Final post!

Comfortable flight on a Delta B777-200, actually slept for 4 hours or so, total flying time from Jo-burg to Atlanta about 17 hours. Watched two movies I have been wanting to see: Precious and Blindside. Mostly now just watching the flight map and marveling at our path. We are now just off the Atlantic continental slope approaching Georgia from the southeast. Altitude 36,999 ft. with a ground speed of 454 MPH and a head wind of 100 MPH (which is why this westbound flight is taking longer than the eastbound flight). Time to destination is 1 hour and 38 minutes and it is now 5:16 A.M. Have already set my watch back. Time now in Cape Town is 12:16 P.M. and the volunteers are probably almost ready to head back to CCS. Mrs. A’s morning story-telling during the assembly (acted out by her pupils) in the school’s inner courtyard is long over and I will write and tell her that I was thinking of her during that time. We have traveled 7535 miles so far and the best part is that North America is on the screen, with the Appalachian Mountains printed in bright bold red letters trending in a northeasterly direction. I wonder how many thru-hikers are already making their way north from Springer…Breakfast is coming…

Now we are over the continental shelf, even closer to the USA. Should be making landfall soon, between Savannah and Charleston. I am excited to be coming home and know I will need to do a fair amount of catching up on events I missed, both local and national. I dearly hope that some decent sort of health care bill will be passed soon. Glad to be coming home to a land where the president has only one wife instead of three or four or five and two children instead of twenty. Sure hope Obama stays as squeaky clean as he is – we need that kind of leadership. And I am happy to come home to a land where crime is way more under control. Many of us don’t realize how lucky we are to live in the USA!

Truth is I never felt as if I was that far away (one third of the way around the world) because South Africa, and especially its cities, is indeed not a third world country. There are shopping centers, big store chains (Woolworth’s -no relation to our old five and dimes- Ackerman’s, Betterman’s), huge grocery chains (Pick’N Pay is everywhere), world class restaurants, fast-food chains – some of them unique to that part of the world, as well as the American imports. Probably won’t have reverse culture shock this time around. Tanzania and its pot-holed red dirt roads and roadside dukas felt so much farther from my world – even though, geographically, it was probably closer.

I had a wonderful time since I’ve been gone since mid-January with several groups of wonderful people, first the OAT group with whom Renee and I traveled and then the CCS groups, both mine and the one which came recently. And I enjoyed meeting and working with the CCS staff – office, security, drivers and kitchen and house staff. Each of them enriched my experience. The professionals at Blossom Street Primary School were most gracious, as were all the South Africans I met – those who befriended me when I needed a ride or directions – and those who helped me explore, like Clem and Dot on Table Mountain and also Ian and Mark, the OAT tour directors, and many others.

Woody will be enroute from Manchester, NH to Baltimore, MD this morning to pick up our car and then come for me at the Richmond airport by noon or 1 P.M. Hazel has been the subject of his attention this winter. Let’s see if maybe the two of us can stay home together at Wintergreen for awhile!

Yes! The map now shows we are flying over the USA!

The last days...

The plan for the weekend was to go walking with baboons and kayaking with penguins.
Immediately after getting back from school on Friday I walked to the Metro train (we are supposed to take the MetroPlus cars) and headed for Fish Hoek where I was met by a taxi and taken to Sun Valley, headquarters of Baboon Matters. Jenni Trethowan is the Jane Goodall of Baboon Matters, a group which seeks to protect the several troops of the Cape Peninsula from baboon/human conflict. Baboons have lived near humans in Africa forever, but as human populations increase and as baboon habitat disappears, these two primates come into conflict. And we all know who ultimately suffers when any animal comes into conflict with humans. Baboons are very adaptable beings – opportunists who will eat almost anything they can find. (Does any of this sound familiar, Wintergreen folks?) African natives used to chase baboons away from their crops with rocks – now they are chased from communities with guns. Indeed, baboons can be very destructive. What Jenni has set up since 1990 is a system where the several troops on the Cape Peninsula are monitored daily by hired and trained men from the township areas, and when they try to leave the bush and enter human communities, they are chased back.

