Sunday, July 29, 2007

I’m sitting in my comfy (dirty) new (old) house back at school here in Washington D.C. I left Cape Town 11 days ago, and only now have had the time to sit and say something rational, about my time in South Africa.
The best conversation I’ve had about it was with my brother (John, 22) and his girlfriend, Anna. They were actually interested and asked good questions. Most people would like to be truly interested but just aren’t, and you can’t blame them.
It’s better that way. What I have to say about all this takes way too long to explain and contextualize anyway. That’s why I’m writing all these papers.
It has been discussed and agreed upon that South Africa is becoming a trend, a “hot-spot” if you will, among American Study Abroad Students. That’s a good thing. Everyone I’ve talked to who’s been there has had the most wonderful time. Everybody comes back with pictures of them petting wildlife.

We saw elephants up close from a car. Incredible.

You’re missing half the story if you stay in the classroom the whole time; missing out on critical elements of the experience if you volunteer out of context. To get to know Cape Town, you must go to a shabeen and a posh Longstreet bar, metaphorically speaking.
Arcadia organized our lecturers. The 6 of us shared 3 most excellent UCT professors, Tristan Gorgens, Janice McMillan and Elsa ______, who carefully guided our understanding of the situations surrounding us. We worked our way up through the bones of community development, and turned our gaze inwards in an endless barrage of self-reflexivity; the ultimate crash course in postmodern self-awareness.

SHAWCO stands for Student Health And Welfare Centres Organisation. It is a 60 year old, student-led operation out of the University of Cape Town; an operation well respected for its ability to transcend political and racial boundaries in the name of humanity, so to speak. As a result of this collaboration between SHAWCO and Arcadia, we well-intentioned individuals are given access to communities, like Khayelitsha, that goes far beyond a one-day driving tour.

We figured out quickly that we would have to work very hard in order to keep the scales balanced between us and the community. Making sure it was mutually beneficial. Symbiotic. We gain so much from our experience ‘in the community’. We get valuable school credit, we get to meet a bunch of nice new people, we get the same delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches they all get at lunch everyday - but we also get to go home at the end of the day. We get this fabulous, protected experience into a different realm of existence, and then go home and write long self-indulgent analytical papers about what we think. In return, the community gets access to resources that, while they may be miniscule in the grandbig scheme of things, have the potential to create important, positive change.

This program facilitated vast opportunity for positive interactions between smart people with interesting ideas and different and connecting paths. The relationships we developed, the friends we made, the changes we took with us, and the impressions we left behind are impossible without SHAWCO facilitating our presence.

Saturday, July 28, 2007


An interesting thing happened to me today(7/5/07). I went outside to fill the water bucket for the huge jug of juice we make every afternoon. One of the kids who has consistently tried to trick his way into food walked next to me the whole trip, pestering me about finding him some food when the time came. I did my best to explain why he couldn't be inside and why he might not get fed, but he just kept at it, telling me he's hungry and all that. After a while I started to ignore him, or tell him that it's not up to me, and he eventually came back with, "It's because you're white." This made me stop. I turned around and looked him right in the eye and told him that has nothing to do with it. He insisted that the difference in our skin color was the reason I refused to feed him. I pointed out that all the other kids we feed are black like him, and apologized again, but there was nothing I could do to convince him so I walked away. It was a rather shocking thing to have a young kid, I'd guess he was about 10, play the race card. And the thing is, I can understand where he gets that impression. A lot of the time I look around at the Khayelitsha center, and am put off by the power structure operating. All these little black children being told what to do and scolded by the group of white outsiders. Unavoidably we are put in an impossible situation, where we are there to help, but we end up being forced to become disciplinarians when the kids misbehave. Our skin color is an obvious distinction, and while there are black and colored tutors there, Emma and Talisa are more or less in control, and I work the door, so the big bad bosses have pale complexion. The fact that I would treat a huge group of crazy white kids just the same is irrelevant. We can't just let these children run wild, that would be chaos and no one would get anything done. But when we become authority figures and impose punishment, we are all of a sudden oppressive.

