Post 6
03/09/07
We have not gotten a post out in a couple of weeks because lots of “stuff” has been happening on the weekends and the weeks are busy with school so “nothing we remember” happened. Last weekend we drove to the Karoo, which a desert valley surrounded by mountains. It is quite a beautiful place and we will talk more about that later. The weekend before we had Xhosa food and went to shabeen in a township at the invitation of two of the locals on Saturday and got up early Sunday and went out on a boat to some islands across the bay that have penguins and sea birds. We were to do some snorkeling but the weather was windy and the sea choppy so we did not do much of that. I will put some pictures of that experience on the blog. My task for this morning is to grade their first short paper for class since they have another one due next Thursday. The other task is to take Michael to the doctor because he has been feeling crummy for a couple of days and has now started to break out in a rash so to the doctor we go this morning. Later: He has chicken pox. BD
We will play tag team on this message. I will start with the on the township activity. Noxolo Mqayi (Noxi) who is the assistant to the Dean of Arts and herself working on a Masters in Social Work invited us out to her flat in New Brighton for dinner and an evening at a shabeen in Motherwell. Both of these locations are in the black townships. Her flat is in a complex called the Railroad Flats which are fairly long buildings, four stories high and about 6 buildings make up the complex. It stands out in a sea of one story houses and shacks. Originally they supported some rail yard activities as workers’ accommodations. There was a fence around it, as there are fences around most houses and flats. The flat had a balcony from which you could see the Indian Ocean and some views of less affluent neighbors. She shares this flat with another black woman who also works at the University.
We thought we were going to see how some native dishes were made but, in fact, she had already prepared the dishes. One was corn and beans making a sort of porridge and very nicely flavored and the other was tripe. Most of our students gave it a try, though they were in accord that having once tried it they didn’t have to repeat the experience. In the late afternoon the kombis (think of 15 person van’s that in the worst of times can hold up to 28…which is of course illegal…the potential capacity has undoubtedly the stuff of urban legends). At any rate the trip to Motherwell took us to a section of the township that was distinctly middle class. Shabeens used to be unlicensed pubs in a person’s home. Now shabeens are licensed but still appear in residential neighborhoods. Let me let you see what I “saw” on arrival. I saw many black men socializing looking up at these bus loads of white youngsters. Honestly, I panicked. We got off and I went to several small groups of our students and said the most outrageous threat I can ever remember making. “If you leave these premises I will kill you!” People greeted us with handshakes and embraces. We made our way into the shabeens where the music was so loud with a live DJ and the accents were thick that conversation was nearly impossible. I became more relaxed after I got to a back beer garden like area and could talk to people.. The young women received a lot of attention … some of which not altogether appreciated but manageable. Bruce had a long conversation with a man who took him by the hand and wanted to show him his nearby house. It was a grand visit for him (by the way, I did warn my husband as I did the students). Most of the people were just glad that we showed up and that we came out to see how they lived which was not much different from middle class folks elsewhere. Topics of discussion ranged from politics, education and the high unemployment rate in SA. A young man approached me calling me “grandma”…”mama” and “gramma” are signs of respect…He was a vibrant, smiling lad who said, “Gramma, I want to trade ages with you.” My first thought was great! So I gave him a hug and put my hand on his heart and said, “I can’t trade ages but you give me energy and I will help you find wisdom.” Then I hugged again. There were tears in both our eyes.
The timing of the kombis is always subject to “African Time” which says things like
“6 o’clock for 6:30” which means that they might be there at 6:30. Well the kombi to take us home which was to arrive at 11:00 came at a little after midnight by which time I was more than tired! The students’ account of each of their experiences was very powerful!
I will carry on about the Karoo in the next correspondence. ND