Troops are composed of up to 30-40 individuals, with a dominant male, older and younger males, numerous females and babies of various ages. We were taken to an area of Table Mountain National Park where George’s troop lives. We first spotted them halfway up the ridge on some rocks. As we hiked closer we saw individuals digging for roots, eating grasses, geranium leaves and some protea flowers. The dominant male and other males were off by themselves and the moms and aunties were grooming each other on the rocks. The young baboons (some as young as 4 weeks, our guide said) were scampering about,jumping on and off the rocks and playing tag with each other. One of the very young ones was being held and groomed – and then we observed a fracas when the auntie which was holding him wouldn’t give him back to his momma. There was bareing of teeth, screaming, and pushing – and then the momma and her baby headed for another rock. The mommas call their babies with a distinctive grunt. We saw some males being groomed by females, too. Apparently the females groom each other, but the males are only groomed by females. Fascinating, but the experience ended all too soon because the French folks we were with decided they had seen enough. I wouldn’t have seen enough if I had stayed four hours instead of two.

That night I stayed at a place called Top Sail House in Simond’s Town, a former convent. The place is casually run by a couple who had gone off to their club, but were reached by phone to come back and check me in. Tiny rooms, as you can imagine, but very cheap.

The next morning I was supposed to go kayaking – but again the wind was up and the waters in False Bay were too rough (they call the breakers white horses here). Even the excursion boat that just goes around Simon’s Town harbor was out of commission. So I walked to the penguin beach instead – not where the boardwalks are but where you can actually swim among the penguins. Except the penguins weren’t swimming – they were hunkered down in rock crevices, combating the wind. There were some up on the rocks, though, and of course I climbed as close as I could safely and respectfully get. And just sat there among them. Then I went swimming – the water was so cold, I could only stay in for five minutes without getting numb. And they say False Bay is warmer than the beaches on the Atlantic side of the peninsula!

Have I mentioned the Great White Sharks incidents? Several in the last year – some which just took human body parts and others which took whole humans. So the surfers have shark watchers up on the hill who signal an alert when they spot a shark, and the swimmers don’t go too far out – and don’t swim alone – and the divers hope that the sharks will go after the swimmers and surfers first. Many say these incidents which happening increasingly often, are due to the popularity of shark cage diving. That experience puts the daring/dumb human in a cage lowered into the water surrounded by chum to attract the sharks who, of course can’t get at the individual in the cage but gives him an up close and personal experience. Some think that this relatively new practice encourages the human/food association in the shark’s brain, resulting in more recent shark attacks.

The baboons and the penguins made for a very pleasant last two days in South Africa – except for the crowds on the Metro on the way home. Shades of the NYC subway at its worst! I literally had to be pulled and pushed off the train (by a very helpful elderly lady) against the tide of the individuals getting on when I reached my stop at Rosebank. The crowds were due to a South African Navy festival of ships in both Cape Town and Simond’s Town – there’s always something on here in what they call the “Mother City” of South Africa.

I write this at the Jo-berg airport, during my very long layover. Almost time to board…

Goodbye to Blossom Street Primary School

Life is full of beginnings and endings. My last day at Blossom Primary also happened to be Mr. David’s birthday, which was celebrated by a wonderful hot Cape Malay meal prepared by one of the Muslim teachers – tablecloth, napkins, etc. in the staff room. They also took the opportunity to present me with the honorary “keys to the kingdom” – a Blossom Street neck key ring, which I promised I would wear proudly whenever I visit or help out at schools in the U.S. Mrs. Abrahams made some kind remarks in front of her colleagues about how I had found a way into her heart and the children’s, too, and helped them so much with their literacy during the short time I was there. She said heartfelt things in front of her classes as well and the children presented me with cards they had been (secretly) working on. I gave them all copies of pictures I had taken around the school, and left a very nice book for the class on South African animals which we had been using – lovely pictures and information in English, Afrikaans, isiXhosa and Zulu. Mr. Davids made yet a special trip into Mrs. A’s room while I was reading them one last isiXhosa and Zulu folk tale, to say good-bye in front of the children. He wanted to know why I wasn’t crying (apparently that’s what the young volunteers do when they leave) and I said it was because I am old and have already said good-bye many times in my life. Now I have a large bag of items to deliver to Mrs. A’s daughter and grandsons in New York when I get there at the end of March and I am wondering how I am going to fit it all in my luggage. I will definitely keep in touch with this staff over time, as I have with folks in the place which captured my heart first – Mwereni School in Rau, Tanzania.