The problem is, that although I may understand the theoretical underpinnings of my presence there and consciously mold my role into that of a benevolent helper-outer with the communities best interest at heart, I am inevitably seen as a rich umlungu and therefore expected to give them some of my supposedly vast wealth. One kid asks me for 5 rand everyday. And I am always being asked for food. And it's hard to deal with kids banging on the door, kept out by a steel cage, while I am relaxing with my PB&J, reading a book and chatting with my friends. If I'm honest about it, I eat right before and after I go out to Khayelitsha. I don't need that sandwich, so why won't I just give it to the kids? We've talked about this before, how we aren't there for charity and we don't want to create a sense of dependence, but not giving them what they ask for doesn't seem to make them any less dependent, it only serves to turn us into the bad guys, the selfish haves denying the righteous have-nots. And the thing is, even if I did help that kid out and sneak him some food, there is no doubt in my mind that he would eat it quickly or hide it and try to trick another tutor or crawl back in and get more. That isn't pessimism, it's the reality I've experienced over the last two weeks and I can't tell you how disheartening it is. Something that you thought was generous and kind getting thrown right back in your face like that is enough to discourage the most charitable of instincts.

Stray Descriptions

When you go to South Africa, you should read a lot of books about it; before you go and while you’re there. I left Cape Town two weeks ago and I read “Cry, The Beloved Country” by Alan Paton, just this afternoon. Antjie Krog’s account of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission proceedings, “Country Of My Skull” added depth to the already intense cultural criss-crossing we excitedly plunged into in Khayelitsha.

One cannot help but be constantly struck with awe at the natural beauty of the land and sky in South Africa. Table Mountain is the dominant physical feature of Cape Town. It sits above, cuddling the city in its roots, providing a constant compass. If you ever get lost, just look to the mountain, and re-orient yourself.
Someone I trust told me that Table Mountain was once called, in translation, “mountain that erodes out of the sea’, and if you scale out your vision, it is easy to sense that you are indeed on a grand downslope into the ocean. On top of Table Mountain, you can see that it once was the shallow shoreline shelf, and the multiple coves and bays that constitute Cape Town were carved by the plunging depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
The clouds are huge and dramatic, and the winter sunsets are spectacular. I’m told it’s even nicer in the summer and I believe it.
I wish we'd had a whole day at Kirstenbosch. Ideally I'd bring wine and a snack in the cool evening hours of a hot day and see a show, some live music on an open stage. Again, we went in winter and it was all still wondrous, the wet green botanicals tucked right up against the base of the mountain, like you could just step out, right up on top of it in a single stride. Obviously enough, some the more popular climbing paths begin and end in the Gardens (‘there is no difference in terminals’).

There is lots of shopping to be done, as one discovers quickly when traveling with 5 young women.
The Waterfront is wide and diverse in terms of entertainment and consumer opportunities.
Green Market downtown is an interesting atmosphere. Everybody is very friendly of course, and welcoming to Americans and other fair, (-ly), rich people. For me Green Market proved to be the best bet for finding gifts for friends and family, but you’ve got to be tough, willing to walk away when you know you should.
Be stiff about bargaining and you’ll get a good deal.

Like I said, everybody is very friendly. In my six weeks working with SHAWCO, I had an extra-ordinary number of genuinely pleasant encounters with all different kinds of people. Everyone, from the people of Khayelitsha, to the UCT students and SHAWCO volunteers, to random locals at the bars, and everyone in between, was excited to see us, interested in what we were doing, and damn-well-glad-to-meetcha, happy-to-see-ya. Except they didn’t say it like that.

