Home Again

I have been home a week and I am trying to decide if I am back to “normal” and before everyone comments that I was never normal I’ll just say that sometimes I feel like I never left Minnesota and my time in Africa was just a dream. I continue to have lots of dreams about Africa, but I had those before I went! Yesterday we hung up some of the items I brought home from Cape Town and the smell in the basket really brought me back – something sort of smokey in them smells like the market or the braii or just the humid air. There are something things I really miss about Africa: the slower pace, the almost skunky vegetation smell on a wet morning, the way people shake hands and hug when they greet each other.

On Thursday I had lunch with Aaron (who designed this class and gave me the opportunity to go in his place this year) and Jane (from Open Arms, who was in Guguletu for six months last year and is going again in September). After only a few minutes we were talking about our mutual friends there and it was if we picked up where a previous conversation left off. Both Aaron and Jane warned me that people would only listen for so long to my stories, and to be ready for that. After leaving them it really did dawn on me that I had gone to a very special place with real people and real concerns. I felt more than ever that I need to do something with what I have learned, although I am still quite uncertain what that will be.

I had my parents and sister’s family over for dinner last night and subjected them to a “slide show” of my pictures. Only 268 of them (I have over 700). They were all interested enough and asked some good questions but I can tell that I can’t fully explain everything and not everyone wants to know everything. As nice as they were about it, I was sort of let down after they left. Marc noticed right away my mood (something about going out to have a beer on the deck by myself might have been a clue) and he helped me to remember that we all have our own interests and understandings and nobody will “get it” quite like those who experienced it. Marc’s mom and sister come for dinner and slide show this evening…we’ll see if I handle that better.

We had a good conversation about “struggle.” Earlier in the week I had wondered aloud how many people struggle on a daily basis: to get food, to make ends meet, to get work, to get along with their family, to fight depression or illness, etc. etc. Marc heard on NPR a new study is out that said that one out of every six people in the world struggle with hunger. This after we “struggled” to find enough room in the refrigerator for the leftovers.

On the positive side, I was able to recreate the malva pudding we had in Cape Town (Emily Smith, remember this was the dessert that came with the warthog ribs!). It was really good but not quite as sweet as the one we had (and how this is possible when it has 2 cups of sugar in it, I’ll never know). Also, Sophia successfully explained how you say, “Molo weni” when greeting a group and only, “Molo” when saying hello to one person. I was proud of her.

People keep saying to me, “You must be so glad to be home!” and yes indeed I am. But I am also so glad I went. It was hard to be away from my family but it was an experience that I believe they have shared with me. Ingrid now says to me, “You can’t go away again unless you take me with you.” I ask her if she’s willing to get immunizations to go and she says “Yes if you’ll take me with you to Africa next time.” When I wished I had brought home four baskets Sophia told me she’d get me one “when I go to Africa.”

So when will we go to Africa? Soon I hope. When you get the chance, I hope you will go. As much as we Americans think Africa must be “so different” from here, it is and it isn’t. Yes they have giraffes and baboons and even penguins, and people say “molo weni” and that they’ll be there “just now” (which is in about 45 minutes). But they also drive Toyotas and eat chicken and go to church and waste time on Facebook and love their families and get frustrated with the weather. I’ve done all of that since returning.

Thank you for reading. This will be my last blog. I leave you with my favorite picture from the whole trip: laundry in the township.

The Last Week in South Africa

It is Friday, June 12 as I write this. I will be spending the day packing and maybe revisiting the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens this afternoon. It is another sunny, dry and unseasonably warm day here in winter in Cape Town. I hear it hasn’t been this nice in Minnesota’s summer. I leave tomorrow at 10:55 PM. As much as I am counting down the minutes to get home to my family, I am likely to be very sad to leave this beautiful place. I’ve shed a lot of tears here but I have also had lots of laughs and smiles.

I was asking Emily Smith the other day what her highlight was and she kept adding on to the list. Neither one of us could come up with just one thing that will speak to our Cape Town experience.

This last week we have spent time in the classroom (lest you forget this was a “job” I came to do!) and I continue to be impressed with how much these 20-something year olds can take in and process and make meaning of. I don’t think their thoughts are fully formed yet (I know mine aren’t) but I do believe they are inspired. People told us that this trip would “change your life” and we’ve debated that a bit. Are we changed? Can we tell yet? Or did Cape Town just awaken some things in us that were already there: compassion, leadership, adventure? Time will tell.

