Hannah's Reflection #2 a court protest

On Thursday, the 19th of February, I participated in a lively march with about sixty or seventy other participants of all ages. This march was centered on the issue of a devastating event that occurred in the township of Nyanga last year. A respected man of the community, Mr. Langa, created a drama/dance club for the children of the town. Although this club seemed like a positive outlet for the children’s energy, it resulted in sexual abuse and even rape of a number of the children. This despicable behavior caused a great deal of controversy in the town. Rape and sexual abuse is often stigmatized in South African communities and consequently, many of the victims felt pressure to move elsewhere.

Mr. Langa was arrested and released soon after on R2000 bail (about $200). He was also court ordered to stay away from Nyanga. On these conditions, Mr. Langa was permitted to live freely until further notice. According to the accounts of numerous community members, Mr. Langa disobeyed this simple order and was seen a number of times back in Nyanga. A new court case was set for February 19th to address this issue.

Sonke has been following this case, in order to show support and demand justice for the children and to put legal pressure on the court to prosecute Mr. Langa for the terrible and unforgivable crimes he has committed. Sonke has been working with a legal advocacy group in order to find out what legal steps should be taken at this point. They have also been working alongside of South African Civil Organization (SANCO) and Treatment Action Campaign (TAC).

This endeavor for justice is directly aligned with Sonke’s “One Man Can” Campaign, in which social ideals of “femininity” and “masculinity” are deconstructed in order to educate men on how to take power over their lives and promote equality, while working to end the spread of HIV, AIDS, STIs and gender based violence. Sonke speaks out on behalf of men in order condemn homophobic, sexist, racist and violent behavior and to create a positive voice for men who wish to speak out against damaging “gender norms”.

On the day of the march, Steph and I woke up at five in the morning to find our rooms completely dark. We made our way to the train station and arrived at the Sonke office in Cape Town by 7:30 and waited for our coworker, Mzamo, to arrive. We walked a few blocks down and took a minibus headed to Nyanga. As we climbed onto minibus, the driver gave Mzamo a strange look and told him that we must be on the wrong bus. Mzamo chuckled and assured the driver that we knew where we were headed.

We were dropped off on the corner of, what seemed like a completely random street, and were told that we were near to our initial destination. Walking through the streets of Nyanga was a surreal experience. I had passed through the townships in our private traveling seminars bus during orientation week, however, walking among the shacks and poverty-ridden area was quite a different experience. Steph and I received a number of strange looks as we walked through the streets with a curious and bewildered look on our faces.

After a few minutes, we arrived at the town school, Mvulapp. The children seemed very high spirited and ready for action. It was also nice to see the faces of some of our other colleagues outside (Leo and Max). As posters were painted, we packed into three vans. On the ride to Wynberg, the entire van broke out into song. Steph and I clapped and tried to join in wherever we could, with intermittent translations from our coworker, Max. After a few songs, I was pleased to hear a song that I not only recognized, but could also sing along with (a song I had sung a few times at work). The lyrics are as follows:

“One man wants to teach
Wants to teach equality
(Then Max would yell out a number and we each would count down from that number)
Six men, five men, four men, three men, two men, one man wants to teach
Wants to teach equality”

We were dropped off in Wynberg, across the street from the Landdroskantoor Magistrate’s Court. All of the Sonke and SANCO members huddled with the students, parents and teachers of Nyanga and sang, clapped and danced as the banners were clearly displayed. Some of the messages on the banners included: “No Bail”, “We Demand Justice”, “There are no excuses for child abuse” and “Mr. Langa, you SUCK!”. The entire spectacle was caught on tape by a filmmaker, Billy, an activist who had just come from making a documentary in the Congo (and who new Dean through their activist work together). Our presence definitely caught the attention of passer-bys.

After being outside for about thirty minutes, we were told that the adults could enter the court and attend the hearing. The courtroom was packed and after about fifteen minutes, a man with a yellow shirt entered. I was informed that he was the perpetrator. I realized that this was the first time that encountered a person who I knew had raped someone. I felt a mix of emotions: confusion, anger, disgust and frustration. I thought to myself: how can any legal system allow a man who has raped children walk freely?

I was extremely disappointed that, when Mr. Langa was finally called to the stand and the court was called to order, the case was postponed until April 7th. Mr. Langa was accused of returning to Nyanga and denied the accusations. The community members we were sitting with were angry and told us that Mr. Langa was blatantly lying to the court.

Back outside, everyone was still lively and vocal. A few minutes later, Mr. Langa brazenly strolled by as shouts erupted from the group of students. Some children even ran into the street towards him, emphatically waving their signs at him. Steph told me that a few of the victims were actually in the crowd (something I was unaware of until that moment). I felt a rush of adrenaline myself and couldn’t begin to imagine how these children and their parents must have felt.

Although Mr. Langa walked free from the courtroom, I do not believe that our efforts were in vain. From this march, the children were given a feeling of support and solidarity, the court realized that there was a demand for justice, Mr. Langa was able to see that he is no longer welcome in Nyanga and will face strong anger if he chooses to go back, and hopefully the message of this march will carry on further than Wynberg and Nyanaga (by way of press and media).

Dan's Reflection #2

Today was filled with a multitude of novel experiences and a better understanding of the government and how the African National Congress has remained in power since the end of apartheid. Thirteen of us boarded the van around 9:45 this morning. We were on our way to a huge ANC rally with presidential candidate Zuma speaking at a venue in Khayelitsha. After waiting for the official rally bus to pick us up, we were warmly welcomed onto the bus and promised shirts so we could be true supporters at the gathering. We stopped at the woman’s home and were all given black shirts with a huge print of Zuma’s smiling face and the words “VOTE ANC” directly below it. A free shirt got everyone much more excited and ready for a day of governmental festivities.

We arrived in the middle of the township and stepped off the bus to a woman selling corn from a barrel. The corn selling is for the most part commonplace but since we were all a little hungry, the vast majority purchased a cob for 6 rand each. After my first bite ended with a lack of crunchiness and taste, I decided the corn would be better appreciated by one of the many people around me. I was approached by two interested people so I split the corn in half to appease both of them. This made them happy and left me with a good feeling as well. A few other people did the same thing as we were making our way into the field. After a lot of shoving we entered the venue which was basically a huge expanse of land. There were people everywhere doing the ‘Amandtha’ – ‘Awayytu’ (spelled by sound) chant and response. This means literally ‘Power’ – ‘To the people!’ which was a chant derived during apartheid.

