From the Mother City to our Home City

By Hal W.

      We began this week in Cape Town, South Africa, and ended it in Windhoek, Namibia. We have set up shop here in Windhoek, where we will be staying for the next three months. I have the luxury of writing this with the comfort of A/C, something we all missed while we traveled around the Cape.

     We began this week by visiting the Slave Lodge Museum in downtown Cape Town. The tour began by meeting Lucy Campbell and her assistant Khadijah outside of the Castle of Good Hope. The fort was built by the Dutch East India Company between 1666 and 1679, it is the oldest standing colonial building in the whole country. It originally was used as a replenishment stations for British Ships sailing around the horn of Africa. Today it is a museum and historical site for tourists and memorialization of Cape Town’s brutal history.
 

      Lucy Campbell shared the history of the fort and how it impacted the native people of South Africa. She explained how colonization integrated new and often detrimental impacts onto the preexisting culture that existed here. From there we walked up Spin Street to the Slave Lodge Museum, making a brief stop at the Slave Tree memorial. This inconspicuous raised octagon is the site that slaves were sold during the economic and population boom of Cape Town. It feels overly modest, a plinth easily passed by without noticing its significance. The town was built by the men and women who were sold under that tree, and today it can be overpassed without a moment's thought. This place is worth stopping by to acknowledge on a historic remembrance of Cape Town, often forgotten.
 

     The Slave Lodge bustled with school trips and tourists gawking at the blinking lights of the eye-catching exhibits. We sat on the concrete floor as Campbell presented stories and trinkets traded during the Transcontinental slave trade. Ships stopped by Cape Town bringing tobacco and alcohol to suppress the health of the native tribes, for the sole intention of exploiting them for their land’s resources. The Slave Lodge was the physical space that the slaves were kept in decrepit conditions, with morality thrown out the barred windows.
 

     In the early 1800’s the building was modified to be used as government offices including the upper house of Parliament and the Cape Supreme Court. In the 1960’s it was again transformed into a museum of remembrance. “From human wrongs to human rights, exhibitions on the lower level of this museum explore the long history of slavery in South Africa”.

The original Parliament Hall. (Used during the Apartheid Regime)

     After lunch on Long Street we walked to the current Parliament facility for a discussion of the on-going political turmoil happening in South Africa. We were met by Andricus Pieter van der Westhuizen, a current member of the Democratic Alliance (DA) party in Parliament. He is currently appointed as the Shadow Deputy Minister of Labour, but his background is in education. We discussed how volatile the politics of South Africa have been since the turn of the country in the early 1990’s. We lucked upon a interesting time in South Africa’s politics. Jacob Zuma, the current president of South Africa, is being asked by his own party the African National Congress (ANC) to step down from his position. He has over 100 charges of corruption and is overwhelmingly disapproved of by the majority of the South African population. He is charged with using public funds for supposed “security” improvements for his estate including a pool and housing for his security team. Our meeting and tour of Parliament proved interesting and eye-opening.

 

      Tuesday morning we ate breakfast at St. Paul’s Guesthouse, our accommodation for our time in Cape Town, then went to the District Six Museum. This small, one building museum pays homage to the thousands of mixed race South Africans who were forcibly removed from their homes in the early 1900’s. District Six was a neighborhood of diversity and culture for laborers and merchants for decades before white colonists decided to bulldoze the area and force the residents into the surrounding areas known as the Cape Flats. The white government deemed District Six to be a destructive slum that bred vices like gambling and prostitution. They also declared under apartheid regime that mixed race communities were against the law. In 2003 the area began a reconstruction process. But of course true to the bureaucratic form it was executed with inadequate resources and labor. Today many of the homes lost remain rubble.


District Six museum complete with a floor map

      After a pensive tour of the District Six museum we de-stressed by going to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. The five square kilometer complex featured a tree canopy boardwalk and sculpture garden. It was a relaxing break from the onslaught of information about the destructive history of this town. My personal favorite was the fragrance garden, buzzing with exotic insects that were double the size of the critters we have back home.

     We ended our outing with a empowering discussion at the Sex Workers and Advocacy Task Force (SWEAT). The goal of SWEAT is to decriminalize sex work in South Africa. They participate in rallies and demonstrations to bring media coverage and educate people about Sex Workers rights. They also offer resources to Sex Workers like medical aid and helpful connections. The discussion was positive and light-hearted, despite the rather blunt topic. The people that work there are fighting a noble battle.

Camryn and Lamont getting down

The next day we were given a tour of Langa and Gugulethu by Mrs. Laura. These two townships are primarily black and have had a troubled past. We stopped at the Dompas Museum in Langa for a tour of the history of passbooks in the apartheid regime. The Dompas or Passbooks were issued to all black laborers who traveled into Cape Town for work. Dompas translates to “dumb pass”, these books were used to restrict black movement throughout the city and give the police another reason to throw innocent people in jail. If someone was caught without their passbook or if it was out of order they were put in jail for a month. The museum resides in the same building that black people were kept against their will for not having this aforementioned “Dumb pass”. Afterwards we walked through Langa to a restaurant where we ate authentic South African food, served family style, and were serenaded by talented group of musicians. They even let us try their instruments!