I leave you with pictures of our last week. We shopped and bargained in Greenmarket Square, toured Robben Island (former prison that held many political prisoners, including Nelson Mandela), went up Table Mountain and watched a beautiful sunset, walked the beach and waded in the ice cold Atlantic. As I write three of them have gone shark diving!

We also revisited Guguletu and took some pictures of the progress being made on the renovations at Priscilla’s house. That might have been the most beautiful thing of all!

I’ll probably post one more blog when I get home. Thank you for reading. Thank you for taking care of my family while I was here. Thank you for taking interest in this wonderful place. I hope maybe it has sparked something in you as it has in me.

The photos are of our day at Muizenberg beach - lots of snails making trails in the morning. Sunset on top of Table Mountain, Cape Town at dusk from the top of the mountain, the "table cloth" over the mountain, all of us on top of the mountain, and the mountain pictured from Robben Island.

I am posting these from home - yes, I made it home safely. Final thoughts coming after I have a chance to even have final thoughts!

The state of healthcare

I promised discussion of health care system in Guguletu and have been slow to get to writing this. It has been almost a full week since we left Guguletu and I think I hesitate on this one the most because it is hardest for me to understand. I am frustrated enough with the status of healthcare in the U.S. so discussing this is going to be really tough.
The biggest issue is of course AIDS. No question. South Africa has an extremely high infection rate, and it is hard to not blame this on lack of education, lack of government response, and even some cultural factors. I can’t say that the U.S. has always been much better than this, to be fair. However, I can’t help but continue to think that HIV/AIDS is the sly continuation of apartheid here, because it invades the townships but not the white community. The prevalence of AIDS can be linked directly to the lack of education, and the lack of decent education can be blamed on economic disparities that were part of the design of apartheid. As Aaron has described it in the past, where the face of the AIDS victim in the USA is of a white, gay man, in South Africa the face of AIDS is that of a black heterosexual woman.

That said, and sorry if I offend, now I can move on to what is positive. On our first full day in the townships we mend Mandla Majola who is the local director of the Treatment Action Campaign (TAC). Mandla was dubbed “the best grassroots organizer in all of South Africa.” (In fact then-senator Barak Obama came to meet him to learn some of his organizing skills when he started his run for president.) Mandla is pictured here on the right. On the left is Xolani (mentioned below).

TAC can be thanked for the new prevalence of the distribution of antiretroviral drugs (ARVs) to keep people alive. They work very well in helping fight off the kind of “infections of opportunity” that may kill someone who is HIV positive, as long as the ARVs are taken by someone who gets proper nutrition. There is a government health plan that gives a discount for “healthy foods” purchased at the grocery store (hello, USA, we should do this too!). TAC also has helped spread the word about the importance of using condoms (they distribute them for free – in fact there are boxes of free, government-issued condoms in almost every restroom on the UCT campus and even in bars and restaurants). They’ve also been working on supporting people who are HIV positive to know that they can live with the disease if they fight it properly. TAC also works on stigma in the communities. They’ve also been instrumental in fighting the government in court when the issue called for it, particularly on educating pregnant women who are HIV positive on the simple way they can insure the baby will not be HIV positive if they take the proper precautions.

Mandla himself was a very personally interesting story to me… he told us his inspiration to fight came from losing too many friends and family members to HIV. He said he is HIV positive himself and admits he suffers from depression. I asked him how he keeps from succumbing to it, and he said, frankly, “I love sports. I follow rugby, soccer, cricket, tennis, you name it.” (This country is sport crazy, I tell you, and it’s fun to watch rugby and cricket regularly. If only I understood what I am watching.)

We also visited a TB clinic, and another health clinic in Guguletu. The facilities are pretty good considering how many people they serve, but the waiting can be very, very long. There is no such thing as an appointment (and certainly nothing like a Minute Clinic). Clinics are government supported but find that they run out of government-issued drugs often before the next supply arrives. We brought some basics with us: bandages, topical ointments, Tylenol and ibuprofen. They were very appreciated. And when we left we scrubbed down with Purell.

JL Zwane supports a theatrical performance group called Siyaya, which does dramatic presentations in clinic waiting rooms illustrating the importance of getting tested for HIV, using condoms, being faithful. The performance was sometimes racy, sometimes funny, and sometimes scary (and not always in English, but we could follow it). They sang as well. It was very successful at least at entertaining those waiting to be called in to see the nurse or doctor. Siyaya performers pictured first, then the waiting room at the clinic.