I was curious about the ANC and why people were so attracted by it. Luckily I had these questions answered when a few men approached me to give me a greeting. They told me they were loyal voters of ANC and I proceeded to ask them why. Their response was basically that since the ANC brought them out of apartheid and the fact that it’s a party that speaks for the majority of South Africa, which is poor blacks, they support it. I was inquisitive and questioned further and was surprised to find out that the men were aware of the corruption within ANC and that they disagreed with many of their policies. However, they were still proud supporters. Although this was just a miniscule sample of the people at the rally, it helped me put the party into perspective.

The conversation was cut short when we were all reminded of our VIP status and that we had seats in front of the fence and to the left of the stage. We plopped down on the grass with a clear view of the speakers. At first I felt somewhat uncomfortable being on this side of the fence. This is because we were a group of whites huddled together with an immense crowd of black followers on the other side. However, this feeling of awkwardness went away when I pleasantly noticed that the young boys and girls were allowed to climb over or scurry under the fence. A swarm of children came around us and made themselves comfortable. This made the whole event more enjoyable and interesting because the kids were fun to interact with and kept our energy up since it’s easy to drift when listening to a long speech in a different language.

Kevin and I were enveloped with smiling kids and I took out my notebook to journal. I then got the idea of asking the kids if they wanted to doodle and draw in my notebook. This not only entertained the boys and girls but now I have a nice collection of drawings as well. This was going very well until a man in front of me wanted to get involved. When a boy was in the midst of drawing a face, the man tried to tug the notebook out of his hands. I intervened and took my notebook back. The man then began to yell at me about a variety of things as I sat face to face with him doing my best to seem nonplussed. Every time the man would make an order or suggestion, rather than be defensive I strategically took the “I don’t understand and can’t really hear you” approach. This worked and the man grew tired and focused his energies on a woman to his right. Soon after, he was physically escorted out. This made me realize that what Vernon said was true about not becoming too relaxed despite the environment.

After Zuma’s speech a mix of celebrities took the stage to everyone’s delight. We all got up and moved closer. Yet, before this occurred Jordan and Chelsea were affectionately attacked by a ton of the children which led to some great photos. We moved our way closer to the stage to see an appealing dance and then a famous singer. During this time a bunch of us danced with the kids that we were closest to. This led to me giving 3 different boys some fun piggy back rides so they could see the stage. Although my shoulders are still a bit sore, I’m happy that I was able to give them a literal boost and better view of the stage.

Our day was concluded once the fence was pushed over by an onslaught of fans. We tried to make a quick exit but stopped a few more times for pictures. Overall, this was a marvelous day and I thank Jeremicia Seherie for hosting us. From just these few hours of being immersed into the culture I feel as though I’m walking away with heaps of knowledge involving the relationship of society and politics that I did not have before. Terrific day!

Jeremicia

Stephanie Y's Reflection #2

My parents, Mike and Debby, and my twin sisters, Jen and Diane, arrived in Cape Town last Friday. Our week together was packed with a variety of activities; it was an entirely new experience for the four of them, as for me, it was my week to rediscover what it means to be a tourist in South Africa.

We started bright and early Saturday morning with a trip to the Aquila Game Reserve to go on a safari. Before entering the reserve we stopped to see the animals they had rescued from a ‘canned hunting’ ground, which is a reserve that raises the animals and allows people to hunt them on the confined camp. The rescued animals we saw up close were: two lions, a male and female, an ostrich, and two cheetahs. Our guide, Colin, was very knowledgeable and clearly proud of their rescue system, and rightfully so. Once we entered the reserve, our group was lucky enough to see four out of the five “Big Five” animals: African elephants, rhinos, lions, and Cape buffalo – no leopard, which wasn’t surprising seeing as it’s the most elusive of the five. In addition to those animals we saw springbok, zebras, crocodiles, and hippos. It was fascinating to get a glimpse of the wildlife in Africa.

The days following the safari we drove along the scenic Garden Route just past Plettenberg, where the fifteen of us will return in March. It was a six hour drive of the beautiful countryside – miles and miles of trees, mountains and blue skies. Our final destination, Face Adrenaline, was one that caused me quite a bit of anxiety over the past month as it is the highest commercial bungee jump in the world. Within fifteen minutes, Diane was suited up and ready to go (it was her sixth time bungee jumping) while Jen and I quickly dismissed the idea of jumping seventy stories off of a bridge to be caught by a bundle of rubber bands. Eventually, however, our nuttier sides prevailed and we were harnessed up. Once we were on the bridge there was no turning back. The first guy jumped and…I screamed…which was very embarrassing. Shortly after that it was actually my turn to scream and as soon as I remembered to breathe a jumble of profanities was flying out of my mouth. Nonetheless, I am proud that I mustered enough courage to jump off of a bridge.

Stephanie's bungee jump

Face Adrenaline was just the beginning of our amazing night. After the jump we drove to the Phantom Forest Eco Reserve in the treetop suites where monkeys and various animals slept in the trees below us. Later that evening we were treated to a delicious six-course dinner and a walk around the reserve. The relaxed environment helped my heart rate (and my parent’s) get back to normal before our next day of activities. After another filling meal at Phantom Forest we started our long trip back to Cape Town but not without a few stops. The highlight of the trip back was Cape Agulhas, the southern most tip of Africa, which was mainly important for bragging rights. Now, I can declare that I have stood in the Indian and Atlantic simultaneously.

As our week came to an end we squeezed in a few more activities including Table Mountain at sunset, a bike and wine tour in Stellenbosch and a trip to Kirstenbosch Gardens. Although my family was only here for a week, we were able to explore different parts of South Africa. It was wonderful to learn new ways to appreciate this beautiful country and share my experiences with my family.

South Africa at sunset

Rachel's Reflection #2

What does ubuntu mean to you? You may have heard of it in passing while talking to one of my peers, or maybe read about it while researching South Africa. I first heard of ubuntu from Marita during one of our first pre-departure classes. When she explained it I found it interesting and realized I agreed wholeheartedly with the concepts that make it. After being here in this amazing country for a significant period of time, the concept and the practice of it have made me realize the magnitude of ubuntu -- the belief that ubuntu is a way of life, in fact, the only way to live. Okay, so what exactly is ubuntu?

Well, Jeremicia Seherie, an amazing woman, talked in our class yesterday the 19th of February about what ubuntu is. She explained that ubuntu is the belief that I am because you are. You are because she is. She is because he is. He is because I am. Everyone shares humanity, we are all connected and therefore everyone belongs, there are no outsiders. I have seen this concept put into action so many times while I’ve been here. It is amazing to see people unquestionably accepting you simply because you are there.

