Kevin's Reflection #3 on Porcupines

I’ve been on two porcupine relocation trips with Cape Nature so far. The way it works is that when a porcupine decides it likes to hang around a person’s yard or a community space then the residents can decide to call Cape Nature to move the porcupine to a nearby nature reserve for free. Cape Nature brings this cage structure to the area and lays it there overnight. 

Usually by morning the next day a porcupine will be in the cage because they are curious and love to explore. What now? Now the porcupine is relocated to a nearby nature reserve space where consensus has allowed is to roam about. The two experiences have put the key into my creativity ignition which incited a poem to flow into the here and now. I call it

“Holler back Porcupine.”

Porcupine you are a rebel without a case,
Crawling through sewers and chillin’ under storm drains,
You go foraging while your baby stays safe,
Watch out for everything, especially the rain.

Ring Ring. Cape Nature receives a call,
Porcupines are around us, oh dear they must go,
Please do something, they are so prickly,
Porcupines are not creatures that we can go and hug.

A trap is set; just watch your step,
You curious creature, explore your way into this,
The community has spoken, you are not welcome,
Leave everything behind; your time to go has come.

Porcupine here is your new home,
We call it a nature reserve; it’s where we want you to stay,
Run now porcupine, stay away from people,
Run now porcupine, you’re on your own.

A porcupine will roam, the lone creatures they are,
They cannot be hugged so they will go far,
Through fences, through drains, their path always goes
Where they will be relocated, nobody knows

Porcupine did you leave a family behind?
Porcupine will you have food to eat?
Porcupine will the man-made fences hold you in?
Porcupine, Porcupine what is your consensus?

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Julie's Reflection #3 on being a teacher

I've said it before and I will say it again: There's never a dull moment at Thandokhulu. From the very first day of my internship until now, my days have been occupied to capacity with the work my fellow colleagues have been kind enough to "loan" me during my short stay at the school. I grade papers, make photocopies, proctor exams, create assignments for class, and generally assist students (and Ms. Bopi) in class in any way I can. Most importantly (to me, anyway), when given the opportunity, I've attempted, to the best of my ability, to teach the learners what I know (and love) about literature and poetry.

As of late, I've given a lot of thought (as opposed to just toying with the idea as I've done in the past) of applying for a post with Teach For America after I graduate from UConn. The frighteningly inconsistent nature of the job market is incentive enough to pursue a position teaching for this highly regarded NPO, but this fact is hardly my only motivation for applying (nor should it be). If accepted to the program, I would get the opportunity to share my academic passions with my students on a daily basis and have it qualify as work. Sounds great, doesn't it? I thought so, too.

And yet, in thinking on my experiences with teaching at Thandokhulu, I've forced me to ask myself if I'm really prepared for weathering the high highs and low lows of teaching in an underprivileged school. On one hand, you get to see the progress each student makes, the positive impact your efforts have on their lives, and the look on their eyes when they really "get" what you're trying to teach them. At the same time, you have to be prepared to face how poorly organized and under-resourced the school is, how hopelessly ill-suited some of your co-workers are for their jobs, how much potential the learners have that they just don't use, and how much you could accomplish if you had just a bit more time to work, more energy to expend, more money to spend, more…

In reading some of the experiences of former TFA teachers (and in speaking very briefly to Testing Hope filmmaker Molly Blank about her own experiences with TFA), I've found that my conflicting emotions about teaching at Thandokhulu were echoed in the their stories and advice. In these personal accounts of their experiences, I found that there wasn't a single person who claimed that their stint with education wasn't rewarding, at least some of the time. And yet, a common thread in the posts I've come across was the plea to potential applicants not to apply if they weren't in it for the kids. Having opened this Pandora's Box, I continued to read, and came across this higly discouraging little gem of advice:

"The chances are good that, if you become a TFA teacher (or any teacher, really), most of your students will have little to no initial interest in what you teach. They will not bring to the study of lipids or the analysis of novels the same enthusiasm and energy that you do. Many of them may regard school as a prison, your classroom as a cell, and you as their warden. Your lessons? Just more instruments of oppression. Some students will take pleasure in deriding the subjects that you obviously find most interesting… If you love a particular subject above all else and don’t care as much about kids, consider grad school. Reconsider TFA. "