To illustrate the story of AIDS in the township let me introduce you to Lydia and Neo. Lydia is HIV positive and has been very sick. With the help of ARVs she is strong again and is able to take care of her son Neo, who is 6 and is also HIV positive. Lydia has no family other than her son. She lives in a shack out back of some distance relative, and it’s a difficult situation because these relations will not let her in the house and bleach everything she touches. Neo is also very sick and has other complications that require surgery, but he can’t have the surgery until he gets stronger. Edwin and JL Zwane have helped Lydia by building her a nicer shack, and Jane Letourneau at Open Arms helped by getting Lydia some much-needed glasses (she’s losing her site as a complication to the ARVs, I think). We had the honor of going with Lydia when she got her glasses. It was heart-warming to see how such a basic gift made a huge difference in her life. Jane, you would have loved it.


I heard today that the H1N1 virus is on the verge of being declared a global pandemic. Again, sorry if I offend, but if it is a pandemic we sure have a lot to learn about how to treat a pandemic. AIDS is almost completely preventable but still it is allowed to rage on. This makes me angry.
Let me say some things about the township so that my friends don’t completely think it is a cesspool. There are marvelous people there. Edwin, Spiwo, Johanna all are amazing people. Xolani (koh-LAH-nee) our driver in the township is another example of grace and kindness under difficult circumstances: he took in his brother’s kids after the brother died, and he has a son of his own and they all live in a shack that flooded while we were there (and he never complained). Our Mamas and their friends have tremendous heart and spirit and every one of them is involved in the church or the community center in several ways, and this is in addition to raising their children (and grandchildren) and having jobs. I will remind myself of this every time I think I am “too busy” to help when my community is in need (sorry Marc, this means more volunteering is in my future).


And I want to say something preachy before I finish (and then I’ll return to blogs about the beauty of Cape Town): never underestimate your ability to help people, no matter how large the problem may seem. Recycle you clothes by donating them. Pull a few jars of peanut butter out of the pantry when the food drive happens. Read with the kids at school and show them that they can succeed and that there are other adults they can trust. Welcome people into your home, church or community. Let kids know they have value by coaching, teaching, greeting them by name when you see them. These are all very small things. I saw the incredible power of small things when in Guguletu. The impact of a pack of McDonald’s toys on kids who have few toys. The excitement over new socks. The gratefulness for a package of rice and some fish sticks. The smile that comes from being shown your picture in someone’s digital camera screen. It is my hope to be grateful every day for the small kindnesses I have been shown by the people of Guguletu. I thought I was bringing them so many small things, but they gave me so much more.

"Education is the key" - Edwin

First some clarity on previous posts: I did NOT lead singing in church!! I co-lead at one of our homestay dinners. Goodness, it makes my stomach flip just to THINK about leading singing at church! Also, I wrote that my homestay Mama’s name was Thoka when it is really Thoko. I kept doing that while was there too…

Also, many of you know it was my birthday on June 6. We spent the day at two vineyards and I really enjoyed the day (and not just because of the wine, thank you). Later the students bought me dinner and gave me a gift (wine, of course). I bought some bubble bath and spent the rest of the evening relaxing in the tub with a glass of the gift wine and a good book. As I mentioned to a few, the luxury was wonderful after the township days, and I felt a bit guilty for the luxury. (But not so guilty as to not want to do this again later this week.)

Okay, on to our next topic from the township: education. There are three types of schools in South Africa: public, community and private. Public schools are free, supported by the government, and in the township, often substandard. In Guguletu there is also a community school we visited which is like a government school but it also gets community support in terms of funding or services (like teachers). The one we visited is called Stormount (classroom pictured - look at the ceiling), and it is built out of several shipping containers put together, intending to alleviate some of the crowding at the public schools, and to build something closer to home. I delivered school supplies here (thanks to Ingrid & Sophia’s garage sale profits, a portion of which they decided to donate here, good going, girls! First picture at left). This is also where we brought the soccer ball I mentioned in the previous blog.

The last is private schools which really range in price and in rigor. The young woman I stayed with went to high school in Sea Point, which is a good distance away. I am not sure how she got there each day. She said she had a very diverse class in terms of race and economics, but that they blended very well. Sea Point is a mostly white community on the Cape Penninsula, so I imagine this is one of the better schools a township kid could go to. Edwin’s kids also go to a nearby (but not in the township) private school. He said their fees range depending on age from 500 rand to R900 per month. ($62-112 a month). This is a lot of money for a family to afford. To give you an idea, if a family is on “state grant” (welfare) they only get R900 a month, and Edwin said that would likely feed a family for about two weeks.