The most significant experience I can recall of ubuntu was when we went to the Sivuyile National Baptist Church in Gugulethu. We went during our first week orientation when we arrived. All of us who went probably felt out of place because we had never been to a church service quite like that one and because we were the only white people present, and could not understand the language. However, the people at the church accepted us simply because we were there and willing to participate. They were so excited we were there and it was an amazing experience I would never replace. One man I sat next to throughout the service, whom to which I did not speak to the whole time, shook my hand at the end and said “it was a pleasure to meet you, thank you for coming and please come again!” This made me extremely happy and gave me a feeling of belonging to the community even though I was just a visitor. It is impossible to actually explain how I felt that day, but I think it was that specific instance when I knew that South Africa is one of the most incredible places on earth, and that ubuntu is an important part of the culture and my life.

This concept is one that I have believed in for a very long time without a word or a way to explain it. I plan to live with the concept of ubuntu for the rest of my life, and will try to spread the word to others that I meet.

Cassidy's Reflection #2

A month in Cape Town has already come and gone and I cannot believe it. I am not sure where the time has gone. Work at our internships is picking up so quickly that the days seem to just pass you by. Working at Black Sash is definitely an experience. Last week we were actually able to go into Parliament and sit in on a public hearing and to hear the Budget Speech. We were able to see all of the important people in government and even Jacob Zuma. It was an unreal feeling being able to go where most citizens are not allowed. The rest of the time is spent making sure we see and do everything we can. Now, we also have to do an activist project which I am really excited about. I think it will allow for a completely different perspective on how things work in Cape Town. I have decided to volunteer at an animal shelter nearby in Fish Hoek. Last Friday I went with a few other students to visit the organization, TEARS, and it was truly an unbelievable experience. I have always been a pet lover and cannot remember a time without an animal in my house. I tend to be especially fond of cats, often being called the “crazy cat lady”. Thus, I knew right away that I wanted to work in the cattery at the shelter. I was so excited when I arrived because I have been missing my own cats terribly and was looking forward to the chance to even be around animals. However, I tend to be very emotional and as soon as I walked into one of the cages I became immediately overwhelmed and saddened. I could feel the tears building and there was no turning back. They rolled down my face uncontrollably and onto a frail kitten that had eagerly welcomed me. It was the tiniest kitten I had ever seen and was clearly malnourished. There was hardly any meat on her bones and yet she just wanted a little attention. I played with her until she got tired and rolled up in a ball on my lap. This however did not last long because she still wanted to play.


So, after about two minutes she got back up and continued her same cry for affection. As much as I wanted to stay with her all day, I felt an obligation to visit all of the other animals who weren’t receiving any attention. I was glad to see that she wasn’t too distraught, climbing back into her basket to sleep. I moved on to the row of cages where the adult cats were kept. While they looked healthy and well fed, I was upset to hear that, like in the States, adult cats were not wanted as much as kittens. I was surprised that they were all so calm around strangers. Usually abandoned animals are very weary of people, but these cats were happy to see the possibility of receiving love.



This past weekend was Valentine’s Day which is also celebrated here. Many people in the house have boyfriends that they couldn’t be with and many of us don’t, making it a sad day all around. However, my roommate Jill and I decided to be each other’s valentines and go out on the town. We decided to go see Beauty and the Beast since we are both crazy about musicals. We weren’t sure what to expect since we had never seen a show here before. Throughout the whole show our jaws were dropped in awe. It was absolutely amazing! We haven’t stopped raving about it since and now everyone in the house wants to go. We have already decided that we will go with them, just as an excuse to see it again. The one thing we did notice however is that the audience was comprised of middle-class white people. Every day I am reminded how the poverty lines are drawn. It is eerie how much it reminds me of the States. One never wants to believe that these types of things are occurring in their own backyard, but it is a realization that must be made.

The one thing that I am truly enjoying now is going out on the weekends and getting to know the local people better. The students at the University of Cape Town just arrived last week so it is a very interesting change in the city. Everywhere you look there are students, whereas before there were hardly any. It is amazing how youth can change the entire vibe of a city. Nothing is ever really subdued and everyone is eager to learn about our unique fifteen-person dynamic. I too am looking forward to the months ahead with a truly diverse group of wonderful people.

Jordan's Reflection #2

Jordan, Jill, & Cassidy

So I realize that this subject might be a bit touchy for the nervous moms and dads at home, but, here in South Africa everyone in the house is of legal drinking age, and sometimes... we go to the club. I realize that on the surface, this is a downright offensive way to spend the money we all get, but I assure you that this is incorrect. It is indeed a cultural experience. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it Mom)

In the US we all like to whine and complain about how other countries have a lower drinking age, and the counter argument is always that the culture is different and 18 year olds in other countries can handle that type of responsibility while in the US we can't drink until we are 21 and then we still act like fools. As a college student, I have always HATED this argument. It seems though, that they were right, its a whole different thing here. The entire experience of "going out" is actually so very different that I thought that it deserved a blog. I'm sorry Marita.

Now there are lots of differences (the beer is terrible), but the best, and most obvious to anyone that walks into a club is this – the dancing. Anyone who has seen a rap video in the last ten years has a pretty firm idea of what goes on in clubs in the US, and Moms and Dads can rest assured that that does NOT happen here.

While there is little to no respect for personal space on things like the minibus, you get more personal space than you know what to do with on a dance floor. And the style of dancing? Well, the best way that I have found to describe it is, the way that you dance around your house when you know that no one is coming home for a few hours and your favorite song just came on the radio. Its the type of dancing with the craziest "smooth" moves you can think of, no rhythm, and probably a few nods to Saturday Night Fever.

I kid you not.

It is so awkward, and individual, and just completely random that as a white kid with no rhythm, I have finally found a place where I belong. It's absolutely fantastic. Also, there is no reason to dress up the way that people do in the states, I mean, typically we all change before we go out, but its all things that we might have worn that day anyway had we not happened to select a different outfit.

The entire vibe of bars is a bit different, of course you can find more "american" style clubs where you can't see anything or hear anyone talk or move around, but far more likely you are going to find a pool hall or at my favorite bar, there is a section that I would say feel more like a BBQ than a club.