The Capetonian English accent is a subtle and refined animal, the quiet cousin of a smooth Kiwi, son of an elderly British dame and bastard son of an ex-patriated Canadian bartending in the Nether-lands. That’s how it sounds anyhow.
There are 11 different official languages in South Africa. To get what we would consider to be a living wage in Cape Town, you need mastery in at least two languages: English and Afrikaans. Afrikaans is based on Dutch and German heavily mixed with Malaysian. The Soweto Student Uprisings of 1975 were in protest to being taught in Afrikaans at school. It was (and still can be) seen as the language of oppression, imposed by the European vacationers.

The SHAWCO center is a big garage/warehouse style structure. There is an old wood playground structure in front of a large covered garage space where most of the playing is done, and which is now adorned with a few lovingly painted murals. On one side of the garage is a large computer-filled classroom, where we taught about 25 adults how to use Microsoft Word and Powerpoint.
The back wall of the garage contains a gathering room that is alternately used for tutoring, eating and dancing. This multi-purpose room adjoins to the main library, a huge room with four long and tall rows of bookshelves, a child-sized table, a welcoming desk protecting offices, and a loud loft, where we did our tutoring of the 8th and 9th graders.

Among the books I found "The Postman, or, Other People's Mail". I read it and laughed, remembering how much I always liked that book, and realizing how all the rhymes are out of rhythm. All the letters were gone. That didn't surprise me much.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Americans Complicate Khayelitsha

Preface: This is a short story i wrote as part of our final, group project for SHAWCO and UCT. The idea behind the project was to reflect our impressions of Khayelitsha back to the community; to express to them, in some way, what we experienced in our time with them. The theoretical term is an 'Asset Map'. The finished, physical product took shape as a poster-sized photo collage, with over-sized 'postcards' (choice pictures pasted on cardboard), with little notes home, telling little stories and saying nice things. One of mine featured a joke by Mike Sisson: "What city has the most superheroes? CAPE Town!"
Anyway, the other aspect of the project was this story, clasped in construction paper and adorned with appropriate pictures. It is a simply structured story. The idea was to raise some of the issues, the complexities surrounding our presence in Khayelitsha; to briefly explore some of the situations we encountered. It started out as a children's story, but i'm not sure it's consistent in that pursuit - if only because it became necessary to discuss adult issues.
Our presentation was attended by two of our three professors, our program coordinators, some of the SHAWCO staff, and something like 10 members/leaders in organizations within the Khayelitsha, as well as a big group of the kids we'd tutored. One of the unplanned results of the presentation was a short community meeting between all these active people. Members of other organizations did not know about SHAWCO before, and were very excited to pursue further projects together with SHAWCO. So that was cool.
This version is a tuned up version of the one left in Khayelitsha, as I have since had time to edit.
Some of the names are those of actual people, but their characters have been switched around and combined.

Not too long ago, in a place we all know well, a pair of Americans came to visit. They came to Khayelitsha, and they wanted to help. But they soon found out that they would need a lot more than good intentions.

Andy and Emma look out the window in awe as their plane drifts slowly down over Cape Town.

"I can't believe we're finally here," says Emma, who had been looking forward to this trip for almost a year.
"Yea, I’m excited," replies Andy. "Do you want to go out tonight? My friend gave me a whole list of places to go..."
"Tonight? Tonight I plan to get some rest. We start our work in Khayelitsha tomorrow, remember? Working with those kids is the only reason I came, not for selfish entertainment out on the town. I'm here for them, not for me."
"Whatever you say," says Andy skeptically.

The next morning, Andy and Emma wake up early for orientation. They learn all about the history of the SHAWCO organization, how it has delivered services to thousands (maybe millions) of people over its 60-plus year history.
Leonard, the lecturer, tells them a story about his work as a driver for SHAWCO. He says, "In the middle of riots, we would drive through the townships, and everyone would put down their weapons and stop throwing rocks, just to let us through. No service vehicle, no police or anything could ever get through, but they let us pass in peace because they knew SHAWCO, they knew us, and they appreciated our presence."

"Wow," Emma thinks, "my friends back home will never believe I worked with such an important organization."

Leonard then speaks about how SHAWCO is a student-run organization, and introduces Jane, the student coordinator who will be working with Emma and Andy at the K2 center in Khayelitsha.

