Rachel reflects on the Matric Ball

Picture in your mind your senior prom. Now remember the way you felt during that prom: the dancing, the music, the food, the pictures, and the atmosphere. Now imagine you are from an area where gang violence, drug abuse, physical abuse, HIV/AIDS are rampant, and you may live in a one room shack... In South Africa there is an event known as Matric Ball, or dance, and it is very similar to our senior prom. Girls find a fancy dress and get their hair and nails done while the guy finds a nice suit and they bring partners, which are their dates for the night. The students in grade 12 at Christel House South Africa had their Matric Ball on Friday the 17th of April. It was also historic for the school itself because this is the schools first Matric class ever, and thus the first Matric Ball

What makes this Matric Ball even more special is the fact that these students had their outfits for the night and their hair and makeup donated by teachers and others throughout their community. I can remember in the weeks up to the dance there would be dress fittings in classrooms and girls would be running around talking about their outfits or who their partner was, and the guys would be trying on suits or shoes. All of the excitement led to this one night.

Jill and I had the privilege to attend the dance, and we had no idea what to expect. When we got there we were stunned to find the students looking absolutely gorgeous. Every single one of the learners and their partners looked like celebrities. The face of every student was of pure happiness. There were hundreds of pictures being taken and smiling faces everywhere. Jill and I could not stop saying how beautiful everyone looked, and how excited we were to be there. After everyone ate the dancing started, and Jill and I got forced to go out on the dance floor. Lets just say that we felt slightly awkward since our dancing skills were not quite up to par.

All in all, we had an amazing time and I am sure the students did too. It was a great experience and I am very glad that I had the chance to go. Working at Christel House has given me many opportunities that I would not have been able experience anywhere else. My experience here would not have been complete without Christel House and the people that I met there. The people I met and the kids I worked with will stay in my heart forever, and I will always be grateful for their friendship and help.

Cassidy's reflections on the braai

An important part of South African culture is a having a Braai with family and friends. It is a great time for everyone to come together and have food and just hang out. The first time I experienced a Braai was in the first weeks of coming to South Africa. One of our professors held a Braai at his house as a welcome to the culture. This was when we really started to get to know each other as a group and got to truly interact with other South Africans. There was great food, music, soccer, and wonderful conversation. We all knew then that we would have to have our own Braai at some point so we could return the favor and prove that we had become South Africans, even if for a brief period of time.

The weeks kept passing and we still hadn’t made any plans to have a Braai. We would casually mention it here and there but never talked about it substantially. With one month left it was looking as though we would not ever get the chance to have a real Braai at our house. Then we actually sat down and came up with a date and a full plan on what to do. We were going to get a band to play and invite some of our co-workers and new friends we had made. However, the band was not available for the date we set so we decided to push it back to see if they would be able to make it at a later date. We waited as long as we could and then decided that it would still be a good time without a band so we set a new date of 19 April 2009.

We knew that we had to be very efficient about our planning because past activities had caused tension in the house due to poor planning. We held a meeting and assigned people to different committees: appetizers/side dishes, meat, dessert, shopping, oversight. Everyone was to make a menu and tell the shopping committee all of the ingredients required. The committee went shopping the day before the Braai was set to take place. We all made whatever dishes we could the night before so as to reduce congestion in our small kitchen the next day.



The day had finally come and everyone was really excited to have everyone over as our time in South Africa is coming to an end. We woke up early to start cleaning the house and making it ready for what would be about fifty people. As I headed towards the door of pool house to cross into the main house, I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was raining. The one day we wanted to do something that involved a lot of people being outside it decided to rain. It had only rained once before during our stay and not for a long period of time. We were all really bummed that it wasn’t going to be as we had envisioned, but we stayed positive and got to work. We had to bring in all of the chairs and tables that were outside and dry them off. We vacuumed every room, cleaned every surface, and decorated with balloons and a welcome sign. I was extremely impressed with how good we got the entire house to look considering we are not always the neatest bunch. Everything looked great and very festive.