Without ever having participated in TFA, I can honestly say I know exactly how the person who wrote this feels. There is nothing like the feeling of sharing something you love with students and having them openly mock you for your passion. There is nothing worse than having to wake a student who fell asleep when you were flailing around in front of the classroom in an effort to convince them of the importance of themes in poetry or iambic pentameter. And there is nothing worse than coming to the cold, cruel realization that maybe, just maybe, what you're teaching them isn't important in the grand scheme of things. You start to wonder whether interpreting Sonnet 104 is necessary when the kids you're teaching go home to an impoverished township and deal with things that you've never had to even contemplate, let alone deal with on a regular basis. When the warm, cozy blanket of Academia (the same one that allows all of us English majors to aspire to having careers that are rewarding AND pay well waiting for us when we graduate) gets yanked away, it isn't any fun, let me tell you. The trials and travails of teaching could turn even the most optimistic, energetic human being on the Earth into an eternally miserable pessimist. Anyone who really knows me will tell you I've been cynical since birth, so it's not much of a stretch for me to imagine me reaching the figurative end of my teaching rope in frustration.

There is still time to decide whether or not I could "hack it" for two years at TFA, and I still have a lot of soul searching left to do before I'll know if I'd be doing it for all the right reasons, but the short time I've spent at Thandokhulu has taught me a great deal about myself and my capacity for the teaching profession. For every reason I have to feel frustrated, there are at least one hundred instances where I know I've made a difference here. It is those times that I rely on for strength when I feel discouraged or frustrated at Thandokhulu. There are reasons to hope that what I'm doing will make a difference someday, and at this moment in my life, that is what is important.

The time I have left here will continue to try my teaching endurance in ways I never imagined it could be stretched, pulled, prodded, and otherwise abused. I've always had a grudging respect for those unshakably tough veteran teachers I had in school, but in my time student-teaching, that respect has evolved into something akin to hero worship. On that vein, I'd like to take the opportunity to figuratively bow down to every great teacher I've ever had. If you've managed to stand the test of time in the field of education, and more importantly, to inspire your students to want to learn while you were at it, you are worth your weight in pedagogic gold, and I salute you. As a pseudo-member of your ranks, I'm begging you: teach me!

Emily A's Reflection #3 on Thandokhulu Secondary School

During the apartheid regime people were separated on the basis of race and were not permitted to work or venture into other areas without a permit. This meant that the schools were also completely segregated. At one point there were only three schools in Cape Town despite the fact that the majority of the population was completely uneducated and more than 50% of people were unemployed. Therefore, there was overall no development for impoverished people.

In the 80s the government had a sudden zeal to build more schools. At the same time, there was an influx of people toward white areas as there was more money to be made. The white areas were typically developed and close to the city. This created a problem as there were consistently far more children than the government could keep up with and the government could not keep up. This once again put poorer students, families, and communities at an even greater disadvantage.

Thandokhulu was founded in 1990 in Khayelitsha but had no building to operate out of despite the government promising to construct a schoolhouse for it. In the mean time, Thandokhulu shared facilities with another school operating in Khayelitsha. The most orderly way to run both schools on the same grounds was through a platoon system in which the eight to twelve year olds went to school in the morning while the older students attended class in the afternoon to early evening. This system did not work partly because it took away learning time from all students as well as the inconvenient system of keeping children as late as five P.M. The classes were also completely full with a terrible ratio of students to teachers.

As conditions worsened, the government continued refusing to build another schoolhouse despite constant pestering by the community. Meanwhile, there were four well known white schools on the Cape Peninsula that had been vacant for over five years. The fact that the space was readily available while Thandokhulu and other Xhosa speaking schools had no place to operate angered the community. When discussed, the white communities in Mowbray and surrounding areas “could not entertain the idea” of having a ‘black’ school near them (Mr.Tsoli of Thandokhulu).