An enthusiastic Jane tells the two Americans what they can expect:
"These kids are going to be SO excited to have you there. They look forward to seeing you every day, so please be sure to get enough rest and try not to miss a single session --

(Emma nudges Andy with her elbow. Andy shrugs and raises his eyebrows with an innocent smile.)

Jane continues, "--We serve lunch to the learners, but there are always lots of kids at the center who are not involved in the program, and we just do not have enough food for all of them. So please do not give out food, or money for that matter, to those kids. I know, it sounds harsh, but we are not a charity organization. If you give them a bit of food, or a couple rand one day, then they're going to expect it from you again the next day, and that isn't fair to you or the kids."

Andy nods. He thinks, "That makes sense, you can't just give food away. If word got out that there was free food at the SHAWCO center, there would be a hundred new kids at the center every day."

When orientation ends, the group mingles about for a few minutes. Jane approaches Emma and Andy.

"How are you two feeling today?" Jane asks.

"I'm a little tired from the long plane ride," replies Emma, "but so excited to get out and start making a difference in these kids' lives."

Andy adds, "Yea, I think this is going to be a lot of fun! I love hanging out with little kids."

"Well good, I'm glad you're so enthusiastic," Jane says with a smile. "But I'll warn you now, it's not all fun and games, the K2 center tends to get quite hectic at times."

"Well sure," says Emma quickly, "any time you have a large group of kids in a confined space, things can get crazy."

"Yes, that's part of it..." Jane says, but before she can finish she is cut off by Leonard calling out:

"Ok everybody, time to get going!"

On the bus, Emma is glued to the window as they pass other townships on the way.

"Oh my! Look at all those shacks! They stretch as far as I can see! Oh, it's so sad!"

"Hey look, there's a soccer game going on!" Andy says, ignoring Emma's distress.

As they pull into the K2 center, small children swarm the sides of the bus, jumping and yelling, excitedly reaching up for a high-five. Emma reprimands Andy's attempt to reach back, slapping his shoulder and insisting that, "One of them will get run over trying to touch your hand!"

The first half hour at K2 is play time. Emma meanders, meeting the girls she'll be teaching, and picking up cute little kids who are fascinated by her wispy blond hair. Andy finds the soccer ball and starts playing keep-away - a game that soon dissolves into him getting chased and playfully mobbed.

Soon enough it's time to start class. Happy and sweating just a little, Andy leaves his marauders outside, promising to come back and play later.

The learners are attentive and diligent in their work, and before they know it, it's almost time for lunch. Andy and Emma leave the learners with a short activity, and go downstairs to speak with Jane.

"How's it?" Jane asks.

"Really good! The kids are so smart!" Emma almost yells.

"Yea, and it's nice that we can all laugh and enjoy ourselves while still getting stuff done," says Andy.

"Oh good! It is always easier to teach kids who come by choice. It's amazing, these kids spend all day at school and then walk all the way here," Jane explains. "When I was in grade school I would have never done that!
“Well, it's about time for a snack, so Emma, come with me, we'll carry the food upstairs. Andy, will you shut the gate and just hold it closed?"

Andy is a bit confused by this request. "Um, sure. But why?"

"Well, once we start serving food, all the little ones outside are going to want to come in and be fed. And like I told you before, there isn't enough food for all of them," says Jane as she climbs the stairs.

So Andy walks over to the entrance. As he slowly closes the gate, five little boys appear out of nowhere and crowd the doorway. They use all their strength, piling on top of one another to push the gate back open. But even with the force of their combined effort, Andy is able to squeeze the gate closed and leave the boys standing on the outside, peering in through the iron bars. By this time, a larger crowd has gathered at the door and Andy is alone on the inside, staring out at no less than 10 kids, hungry boys and girls who know that it's lunch time.

"Let me in! I'm hungry!" says one boy.

"My sister needs a drink!" says one girl, who also claims to be a part of SHAWCO.