 

A young Jimmy among the Pines

After lunch we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (MOCCA) that lies on the waterfront of Cape Town. The exhibits depicted historic mediums brought into a contemporary light. Animal pelts, weapons, and traditional african garb decorated the six story building. It is a place worth visiting for art enthusiasts to anyone willing to experience history through modern and artistic means.

For dinner we went to an African cafe aptly named “The African Cafe”. The food was again served family style and we enjoyed the music of the staff dancing, singing, and drumming through the restaurant. Truly a sight to behold on your trip through Cape Town.

The next morning we woke up early to pile into the van to ship off to the airport. We made our way through customs and security and onto the plane. After a quick two hour plane ride we touched down in our home for the next three months. The drive to Windhoek offered a few sights to show us what was to come. I watched out my window as the desert brush zipped by us, the occasional baboon or boar poking out along the side of the road. We were all quite tired from the travels of the day so after a quick orientation session we all called it an early night.

Today we began to make ourselves acquainted with our new home with a walking tour of Windhoek. Our fearless R.A. Jamila showed us around town, we saw the local mall, club, ice cream shop, and cafe. Windhoek is a big town and a small city. The taxis are cheap and the streets are (mostly) safe. We were warned by Paul From the U.S. Embassy about the petty muggings and opportunity crime that stems from the lack of employment. The overall message though was that if you keep your wits about you this city is a fun and safe place to stay.

The next day we were all feeling much more at home in our air conditioned manor complete with pool and wifi. We continued our orientation with a driving tour of Windhoek and Katatura, the biggest township of Windhoek. Our guide Martin was friendly and showed us the ins and outs of Windhoek. We visited the Kapana market in Katatura where we had the traditional grilled meat dish for the first time. You pay the price you want to pay and they grill the meat right in front of you on a wood burning stove, we returned back as soon as we could.

So much awkward in just one photo. (Visiting a local Namibian dam)

     Windhoek has graciously welcomed us into their city. The people are friendly and the air is dry. It has only been free from the apartheid regime for less than thirty years so the town quiets down at night. The stars are beautiful.

                   

Week 3: Two Countries, One Continent

By Mickey Liebrecht



Mural at District 6 museum

In the past week we’ve transitioned from exploring Cape Town in South Africa to exploring Windhoek and our semester schedule in Namibia. I’ll start off with telling my experience with learning more about what Apartheid did to many communities of color from the District Six museum. Then I’ll move to talking a bit about Namibia and the budding possibilities that I’ve been able to see coming in my future.

While still in South Africa, we went to a museum called the District 6 Museum, and though its building is small, the gravity of its contents is not. The museum is a collection of donated items not just from the destroyed community of District 6, but the people who were forced to ‘relocate’ to another area so their community could be used for white homes – spoiler alert, they never did anything with the land after destroying the community that’d already been there. Our tour guide had his own stories from when he lived in District Six, and with them there was an air of pride about him that really stood out to me. He was proud because the district itself was filled with people of all kinds – race, religion, etc. – living together as harmonically as human beings can live with one another. This, in his opinion (and mine too), was what made the district a threat to the government, as they believed this could never happen in real life, or at least were selling that idea to their “fellow whites;” the most important ones at the time to sell this idea to, as they did have the easiest position within the structure of the country to do something about it.



Top view of District 6

His stories, along with the many others illustrated within the museum, were heart-breaking yes, but they didn’t break my heart in the same way other stories I’ve heard about Apartheid in the past few weeks have. Other stories have left me close to tears, or just flat out crying, as I hear them and/or read them, but I believe the stories of District Six had a different effect on me, because the storyteller was a man who experienced this atrocity and managed to leave me smiling after ending his story with a few jokes and some hope thrown in there for good measure; the government is currently working on a project that will rebuild District Six from the rubble that’s still there. The tour guide was a fun, happy, and naturally light-hearted spirit, a lot like who I used to be when I was younger. Also, the fact that he went through all this and still manages to make fun of it and be happy with himself and his life and the simple pleasures of it, gives me hope for myself. Hope that eventually, I’ll be able to do the same thing with some of the darker parts of my past, and move on to do something about them – within society – in the future. It’s one of the best experiences I’ve had so far, for that reason.

My future in Windhoek also seems brighter because of this, as I’m continuing to learn more about the area and the organizations that reside here, fighting the good fight for their groups of humanity who are being “screwed over” essentially by the government and society – my words. I look forward to learning more from the two organizations I’ve been focusing on as the semester goes on, and helping in any way I can – if they’ll have me. The first is an orphanage that goes by the name of Village Hope, and the other is an LGBTI advocacy group that goes by the name Outright Namibia.  