So in this type of setting, we are getting to meet a lot more people. And since we spend all of our time with each other and at work, we are all dying for some new socialization outlets. Last weekend we talked to people from... Durban, Zimbabwe, Austria, and too many other places to count. In short, like everywhere else we go, the best part is just the casual, random conversations that you have with strangers, who have all taught me more than I could ever learn in class. (again, sorry Marita)

But, some of the things I never learned in class are things like, what its like to talk to a 7 year old on the sidewalk at 2am and have to tell him that you cannot give him any money because you know that his hustler is going to take it from him as soon as you turn around. So we take the good with the bad, everyday is really an experience that I do not believe for a second that I could have anywhere else in the world. (Not that we go out that much, I promise)

Emily G's Reflection #2

Emily Grose on the mountain top

I cannot believe we have been here for over five weeks, and while I have learned so much and so glad I chose to come to Cape Town, I do think I should take some time to reflect on the challenges I have faced thus far. In our pre-departure course, we talked with students who participated in the program last year and they explained one of the challenges they faced was with the language. While almost everyone spoke English, it was usually the second language of people they worked with. I must admit I brushed these comments aside, thinking that if most people spoke English, then it can’t be that big of a deal.

However, I learned quickly that both the language and culture of the people I work with are very different from my own, and adjusting and opening myself to a completely different environment has probably been the biggest challenge I have faced since arriving. Michelle and I work at Olive Leaf Foundation in Khayelitsha, one of the biggest townships in the country, populated by predominantly Xhosa speaking people. I remember sitting in the office the first day with people all around me laughing and chatting away in Xhosa, and only speaking English when Michelle or I asked them a question directly. I have never really been in a situation before where I am aware people are probably talking about me but have no idea what is going on and cannot begin to comprehend what they are saying. I felt uncomfortable and for a second questioned if I should have chosen an internship at a place where communicating would not be such a large barrier.

After the first day, Michelle and I quickly learned that if we initiated conversation and made an effort to talk to our coworkers, they were more likely to take interest and talk to us. The huge difference in accents between people living in Khayelitsha and people living in Connecticut makes talking in English a challenge as well, but once both sides learned to talk slowly, we finally could start to get to know each other. Some of my coworkers have explained to me that if someone keeps to themselves, then they remain quiet but if someone takes interest in getting to know them, they are willing to share their life story. Whenever Michelle or I have engaged in conversation with people, we have learned about their families, their childhood and their greatest struggles. I have found that hearing our coworkers’ stories and thoughts about the problems the townships face has been the most informative and interesting part of going to our internship.

Another component to being accepted into the community is to learn some Xhosa. Xhosa is a language with includes several different clicks, which are incredibly difficult to pick up if you have not grown up around the language. When our whole group began to learn about the clicks during orientation we were determined to say them correctly. Imagine a huge van driving around during the first week full of 15 college kids trying their hardest to pronounce the clicks of the language by trying to push air out between their tongue and teeth every way possible – I never appreciated silence so much after those rides. However, I am still practicing and every time I try to say something with a click at work, a chorus of laughter undoubtedly will follow. I have accepted that I will be laughed at on a regular basis, but making the effort to speak in Xhosa is greatly appreciated by our coworkers, and helps show them that I am trying to understand and fit in with their culture.

Besides the language, another aspect of the township culture that I have had some trouble adjusting to is the food that everyone eats. Michelle and I were spending time visiting one of the clinics during the first week and the guys who worked there told us that we had to experience the townships and their cuisine and we would not really know the area until we tried a “smiley”. I asked what a “smiley” was and one of the men explained that it was a sheep’s head, and the eyeballs and tongue were considered the best parts, almost delicacies in the culture. I double checked to make sure they were not joking, and I must have not been able to disguise my look of horror and disgust, as they all erupted in laughter. They all remind me on a daily basis that I am going to try “smiley”, and since then sheep stomach, sheep feet, chicken feet and sour milk have been added to the list of things I must sample. I have to remind myself every time I see someone eating one of these foods that I am in a different country on a different continent and that these foods are favorites among the majority of many of the people here; they probably would think that fruit rollups, Krispy Kreme doughnuts and much of the health food America eats are utterly disgusting. Last week, I decided that I will try one bite of whatever they serve me, because even though I come from a culture that thinks sheep head would be appalling to eat, there are so many other cultures and populations out there and I can try my best to respect these differences. Who knows, I might really enjoy whatever I taste. So yes, Mom and Dad, ask me when you come and visit if I have munched down on chicken feet, because the answer will probably be yes (this is coming from the girl who would refuse to eat 5 green peas as a teenager).

I come home exhausted from my internship not because I am running around all day, but because I constantly have to be alert and “on” paying close attention to what people are trying to say and absorbing all the differences that I see and experience everyday. I have had many moments of discomfort and awkwardness, and spend lots of time smiling and nodding while thinking in my head that I hope I am understanding what people are saying or else I will truly look like an idiot in a second. I often get frustrated when I have no idea what is going on or when I cannot communicate what I am trying to say, but as I reflect on my time in Khayelitsha, I am really glad I have had this experience. I think that I am becoming someone who is more aware of differences between people and cultures and the challenges and importance of understanding these differences in order to communicate and get along with each other.

View of  Khayelitsha

Faina's Reflection #2

At Thandokhulu High School Emily A., Julie and I teach classes from 8am to 3pm. Most classes have 50 or more learners in it. During classes, I can’t help but feeling that I wish these learners had more one-on-one attention. I asked about the possibility of after-school programs and was waiting for a response when they announced that they would have computer and drama classes after school. We instantly volunteered to help with the computer classes.

The next week after class we went to the computer lab to begin the class which is held Monday and Wednesday for the next month or so. This is the only computer lab in the school. It is usually locked behind the iron gates in which case you must find “Mr. Tokyo” who usually has the key. If you go inside of it during the day you will see the two rows of computers but no chairs. The classrooms have a shortage of chairs for all of the learners so in between classes you can see learners scurrying around in search of extra chairs.

During this first class the teacher introduced us and started his lesson. Each learner had a text book that seemed pretty outdated since it talked about DOS and software that was no longer used. The teacher began doing a worksheet from the textbook that told you to match definitions to words like CD-ROM, Flash Drive, and megabyte. I felt as though these terms were too abstract for the 15 or so learners, since the majority if not all of them had no access to a computer in their homes and have had no experience with them at all.

After 40 minutes he told everyone that we were going to set up their e-mails with them. It was kind of a shock since I have been using e-mails for years and it has been my main point of communication with employers, schools, teachers and friends. I have also been taught how to use Microsoft excel, PowerPoint and communication resources like Facebook and MySpace. I feel that these learners are so behind in the world of technology and are thus less competitive when it comes to everything from going to a university, seeking jobs to finding directions and researching. There was only one learner who already had an e-mail address and Facebook account.

