Friday, February 24, 2012

The Friendliest People in the World

A few posts ago I talked about the experiences I was having in regards to being a light skinned person in areas of predominantly classified colored and black people. That post focused on how uncomfortable it made me feel, but recently my experiences have been the exact opposite.

Before coming to South Africa a few of my friends pointed out to me on facebook that South Africa was rated as having some of the friendliest people in the world. Upon arrival here I quickly noticed that. Since we stand out as being Americans (EVERYONE can tell), people look out for us. A perfect example of this is a few weekends ago when a group of us decided to hike Table Mountain. We called cabs in the morning and when they got here one of the drivers was shocked to hear our plans. He claimed it wasn’t safe to do it alone (I guess a group of a 16 people is still considered alone…) and tried to have his dispatch coordinate a last minute guide for us. Though I appreciated his concern and offer, there was no way I was being led up the mountain by a guide and quickly told him we knew what we were doing. It took us saying that we had a South African with us, our friend MK, for him to drop his case. Regardless, it was cool to see a random man going out of his way to try and make sure we were all safe.

The past two Thursdays this genuine concern for others has become increasingly apparent while I have traveled to Khayelitsha, one of the largest townships in South Africa, where I have been working with a local soccer club (I’ll dive into that much deeper in future blog postings). Last week I traveled to Mandela Park, where the team practices, with Alex and Nellie. It was my second time going to the park but the first by bus. Therefore, while I knew where I needed to be, I wasn’t too familiar with the area and the bus route. The three of us started talking and trying to figure out where we needed to get off and suddenly numerous people sitting around us noticed and joined in. The woman sitting across from me found a lady sitting behind us who was familiar with the area and would help. The lady, a university student herself, was so happy to help us that she even got up to press the button to signal we wanted a stop. Without their help I honestly don’t know if we would have found the park, it was trickier than I expected. Yesterday, I traveled back to Mandela Park, this time on my own. Once again, as the bus drew closer to the park and I started trying to figure out my bearings, once again a middle-aged woman sitting near me noticed and asked where I was headed, and once again this woman found a younger passenger who knew the park to help me along the way. This time my help came from a sixth grader who was a member of the soccer team I work with. As with the university student, he insisted on going so far as to press the signal button for me and point me in the right direction as I got off the bus, even though the park was clearly visible.

The friendliness doesn’t stop there. As I walked around the township with my friend Bongi (who helps coach the team), people from across the field and from passing cars waved and said hello to me. More than once Bongi had to say “Dan, say something, they’re talking to you,” as if I’m supposed to know what “Hello white man” means in Xhosa! Bongi explained this to me: people love when a white person comes into the community and gives them and the situations in which they live attention.

Khayelitsha is a classified black township that faces extreme poverty and experiences a lot of crime. It’s funny though, while I’ve been there I feel as comfortable as I would anywhere else because I know I have a whole bunch of some of the world’s friendliest strangers looking out for me. 

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Influence of America

YMCMB. Ugly Americans. Illuminati. What do these three things have in common? They are all prominent aspects of the South African, or at least the Capetonian, culture that stem directly from the United States. Like many people around the world, including those in Guatemala where I lived this summer, South African’s are constantly looking at and being influenced by the United States. Unfortunately, the United States culture that they receive cannot even compare to the one I know. MTV, E!, and all those awful soap operas you had to watch when you were home sick as a kid are the major sources of television. American music, in particular hip hop and rap, is more popular than South African music, and you better believe American movies are watched here as well. To some extent, it is kind of cool. I can’t help but smile when my students start singing some song that’s on my ipod, and it’s nice to know that when the Hunger Games movie comes out all of us here who read the book don’t have to miss out on seeing the movie in theaters.