We then got to work on making the rest of our dishes for the day. Surprisingly, everything ran smoothly in the kitchen. We timed it so there were only a few people in there at one time, making it easier to get things done. Everything was ready to go. We all got cleaned up and looked like quite the spiffy group. Things started a little slow when guests started to arrive because we didn’t all know each other and not everyone was there yet. But sure enough, as the night went on things picked up. All of the food was delicious, there was game playing, and there were dance parties all over the house throughout the night. We were also able to give our South African friends and professors their first look at a smore. They had never even heard of such a thing, but once they tried it they really enjoyed it. The party lasted well into the night, with our last guests leaving around midnight.



Overall it was a great success and a lot of fun. It really brought everyone together and was a nice way to spend one of our last weekend’s here. I wish there was time to have another Braai with all of the amazing people we have met. I think everyone enjoyed themselves and were impressed, along with myself, with what we accomplished. We worked hard and created a truly magnificent event. I hope we can bring this tradition with us back to the States and share it with all of our friends and family. It is definitely not something to be missed in one’s lifetime. 

Emily G reflects on how to describe her time in Cape Town

I have been thinking a lot about what I am going to say when I get home and people ask me how my trip was. I know there is no possible way to make them understand the experiences we have had, but I am brainstorming on ways to try to describe a tiny slice of Cape Town to them.

I could tell them how breathtaking it is to wake up to and look out at Table Mountain every morning, contrasting with the bright blue sky and wisps of cotton ball clouds.

I could tell them about going to Muizenberg beach and frolicking in the waves until having to get out because a great white shark was spotted nearby.

I could tell them about riding in the back of a pickup truck with our whole group through a vineyard with endless perfect rows of vines meeting the blue sky at the horizon.

I could tell them about hiking up Lion’s Head and watching the sun set in orange and pink hues over the ocean, while a full moon rose above the city.

I could tell them about the fear and adrenaline of jumping off the highest commercial bungee in the world.

I could tell them about a great white shark biting bait and smacking its tail against the little cage I was swimming in next to it.

I could tell them about walking around the townships for the first time and seeing the poverty collide with bright colors and the welcoming spirits of the people.

I could tell them about visiting a crèche (preschool) and having the kids be so excited that they literally tackle me to the ground.

I could tell them about listening to the stories of women at my work that have been through more than I could possibly imagine, and yet still carry themselves with strength, warmth and composure.

I could tell them about my experience trying pap and sour milk for the first time, trying to be polite while silently cringing on the inside.

I could tell them about strolling on the beach in Durban and watching the sunrise like a glowing red ball in the sky, making the ocean shimmer.

I could tell them about walking through the huge markets, being hassled constantly and having to barter every time I want to purchase something.

I could tell them about living in a house with 14 other people, and the chaos that it often entails, over things like dishwashers, bathrooms, and knives.

I could tell them about the friends I have made, and the strength of our relationships.

I could tell them about swaying to the music at Cape Town’s International Jazz Festival, learning about a genre of music that I had neglected to listen to before this trip.

I could tell them about watching zebras and giraffes walking next to me.

I could tell about jumping into freezing water in order to play under the waterfalls and in the pools in the Drakensberg Mountains.

I could tell them about my experience being a minority and the challenges that I face with the difference in language and culture.

I could tell them what it is like to work in township in the country that has the highest incidence rate of AIDS in the world, and a township in which almost 2 out of 3 women do not give consent during their first sexual experience.

I could them about what it is like to live in an area recently free of apartheid, but still very segregated in so many different ways.

I could tell them about my visit to Robben Island, and my experience seeing Nelson Mandela’s prison cell.

I could tell them about the food I ate, whether it be Ethiopian, Indian, Thai, Chinese, Cape Malay, Italian, Mexican, Cuban, or traditional African.

I could tell them what it is like to stand on top of Table Mountain and look out at the city, sea, suburbs, townships, and winelands around me.

Yes, I could try to describe a tiny slice of Cape Town to the people who ask how my trip went, but only a sliver. This is because our time here is indescribable, except when talking to my housemates of 10 Loch Road. It is something that has inspired me, challenged me and changed me, but that I cannot really share with most others. But this is okay – I will always have my memories to remind me of this amazing trip.

As I enter the final week in South Africa, I am becoming very sad and nostalgic, but I know it is okay because I will be back soon.