So we walked around and made sure that each student was able to find the website and start filling out the personal information section in order to create an account. I was saddened to see how they did not understand even the smallest functions. We kept reminding them to write down their log in names and passwords. Some began writing “First name: ... Last name: …” not realizing what a log in name is. The room was hot since the air conditioner had broken several weeks ago. We wiped the sweat off of our foreheads as we walked around to each student. One student needed help with “Pick a security question.” So I tried to explain that he needed that as a security measure in case he forgot his password and wanted a new one. So first he typed “Who am I?” With the answer being his name. Then I told him that he should not use his name as the answer because it would be too easy to guess. I also told him not to write things that could change and gave him the examples of, “Who was my first girl friend, what is my mothers name, where was I born?” to use. So he typed, “Who is my child” I was a little taken aback and I asked him nicely, “You have a child?” “Yes.” “Oh. Ok, why don’t you write ‘What is the name of my first child?’ and he did.

During this exercise I realized at what sort of disadvantage these learners were. They have never worked with Microsoft Word which seems like second nature for me now since I have been made to hand in typed essays since I was in middle school. This is neither required of them nor possible for them. In middle school I took one typing class which was part of the curriculum and am now a very fast typist. I was able to practice typing with, what were then new technology, instant messaging and e-mails. They had absolutely no typing skill and typed with one or two fingers. They also were not able to practice using this new technology and were not able to learn how to interact with others electronically.

The computer class is a good start for these learners but it should only be the beginning. Unfortunately, this will be the first, last and only class these kids will ever get on the use of computers in high school. Furthermore, this class of 15 learners is from the 11th and 12th grade. With about 1200 learners in the school this is a shockingly low percentage of students that get any experience in using computers. How will the others be able to learn in their homes where no one owns a computer? How will they find a good job when employers use e-mails and look for proper format which these students never got experience using? I see how all of these disadvantages add up and perpetuate a cycle

Steph O Reflection #2

Steph O & Hannah participating in a workshop at Sonke Gender Justice Network

As I crossed the commons on Wednesday morning on my way to the train station, I secretly wished that I was back at the house. Barely recovered from my illness and frazzled by the possible riots due to the minibus strike, the last place I wanted to be heading was Sonke’s office. I sat quietly on the train to Cape Town jealous of Dan who was going to picket in front of Parliament. For a moment, I saw myself outside of Parliament with him instead of being boxed in by four walls. Hannah on the other hand, had a huge grin on her face -- something told me today wouldn’t be such a waste of my time after all.

Once at work, Hannah and I walked into a room full of unfamiliar faces. They were all sitting in a circle having a discussion. Some of them greeted us immediately, while others smiled at us from across the room. Nervous that I was interrupting, I found an empty seat and quickly took it. The room was filled with laughter and I realized an exercise was taking place. Three men stood in the middle of the circle to reenact a childhood game. I scanned my memory for clues by which to classify the game and immediately came to the conclusion that the game was: Double Dutch.

The jumper leapt in a controlled manner, precisely timing each jump with cautiousness. In the midst of my laughter I felt nostalgia for the simple days of Elementary school. After they were done playing, we proceeded to analyze the gender roles, stereotypes, and norms that are developed in these harmless games. One after another, volunteers shared their thoughts and memories that had seeped back into consciousness.

Our next topic of discussion was violence. We were all asked to attempt to draw the violence we had caused against others, and the acts of violence that had affected us in one way or another. I walked to the middle of the circle where the colored pencils sat, waiting to be picked up. I picked yellow, teal and orange, colors that reminded me of summer. I chose the teal color pencil and waited for ideas to ooze out of my mind – but none came. Hmm… violence? I had never been a victim of physical violence in my life, what would I draw? Yet, the deeper I dug inside my mind around the meaning of violence, I began to identify other types of violence – emotional, verbal. By the end of the exercise, the “art work” on my paper seemed a little out of place outlined by bright, summer colors.

Once we were done with our illustrations, we broke off into groups to share our experiences. The women formed one group and the men broke up into three separate groups. We concluded the activity by presenting to the entire group our feelings regarding violence. As women, we were able to hear the men’s perspective of violence. They expressed the pressures they receive from society to be “men.” They shared the authority that they once felt when they had power over people, and the pain that they felt when they acknowledged it was wrong. They described themselves as “monsters” and “dinosaurs” – less then human. As men, they were also able to hear our perspectives of violence. We explained the pain, helplessness and fear we have felt. We explained the reasoning behind staying in abusive relationships, that society had subtly socialized us to believe that we could change this type of behavior. We all understood each other and I appreciated everyone’s honesty.

Friday was the last day of the curriculum. As a final reflection we were asked to write a letter addressed to ourselves (and no one else). We were to remind ourselves what this curriculum had taught us, and what we would take away from it. The room was quiet as everyone poured their thoughts out on paper. I lay on the carpet and began to reflect on the past week… I attempted to process this experience for the first time.

“Dear steph,
What will you take away from this experience? I feel that this curriculum has allowed me to really get to know my colleagues. Their thoughts, feelings, and fears were all audaciously shared with the group. I have learned that there are wonderful men out there who just need a little push in the right direction. Men who aspire to be better people and who are genuinely trying to break social norms. These men deeply love their families and will go great lengths to be better fathers, better sons, better partners. Change is possible. I have learned that I can trust men to be honest and sincere – something women struggled with everyday. "

This workshop has also shown me another aspect of the NGO world that I hope I can incorporate into my future. I have realized that education is the only way to bring about change. I have realized that my passion is in this – working one on one with people. Ubuntu, you know? I am because we are.

I did not participate in this workshop because I believed that my minimal textbook knowledge on Gender politics would help these men. Instead I participated to be an observer and take in as much as I could. I observed these men open up slowly to a group of people, like flowers bloom in spring. Perhaps they were terrified of judgments, but they did not hold back. They gave me an opportunity to learn from them. As Vernon said to us in class, we cannot save South Africa… all I can do is learn from all the courageous people that surround me.

I feel extremely lucky to be a part of a new movement, that has not been tried before. I believe that including men in the struggle to achieve gender equality will be more efficient than pointing the finger and blaming them. Working together is possible and extremely important.

Kevin's Reflection #2

South Africa's finance minister, Trevor Manuel (Peter Klaunzer/AP/Keystone)

Trevor Manuel, Minister of Finance in South Africa, delivered the budget
speech this past Wednesday, February 11th. The following excerpt describes
how the changes in business activity in one part of the world affect
business activity in other parts of the world:

“The consequences are felt everywhere. If the balance sheet of a bank
shrinks, its capacity to lend is eroded. If its lending is curtailed,
businesses and households have to reduce their spending. If demand falls
in Birmingham, factories close in Beijing. If production lines in China
slow, demand for commodities from Africa dries up. The vegetable shop next
to the mine closes, and the drivers of the delivery vehicles are asked to
work short time, on half pay, and if the driver cannot pay his mortgage,
the bank forecloses on his bond, and the bank writes down its balance
sheet again...