"Young Money, Cash Money, Bitches" 
The trouble comes when people don’t realize the separation between the dramatization of the media and the realization of normal life. For instance, as people have found out I’m in a long distance relationship they all hesitantly ask if I trust my girlfriend so far away. Granted, South Africa has an incredibly high divorce rate, at around 65%, but I suspected that it went deeper than that. As it turns out, Cheaters, is a very popular show here. Apparently all American’s cheat on their partners. In another example, upon arrival I started seeing “YMCMB” all over the place, mostly on clothing. At first I thought it was some sort of parody off of the YMCA, but after seeing it scribbled in one of my 8th graders notebooks I had to ask. “Young Money, Cash Money, Bitches” is what he responded with. Lil Wayne, I should have known. He is huge here, almost everyone I’ve asked says he’s their favorite rapper, and clearly he has a pretty big influence. To think that he is their American role model is pretty sad.

Relating to the media, the youth in South Africa are convinced that the likes of Oprah, Kanye West, and Lady Gaga are in a secret society called the Illuminati. It’s the same society that Dan Brown talks about in his books and its members are said to worship the devil. A couple weeks ago I engaged in a long conversation about it with a student during the lunch interval at school. His example of proof that it exists was when Lady Gaga wore the meat suit to the VMAs. I countered his argument saying that maybe she wore it to symbolize how women are objectified and seen as a “piece of meat.” The student stopped to think for a moment and all he could say was “that’s a really good theory.” That was the end of that conversation. Once again, it’s scary to think that this is the impression of the United States that they are receiving.
Ugly American gang graffiti, in my 10th grade classroom...

In the last and probably scariest of these American influences is the Ugly Americans. This is the name of one of the biggest and scariest gangs in Cape Town. Why they decided to name their gang this I have no idea but it certainly isn’t a positive reflection of the US. Where they are present is where we’re not supposed to go as students, but even more, where they’re present is where locals don’t even feel safe. Can you imagine not feeling safe in the area you live in?

Anyways, it has been an interesting experience over the past five weeks to see how the United States has crept into a culture so far away. I love engaging in conversations about the differences in the two cultures, and I take every opportunity I can to try and clear up some of the misconceptions people have about the US. With ten weeks left, I look forward to many more of these talks. I’m also going to continue to ponder how we act as Americans and how this influences the views of millions of people across the world. 

Monday, February 13, 2012

Breakin’ the Law, South African Style

Before a few months ago I knew nothing about dance and had never taken an interest in it. Then I started dating a dancer and was given a crash course in the dance culture. I started learning the lingo along with the different types of dance and gradually started gaining an appreciation for the sport. That appreciation has followed me to Cape Town, where this past weekend I spent at Joseph Stone Auditorium in the township of Athlone completely engrossed in the dance culture. I saw some of the coolest and most original pieces of art and athleticism during the nearly eight hours I spent inside the auditorium.

The first event was a fundraiser for Lindiwe Rose, the daughter of our internship coordinator, Vernon. She is an incredible dancer who has won some pretty renowned dance competitions, though she’d never tell you that. Adding to her resume, she was recently accepted to the Debbie Reynolds Dance Academy in Los Angeles and will be leaving in about a week. The show was to help raise money for her trip while also serving as a medium for dancers to say their goodbyes to her. Entitled “Out of the Box,” every dancer had to incorporate a box into their piece, which led to some pretty creative ideas. One dancer symbolically showed how dance helped him “break out of his box,” another transformed boxes that read “y live?” to say “I love you,” and still others used it as a “box of happiness.” I loved watching the stories unfold through the dance, something I hadn’t realized was so prevalent in dancing until that night. After the show, we befriended some of the dancers and they invited us back the next day to a break dancing competition.

So Saturday afternoon at 2:30 we were back at Joseph Stone for “Breakin’ the Law,” a two on two break dancing competition where the winner is flown to the United States to represent South Africa in an international competition. Not knowing what to expect going into the show, we were surprised when we realized the seating was on the stage. Silly us, you don’t watch a dance competition like this from the stands, you crowd in next to the dance floor, intermixed with spectators and competitors alike. The show was intense; at times I felt like I was in a movie. I saw some of the most incredible displays of athleticism I have ever seen on that dance floor. The dancers were in-your-face but pretty much always were good sports regardless of who won. The few people we met the previous night were excited we came back and it was nice actually knowing someone to route for. After over five hours the competition ended and it was finally time to go home and eat some dinner. Our friends didn’t win, but they invited us to hang out with them later that night in the city, where the dancing went on to the early morning hours.