"But I haven't seen you all morning..." says Andy. The girl looks away.

The kids continue to push, squishing smaller children on the bottom of the pile. Physically, it is easy for Andy to hold the kids back. Mentally, emotionally, he is not so sure.

They ask him, "Why won't you let us in?"
He responds, "Because I'm not supposed to. I'm sorry, it's not up to me."

Then, from somewhere in the young horde, a voice says, "It's because you're white!"

This is a shocking statement to Andy. He had never considered the fact that he could be seen as an oppressive white person. He had read all about the (recent) atrocities in South Africa's history, and felt no connection (except for skin color) whatsoever with those people. He had assumed that his progressive ideas on humanity would allow him to transcend the race barrier, and cultivate organic relationships with the people of Khayelitsha, based on human experience, not hampered by antiquated ideologies.

But there it was - a small child accusing him of refusing food based on skin color. Is that why he held the gate so tight? (No. He would have treated any rambunctious group of children the same.) How could he respond appropriately? (He couldn't.)
Andy locks the gate and runs off to find Jane.

When Jane and Andy return, there is no one at the gate. But soon, two small children run up. Jane unlocks the gate and lets them in, instructing them to sit quietly and read, which they do happily. Soon after, another couple kids come to the door, and Jane motions for Andy to let them through as well.

Seeing this, three more little ones come to the gate and give Andy their best innocent face, using their eyes to beg for entrance. When Andy is still hesitant, they point to their friends already inside, and point out how unfair that is. Unsure about the entrance policy, and with Jane now nowhere to be found, Andy agrees it’s unfair, and opens the gate.

Just then, Jane comes back and says, "Oh no! You ought not have let those three in!"

But it’s too late. Distracted by Jane's reappearance, Andy had neglected to hold the gate closed, and several opportunistic kids scamper in. Meanwhile, the first three trespassers have snuck around back and opened the other door, allowing a miniature, guerilla army of small children to infiltrate the main room, sneaking past book stacks, running upstairs and hiding under tables. Chaos quickly engulfs the K2 center.

Each and every tutor is needed in the effort to clear the building of minions. There is chasing and shouting, pointing and falling and more chasing. A tutor drags one boy on his back towards the door while others run circles, around him laughing.
A wonderful game for the young ones is a stressful scene in a bad dream for anyone trying to maintain authority, much less teach.

After what like hours (it had only been minutes), Ernest, the center manager, emerges from his office to see about all the hubbub. A native Xhosa speaker and Khayelitsha resident, his big, commanding presence and powerful voice brings everything to a halt. A kid standing on the table freezes. Another boy is too stunned to move as he sits on top of one of his friends. In eloquent Xhosa, Ernest easily clears the room (Andy locks the gate) and returns to his office.

In a daze, Andy boards the bus to go home. Jane sits next to him.

"How am I supposed to know who to let in, and who to keep out?" asks Andy.

"By their faces," Jane responds simply.

"But," Andy stutters, "but if I judge by their faces...I'll have to let them all in."

Jane gazes silently back.

"I can tell from their faces how unfair they think it is...and I'm not sure I disagree..." Andy elaborates. "I know we can't feed them all, but how do we choose? Who are we to decide who eats and who doesn't? Where do we draw that line?"

"It's not fun, is it?" Jane finally responds.

"No. No fun at all," Andy says quietly to himself, and spends the rest of the ride staring at the window.

A week goes by, and things get better. The craziness of that first day is not repeated; Andy learns the kids faces and asserts some authority, and the kids begin to find the limits of this new umlungu's patience.
Andy gets comfortable. Emma is getting confused.

After a week of tutoring, and with less than a week left, Emma's initial enthusiasm has deteriorated into a sense of profound helplessness. She claims a quiet moment one afternoon and vents her frustration to Ernest.

"You know, I feel like I've developed relationships with these kids, but I'm not sure it's doing them any good. Take yesterday for example. I was trying to teach them about budgeting their money, which is important stuff! But they kept interrupting me and speaking to each other in Xhosa. They see me as a friend, so they forget that I'm in charge. And then, even when I yell, they still won't pay attention.”