When a global motor company cuts back on making cars, it cancels its
orders for catalytic converters. Madam Speaker, this firm making catalytic
converters is not in Detroit or in Shanghai, it is here in the Eastern
Cape. The mine producing the platinum that goes into that converter is
near Rustenburg. The worker in the factory in Uitenhage and the mineworker
in Rustenburg are now without work. And the woman who runs the little
stall selling vegetables outside the mine is making less money each
passing week. And their families, all of them, face a future made more
precarious by the vagaries of global finance.”

Link to the budget speech:
http://www.oldmutual.co.za/markets/south-african-budget-2009/budget-speech-transcript.aspx

The National Development Agency (NDA) provides grants of about R100
million (about $10 million U.S. dollars) to NGOs and co-operatives that
initiate projects in three categories:
1. Food Security
2. Land Reconstruction
3. Micro Enterprises
A proposal from a co-operative must be submitted to a grant giving
institution in order to receive funding. The goal that the NDA works
towards is halving poverty in South Africa by 2014. http://www.nda.org.za/

The work I do for Cape Nature ties into the NDA type of framework by
providing proposal construction aid co-operative owners so they can
purchase infrastructure and equipment to extend their operations.

Vincent’s class about the politics of South Africa, Vernon’s assignment
prompting me to inquire into the origins of Cape Nature relating to the
1994 constitution, and Marita’s class about race and gender in a global
perspective provide a near 360 degree view on issues at the forefront of
South Africa’s past, present, and future.

I will be spending today getting a head start on some assignments that are
due in the following week and determining what I will be doing for an
activist project. I’ll be going to a soccer game on Saturday. On Sunday I
will be spending the day sandboarding. Holler!

Kevin on the Mountain Top

Julie's Reflection #2

Andile & Julie

On the day that this blog is posted, I will have completed my third week as a teaching intern at Thandokhulu High School. I can't believe how comfortable I feel wandering the halls of an institution whose name I could not even pronounce at the outset of my South African experience.

Many things that at first seemed strange and unfamiliar to me (the pronunciation of Xhosa words, the absence of a knowledge of "personal space," and the informality of the workplace, to name just a few) are old hat now. However, in beginning to write this blog entry, I started to realize there was one cultural practice I was privy to at Thandokhulu that I never had the chance to learn more specifically about. That practice is the male rite of passage known to the Xhosa people as the Initiation Ceremony.

On my first day, I began to notice that while most students wore normal uniforms to school, there were a few young men in attendance at Thandokhulu that did not adhere to the strict dress code. Instead of navy blazers, light blue button downs, and khaki slacks, these boys were dressed to the nines in pinstriped suits, beaded straw hats, and flamboyantly long dress shoes. I didn't have to wait long before someone clarified this strange practice for me: These young male students were recent graduates of their own Initiation schools; in the eyes of the Xhosa community, they were recognized as men.

Previous to working at Thandokhulu, I had no knowledge of that this rite of passage was still customary for young Xhosa men in South Africa. In fact, the only knowledge I had about the practice was what I gathered from Nelson Mandela's description of his own Initiation in his autobiography Long Walk to Freedom. I assumed that the practice was outdated, rural, and irrelevant in modern society, but apparently I was wrong. Most of the older male students teachers I asked had participated in Initiation in some form. If the 18-and-over male population at Thandokhulu is any indication, the Initiation ceremony is still very much a vital part of life in the Xhosa community.

In reading of Mandela's early years, I learned that Xhosa men are circumcised very late in life (usually when they are around 18 years of age) as a rite of passage into manhood. However, I had no idea that the ritual was any more complicated than the singular act of performing the circumcision. According to Mandela, an uncircumcised Xhosa man "is a contradiction in terms, for he not considered a man at all, but a boy. For the Xhosa people, circumcision represents the formal incorporation of males into society. It is not just a surgical procedure, but a lengthy and elaborate ritual in preparation for manhood." In the book, Mandela describes the lengthy process of becoming a man in the eyes of the Xhosa. He attended a special school in seclusion away from his family in order to teach him lessons he would need to learn in order to be recognized as a man by his people. After several weeks of lessons, complicated ceremonies, and quests, the actual circumcision took place. Shortly after he recovered, Mandela was officially declared a Xhosa man.

While Mandela's depiction of his journey into the World of Men was very engrossing, I thought it would serve me better to learn about the process of Initiation from someone more accessible to me for questioning purposes. Before asking any of my students, I thought it would be a good idea to seek out one of the elders who oversaw the lessons taught to the boys at school. Thankfully, I didn't have to search long to find someone very qualified to answer my questions. Early on in our stay in Cape Town, I recalled one of the first people we had met here, Dr. Guma (or "Tops" for short), had recently served as an elder at a circumcision school. Upon realizing this untapped resource, I endeavored to call him to question him extensively on the subject.

My first round of questions focused on the "circumcision schools" themselves. I asked Dr. Guma a flurry of questions about the subject matter of these essential lessons, and he was happy to oblige me: "We mainly focus on oral [Xhosa] history, moral values, and responsibilities that go along with being a man. For example, how to adapt to tough situations. They must learn to also understand the environment and how to take care of it. And about faith. Faith is very important to a Xhosa man."

I then recalled that on our first week in Cape Town, we had seen two young men walking down the road with what looked like heavy blankets wrapped around them. They also had on straw hats, and were carrying long walking sticks, which we were told had something to do with "becoming a man." When I asked him about the purpose of the strange garb, he explained that it is donned just before they are ready to engage in the final steps before circumcision. It symbolizes that "they are passing through a transitional stage. They dress in the capes and paint their faces to "symbolize that they are no longer boys, but also not yet men."

After this fairly comprehensive question-and-answer period, I felt moderately confident I was ready to approach one of the boys at Thandokhulu to get a different perspective on the Initiation rites. That is, until I actually tried talking to any of them. Whenever I contemplated walking up to a group of boys in ceremonial clothing, I was overwhelmed with an intense feeling of trepidation. After all, as a woman, would I be perceived as impertinent for asking questions about a practice reserved for Xhosa men? Would I be pressing my luck in asking about such an intimate and sacred rite? I would soon find out…

My chosen interviewee was Andile Mzangwe, and I was pleasantly surprised at how willing he was to answer my questions. If you'll refer to the photo I persuaded him to take with me, you'll see why it was so easy for me to pick him out from the crowd: the large brimmed straw hat was a dead-giveaway. I was very desperate to talk to him, because it seemed that Initiation students were few and far between in school as a result of the minibus taxi strike (which I assume someone will write about in another blog entry). Many of the school's students were absent or late, so the pool I was drawing from was much smaller than it would have been on a normal day.