Visual lounge space in HIV exhibit at Slave Lodge

 

Week 3: The On-going History of Slavery in South Africa

By Adelina Alcaraz  

Our week started with a powerful tour informing us of the history of slavery in the Cape. As we went on our tour, we were informed that the places are ancestral grounds belonging to the Coy and Sun tribe. Common amongst colonization stories, when the colonizers came to Cape Town, they did not distinguish people by the various and divergent tribes, but simply by the color of their skin. It was better for colonizers to not use the Coy and Sun as slaves from the beginning. However, when slavery did come to the Cape, it came with a great force. Among the imported slaves were tens of thousands of children.

Small slave memorial in Cape Town

Later, our tour guides pointed out the surprisingly small memorials of slavery in Cape Town which exhibits the problem of being ignorant of the past. For example, there was a memorial of black blocks small enough to sit on. These block had words like slavery, resist, and a list of names to symbolize the horrors of the slave trade and following oppression in Cape Town. Although artistic, the message of the blocks is unclear to those that aren't familiar with that history therefore, is not efficient in educating others.

One of the most troubling memorials is a block in the shape of a tree trunk to symbolize the trees used to auction off slaves. This horrifyingly inhumane practice is ironically meant to be remembered by placing a circular block, not even big enough to sit comfortably on, in the middle of two busy roads, where people pass it daily, not even getting a glance at it. From this, we learned that ignorance of the past can not only threaten the future but also hurt and disrespect descendants of the oppressed.

After the tour, we were guided to an emotional HIV exhibit. We not only saw the pictures and stories of HIV survivors around the world, but were also introduced to an HIV survivor who is also a transgender woman, cancer survivor, former drug addict and sex worker. Her story of surviving so much trial proves her strength and amazing capability. Her main message to us was to break down stereotype of those living with HIV. They are not only capable of living a normal life, but strong in facing not just the HIV disease, but the harsh stigma put on them by the society they live in. Her story was inspirational and empowering to not only those living with HIV, but those being unjustly punished by society for not fitting into the box each society places every person in.

Some of us ended the day with a Swami yoga instructor. Interestingly, he identifies no religion, but is knowledgeable of many so that he may offer guidance to those that wish to connect the spirituality of yoga with her or his religion. The spirituality of yoga is something that mainstream yoga in the U. S. rarely mentions. One of the things the yoga instructor emphasized was the idea of selfishness in today’s world. He argued that selfishness is the base to the world’s problems and that happiness should come from making others happy. Coming from a society where self-care and helping yourself before you can help others is a common thought, it was interesting and frankly hard for some of us to accept. As for myself, I’m still struggling on what this means for complex situations, like what this looks like across cultures. Although the yoga instructor insisted this being a simple teaching, I think in practice it’s much more complex.

Photo from the HIV exhibit.

 

At the District 6 museum, we learned the story of someone who experienced inhumane relocation. He explained to us what it was like being forced out of his home during apartheid.
 

On Wednesday, we went to church, to school, and then to the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Task Force. At each place were taught about love for each other and helping one another though things like acceptance and support. One of the most striking things to challenge my perspective was being introduced to the term sex worker, a more respectful way to address prostitutes. It was the idea that sex work can be just like any other work: a choice done willingly by the worker that should be protected by law instead of being criminalized. Unfortunately, a majority of the media, public, and politicians do not distinguish the difference between sex workers, those that choose their occupation, and human trafficking survivors, those forced into sex slavery.
 

The rest of the week involved moving into Windhoek, Namibia, a place we’ll call home for the following three months. Here, we reunited and met with the rest of the staff, or more appropriately labelled the rest of our family.

Week 2: Exploring Identity by Carly

By Carly Dillis

A view of Cape Town from historic Wale St, a community that
has historically been predominantly Muslim.

Over the past week, our group has been exploring Cape Town and different parts of the Eastern Cape. Throughout this time, we have been learning the story of South Africa through the people in these places. Our learning in this program is designed to be through experience, including that of others. Thus, we rely greatly on shared personal narratives to humanize and contextualize the more traditional learning that we have been engaging with in museums and historical sites. Simultaneously, we are also navigating our own identities in a new country and learning who we are and how we relate to the world.

Portraits of Steve Biko in front of the museum.

For our first day in the Eastern Cape, we drove from Port Elizabeth to King Williams town to visit the Steve Biko museum. The museum was about the anti-Apartheid struggle, but more so it was about Steve Biko as a person. The museum helped bring a human energy to the history of Apartheid. As Apartheid is such a violent system, it begins to feel the opposite of human. Therefore, reminding ourselves of the humans involved is a much-needed facet of a complete education in the subject. We have also found this human element at the Red Location Lodge, a women’s co-op that we have been staying in for our time in Port Elizabeth. The co-op is a women’s empowerment and support group with about a dozen members. They have been sharing their stories with us as well and showing us a more everyday type of resistance in their solidarity.

As we move onto Cape Town, we again get a new perspective on the history of South Africa and Apartheid. We took the ferry to Robben Island, the site of the prison in which Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, and Robert Sobukwe were held during the anti- Apartheid struggle. Our tour guide was a former prisoner at Robben Island and was able tell the story of prison life from his authentic experience there. He gave us a sense of what it felt like to be a prisoner under Apartheid and to be taken away from society. The story of Apartheid is one that is still being written. As the first democratic elections took place in 1994, the official era of Apartheid is over, but it is still very fresh in the minds and lives of the people of South Africa.