Steph O reflects on coming together

It has taken me a long time to decide what I should write my last blog about. I wanted it to be memorable, yet nothing came to mind. I thought I would write about saying good-bye to Cape Town, but then I realized I was not ready to say good-bye. I thought maybe I would write about what I have learned from my experience, but I realized it was quite complex to sum up in a blog. In fact, I have come to realize that I do not even understand the extent of my transformation thus far. I believe down the road, the choices I will make in life will in fact reflect my transformation, and only then will I understand how this experience has changed me. But as for now, I will have to admit that these last few days are rather overwhelming. However in the midst of the sorrow, there is one thing that has made me happy: 10 Loch Rd.

I must admit that there were plenty of times when I did not believe our R.A. Ben when he told us that in the past, students have always come together in the end. I never could have imagined the number of challenges faced by a group of students living together under one roof. Although we’ve had many ups and downs, miscommunications and frustrations, I think that we’ve all learned a great deal from the experience of living in a house with 15 strangers. With that said, I really would like to say that I was extremely impressed with the hard work that very single individual put into making this final braai turn out as smoothly and successful as possible.

 Although we all have our differences and group dynamics can be quite hectic, (especially when making decisions) everyone did make a great effort to put our differences aside to collaborate for our event.  The side dishes, desserts, and of course the meats were all exceptionally appetizing.  Truthfully, it put a smile on my face to see everyone make such a great effort the day of the event. While some cleaned up around the house, others cooked and prepared the food. Others decorated the house with balloons and hung up the welcome sign in the foyer. Finally, I wanted to thank Steph Y and Jordan for taking the responsibility of overseeing the entire execution of the event. I am aware that taking on such an enormous task can be very stressful.

And with that said I would like to conclude this brief blog by saying that my unique study abroad experience would not have been the same without the students of 10 Loch Rd.  Through a roller coaster of emotions we have been there for each other, created everlasting memories, and watched each other transform. I guess just thanks for all the memories (good and bad : ) )=

Julie reflects on learning patience

As much as I'd like to, I can no longer ignore the fact that my time in South Africa is quickly coming to a close. Deadlines are drawing threateningly nearer, the weather is getting colder, and even the days, which at once seemed limitless in their hours, are now cruelly short. There hardly seems to be enough time to tackle the long list of things I simply must do before I leave this place. I've assumed a rather frenetic pace in my efforts to stuff every possible meaningful activity into my last days here. This lifestyle belies one of the very important virtues I've attempted to acquire here: the virtue of patience. After all, when you have to buy this, that, and those things for relative A, friend B, and boyfriend's friend C, who has time to remember not to get angry at the taxi driver who is 30 minutes late picking you up? Who has the wherewithal to not check their watch every 10 seconds while waiting for a long overdue restaurant check when you have unfinished class work and an internship to worry about? Who can smile obligingly and wait for the whims of 14 other people to be satisfied when you've only got TWO MORE WEEKS left in South Africa? It was only after the events that occurred this Saturday that I began to again see the error of my ways. Who, you might ask, reminded me of this all-important virtue? In true South African fashion, I re-learned my lesson about patience from my recent encounters with Great White Sharks. Let me explain:

We were all awake long before the sun was up that Saturday: 5:30 AM to be exact, and it seemed like it was going to be a cold one. All dressed smartly in layers, Jill, Rachel, Jordan and I were ready, as instructed by Jordan (our liaison with the shark dive company) to be picked up by the van that would take us to our boat. The van (again, in true South African fashion) was late, but we all took it in stride, recouping our losses by sleeping on the way there. According to Jordan, it would then be another hour on a boat to "Shark Alley," an area between two well-known Great White hunting sites, before we would arrive at the dive spot. When we arrived at a small restaurant for the breakfast included in the tour, we were read the riot act about being patient. "If we're extremely lucky," said Dixie, our videographer, "we could wait 5 minutes for the sharks to show up. But we could also wait hours." How many hours, Dixie did not say, but I felt myself up to the challenge of whiling away a few pleasant hours on a boat in the South African sunshine.

What I failed to remember was the last time I'd been on the "high seas" in South Africa: on the way to and from Robben Island. More specifically, what I'd forgotten was my penchant for nautical nausea. Not long after we embarked, Jill and I were overcome with the misery of seasickness. Clinging to the railings on the bow of the boat as we careened back and forth like a bobbing cork, we both closed our eyes, willing away the urge to vomit. (If my mom is reading this, I'm sorry for always making fun of you for forcing Dramamine on me every time we've ever been on a boat. In my old age, I can no longer endure roller coasters and boats without pharmaceutical assistance.) If you've never experienced seasickness, you're very lucky. Seconds feel like minutes, hours feel like centuries, and there is no escape from the never-ending rocking and bobbing. Even with the super cool bonus of seeing Great White Sharks, I have very little patience for seasickness.