In 1992, left with no other viable options, Thandokhulu got the support of community organizations such as UDF and SANCO and it was decided that on a certain day they were going to invade the white school grounds. Parents were notified and readily got involved and the learners were all beyond excited. On the day of the raid, students, parents, teachers, and even the general public squeezed into buses that were organized by the community and drove to the site. Mr. Tsoli said that the were people hanging out of windows and climbing on top of the buses, all trying to be a part of this mini revolt against the current inequalities.

The police had been notified that they were coming and were ready and waiting for the mob of people to arrive. The principal and teachers tried to negotiate with the police but they would not let them onto the grounds. By this point there were so many people involved that all of Mowbray and surrounding areas had come to a standstill: shops were closed and there was at least one helicopter scoping the scene. All of a sudden, the learners began uprooting the fence and poured into the school; there were people everywhere in complete chaos. The police then let loose dogs on the mob, students and young children included. They ran, ending the day’s events but they came back again the next day.

This blatant defiance was an embarrassment to the government as everyone knew what was happening as the story was being covered in the news. The common public knew the reason for the uprising and saw the plea of the school as a legitimate cause. The government then said they would not pay the teacher’s salaries and would remove their pensions. Despite this threat, the Thandokhulu staff and students organized their school in Mowbray. They went to other schools to get enough supplies and furniture in order to hold classes in the new building which originally only had two classrooms.

At this point, the government realized how out of hand the situation had gotten and, “had a change of heart," deciding that they did in fact deserve a school of their own and began building one in Khayelitsha. Their reasoning as to why they could not stay in Mowbray was that there was too much lead for the children in the area due to the freeway and that it was too far for learners to travel everyday. Despite a new school being built for them, Thandokhulu refused to leave and demanded to keep their current location in Mowbray. They stayed there for the rest of the school year and the Matric pass rate in 1993 was as low as 13%.

Throughout the move from Khayelitsha, Thandokhulu had received a lot of exposure within the greater community and at the same time, racial issues were beginning to get slightly better as the ADESO negotiations had begun. A lot of individual people began donating supplies and money to the school. A TV presenter built another building, creating more space for classrooms. A woman from the US wrote to many people and companies asking for money in support of the school. She raised enough money to build a library and got over 25,000 dollars worth of books donated. This raised awareness and another R 10,000 was given to buy books and enough money was donated to build two more classrooms as the old ones were falling apart.

Slowly, the Matric results began to increase and with it, the government was more and more willing to fund the school. When the school hit an 80% pass rate, the government gave R 100,000 which paid for the computer lab. These rates steadily continued to rise and reached an all time high of 95% two years ago.

Michelle's Reflection #3 on treatment of animals

Since being in South Africa, the topics of racism, sexism, classism, progress, capitalism, and human nature have all been in the forefront of house conversations. Although I try to stay away from labels and categories, I can comfortably call myself a feminist, a vegetarian, and an activist and know that these aspects of my life help dictate every decision I make.

Before I came here, I said that I hoped I could somehow maintain some ability to distance myself from what I saw, sort of as a form of self-preservation. I have always been the kind of person who is deeply affected by things around me, and knew that some of the things I would see in South Africa would be things I would not know how to deal with. I realized after I got here, though, that I would not only be unable to distance myself from the things I saw, but also unwilling to even try to. For me, a huge part of this experience is learning to accept who I am, and more specifically to accept and embrace the fact that I will never be the kind of person who bases their decisions on logic or fact, but rather on what I believe is possible, and what I feel is right.

I do not believe that humans are innately selfish, or insensitive, or disconnected from the world by which they are surrounded. I believe these attributes are a consequence of patriarchy and of capitalism, and overall a product of the system. We often talk about the idea of progress in relation to innovation, economy, and technology, but I personally measure progress in relation to morality. Whenever I hear the word, I always think of the quote by Mahatma Gandhi which states that “the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be measured by the way its animals are treated.” I could not agree with this quote more.