A collection of the original signs of District Six
before the Apartheid government tore down all
houses. Behind the signs, there are also handmade
quilts that depict everyday life in District Six. 

 We were also able to tour the District Six Museum. Our tour guide’s name was Noor and he was born in District Six. He was the third generation to raise his family in his home and was forcibly evicted when the area was declared “for whites only.” He watched his house be torn down and had to begin a new life away from the community which had become a part of his identity. He told his story with enthusiasm and passion, which gave us a sense of his greater self and identity and made his story exceptionally human. District Six and Noor’s story are a microcosm of Apartheid and help us understand how the events and policies enacted by the government affected everyday people such as Noor.

Learning through a personal lens helps one to internalize the curriculum and understand its importance. It also helps to decolonize our education by diversifying our knowledge source and helping us to be critical of institutions of knowledge. It has also helped us to understand our own places in the struggle, as we are connected to this history, and all histories, by our existence in a globalized world. 

Week 2: Exploring Identity by Evan

By Evan Carr

Cape Town skyline with a cloudy Table Mountain in the background

Our week in Cape Town has presented us with numerous opportunities to engage with the community as South Africa grapples with its identity. We have met with individuals from across the political spectrum and from various racial backgrounds, including those involved in sex workers’ rights, presenting alternative historical narratives, and Parliament. A critical element of this week, especially for me, has been the time we’ve spent reflecting upon our experiences and exploring our own identity.

Robben Island Prison - Several anti-apartheid activists,
 including Nelson Mandela and Robert Sobukwe,
were imprisoned here. 

The week began with a boat ride out to Robben Island to visit where Nelson Mandela and many other heroes of the Liberation Struggle served political imprisonment sentences under the Apartheid government. By attending a performance by a Coloured stand-up comic in the evening we were able to hear not only a lighter take on race relations in South Africa, but also an in-depth account of the experience of people who straddle the divide between black and white and had a unique experience under Apartheid as Coloured (or mixed race) people.

We also did a walking tour of the city with Lucy Campbell and learned about the history and impact of slavery in the region as she presented us with a history that one can only decipher by reading between the lines. It was imperative that we understood this alternative history given that so much power in South Africa is concentrated in the hands of the wealthy and government, rather than with the people. One of the starkest examples of this power discrepancy was through monument memorialization. We observed the contrast between the looming, grandiose monuments of white South African generals compared to the essentially invisible monuments commemorating the plight of slaves. Despite the change in government in 1994, the historical narrative of Apartheid still lives on in South African spaces.

Cape Town buildings

This week has also afforded us the opportunity to better understand issues of health and sexuality, particularly surrounding HIV/AIDS. We heard from a transgender and HIV/AIDS rights activist who told her story and advocated for more work to be done in eliminating stigma surrounding these issues. A photographic and sculptural exhibit also allowed us to immerse ourselves in the experiences and lives of people living with HIV/AIDS. This valuable experience was coupled with a visit to the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Team, or SWEAT. Activists there outlined their work in pushing for the decriminalization of sex work in South Africa and again for the need to eliminate stigma.

South Africa's Parliament Chamber

A visit to Parliament, culminating with a discussion with Andricus van der Westhuizen of the Democratic Alliance (DA) party rounded out our experience in Cape Town. He presented us with an insightful overview of his party’s stances and of the South African political climate more generally. He also stressed that unemployment was the biggest threat to the nation. Especially interesting were van der Westhuizen’s comments on current race relations and the legacy of Apartheid. When asked about the possibility for an increase in right-wing, racialized politics and populism, Mr. van der Westhuizen explained that “in South Africa we have a free association of people where you go where you feel comfortable.” I found this to be quite a privileged comment and wondered whether people living in the ghettoized townships would say they felt comfortable. The blatant contrasts of South African identity extended to the perspectives we heard this week as Pastor Allan Storey presented us with his personal take on how to own one’s privileges, love and respect others, and move forward with a more equitable South Africa and world. 

Week Two: The Unseen Colors of the Rainbow Nation

by Imani Briscoe & Kitty McGirr

I remember waiting for my flight not two weeks ago genuinely envisioning what this “rainbow nation” was going to look like once I landed in Johannesburg. Now as we conclude our time here in South Africa, I am beginning to appreciate that what lays beneath this widely propagated ideal is much more complex, nuanced and problematic than the romanticized image I and many others with a similarly elementary understanding of post-apartheid South Africa would imagine this so-called rainbow nation to be. 

The varied nature of our activities and conversations on the program so far is indicative of the diversity of views and circumstances among the people of South Africa. However, while at face value this diversity supports the dominant narrative of South Africa as a rainbow nation, upon closer examination one begins to recognize that formerly institutionally separate racial groups are not suddenly coexisting harmoniously with one another now that apartheid has ended. In fact, the majority of what I have seen on the program so far suggests almost the opposite. Rather than achieving real unity and equity in the post-apartheid era, the many colorful identities comprising this so-called rainbow nation seem in some ways to be just as far removed from and unequal to each other as what was previously instituted under the apartheid system.  