Speaking of other schools, I made a quick visit on Thursday morning to a school in Langa, a black township. I had been asking Tahira, the CCS placement manager, to arrange a visit for me to another school in a totally different environment. Well, this was different! The children at Thembani School are instructed totally in isiXhosa. South African law says that a person must be educated – or tried in court for that matter – in his/her mother tongue, if he/she so desires. And, remember, there are 11 official languages. The children get just a smattering of English in the early years, and formal language instruction starts in Grade 4. Tahira’s contact, Teacher Norma took me to visit every classroom in the large school and it was only the 7th graders who could speak well enough to carry on an English conversation. The literacy of the younger learners in their native tongue seemed to be decent; it is another approach. Immersion in English for isiXhosa children at Blossom Street works for some but many seem to struggle. And they are unable to read or write in their native tongue, even though they communicate with each other in it. Thembani School had larger class sizes than Blossom but seemed also well run and Tahira does plan on establishing a volunteer partnership there.

What amazed me about Thembani school is that they had so many more services than Blossom: an art teacher, a music teacher, a physical education person (three times a week), money to pay local parents to maintain the grounds, cook for the children and perform other services. (Children at Blossom do not get a hot meal. ) And no school fees are paid by the parents at Thembani School, whereas parents at Blossom must pay (if they can). And Thembani can hire substitute teachers. So, by many measures, Thembani was better equipped – and making good use of their resources, thankfully. When I returned to Blossom Street Primary that day, Mr. David’s take on my impressions was, “Well now, you have seen for yourself, and that has made the visit worthwhile.” The situation is that the coloured (remember that word is pc here)population (and in Cape Town it is 50%) feels that the black population is getting all the “goodies” from the government: special services, housing assistance, job preferences, etc. In fact, there is a government policy of affirmative action, but only to level the playing field post-apartheid. Whereas before, whites got preferential treatment and coloureds didn’t have it as bad as blacks; now blacks get preferential treatment and coloureds feel as if they are being overlooked. What hurts is that coloureds, too, took active part in the liberation struggle which resulted in the overthrow of apartheid – and they don’t feel as if they are being justly compensated. So many underlying issues to understand when you get a little immersed in a culture…..

Luann (CCS country director) and Tahira couldn’t provide me with the means to visit any really awful township schools, but they certainly do exist. There are primary schools where pupils languish without teachers, day after day, I am told. So sad. You ask, why aren’t we placed in such situations where the need is probably greater? Well, CCS has an obligation to make certain that we volunteers have a safe as well as fruitful experience overseas, and so they put a great deal of time and effort into making the right match between volunteers and placements. And I do believe that we make a difference at whatever level of society we are placed – even if it is not in a squatter camp. Perhaps our efforts reap more of a harvest where, in fact, the conditions are not so squalid that we can make a difference – places where being upwardly mobile, not just survival is the driving force. Does that make sense?

Other placements for CCS volunteers include several other primary schools and a secondary school in Athlone; preschools such as Silvertown Educare in Athlone run by Child Welfare Society; Sibongile in Khayelitsha and Eros School in Athlone for children with cerebral palsy; various organizations that provide refuge for women and children suffering from domestic abuse: Safeline, Carehaven in Athlone; refuge support at Scalabrini; Etafeni in Nyanga – a multi-purpose center for children affected by HIV/AIDS and their caregivers; Sarah Fox convalescent hospital for children in Athlone for children who, for social reasons, cannot return home; Home from Home in Khayelitsha – residential care for HIV and abandoned or neglected children; Fikelela in Khayelitsha – residential care for HIV positive babies and young children who are abandoned or need temporary care; Nomzamo in Langa – place of safety for abandoned children (often HIV affected babies and children) awaiting placement and falling under the supervision of the state; Groote Schuur Hospital – misc. duties.

So there was much for us all to do!

[The last picture is of my CCS group (and Tahira and Wonga, one of our drivers) and the one before that is of a class at Thembani School.]