As I correctly assumed, Andile was a fairly recent graduate of Initiation school, and was going through the six-month period of daily formal dress required of a Xhosa man after his circumcision. According to Andile, this formality proved that he was prepared for the seriousness and responsibilities of life as a man. When I asked him why he decided to begin learning at circumcision school at the age of 18, he responded simply "I wanted to grow up. I wanted to learn about the hardships of life." According to both Andile and Dr. Guma, Xhosa men can begin initiation school at any point between the ages of 18 and 50. When pressed further about what specific lessons he'd been taught, he began to recite the values that had been instilled in him by his elder, Teacher Joseph. "Dignity, loyalty, and respect, not just for my elders, but for those who are smaller than me, too." These heavy lessons were obviously very important to the well-spoken Andile, who also related to me that there were things I simply couldn't know about the process of Initiation because I am a woman. "There are secrets," he said with a smile, and left it at that.

There are moments here when I am struck by just how many questions I want to ask the people around me about. So much is strange and unfamiliar to me, and yet, just when I feel ready to ask, I lose my nerve. In the case of Xhosa initiation, however, I'm glad I asked. While the specifics of the practice itself are still mostly a mystery to me, in asking, I am broadening my understanding of cultural norms throughout the world, and growing as a result.

Pumeza, Julie, and Sindi

Emily A's Reflection #2

I wasn’t planning on writing about my internship again but this story got me thinking…
This morning at Thandokhulu, Faina, Julie, and I arrived just in time to catch the end of the staff meeting that occurs every Tuesday. The meeting had the usual themes of making sure to take attendance, how to deal with latecomers, and the constant problem of how to properly distribute the lunch food. As we were getting ready to go to the morning assembly, one of the teachers brought up the issue of having to address students with special needs. She pointed out a few students with extenuating circumstances and called for the teachers to simply be aware and understanding of their conditions (such as epilepsy). She then began telling us a story of a boy in one of the 9th grade classes.

Apparently someone came into his home with a gun and shot at him and his entire family. Only four survived, himself included. Both of his parents were murdered right in front of his eyes. He received two bullets to the head and multiple wounds to his torso. Doctors tried to their best but could not remove two of the bullets lodged in his brain which ultimately causes him to have difficulty with his short term memory. We were shocked.

As she got further into the story, I realized that this boy was in my 9A class and I had been working with him regularly. On one of the first days that I was working with the students, I was teaching how to do long division. I gave the students practice problems to try on their own while I walked around to help them. This boy raised his hand for help and we worked through a problem together. He quickly understood everything so I gave him an additional question and asked him to do it on his own. A few steps into the process he started shaking his head and apologizing profusely. He said that he had a problem where he often times couldn’t remember things that have been just said to him. He continued to apologize and all I could suggest was that I could help him write down the process step by step. Little did I know that this student had been through so much or what caused his short-term memory loss.

The fact that this fourteen-year-old has been through so much trauma is beyond me. I cannot believe that in his short life he has experienced so much that a person should never have to go through. Yet, despite all of his hardship, this boy still has it in him to attend a school miles from his home. He goes to class in order to get an education knowing how much harder it is for him because of how hard it is for him to remember lessons. In spite of all the difficulties he has faced and all of the odds against him, this boy is still fighting to succeed.

I found his story to be inspirational and I feel it shows the general attitude of the students at Thandokhulu and the people I have met in Cape Town. People here make the best of what they’ve got and keep going when they seemingly have nothing. The students attend a school where there is a ratio of over sixty students to each teacher and there are never enough chairs for each student let alone books, art supplies, or sporting equipment. However, these students keep coming to school every single day with a positive attitude. Whenever a student works through a hard problem or understands a concept enough to explain it to the class, you can see their excitement and can feel their passion for learning. It is with this passion that they approach life; a passion we could all use in our own lives.

Michelle's Reflection #2

Khayelitsha

After finding out that I would have the opportunity to do research and intern in South Africa, I decided that I wanted to learn as much about gender and HIV/AIDS as possible. Before I left, I researched the topic and put together a proposal that argued it is women’s lack of power over their bodies and their sexual lives, reinforced by their social and economic inequality, that makes them vulnerable to contracting HIV/AIDS. I also agreed with prior arguments that responses to the AIDS epidemic need to go well beyond health or science- affordable treatment and drugs, an effective vaccine, and prevention methods- and must embrace wider political, economic, and cultural issues. Overall, I wanted to see how international organizations were dealing with the intersections of gender and HIV/AIDS and compare it to how community based organizations (CBOs) negotiated the same tensions. I also wanted to learn more about the potential ethnocentric ideals that could be found in international and human rights interventions, and try to discover a more effective and less biased way to handle global health issues.

Although it took a bit of time to work out, I was lucky enough to eventually be assigned an internship placement at Olive Leaf, which was formerly Hope Worldwide, an international organization. They broke off from the international organization somewhat recently, but are still doing the same HIV/AIDS work within the community. This opportunity worked out perfectly, because I not only get to work with a CBO, but also one that broke away from its international base for very specific reasons.

Olive Leaf, which is located in the township of Kahayelitsha, is made up of the Orphans and Vulnerable Children’s Program (OVC), the Prevention Program, the Abalingani Gender Program, the Working with Men Program, and the Voluntary Counseling and Testing (VCT)/Care and Support (CAS) Program. I have been so impressed with how involved in the community the organization is, as they not only go out in the community every day, but also have a significant number of employees from Kahayelitsha and many who are also HIV positive. Olive Leaf has estimated that in Kahayelithsa, two out of three women did not consent to their first sexual experience, and 70,000 people (who were tested and actually reported) are HIV positive.

I have been able to spend time with almost all of the programs so far, and this has included visiting the different clinics, particularly doing work at the male-only clinic, and going to home visits and meeting with families who are infected with HIV/AIDS. Today I was able to visit a creche, which is the equivalent of a daycare center, where we brought the children food and played with them. The eighty-six children, who ranged in age from 6 months to 5 years old, literally bombarded us and we were knocked to the floor; I have never before seen a group of children so excited! All the children wanted to be hugged and picked up, and they fought to hold our hands. Being able to work in Kahayelitsha and work directly in the community and with children has been so amazing, and I feel like I have been able to gain so many insights that I would not have been able to have otherwise.