I have always struggled with the hierarchy that we place on life, and the idea that animals were placed on this Earth for humans. Recently, someone I work with made the comment that the reason he is a vegetarian is because he believes that the animals of this world are also his brothers and sisters; that comment struck a chord, and has continued to stay with me. I believe that everything and everyone in life is connected, and that watching another being experience pain is the same as me experiencing that pain myself.

Because of this, seeing so many stray and starving animals every day has been so, so difficult. I understand that so many people here are also living in terrible conditions, but I do not think that is a justifiable reason to turn my head to the other injustice that is taking place. In an effort to feel more proactive, I decided to do my activist project at a no-kill animal shelter called TEARS, located in Fish Hoek, right on the edge of a township. From Rondebosch, it takes about forty minutes by train, and then another ten or so minutes by mini-bus; however, the long ride is completely worth it, and if I could, I would spend every day there.

The shelter has dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens. We get there at about 9:00 and begin by walking the many dogs, who are all so friendly and just want attention and affection. The employees and volunteers at the shelter seem extremely grateful to have our help, and we are more than happy to be there. I think many of us miss our “pets” back home, and spending time with the shelter animals is more than helpful. No offense to those of you back home, but I miss my dog, Monte, more than anyone!

Missing my dog and cats, though, is not my only reason for wanting to volunteer at the shelter. As I said before, I believe that everything and everyone in life is connected, and similarly, that the oppression, inequality, and injustice that occurs in this world is all interconnected and stems from the same source. As ecofeminist theory argues, there is a strong parallel that exists between the male oppression and subordination of women in families and society and the degradation of nature by similarly masculine attitudes and methods. As stated in the wikipedia definition, "while feminism is a primary entry point, women and men also come to ecofeminism through environmentalism, alternative spirituality, animal rights, and other progressive affiliations. The kaleidoscopic lens of ecofeminism includes a prepatriarchal historical analysis, an embracement of spirituality, and a commitment to challenging racism, classism, imperialism, heterosexism, ageism, ableism, anthropocentrism (i.e. human supremacism), speciesism and other forms of oppression."

Michelle & boyfriend Dan after a day of volunteering at TEARS

I genuinely believe that progress, in it’s most simple form, is defined by morality. I believe that every day we can all do something, no matter how small, and that it will make a difference. A few weeks ago, most of the house watched the movie The Constant Gardener, a movie that I had already seen. There is a line in the movie, though, that really touched me. The two main characters are arguing about trying to help a young boy, and one character says, “Tess, you can’t save everyone.” She then says, “no, but I can save this one.” Every time I pass a stray animal or a child who asks for food, I think of that line. I may not be able to take home every dog or cat that needs a home, or feed every starving child, but I can do small things, every day, and in the end, I believe that will bring about a lasting and substantial change.



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

Chelsea's Reflection #3 ANC Rally

Chelsea surrounded by her new friends at the ANC Rally

In the middle of a township on the Cape Flats lies a broad stretch of withered grass, surrounded on four sides by cement walls and barbed wire. It bears the name “Khayelitsha Stadium” and is used, presumably, for soccer matches or other sporting events, but contains no more than a single stand of wooden bleachers. Our first encounter with this otherwise unremarkable place came after an hour-long, music-filled ride on a Golden Arrow bus – a ride that was strangely reminiscent of a trip to summer camp, with all of the spirited singing, chanting, and animated camaraderie. (The passengers had even referred to one another as comrade.)


We disembarked the bus in a littered lot not far from our destination, joining a throng of jubilant ANC supporters also bound for the stadium. They bounced up and down with their arms beating the air above them, as the hum of a rally chant rose from the centre of the pack. Our presence drew curious glances as we shuffled in a tight group along the crowded street, past hordes of local residents, vendors, and barefoot children. But the colour of our skin did not deter those we passed from greeting us with toothy grins and ANC greetings, to which we responded in kind. Our South African friends – the day’s guides – ushered us past the police and security guards at the side gate and into the crowded stadium, where thousands of Cape Town residents gathered and milled about in ANC colours (black, yellow, green) waving patriotic flags. As the thumping beat of a pre-rally song pulsed over the shouts of energetic supporters, the sun beat down on the masses packed in front of us for yards and yards to the far end of the stadium.