Blossom Street Primary School

I will very much miss Mrs. Abrahams and the two groups of children with whom I have been working for the past five weeks. We have covered a great deal of ground together – working on phonics and sight vocabulary, listening to and reading African folk tales and fables and dramatizing some of these stories, plotting the tribes from which these tales came on a map, learning about animal groups, animal habitats and characteristics and more. Mrs. Abrahams has taken to asking my advice on school issues, with which she is very much involved, as probably the most senior teacher there.

Many of the children have hard-to-pronounce names. Xhosa names and their meanings: Siphosetu (our gift), Masithembe (we are hopeful), Sinovuyo (we are joyful), Vuyelwa (we are happy for you), Lulama (humble), Lindiwe (waiting). Zulu names and their meanings: Nonhlanla (luck), Busisiwe and Busiswa (to be blessed), Sibongile (we are grateful). Believe me, I am grateful for the names like Tracey, Amber, Danielle, Abigail, Melissa, Prudence, and Leo that aren’t such a mouthful!

The other morning we actually arrived at school at 8:15 A.M. (instead of the usual 9:00 A.M.) because, with the new group at home base, we actually are using three vans and more people are heading to the closer-in townships like Athone and Langa, making the overall ride shorter. Our van no longer heads downtown first. So we arrived in time to see a morning assembly at Blossom (picture the children standing at attention in the central courtyard) at which the newly chosen prefects (7th grade monitors) were solemnly installed by the principal, complete with a lecture on leadership and responsibility.

I’ve been staying the whole day at Blossom Street Primary several times during the past two weeks. Spent some time in the computer room with each fifth grade class recently – their computer room was set up about two years ago and they have about 25 computers with Windows XP! The children go in for a double period and basically work (in twos) at their own level on reading and math games. They also seem to be much more adept than those new computer-learners I worked with in Tanzania.

When a teacher is absent at Blossom Street, there are no funds for substitutes. The children are usually divided up among the other classes and basically, they sit and do not much of anything all day. Last Friday Mrs. Abrahams had to go out of town to attend a funeral, so she asked me to spend the day with her class. No problem – except when Friday came, I had to sit in for another teacher first who was driving the principal to the airport. His sixth graders were supposed to be working on place value, but needed lots of help. Finally got back to 5A after tea break (10:30 – 11:00 A.M.).

This Friday will be my last day. On Fridays the children (and teachers) are dismissed at 12:30 P.M. That’s the day they are allowed to dress in regular clothes (no uniform) but only if they bring a fee (of about 5 Rand – which is less than one dollar). This, too, is used as a fund raiser by the school.

In the Cape Times the other day there were sad statistics pertaining to education. Apparently, in a test given to sixth graders in public schools in the Cape Town area last year, 14% of the “learners” (which is what the pupils are called in schools here) are on level in numeracy and 42% are on level in literacy. Now, if that’s an average and there are some higher-performing schools like Blossom Street, one can just imagine the levels at some of the worst schools in the townships.

Athlone, where Blossom Street Primary is located, used to be a coloured township. Afrikaans was the language of instruction there up until maybe 2000, according to Mrs. Abrahams. Now the children are taught in English, and Afrikaans is taught as a language. Afrikaans, although seen by most as the “language of the oppressor” is also the mother tongue to most of the coloured population, and they number about half of the 3 million people in Cape Town. So that is a thorny disconnect. The new South Africa has laws which say a child has a right to be educated in his/her mother tongue, so many of the township children are educated in isiXhosa, learning English as a subject in school. Many of the isiXhosa children attending Blossom Street don’t even live in Athlone – they are transported there because their parents want them to be educated in English. And Blossom Street is not overcrowded by SA standards – about 35 to a class.

And the “transport”? It is those stitched-together old VW minibuses like they have in Tanzania. There they are called dala dalas – here they are called taxis. The routes are highly competitive and there have been shoot-outs over “ownership” of routes. They drive down the street “hooting” (we call it honking) especially during rush hour to alert potential passengers to their availability. And they are everywhere – in all areas of the city. One of the reasons the government hasn’t spent on public transportation – buses and trains – is because of the availability of these vehicles, and the lobby power of the people who control this trade. Parents book this mode of transportation for their children, probably because they don’t have other options, and pick-up at school dismissal time is so hectic that I wonder that children aren’t run over every day. We volunteers at CCS are highly cautioned against using such transportation. As a matter of fact, we have lots of safety dos and don’ts here at CCS. And a curfew on weekdays and weekends.