In addition, it is very intriguing that, even with the acknowledged importance of the history of South Africa’s “Rainbow Nation”, discussions surrounding the indigenous people and colonization of what is now known as Cape Town rarely occur. Most of what we find in the American education history books regarding the changes Cape Town has gone through seems to focus on the racial issues of blacks and whites.  There is little to no conversation about the people who originally lived, loved and lost before the social constructs of race dominated the historical narratives; narratives such that influenced the process of colonization , which has very much impacted current day Cape Town. This past week we took a walking tour of the city of Cape Town with Lucy and Kadijah from Transcending History Tours, and learned a plethora of information about the way of life before and during colonial settlement and were given an opportunity to discover the untold story of Cape Town’s first people, the khoi-san.

Our tour took us through many notable areas including the first colonial settlement in the area, the Castle of Good Hope, Cape Town City Centre which holds some historic markers pertaining to the slave trade prior to the 1834 emancipation, and the well-known Iziko Slave Lodge which housed slaves from all over the world during the slave trade.

In every building we entered, every short filmed viewed, and every monument we paid respect to, I thought of Cape Town’s historical parallels to what was happening in the United States of America during the same time. It is illuminating to learn that on the other side of the world the same methods of racial division through systematic control and oppression were being implemented. It’s interesting to consider how both regions were shaped by the countless issues that colonization and devastation left behind. As a black American and proponent of black-consciousness, with no known blood relative connections to the Africa as a whole, I, Imani, have heard about the same kind of oppression and slavery time and time again on American soil and therefore felt like I shared a common history with those people who went through the same struggles as my ancestors did, just in another place of the world.

After leaving our homestay families in Soweto, we travelled to the University of the Free State in Bloemfontein, a city traditionally associated with and populated by Afrikaner people. Upon arrival we met with the deputy director of the Institute for Reconciliation and Social Justice, JC van der Merwe for a discussion on the history of the campus as well as the issues facing the institution at present. One detail that I found particularly striking was the fact that no formal pressure was placed on UFS or any higher education institution in South Africa to desegregate their campuses after 1994. In fact, according to van de Merwe, the residences of UFS were still racially segregated as early as 2007. I was moved by this information for two reasons. Firstly, I was immediately reminded of the parallels between South Africa’s failure to desegregate its educational system and the language of Brown v. Board of Education in the US whereby the Supreme Court only required schools to desegregate “with all deliberate speed”. Secondly, I was struck by how incongruous the politicized idea of a rainbow nation was to the reality on the ground in South Africa. Thirteen years after the ANC led the liberation struggle to overturn apartheid, white students at this university were still resisting administration mandates to integrate. 

The last activity for our day at UFS involved taking a tour around campus with two students we had met previously at a group discussion about our respective experiences as university students. One of our tour guides was keen to relay to me her experience being part of the first racially mixed female residence on the campus, which she described as a genuine “sisterhood”. However, the visual landscape of the campus was again at odds with the widely proliferated image of the rainbow nation, the narrative of unified racial integration and even the story my tour guide relayed to me about her mixed residence minutes before the tour began. Walking around the campus I did not see one mixed race friendship nor did I notice any white students present at a growing gathering of protestors demonstrating for higher wages for black workers on campus. Confused at what ostensibly looked like a state of enduring racial separation in the university community, I asked our guide if it was at all unusual that we hadn’t seen any interracial friend groups on our tour. Her response was a disheartening one: “No, it’s not unusual. People still don’t really mix”. These words, for me, were symbolic of the countless discrepancies I have witnessed in these two short weeks here in South Africa with regard to the romanticized ideal of a rainbow nation and the enduring reality of chronic racial inequality in the post-apartheid era.

Week Three: Disparity in the Mother City

by: Luke Beasley and Patrick Toomey

Sunday, our group had achieved a large degree of familiarity with the area in which we were staying in Cape Town. Our street was quiet, with several quaint cafes and restaurants across from the guest house, while only being a block away from one of the busiest sections of the city center. Coming back from our free day, which many of us spent at Camps Bay Beach (which sits right at the base of Table Mountain), we were excited to explore a very different part of Cape Town.

We spent our Sunday morning at Way of Life Church in Khayelitsha, the second largest township in South Africa, and home to millions of people. It is difficult, if not impossible, to gauge the exact number of residents in Khayelitsha because such a large percentage of them live in “informal settlements,” made up of tin shacks with no access to running water. At Way of Life Church, we met Pastor Xola Skosana, and observed his congregations service. It was definitely an unorthodox type of “religious” ceremony, and was far more of a safe place for black South Africans to gather together and discuss matters of white privilege and their experiences with oppression. Pastor Xola Skosana made a point of asking us our names and majors, and immediately after we finished sharing, he informed us that he “didn’t care” and did not try to remember our information; as he explained, this was an exercise in helping us as privileged Americans, many of us also being white, in understanding the experience of being a “forgotten” member of South African society (i.e. a black South African). The Pastor also asked us, “How are you able to sleep at night?,” referring to the fact that we were visiting South Africa to learn from its past, but in order to do so we required that victims of Apartheid relive and retell their traumatizing experiences. 