Beyond the sea of flags and hats and heads there stood a temporary event stage, flanked by ANC slogans touting the benefits of working together. At first, we clustered in our little group, inside a bubble that shielded us from the controlled chaos of the stadium. But as we began to understand our place within the lively atmosphere, we wandered out a bit to immerse ourselves in the activity around us. We’d learned enough from the bus ride to be able to start our own chant praising the event’s honoured speaker, ANC President Jacob Zuma, and this public display of political solidarity provided the necessary invitation for questions and conversations with the locals who surrounded us. Camera’s snapped continuously as we threw our arms around friendly ANC supporters who revelled in the novelty of our visit to the rally. We were told that most locals assumed we were white South Africans, and that even as such, we were very visibly atypical supporters of the ANC in Khayelitsha.

For the majority of the event, we wound up at the front of the stadium, sitting in the parched grass on the empty-side of the crowd-barrier fence. But we weren’t alone for very long, as children squeezed their way under the fences and quickly filled in every inch of spare ground around us.


Little boys scampered unsupervised on the small dirt hill behind the stage, and VIPs stood in front of the stage, obscuring most of our narrow view of the speakers. Several older women and hundreds of wide-eyed children remained squashed up against the other side of the fence, with their legs poking out on our side in a line of oddly disconnected limbs. Our proximity to the fence-scramblers provided a number of opportunities for conversations as the speakers rallied the crowd for Zuma’s speech. The cheers and chants elevated to a fevered pitch when the ANC president finally emerged, launching into an address in Xhosa, with occasional English segments. The sound system hummed along with the supporters, who collectively shouted in agreement as Zuma cited improvements in access to resources and housing over the ANC’s 15 years in power.


Because of the language barrier, we experienced most of his speech through the reactions of the crowd. We squinted through the bright afternoon sun towards the stage and watched as Zuma led his supporters in a rally song at the end of the speech. His charisma was exemplified best by his joyful participation in the dancing that followed his address, after which the audience stormed the stage-front to dance along with a selection of other performers.
By then we’d been readily accepted by the groups of small children who’d shared our grassy seats during the event, and many of us were dragged by the hand into the bobbing swarm of supporters near the stage. The energy was infectious, even for those who might not support all of the ANC politicians and positions. We hoisted our new little buddies to our shoulders to get a better view of the stage and joined in the jovial celebration with arms raised and feet tapping.

Making our exit during the waning hours of the afternoon, we were once again swept up in the frenzied rush by the exit gates. The temporary sense of inclusion – of participation and engagement in the rally celebrations – was replaced again by the passive reserve of observation, which reflected our return to the status of “outsiders looking in” on the event. This subtle withdrawal from the energy of the crowd was probably exacerbated by the wave of fatigue that overtook our group, much of which had had little to eat or drink since breakfast and was running low on energy. But even as we made our way back to the bus through the bustling streets of Khayelitsha, we were conscious of the magnitude of the rally we’d just experienced. The nature of the event had exceeded the simple purpose of garnering ANC support; it had engendered a spirit of hope and promise within the struggling township community. Within the cement and barbed-wire confines of Khayelitsha Stadium, it had served to reinforce the bonds that unite a population of long-disenfranchised South Africans. Zuma had connected with the crowd, as a “man of the people”, in a way that most politicians could not. And even those of us who don’t share the vision or condone the leadership of the ANC could not deny that the political rally had had an overwhelmingly positive impact on the morale of one of Cape Town’s most impoverished and politically overlooked communities.

Checking in

Hard for me to believe it has been over two weeks since I posted to the blog, and over 6 weeks since we arrived but as I have said repeatedly, the time flies by when I am here.  

