it. We’ve drank beer by the beach, explored Cape Point, seen seafaring penguins as well as heaps of baboons, met countless amazing people, seen the countryside, danced on the rocks by the sea… it’s been a dream—a relaxing experience before we head onto Namibia and Botswana to do some intense and also exciting volunteer work.

Big thank you to Brian, his family, lovely Aimee and all the crazy boys and girls who generously carted us around, showed us the sights, fed us and provided amazing company. It has been a perfect time experiencing the beauty and wonder of this epic city with the help of a few knowledgeable locals. BIG LOVE!

Onto tomorrow—a 23 hour bus ride awaits us… from Cape Town through to the sandy desert land of Namibia. I’m sad to leave Cape Town, but luckily we have planned to return shortly in the beginning of March. So goodbye for now CT, see you soon…