Because I have been able to work at the clinics and learn more about the different anti-retrovirals (ARVs) that are distributed, and see first hand how social and cultural issues affect the AIDS epidemic in South Africa, I was extremely excited to attend a lecture by author Ida Susser, who just recently wrote the book Aids, Sex, and Culture-Global Politics and Survival in Southern Africa. One topic that I found to be of particular interest was that of the impact of social conservatism in the US and how it has caused a reduction in support of certain AIDS prevention programs in favor of abstinence only instruction. Because Olive Leaf is funded up PEPFAR (Presidents Emergency Plan for Aids Relief), like many organizations they have obligations and requirements, such as that of abstinence only education. It has arguably been quite ineffective in the United States and has seemingly been as ineffective, if not more so, in South Africa, as reported by Olive Leaf Foundation.

Another topic that I found to be of interest at the lecture was the discussion of how women in South Africa, even in the world, are thought to be a homogenous group, and culture, such as that in urban areas versus rural areas, is not taken into account. Culture is not one thing, women are not one homogeneous group, and tactics to fight HIV/AIDS need to reflect that. Similarly, in my research paper I will view the issues through the lens of postcolonial feminist theory, women of color feminist theory, and third-world feminist theory. Numerous theorists argue for a desegregation of knowledge and practice, and an understanding of specific geopolitical histories. These scholars argue that Western ideals are often ethnocentric and do not take into account the unique experiences of third world women. For me, it was so interesting to be able to hear one of these scholars speak, especially when I am actually in South Africa. It also became so clear how HIV/AIDS is a feminist issue, and needs to be viewed as such.

Since being here, I have realized the importance of experiential learning. Before I left for South Africa, I read so many books and articles about gender and HIV/AIDS, but I realize now how abstract the ideas were. I was having a conversation with someone at Olive Leaf, and was told how her husband infected her with HIV, abused her, and left her alone with her child. She was then diagnosed with TB and cancer, and gave birth to another child who was HIV positive; it was then that I realized that the AIDS epidemic is not an “issue,” not a global “problem,” but an actual reality that so many people have to live with every day. I have only been at my internship for a few weeks, and have already been changed. There are so many days that I want to cry, or forget about the things that I see and hear, but then I try to think of the people I have met who are so strong, and so positive, and so thankful for everything that they do have. I am reminded every day that I am not here to change things, but that I am here to help out, contribute in whatever small way I can, and learn as much as possible. It is not my place to suggest how to solve problems in South Africa; however, I can learn so much from how involved community members are becoming and how effective this strategy is, and I can hopefully take back this knowledge and apply it to my work in the United States.

Michelle Jordan on the Mountain Top

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
-Mahatma Gandhi

Chelsea's Reflection #2

2009 Opening of Parliament with Red Carpet Guests

Parliament opened for the year on Friday, and interim president Kgalema Motlanthe delivered the State of the Nation address inside the stately white building, safely tucked away behind rows of security and press and thick iron gates. The day was very hot, and the once-constant summer winds were mysteriously absent as we walked up Plein Street towards the Parliament building around 10AM. During the past two weeks I have been interning at the Black Sash, a long-established organization that uses advocacy, rights education, and advice-giving to empower marginalized communities and individuals to improve their socioeconomic circumstances. Black Sash has traditionally been one of the more prominent civil service organizations in South Africa, and therefore releases official responses to major political statements, including Friday’s presidential address.

Amidst many other projects underway at the Black Sash national office in Cape Town, the staff has spent the last two weeks preparing for their post-address press blurbs and “roundtable discussion”. My fellow intern, Cassidy, and I have had the chance to sit in on some of the planning. We’ve also been involved in certain long-term projects for the organization, through which we’ve studied the State of the Nation addresses from the last several years and analyzed the trends in political themes, challenges, and social security objectives. It has been very enlightening research, but until Friday, we had been unable to ground the political discourse in any substantial observations or experiences. Our involvement – however peripheral – in Friday’s opening of Parliament gave us the chance to contextualize the research we’ve been doing, as well as observe the striking external differences between national political events here and in America.

Despite the turmoil over the realignment of political parties and claims of corruption, President Mlotlanthe opened his address with a description of the commendable progress that’s been made in South Africa since the “birth of democracy” fifteen years ago. He acknowledged the country’s economic gains, the steady growth of democracy within the united, multicultural society, and the national successes in the health and social sectors. Yet he was also forced to undercut some of this rhetoric by recognizing the problems that still plague much of the population, especially those still affected by relocation and redistribution of resources during Apartheid.

He noted the struggles ahead in this period of faltering global economy and declining exports (upon which the South African economy is highly dependent), and addressed how many of the social programs aimed at alleviating poverty and unemployment have not met their target goals. As corruption continues to plague the nation’s most prominent elected officials (it was announced on Saturday that ANC leader Jacob Zuma’s trial will be postponed until August) the government has failed to deliver on the socioeconomic improvements that are desperately needed. It is no wonder that so many people have expressed apathy towards the election season that is fast approaching.

As we continue to learn about the shift to democracy at the end of Apartheid, it is becoming clearer that party loyalty is very entrenched in citizens’ political consciousness. The African National Congress (ANC), which currently holds more than two-thirds of the seats in Parliament, is the party that was responsible for leading the anti-Apartheid movement for over thirty years. When the ANC won the 1994 election, and Nelson Mandela – who’d epitomized the struggle for political and social equality under the Apartheid system – became president, the ANC became an indomitable fixture in the South African government. Even after former president Mbeki stepped down last year and Zuma was accused of rape and corruption, a solid portion of the population will undoubtedly vote ANC in April. To many, the ANC is a symbol of freedom and democracy, regardless of the shameful blunders committed by the individuals who’ve come to lead it.

Chelsea, Nyembezi, Cassidy at Parliament

On Friday afternoon, as Cassidy and I stood at the front gates of Parliament surrounded by police and photographers, we watched the stream of diplomats and dignitaries shuffle past in their splendid African dress. For every man or woman in a Western-style business suit, there was another in an orange or purple patterned shawl and a billowing, decorated hat. The most disorienting aspect of the afternoon was trying to make sense of the unusual blend of the familiar/modern with the traditional customs of many of the ceremony’s guests. For example, regardless of their Western or African attire, nearly everyone emerged from the gates with their cell phones in hand.

But these observations of the unique integration of such diverse cultures, it seems, is a testament to the unified, democratic nation South Africa has become in the last fifteen years. And surely, even in difficult times like these, that continues to give hope for its political future.