The meeting was definitely shocking, and it took many of us several days to process. Although some people were angry and upset, and certainly much of the group was at least confused, in the end it was a vital moment for our group. It was jarring, and it made us question our role in the world, and in Africa, as white people and as Americans. For many of us, it was the first time when we were required to feel nameless and forgettable, not to mention unwelcome, but it was undoubtedly a learning experience.

The next morning we spent at the District Six Museum learning about the area through the eyes of Noor Ebrahim. According to Noor, District Six is an area of Cape Town where around 60,000 black South African people were forcibly removed and placed into the area of the Cape Flats during Apartheid. Noor was living with his family in the district at this time and was one of the many that who through this difficult and unjust experience. Noor has told his story to many prominent figures including Nelson Mandela. After learning so much about Apartheid the previous week in Johannesburg, it was valuable to hear from the perspective of an individual that was profoundly impacted. It once again made everyone try to comprehend and understand an event that is so difficult for any of us to relate to. 

            Wednesday was our last full day in Cape Town and we were free to do whatever we wanted. After a week of thoughtful and challenging conversations with speakers and each other, it was a much needed break. Everyone had their own day full of adventures around the city, including seeing penguins, relaxing on the beach, going to a wine festival, paragliding, and surfing. We were exposed to the incredibly beautiful touristy side of Cape Town that has captivated people from all over the world. However, after the week’s experiences we know that there is much more to Cape Town than catches the eye of most. We saw the incredibly complex and difficult problems that the local people face every day–poverty, privilege, racism, discrimination, and HIV/AIDS that affect everyone in some way. Amidst all of these problems are many individuals and organizations that are working tirelessly to make a difference and fight against the injustice. 

After our challenging, thought-provoking, and incredible two weeks in South Africa, everyone was anxious to finally arrive in Windhoek and get acquainted with our new home. In our first few days we took walking and driving tours trying to get sense of our city. Now that we are becoming settled into our new home, there is so much to look forward to in the next three months. With classes and internships starting soon, we reflect on the incredible amount we have already learned while preparing for the opportunities and experiences that are soon to come.  

Week Five

By: J.D. Mechelke

As commanded by our week’s community leader Amanda, we were all wearing our PJ’s. I had this yellow and hole filled shirt, sporting a “Life is Good” logo and the phrase, “Remember where you came from.” The smell of pizza permeated the room. It was pretty good except for the vegan pizza, which tasted like old cigarettes (God bless Emily for her ethical decisions). We had just gotten back from our Urban Homestay. It was good to be together. We had become a family of sorts. The seven of us sprawled in a circle across the living room floor along with Attila, our mother hen. Amanda had shuffled a deck of cards and spread them out in between all of us. I picked up the first card, not really understanding what the heck was going on. I laid my card out in front of everyone; an ace. Amanda picked up her notebook and found the question associa ted with the ace: “What fulfills you the most in life currently?” While I’m definitely one of those people who likes to speak before thinking, this time I really had no idea what to say.

The day before, my host brother Donovan drove his siblings and I to a farm outside of Windhoek. It was hilly like South Dakota combined with the dryness of New Mexico. There was a big army tent set up across from this towering tree. It reminded me of all the trees mentioned in Genesis: the places where death and life happened, an orienting place, a place of reunion. Under this tree was where the people in my host parents’ generation cooked food all day long. The farm was, for today, the setting of a first of its kind family reunion. The matriarch of the family hadn’t yet seen all of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren in one place. So for her 72nd birthday, she wanted a family reunion.

At first I was very conscious of difference. I was the only white guy around, the only one with a full beard, the only one whose first language was English, and the only one who was comfortable burping and farting in front of old people. It was about 10 in the morning when the assembly of young and old clustered under the old army tent. Great-grandma sat on the long side of the tent in the very middle. Everyone found a seat in a semi-circleish thing around her. My host-mom grabbed me. She had me sit next to her so she could translate form Afrikaans into English. Someone could’ve turned her speech into a cliche “trip down memory lane.” But even for a foreigner, it was easy to tell that this was something different. You could tell from the look in her eyes as she smiled down at her great-grandchildren. “Remember where you came from,” she said, like a mother spreading a blanket over her new-born.

She told us the story of her life. She had walked through a land ravaged by Apartheid. She had raised her children through Apartheid. She had seen the liberation struggle. She had seen the revolution. Though these statements are all true, Apartheid was not the main subject of her reflections: it was family.

The week away from the Center on Simpson Street was a week immersed in difference. But it was also, for me, a time to remember where I come from. The time spent accepting the hospitality of strangers reminded me less about difference and more about our universal desire to belong. I saw this struggle to belong with the little girl who’s complexion was lighter than the rest. This struggle was also evident with a gay man who was constantly denied respect and responsibility from family elders. And I saw this struggle with myself, not quite sure where I was supposed to stand.