"Well Emma, they are children. Getting angry will not help, they will just ignore your screaming. They know when you have lost control, and will continue taking advantage of that until you find a way to get it back," wise Ernest observes.

"But, on the first day, we had them come up with a list of rules they thought everybody should follow. And even when I reminded them of that, they got quiet just long enough for me to calm down and begin the lesson, AND THEN THEY STARTED TALKING AGAIN!" Emma blurts, near tears.

"Perhaps you should try silence. Or even, walking away. They want you there, Emma, but they are young, and are going to test your limits."

"I know, I guess, I just feel betrayed. Like, I'll have a really nice conversation with one of them, and then at lunchtime, that same kid will lie to me and say he didn't get any food. I try so hard, and want to help them get a better life so bad, and I just feel like it's not making any difference," Emma sniffles, as a solitary tear drops off her nose.

"Emma," Ernest can't help but chuckle kindly, "you are here for two weeks. You cannot expect to save any lives in such short time. Also, who says they need to be saved? If you ask them, I am sure they will tell you they are happy, and they would be sad to leave from friends and family in Khayelitsha, even for something you might consider to be 'better’ for them. Yes, there are things that can be better, but this is true in America also, and around the world. But still you are proud of from where you come, so please, do not assume that we are not also proud of where we live."

"I'm sorry," Emma says, staring at the ground. "I didn't mean..."

"Sorry?" Ernest stops her, "No no no, not to be sorry. We are happy to have you here. Our children, and us too, we learn very much from meeting Americans. But also, we hope that you have much to learn from us as well. See that, we are different in interesting ways and also very much the same. So you see, you do not need to 'save' any children. Being here, giving them you, is all anyone can ask. And they will do the same in return. And all of you will learn, grow. This is good for every body."

With this, Emma picks her head up and swipes her eyes clear. "Thanks Ernest, you're right. Okay. You've given me some serious thinking to do about why I'm here."

"Okay sisi, you are here for the right reasons, I am sure."

All of a sudden it's the last day of class.
The day is festive, yet sad. All the little kids who gave Andy so much stress before, now play soccer in a circle and take turns taking pictures with his fancy camera. The angry faces he confronted that first day are nowhere to be found. Emma gets her hair braided, and exchanges endless hugs with all the girls she has grown so close to.

Andy, Emma, Jane and Ernest all stand in front of the class. They call out each learner's name one by one, and hand them a certificate of participation. The learners cannot hide their pride, and the tutors smile big and wide. Group photo's flash and capture a moment none of them will forget anytime soon.

"I can't believe it's time to go home already," says Andy.

"Ah! Don't talk about it!" cries Emma. "I don't want to think about it, I don't want to go home!"

"To think, two short weeks ago we were strangers in this place, to these people, and now..."

"And now I want to take all of them home with me."

"But do you really?" Andy inquires.

"In my heart, yes. But in reality, no. No, I am honored to have interacted with these children, and with Ernest, and Jane, and to have learned so much from all of them."

"Yea I agree. We can only hope that we gave enough of ourselves to balance the scales."

“It’s complicated, you know. There are many larger forces influencing our interactions, and it can be difficult. But at least we’re all getting to have the experience; at least we get to hang out and become friends.”
“And what else could any of us hope to get out of it?”


(Asset Based Community Development)

Ok. Well. It's about time i update all my faithful readers (Hi Mom!) on my South African activities so far.