With everything I’m seeing and experiencing here, life can get pretty emotionally taxing. I’ve realized the importance of getting out and having fun. The group who went to “Breakin’ the Law” signed up to be notified when more events happen at Joseph Stone. Hopefully we’ll be able to get back there and enjoy the amazing dance culture that exists in Cape Town. 

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

"Eat your food, there's starving kids in Africa."

"Hey Ma, what's for dinner!?" I couldn't tell you how many times I've asked my mom that. I've grown up coming home knowing that there would be food in the fridge and in the cabinets (even when I complain there is nothing after coming home from school!). I can expect my mom to cook on a regular basis, and if she's not cooking I can expect her to leave me materials to prepare food myself. I've always taken that for granted, even when I've been told I shouldn't be. One way of conveying this is the cliche saying that goes something along the lines of "Eat your food, there's starving kids in Africa." Really there are starving kids everywhere, and whether or not I eat my peas is not going to affect those kids' food consumption.

One of my favorite aspects of my school is it feeds the students every day with a warm and nutritious meal. Over this meal today I started talking to a student who is quickly earning a special place in my heart. I will go into more detail on him in a future blog post, for now all you need to know is he lives in an orphanage. Here is the gist of how my conversation with him went:

Me: "So at the orphanage, the feed you, right?"
Him: "Yes."
Me: "What do you eat for dinner?"
Him: "Bread and coffee."
Me: (afraid of the answer) "What do you eat for breakfast?"
Him: "Bread and coffee."

Bread and coffee. Can you imagine? Try going to school on that and trying to learn. Try doing any kind of athletic activity on that. Try and just stay awake for an entire day on that. And the thing is, this student isn't the only one in a situation like that. Another student is the skinniest person I have ever seen, legitimately skin and bones. Another student cannot manage to stay awake for the entire school day, and according to him it's not because he is tired. I'm sure this orphanage and the many other children's homes would love to feed their kids more, but such is life in the world that relies so heavily on outside aid. If there is no money, you do what you can to get by. This short glimpse at a much more involved conversation with this student has given me a much greater appreciation, not only for the work my school is doing but also the work the students are doing. It makes me appreciate being forced to eat those peas so many years ago; there really are a lot of starving kids in Africa who would do anything for them.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Black and White

For the second time in my life I am in a setting where I am the minority, the first being this past summer in Guatemala. For the first time in my life I have been in situations where I am the only light skinned person in a given situation, and for the first time I have been uncomfortable with the color of my skin. I am the only white person at my school, I am the only white person on the bus to and from work, and I am the only white person visible when traveling through the townships. I blatantly stick out, even when all I want to do is blend in. Such feelings are new to me but I know have been common place for years in oppressed individuals from the US, South Africa, and countless other countries.

These feelings came into play strongest yesterday when my director took the other UConn intern, Erica, and me on a tour through the township where he grew up. He lived in an apartment complex comparable to what we consider the projects in the US, in a tiny two bedroom apartment which housed up to ten people at any given time. It was one of the first complexes put up during the relocation of colored and black people (in South Africa you can be classified white, colored, or black) I spoke of in my entry on the District 6 museum and is comprised of almost completely of these individuals to this day.  Thus I was the only light skinned individual for what seemed like, and probably was, miles. People stopped what they were doing to gawk, people peered into the car window as we passed; people did not even try to hide the fact they were looking at me, clearly wondering what I was doing there. It all made me incredibly uncomfortable; all I wanted was to quietly make my way through the township, hearing its stories from a former residents.

This experience, as well as others like it, has been very humbling. Growing up in a community that is majority white and going to a university that is far less diverse than it claims to be has meant I am constantly surrounded by people similar to myself. It has also meant that when someone different, i.e. a person of color, enters the context they stand out just as I have here. I can now appreciate the emotions that these individuals must feel when this happens and understand the privilege I was automatically granted when I was born with white skin.