Seals (aka Shark food!)

After the initial hour of misery, we arrive outside of Shark Alley. The waiting game continued for another hour. Then another. Then another. While the first wave of people wishing to hop in the cage sweated, wandering around in their wetsuits waiting for the sharks to show up, the four of us made the best of the situation, sun(burn)ing ourselves as the boat continued to rock. We waited until late in the day before any real shark sightings took place. In fact, the majority of the shark sightings occurred just after the shark cage was raised from the water, just before the crew was ready to "call it a day." You'd think I would have been soured on the whole shark diving experience, but I wasn't. When the sharks finally showed up (gargantuan, emotionless, shadowy things), there wasn't even time for us to put wetsuits back on. As the crew had explained, sightings were often fleeting, and you couldn't take them for granted. Jumping in the frigid water without a wetsuit had its unforeseen side benefits: When you're too cold to function or even breathe properly, you don't have the ability to feel seasick anymore. 

Go figure!

My encounters were brief, and my time in the cage itself was short, but somehow, waiting all day for those few moments with the sharks was sweeter because I had to be patient for them. Through the sunburn and the seasickness, I had to be patient, and in the end, it paid off. I'd like to be an easygoing kind of person that can shrug off inconsequential, temporary inconveniences. Every day that I'm here, I believe I come closer to being that kind of person, and for that, I'm thankful.

Julie and Jill, attempting to look "aloof," but looking more "green."

"Live every week… like Shark Week." -Jill Macdougal

Michelle's Reflections on Cape Town

Michelle 

As I sit in a garden in Observatory, I look around and wonder what life will be like when I leave South Africa. Right now I am surrounded by vibrant violet-colored flowers, entangled vines growing up old brick walls, and am warmed by the South African sun I have grown to love. I wonder, how will I cope with waking up and not seeing Table Mountain? How will I get through a day without being surrounded by any diversity? I can’t imagine what life will be like back in the States, and quite honestly, I don’t want to.

For me though, this is not about what the United States is not, but rather what South Africa is. In the last few months I have found myself filling my suitcases with paintings, sculptures, dishes, place mats, clothing, and beaded jewelry. The strange thing is, I never buy things - I am, in general, as much of a minimalist as one could be. What I realized today though, is that I am not buying all of these things for their ascetic value, but for their emotional value; I realized that I am trying to take South Africa home with me.

About a week ago, I got ‘ubuntu’ tattooed on my wrist. Before coming here, I never had any real desire to get a tattoo; however, I remember in the first week I was here, a few of us decided that we had to get one while here. For all of us, I think it is a physical representation of how South Africa has fully and completely become a part of us, and has a become embedded into our being.

Since day one, I have been acutely aware of how fast time would pass here, and how I needed to make the most of each moment; and, for once in my life, I can say that I have. Some of my favorite memories are of climbing Table Mountain, going surfing for the first time, bungee jumping, cage diving with great whites, going on a safari and to an elephant and monkey sanctuary, spending time with the children living in the townships, volunteering at the animal shelter, playing in the waterfalls of the Drakensberg Mountains, and spending hours listening to speakers and going through books at the Book Lounge (and of course being attacked by a baboon).

When I look back and reflect, I see how much I have done here. I have seen plays, been to the International Jazz Festival, hiked unbelievable mountains, the list goes on – but, it still doesn’t feel like enough. I am, in no way, shape or form, ready to leave this place. On one of the buildings in downtown Cape Town, there is a sign that says in huge letters, “this place I call home.” Without hesitation, I can say that Cape Town has become my home.

Whenever I try to articulate what exactly it is that I love so much about South Africa, I always fail miserably. I think what it is, and here I am stealing Marita’s words and reflection, is that I love me in South Africa. Here, I am at peace. Here, I feel at home. Here, I am driven by my heart and not by fear or by others’ expectations.