So, we (me and 5 American girls, plus two pretty, goofy girls from U of Cape Town and another guy named 'Sir' Elvis Sabelo) have lecture for two hours every morning, except on Fridays when we have a 4 hour "Reflection Session". The lectures rotate between three UCT professors. The first few weeks, we had Tristan George facilitating our discussions. Tristan specializes in Critical Development theory and practice, and used a fabulous combination of interesting texts and excellent question-asking to prod us along and help us work our way through the vast complexity involved in any sort of development practice (which is, in theory and in name, what we're up to when we go out to the townships to teach). Just so you get the right picture, Tristan is about 6'4" and looks a lot like my brother John except for a slimmer jaw and is confined to a wheelchair (something about an accident diving into the ocean a few years back). His laugh is easy as he throws his head back, mouth open in the intense silence of gasping laughter. He's awesome, and has been showing up to lecture this last week even though he is no longer teaching.

This week, class has been passed to Elsa (last name unknown at the moment). She is a tall single-mother of two daughters, with curly dark hair and a passion for sociology, though recently she has become obsessed with early-childhood development and the law (separately, not as they relate, you see). She has been working on the same kinds of issues (to be discussed shortly) that we've been dealing with all along, but coming at it from a sociological standpoint (whatever that means). Anyway, she's been pushing our buttons, playing devil's advocate a bit, just to make sure we don't get too comfortable with our assumptions, which we've found is a very dangerous thing to do when it comes to the realities of the 'developing' world.

Our third professor kind of floats around the other two. Janice McMillan runs our reflection sessions and assigns our papers and is in charge of (one of our) final project(s). She is a sweet middle-aged lady with a thick voice; you can hear the spittle in her mouth as she speaks, but it is soothing as opposed to gross.

These three have guided us through some interesting and extremely relevant readings, and helped us gain some kind of perspective on the work we're doing. I feel that this experience would have been empty in comparison if we had only done the tutoring. The understanding of the complexities of the process and all the considerations that go into it (and why the efforts often fail) has made the tutoring experience much more manageable and enjoyable. Anyway, i'll give a brief summary of the ideas we've been kicking around at another time, it's just too much effort right now, to piece together a coherent, worthwhile collection of ideas. I'll just continue with the overview

We are working with the UCT-based organization known as SHAWCO, which stands for Student Health And Welfare Centres Organization. We are working out at the SHAWCO center in the township of Khayelitsha, which is about 30 km from Cape Town. Samantha Power describes Khayelitsha better than i can in her May 2003 New Yorker article, "The AIDS Rebel":

"Khayelitsha is a sprawling, ramshackle township on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa. Most of the settlement's residents live in huts that have been constructed with corrugated tin and insulated with cardboard, plastic tarps, and sheet metal. More than five hundred thousand people live in the township [recent estimates have the number at around one million]; half are unemployed, and the average monthly wage is less than a hundred dollars. The dominant language is Xhosa [pronounced with a click : "click-Osa"]. Although Khayelitsha resembles a squatter's retreat, it was in fact designed by the apartheid government. In 1983, the white regime decided to purge blacks from settlements close to the heart of Cape Town. The authorities dumped the evicted residents in Khayelitsha, which means "Our New Home." Houses were laid out in a grid pattern to help the police control disgruntled inhabitants. Since then, many families have established roots in Khayelitsha, but the crowded, unsanitary neighborhoods have also become home to viruses and germs. Khayelitsha has long had one of the highest tuberculosis rates in the world, and in recent years it has been decimated by AIDS."

So yea, that's where i've been hanging out, playing with little kids, and teaching some 14-16 year olds how to read and use computers and such. It's really fun, and all the kids are happy and energetic and smart and eager to learn, which makes the tutoring a whole lot easier than i expected it to be.

One of the most important understandings we have developed during our lecture sections, is that the term 'poverty' ought to be pluralized (Max-Neef), so that we speak of poverties (which lead to pathologies). This allows for a re-imagining of the role of development. While these people may be financially poor, they have an incredible sense of community and live miraculously joyous lives within their resource deprived world. It changes our goal as volunteers. We need not feel overwhelmed by all the 'problems' these people face. All we can do, is all we can do, which is, give of ourselves and cultivate positive interactions with all the people we meet. By providing the small support we do, we can broaden horizons and show these kids that there is a larger world out there, but that doesn't necessarily mean their world is bad, or wrong. Before we gave poverty a name and a value-judgment, there were only different people living different lives. As soon as we over-indulged in what Foucault defined as Governmentality, we (in the Eurocentric, 'developed' world) saw the condition of these peoples lives and said oh dear lord we're obligated to fix this. Fixing is not what we need to do. Just help.