In all cases kids wear uniforms to school which are rather elaborate…they have sweaters, collared shirts, pants or skirts, and in upper grades track jackets and pants, and they require black shoes. Uniforms can be both a blessing and a curse: they are a great equalizer, but they can be expensive – about R200 ($25) for the whole getup for an elementary aged kid. High school girls in uniform in this pic.

A couple afternoons we spent time at the Rainbow after school program at JL Zwane. This program provides a hot lunch/snack and homework help for two hours after school for kids who would normally go home to no food and nobody who can help them with their homework (and sometimes home to nobody at all). The highlight for me was when I spent time with 7 year olds who were in the library practicing their reading. I do this often at Oakwood where my kids go to school and really enjoy it there. Of course I couldn’t read with all of them because they read in Xhosa, but some were reading in English and I helped with that. The book they had was one of those preschool picture books and they were learning the English words for apple, book, table, etc. They were SO proud when they knew the words! One little girl sitting next to me liked to stroke my hair and she told me it was “slippery” (it was a bit greasy, I’d have to say) but she just kept doing it and it was so like snuggling with my own kids that I almost didn’t let her go. She gave me a big hug when she left and I teared up. Wow what big smile. She is the one on the right in this picture.

University education is even more expensive: about R10,000 a year ($1250) at the cheapest, I was told.

And it was over school uniforms that I hit my biggest wall of the week. On Thursday evening, we went to visit Priscilla to tell her about the money U of M students raised to help renovate her bedrooms. This should have been a wonderful moment, but just before getting out of the van to go in there I hesitated. I didn’t want to see all these kids huddled around the heater once again. I didn’t want to see their runny noses. But I went in anyway because this was going to be a happy visit. But in an earlier conversation with Edwin and Rev. Spiwo Xapile (say kah-PEE-lay) at JL Zwane they expressed concern for Priscilla’s children and how they might be doing in school, considering that their at-home help from her may not be enough. So I asked Priscilla and some of the older kids how they were doing in school. Priscilla said, “some need uniforms” and had a younger one go get his school sweater to show me. It had big holes in it. I just nodded and then excused myself from the house. (Johanna then took down sizes and made notes on what was needed, so maybe she can get them help.)

Edwin sensed my frustration and asked me to take a drive with him to go get supplies for our next day’s service project. When he asked me my thoughts I choked out, “It shouldn’t be hard to go to school. School is hard enough on its own.” And then it dawned on me. School for some kids isn’t only hard because of trying to get along with your peers, or learning how to read, or struggling with math. It’s hard because they may do this on an empty stomach, after sleeping in a cold shack, maybe sleeping on the floor, with nobody to read with them at home, and worries about what might happen to them as they walk alone to school. And so Edwin told me that uniforms are about $25 and I got really mad – I have $25, I have way more than $25, how much do you need? And then the wall: how much do they need? How much longer will they keep on needing money for uniforms? How many kids will get lost in the shuffle until the time comes when they no longer need help buying uniforms? And I just kept on crying and crying until we got to the hardware store.

And then the hardware store really bugged me. It’s basically a store counter and you ask for what you want and they go get it off the shelf. No brand comparison, no big orange cart and people in orange aprons to help you figure out what grade of sandpaper you need. You need sandpaper, how rough? A or B. Those are your choices. Never in my life have I wanted to go to Home Depot, but here I was, screaming in my head, “Where the hell is Home Depot!” (Looking back on it I can laugh out loud at this thought!)

Please know that I got past this wall. I went on to the last night of homestay dinner and danced a bit with the Mamas and the students (although I hear I don’t quite have the moves of Aaron and I think we’re due for a dance-off when I get back, Asmundson!). I am fearful for the Facebook pictures that may get me fired or at least humiliated, but, whatever!

Conversation today (Monday, June 8) in class with the students really helped me with this wall. They have great observations of where there are hopeful signs (even Smartboards in one of the schools some of them visited!) and they clearly saw where leadership was being demonstrated. I also see the spark in their eyes and know that they are inspired to use their gifts as leaders to make a difference in the world, whether it is here in Guguletu or elsewhere in the world. I’ll keep you posted on their plans.