It was Sunday evening when we got dropped off from our homestay’s. That night our unconventional family of seven plus mother hen was sprawled across the floor in a circle. Amanda read me the baffling question: “What fulfills you the most in life currently?” There’s a lot of ways I could’ve answered the question. And most of them would have been truthful. But being with each other, laying around in our pajamas and our communal breath of pizza smells, made me realize that I belong.

Week Three: Broken Systems, Broken Promises

By: Emily Campbell

“The people shall share in the country’s wealth.” Originally written in South Africa’s 1955 Freedom Charter and adopted by the current ruling party, the ANC, this sentence took on new life when we saw it spray painted across several overpasses in the Cape Flats. When displayed in the primarily black townships southeast of the city center, these words seemed to highlight the existing discontent with the current system. Sixty years after it was written, this promise, and many others, have yet to be realized. We repeatedly heard frustration over the perceived lack of follow through on promises made during the liberation struggle and how little has changed for the living conditions of many people residing in townships. Despite the ANC’s promises of 1994, many black South Africans still lack basic services such as power, clean water, housing, healthcare, education, and employment. 

On Tuesday, we met with Mandla Majola at the Treatment Action Campaign. His work exemplified the failed promises of the ANC. Located in Khayelitsha, a township within the Cape Flats, TAC was founded to increase HIV and AIDS awareness and to provide universal access to antiretroviral drugs. Since its formation in 1998, TAC has spread its reach far beyond HIV. Poor sanitation and failing infrastructure are tied to a wide range of health issues, and Majola has been an advocate on many of these fronts. In Khayelitsha, there are many homes without electricity or clean water, one (infrequently cleaned) public toilet for roughly every ten families, a high rate of TB, four reported rapes daily, and poor maternal health care, to name a few of the issues Majola is passionately tackling. Many of us left TAC carrying the emotional weight of Majola’s heart-rending stories, but inspired by his tireless work for his community. But these issues are not unique to his area and represent the symptoms of a weak infrastructure nationwide. As Henrik described in an earlier blog post, we saw many of the same issues when we visited Orange Farm outside of Johannesburg. The government system is set up in such a way large segments of the population fall through the cracks, receiving virtually no government services. The conditions in both townships illustrate this issue and how many of the rights secured by the 1994 South African Constitution are still nonexistent for many people across the country. 

On display at the District Six Museum, a member of the
demolition crew saved these street signs for decades. 

Land rights are another contentious issue that many activists feel the ANC has failed to address. During the Apartheid, segregation forced many black and coloured South Africans to relocate. One such area was District Six, a mixed neighborhood in Cape Town. In 1982, it was declared a whites-only area and 60,000 people were forcibly relocated to the Cape Flats. On Monday, we visited the District Six Museum and met Noor Ebrahim, a former resident of District Six. He explained the many financial, physical, sociological, and emotional impacts of the forced removals. Homes and businesses were destroyed, many were left without work and paying rent for their new residences. Those who had once walked to work had to start paying for transportation. The Cape Flats were overcrowded, leading to poor sanitation and additional health issues. Communities, and even families, were split up and segregated. People were pulled out of their communities and uprooted from their support systems. This is part of what makes forced removals such an effective tool of oppression. A community divided is less powerful and less able to organize against the unjust system. Since the official end of Apartheid, there has been a movement to restore the land rights of people forcibly removed from District Six, The government promised to build homes for former residents who wished to return to the area, but to date, few houses have been built and the area still remains largely empty. Hearing from Ebrahim and exploring the museum helped us to understand the many ways people are still healing from the scars of Apartheid.

Frustration over the government's lack of attention to these problems and its perceived inability to develop effective infrastructure has led to service delivery protests across the nation. During our time in Cape Town, we witnessed one of these protests (don't worry parents, we didn't participate). A group of citizens gathered in front of a government building to protest a government that has failed to provide the basic services its people need. Not only has the current system failed to close the gap between the wealthy and the impoverished, but the failure to deliver services and improve the infrastructure has deprived many people of basic human rights. Just as the spray painted overpasses in the Cape Flats proclaimed, the people are still not sharing in the country’s wealth. 

The group gets comfortable at the
CGE house on our first night in Windhoek.

My own frustration grew as we saw a different side of Cape Town. It seemed that everywhere we went there were mountain views and unending seascapes, delicious restaurants and busy marketplaces. It came as no surprise that Cape Town is consistently ranked as one of the top tourist destinations in the world. But as we experienced the tourist side of the city, we learned about places tourists don’t go. It seemed that the stories Majola and Ebrahim shared with us aren’t stories routinely heard. It was unsettling how easily their perspectives can be overlooked, despite the fundamental role they play in the history and present reality of the city. I found myself very lucky not only to hear their stories, but to share them. It was the dichotomy between their underrepresented perspectives and the overcrowded tourist destinations that helped us to understand more about post-apartheid South Africa. We came to Cape Town to explore identity. We left wondering about the two seemingly irreconcilable identities of the city, the many identities of its people, and our own identities in relation to everything we learned. Experiencing these many sides of Cape Town pushed us to ask questions about history, politics, inequality, and ourselves as we began to develop a global perspective. And now that we’ve settled into our home in Windhoek, we’re excited to dig deeper into the history and politics of Southern Africa as we continue to grow in our social and cultural understanding of the region.