I know that I have changed and grown so much here, and for that I will be forever grateful, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I am terrified to return to Connecticut. Of course I can’t wait to see my family and loved ones (most of all my cats and dog, Monte!), but other than that, I am terrified to return to the old me. Before coming here, I was always filled with a certain amount of restlessness and anxiety. Here, I can actually breathe in, and out, and experience every moment and just be. I am currently reading a book on Taoism and one of the quotes is, “the way to do is to be.” Here, I can be.

I am going to miss waking up to the African sun and falling asleep to the indescribable African sky; I will miss walking to the grocery store and being greeted by the men making beaded flowers and hearing their cheery voices saying ‘good mornings sisi.’ I will miss walking through the tall grass of the commons and seeing the dogs running around playing, and the runners following their daily route. I will miss crossing the street and almost being hit by a car on a daily basis; I will miss the mini-bus hawkers yelling, “Wiiiiiinebeeeeerg,” and “Cape Tiieeeooowwwn.” I will miss being crammed into the mini buses, hearing the blaring and pulsating music, being surrounded by people speaking Xhosa, and seeing the smiling babies wrapped tightly in towels around their mothers or grandmothers. I will miss hearing the unidentified alarm that goes off throughout the night, and waking up to the birds’ calling sound that can only be described as a cross between a cat being slaughtered by a donkey who is simultaneously being beaten. I will miss waking up with hundreds of mosquito bites and lizards crawling on my walls. I will miss going to Muizenburg Beach and passing by all the people standing barefoot in the shops, with their dogs standing by their side. I will miss the indescribable sound of a small community coming together to sing at political rallies, protests, or any other random occasion. I will miss all of the smiling faces in the township of Khayelitsha, and the children! Most of all I will miss the children; I will miss the diversity of this place, and miss being the minority; I will miss our neighbors’ dogs, Billy and Muffin. I will miss the music, the people, the mountains, the sea, the flowers, the air, the land, the animals, the fresh fruit and vegetables. I will miss Cape Town, and more than anything, I will miss me being in Cape Town.

In my months here, there have been tremendous highs and unbelievable lows. I feel like in these last months, I have experienced a lifetime, and am grateful for each moment. In fact, there is not one moment here that I would change, because this has been my experience, and this is the experience I needed (and need) to have.

I will return to Connecticut a different person, a more balanced and peaceful person, and a person who is far more aware of her wants, needs, and desires. The most important lesson I have learned here though, is that I am who I am, and that the path I take will be different than most. Most importantly, I have learned that it is ok. My path in life may not be practical, conventional, predictable or even logical, but it is mine. I now know that I am who I am, and I am happy with that person, and I can now start living accordingly.

When I get on the plane and leave Cape Town, I will not be saying ‘goodbye,’ but rather, ‘See you soon.’ I have now finished my time at UConn and in many ways, for many reasons, feel freed. I know I will be back here soon, as this has become my home, and I finally feel at home with myself.



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

Chelsea's Reflections on the dichotomy that is Cape Town

Rather than ruminate on all of the things I will miss upon leaving South Africa in two weeks, or all of the ways I will have to readjust to life back in the United States, I’ll take this last bit of collective blog space to take a retrospective look at the study abroad experience as a whole. (I’m sure the latter issues will be covered ad nauseum in the blogs to follow, anyway.)

The prospect of trying to identify all of the subtle ways that our time here has shaped my perspectives on social, political, and economic issues is daunting for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the impacts of the experience aren’t likely to set in fully until long after I touch down on the other side of the Atlantic. But one thing about which I am quite sure is that our position as study abroad students and NGO interns has given us a very unique perspective on South Africa’s racial, political, and socioeconomic issues.

By now, the discoveries we’ve made regarding the social dynamics and financial situations that most South Africans experience should be evident from the preceding entries. We all have been involved in activism, research, and individual service over the last three months, providing dozens of opportunities to see and participate in human rights struggles on the ground level. But we also have seen another side of the country that is dramatically different and jarringly incongruous with the other. It has been commercial, corporate, political on a national scale, and generally accessible only by the well-to-do: mornings spent within the sheltered, aesthetically pleasing walls of UCT, lunches in the wine lands, afternoons perusing the tourist trap tables on green market square, nights on the town in Claremont and Obs.

Having been able to not only see but engage in both realms of life in Cape Town has been inimitably eye-opening and entirely the result of our position as study abroad students – not quite residents, but certainly not tourists.