This is why our program is focused around 'asset-based community development', as opposed to needs-based. We are looking at what the community already has, and how they can employ those qualities to solve some of their own problems for themselves. This is the only possible avenue for sustainable, meaningful change. But it has to come from them. We can provide the arena and maybe some inspiration, but the changes in attitude and action must be organic, otherwise its just more top-down oppression, and the people in Khayelitsha, and all over South Africa, have had quite enough of that for the next couple thousand lifetimes.

That's all for now, the computer lab is closing. More soon.

Cape Town Context

The original purpose of this whole 'blogging' thing is to keep people abreast of my activities in South Africa this summer (winter there), so i figure i ought to begin by explaining why i'm going in the first place.
Here are some pertinent clips from the various literature i've received about the program.

"A Critical Understanding of Community Development

This course will provide students with an experiential, reflective and service-oriented introduction to post-apartheid community development processes in South Africa, using the Western Cape as a case study. The course will combine a series of core seminars with daily community service in Khayelitsha near Cape Town, regular service-learning reflection sessions, and a group task aimed at creating an asset map to be presented to the community of Khayelitsha.

The central aim of the course is to provide students with an understanding of the ‘potentialities of the city’, building on the notion of community assets, particularly with regards to ‘the community’s’ ability to present competent and complex responses to their own problems. This requires exploring the different avenues for power in Cape Town (local government, failures of local government, a call to understand the ‘micro-spaces of everyday engagement’ and an example of a study which introduces racial, class and social justice issues with regards to housing), as well as the social challenges that communities in Cape Town face and their responses to these challenges."

There are 6 of us American students in the group: me and five girls. Three of us are GW kids which would be worrisome except that they gotta be at least kinda cool if they applied to this program.
We'll be living in University of Cape Town dorms, in a building that houses mostly medical students. They are all single rooms with 4 communal bathrooms on each floor (12 rooms per floor). Apparently there is a computer lab in the dorm, so whether or not i bring my laptop is in question. The dorm also has a swimming pool, racquetball courts and a weight room, a full service cafeteria and big screen TV's in the common rooms. So it's not like i'll be roughin' it.


"Course Structure:

1. Core seminars

10am-12pm daily, Monday to Thursday, for 4 weeks
Instructors: Dr Elsa van Huyssteen and Mr Tristan Gorgens

2. Service-learning component

This component of the course consists of three parts: community service, reflection on the service experience, and developing an asset map of the community.

2a. Community service

2pm-5pm daily, Monday to Thursday

2b. Reflection sessions

10am-2pm every Friday, for 4 weeks
These sessions are aimed at supporting students in the field through reflection on the service experience while at the same time, offering some lenses that might assist in the reflection process and in linking it with the overall themes of the course i.e. to link the service and the learning. While Janice McMillan will provide the overall frame for the sessions, it is hoped that all course lecturers will be involved as this will facilitate the links between the service and academic components of the course.

2c. Group task: Developing asset map of Khayelitsha

This will be done concurrently with community service and reflection sessions and will be presented to the community in the final week. It will also link with the theoretical aspects of the course."

So those are the basics. I really don't know much more about it than all that. I arrive on the 7th of June, and the first week is orientation, then we've got four weeks of learning slash service, then a week of exams and papers and such, then i'm home by way of London on the 18th of July. It's a short, intense trip.

I'm assuming i'll spend weekends exploring Cape Town and the surrounding areas. Orientation involves some sort of trip, but i really don't know...only one way to find out. I certainly hope to find some sweet new music while i'm down there, so i'll be jumping at every opportunity to check out the live groove scene.


See how i chose black and white?
See what i did there?
I did it on purpose, see?