Week Two: Cape Town, A City Not What it Seems

By: Rachel Briegel

Never in my life have I been anywhere as beautiful and complicated as Cape Town, South Africa. After an intense week in Johannesburg learning about the Liberation struggle, and having emotional, thought-provoking conversations, Cape Town initially felt like a much needed vacation. Beauty shone from every angle; from the turquoise sea, to the steep, rugged mountains, to the brightly painted houses. The main street, which we stayed only a block away from, was constantly crowded with tourists of all different nationalities. It was a wonderland.

But as our tour of the city progressed my discontent grew. Although I desperately wanted to believe that Cape Town was a perfect paradise in comparison to the hardships of Johannesburg, I soon realized that was not the case.

Although Cape Town is known as a beautiful tourist attraction, just beyond the main roads were townships just like in Johannesburg, where the residents are mainly poor, black citizens. A sea of metal and wood constructed into homes with the skill of third world engineers expanded around us as we held discussions with pastors, HIV/AIDS  nonprofit leaders, and political figures who discussed the past and very current state of apartheid in South Africa. We learned more about the cruelties encountered daily by Africans, by LGBTQ individuals, by women and I could feel my own heart harden.

Before I came on this trip to Southern Africa, I admit I knew little about the struggles of this country. I knew apartheid existed, that it was now officially over, and that a Mr. Nelson Mandela “saved” the country and created equality. But the longer I have spent here the more obvious it has become that many Americans do not truly understand apartheid and what happened in this country. The horrors of night time raids, the harsh conditions for political prisoners on Robben Island, and most important, how many of these issues are still present in South Africa twenty years after liberation. Much of the city is disguised so you cannot see these issues, but if you talk to any South African on the street they will speak otherwise.

A banner flying outside the Methodist Church
in Cape Town protesting the Marikana Massacre.
Photo credit: Grace Corbin

While our group was digesting all of these present day issues, we went to talk with a pastor at a Methodist Church in downtown Cape Town. I have had a complicated relationship with religion and preachers that condoned discriminatory environments, but this church was clearly different. The first thing I saw walking up to the church was a giant banner protesting police brutality and the Marikana Massacre, and I immediately knew this would be an interesting discussion.

We then met Preacher Alan Storey, who taught me how to look at the Bible and Christianity in a whole different light. His main message was to follow what Jesus would do as an activist, a revolutionary, or wherever else life takes you. This message was incredibly inspiring for me, and many others in my group, who have been trying to reconcile our lives and religious beliefs with the pain faced with so many in South Africa. We then asked him about something that had been troubling a lot of us of this trip, which was how to find hope in a world so lost. In response, Pr. Storey stated that we were in a sense addicted to hope and had to come to terms with the reality we lived in. 

This statement left many of us left thinking about Pr. Storey’s concept of hope, if it truly exists, and ultimately where we are to find it. Many of my friends in the CGE program thought about this question in terms of religion, and although I very much commend their ideas, and believe strongly in the values they discussed, the way I have been finding hope the most throughout this journey has been through a different conduit: the people of this country.

The sunrise over Cape Town a top Table Mountain.
Pictured: Myself, Grace Corbin, and Annie Dierberger.

This morning I got up at 4:45am and climbed a mountain in order to see the sunrise over all of Cape Town.  It would be naive to see this beautiful landscape and think the town was perfect. In South Africa, no matter how well it is hidden, there are always signs of poverty and despair, but as I gazed into the peaking sun, I was dwelling not on the wretched conditions that plagued the poor of this country, rather I was thinking of all the incredible people I had met that week; the fighters and revolutionaries, the courageous people who stand up selflessly and commit themselves to a righteous cause. Like Alan said, I agree people today are addicted to hope, so much so that sometimes we choose to ignore the suffering surrounding us in order to believe the world is a better place than it actually is. Yet I also think there are deserving places to find hope, like in the depths of Robben Island where political prisoners hid in the gravel pits and taught each other how to read, in the LBGT community where activists stand up for equal rights and protections, in the past and present feminist heroes of the slave community, and even at the pulpits of churches. Cape Town, like all of South Africa, is not perfect. There is pain and poverty, discrimination and unemployment, but there are also courageous people, and signs of hope.

So that morning, as I watched the sunrise over the whole town and reminisced about all the difficult things I’ve learned in just the few weeks I’ve been in this country, what stood out most in my mind was all the amazing people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made, and I couldn’t help but still think that despite its struggles and inequalities, Cape Town still stood out in my mind as a beautiful city. Be it the people, a spiritual sensation, or the magnificent landscape, there was something inspiring about watching that morning sun rise over the mountain tops, and just like all the people I’ve met here, shine on for another day.