On any given day, we might walk the litter-lined streets of Khayelitsha on home visits with the Olive Leaf Foundation, take in a rugby match at Newlands stadium, walk to Pick ‘n’ Pay for groceries on Main Rd, and jog the uphill path to the Cecil Rhodes Memorial on the side of Table Mountain. We might be asked for just a few rand by the stooped man outside the convenience store or have to teach a classroom full of Xhosa-speaking ninth graders how to multiply with fractions. We might lock our bedrooms, the back door, the front door, the door gate and the front gate, and then step out onto Loch Rd to see the ADT security patroller glide past on his bike as we head off to the Jazz Festival in town. We’ve been privy to the inside workings of the electoral system through our connections to the Independent Electoral Commission, we’ve wandered inside the gates of the national Parliament during the annual Budget Address, and we’ve walked the dizzyingly commercial halls of the Century City mall at Canal Walk.

Perhaps the best example of how we perpetually challenged the accepted socioeconomic roles and traversed the line between traditional social classes would be our routine of travelling to the beach on weekend afternoons. On a sunny summer day, a group of us would walk from our suburban Loch Rd. house to the far side of the Red Cross building on Klipfontein Rd, where we’d flag down a minibus taxi to ride into Cape Town. We’d sit squashed between people chattering in Xhosa over the thumping bass of American R&B music for the fifteen-minute ride to the city taxi rank. Then we’d jump out to find the Camp’s Bay line, which we’d take another twenty minutes north to the heavily commercialized strip of tourist beaches. I never could shake the sense of irony that accompanied our stumbling out the side door of the rickety minibus and onto that sun-soaked, palm-lined stretch of ritzy, beachfront cafes. Wealthy Europeans in their straw hats and white linen pants would inadvertently do a double take when we emerged from behind the accelerating minibus. Their expressions tended to mirror the ones we received now and then when we boarded a minibus full of men and women from the townships. Do you know what you’re doing?


Economically, political rhetoric has split South Africa into “two economies”; the First Economy includes the wealthy financial capitalists that interact on the global market, and the Second Economy incorporates the country’s struggling majority, which suffers from as high as 40% unemployment and perpetually impoverished conditions. Unfortunately, such a black and white approach to viewing – and trying to improve – the country has only deepened the divide between the rich and poor, between the traditionally white population and the once-lawfully-subjugated majority.

At times it is this very dichotomy, this bizarrely cruel separation between the “two South Africas” that has driven us to question our purpose (or our role) here. It is the stuff that keeps us up at night, talking in circles about the social and economic change that many parts of this country sorely need. Being able to appreciate – rather than solely lament the gaps between – both “sides” of society in this country has forced us to grapple with feelings of hypocrisy, guilt, and despondency. How can we see the heart-wrenching plight of the masses in the informal settlements, and then turn around in good conscience and walk into a swanky club on Long St. Friday night?

It has been a delicate and emotional venture, learning to find the appropriate mindset to balance the feelings of responsibility and excitement, while also keeping a level head regarding the realities of life in the developing world. We’ve had to find the ways to profess our dedication to social progress, while still inevitably reaping the advantages of our status as (comparatively) wealthy, white, Westerners. Coming to terms with these paradoxes without growing complacent or overwhelmed by their scope has taught all of us a lot about both this place and ourselves.


In the past three months, we have seen these distinct sides of South Africa, as well as all of the many shades between. We’ve seen more of this country than many people who’ve lived here a lifetime have seen. As relative outsiders, our vision has not been clouded by years of internalized Apartheid-era racism and classism, and we’ve been able to understand and appreciate the richness of the diverse nation and geographical paradise. Though we could undoubtedly stay another twenty years and still learn something new everyday, I feel we are poised to leave here in two weeks having acquired a very real, very genuine understanding of a magnificent country.

Our role as observers and sometime-actors in South African civil society has often invited curious inquiries about the nature of our visit and our impressions of the city. Capetonians – especially those we’ve met from the townships – are always eager to hear us compare their country to our own, and when we’ve responded emphatically that we find South Africa to be a wonderful place, many people seem genuinely surprised. Is it? They’ll ask incredulously, as if expecting us to get to the punch line. But after three months’ immersion into the culture, character, and geography of the Western Cape, I know that I can sincerely say—

Yes. It is.


Rhodes Memorial Sunrise