The second round of student posts have included not only thoughts on some of their internship experiences at Olive Leaf, Thandokhulu High School, and Sonke Gender Justice Network. but also their reflections on such things as: the opening of Parliament; the budget speech by the Minister of Finance; a court protest; the Xhosa rite of passage for young men; and a theatre performance at Artscape. They also provided some insights into: the challenges encountered with the language; the valuable cultural experience of going out to clubs (thanks Jordan); the sense of accomplishment when bungee jumping; and the joys of volunteering at an animal shelter. In addition, Rachel added her growing understanding of the concept of UBUNTU, which was discussed in our class by lawyer Jeremicia Seherie, while Dan described his experience of attending the ANC Rally in Khayelitsha.  

Reading through the first 30 student reflections provides evidence of both the transformative nature of this particular study abroad program as well as the remarkable students who have chosen to participate. I also think it is obvious from the collective reading of their posts that I am not exaggerating (though I have been told that I am prone to do such) when I rave about the all things Capetonian: the people, the scenery, the political engagement, the weather, the food, the wine, and the commitment to living Ubuntu.

With elections here less than two months away, this is no doubt an even more exciting time than usual to be in South Africa. Regardless of one’s politics, getting caught up in the current political conversations and activities seems irresistible—at least for me! With that said, I found the ANC rally in Khayelitsha yesterday truly amazing --– which I realize will not surprise anyone who knows the way I tend to be drawn to, and energized by, political rallies . . . and protests.  

However, for many students yesterday was the first time they have ever attended such an event, either here or in the U.S.---so it was quite an introduction. Not only did we all get ANC tee shirts (that read “working together we can do more” on the back, with a smiling picture of Jacob Zuma and "VOTE ANC" on the front) but we all had the opportunity to experience a huge South African rally!

Thanks to some of the fantastic connections I made while here last year, we were able to ride one of the ANC buses to the rally (learning a few ANC songs along the way) and then, upon arrival at the Stadium, were ushered to nearly front row ‘seats’.

Speaking of songs, although most were not in English--- the students, if not I, did a great job of singing along. The one English song sung repeatedly on the bus (perhaps because it was in English) was to the tune of “Joy to the World” (the one recorded by Three Dog Night). However the refrain to the ANC version was:
“Joy to the world, Joy to the world
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Join the ANC.”

This is but a cursory overview of the rally as i trust others will provide details of their experiences and hopefully share some of the hundreds of pictures and videos they took while at the rally ( I will be happy to post any they care to share). In the meantime, I have posted the pictures I took (some with brief captions) which may provide an inkling of what we experienced. Pictures are available at http://picasaweb.google.com/marita.mccomiskey/ANCRallyInKhayelitsha

~~~~~~~~~~~
One other quick note: Two women, Greta Kenney and Lee Anne Thompson, former students of mine, have been in Cape Town for the past month. When not traveling the world, both work in the field of social service -- one in Connecticut, the other in Massachusetts. While here, in addition to seeing some of the amazing sites, they have had an opportunity to volunteer at a Domestic Violence Shelter, visit a township, and fall in love with both the people and the place. Greta, a perceptive thinking and engaging writer, has created a blog entitled “One Month in Cape Town” http://gekenney.blogspot.com/
Reading her blog will provide further insight into some of the things many of us have been seeing and doing while here. ENJOY!

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

the promise of hope by Jeremicia Seherie

Marita, Jeremicia, Greta

It is difficult to articulate how meaningful one friendship can be. I met a good sole who understood the concept of Ubuntu more crisply then what I could remember in years. Marita I met by mere default, but I now believe that the people that we met, we are suppose to meet. The internship program is important because it is an important part of shaping a young person's life. above all it teaches people to appreciate being American and the advantage and life privilege that it is to live in a first world country. Being a good person goes beyond the monetary value that life seems to suck one into.

To the students of last night, I wish you well. I hope that South Africa sinks into your hearts. I hope that all of you end up in public interest law or at minimum that your social awareness had been sharpened.

Marita, a mother, friend, kind sole, over feeder, safe keeper of hope and love bundle. I can but only hope and pray that your students appreciate you. I really do!

Jeremicia

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.