Much of the Blossom Street neighborhood of Athlone looks like a working class area. But, come nighttime, the drug warlords and gangs take over. Tik (crystal meth) is apparently a problem here and the ruling gangs are called the Americans and the Playboys. So things are tough.
Not sure I’ve made as much of a contribution to Blossom Street Primary as I did in Tanzania at Mwereni – but I sure have enjoyed my time here. And learned lots!

[The photos show Mrs. Abrahams and me, my literacy groups, Mrs. Lawrence (the teacher of 5B), Tracey of 5B in the computer room, a newly installed prefect, and Mrs. A supervising the safety patrol at dismissal time.]

This past weekend...

So this past weekend I hiked again with Clem on Table Mountain, this time up Skeleton Gorge and down Nursery Ravine – both accessed from Kirstenbosch Gardens. The Skeleton Gorge trail is steep, and there is a series of ladders in place in the steepest parts, and then later some fun hand-over-hand climbing through a boulder-strewn section of the gorge. It took us about 3 hours to ascend probably about 2500 ft. Great views from the top and then we descended down Nursery Ravine among blooming proteas – mostly on rock steps. No unexpected challenges this time like last week’s tunnel. Despite the temps in the 90s, we ascended and descended mostly in the shade. In by 7:30 A.M. and back home by 2 P.M.

Returned to Kirstenbosch in the evening for a concert by the Soweto Gospel Choir – wonderful! Every time I get discouraged about South Africa, I witness some wonderful examples of the rainbow mixing and this was one such time. Lots of folks of all stripes picnicking on the lawn and then bopping to the music. I found a seat on a bench with an English couple. Turns out they moved to SA when they retired, far away from their grown children. They don’t have grandchildren yet, though. They very nicely offered to drive me home.

This Sunday I planned on church. My first Sunday here I got up early in the morning and popped into two local churches – Catholic and Anglican. The Sunday after that I worshipped at St George’s Cathedral, Desmond Tutu’s church. A breathtaking place, and there were several baptisms happening that day. So this week I thought I would find a Lutheran Church but there aren’t too many here, except for the Old Lutheran Church on Strand Street, which was converted from a barn in 1780 and has an incredibly carved wooden pulpit. The information I was able to obtain before Sunday was minimal! Only a generic website and, when I phoned, their message information was sketchy. According to the only listing I could find online, it seemed as if their services were all in German (turns out that was another Lutheran Church) except the last Sunday of the month. So I figured, great, I will go to the local Methodist Church (affiliated with UCT) and hear some gospel music (which is what I was looking for) in the morning and the Lutheran Church in the evening. Turns out the Methodist choir was lame and, later, when I checked out the Lutheran Church on my way into town to a design Indaba at the coliseum, the service at 10 A.M. had been in English! Met the minister, Pastor C.F.B. Tessendorf, and we chatted for awhile. He allowed me to take some photos of the interior and told me it was the oldest church which is still being used as a church in Africa. I was bummed that I missed the service. Seems like he scoots around to three other churches in the greater Cape Town area on a Sunday. Clearly, there aren’t many Lutherans in the SA's "mother city." BTW, later at the coliseum, I popped into a Christian Embassy (whatever that is supposed to be) service. The congregation was black and standing and feeling the vibes - so I couldn’t see the front. When everyone finally sat down, I saw that the service was being led by a blonde women and several other white people. “We thank you, God, for our beautiful lives,” she prayed for them. Now, what does she know of their lives, I asked myself? Has she been out to the townships? After seeing the big collection bags being passed around this huge conference room, I quietly slipped away. That was it for Sunday worship for me!

We have a new group in at CCS now – new faces – new stories. I now have a roommate – Leslie, from New York, who now lives in the DC area near her Baltimore daughter. Lovely lady and we have much in common.

Pictures: Skeleton Gorge on right and Nursery Ravine on left of Castle Rocks on Table Mountain in the morning sun; looking down a set of ladders on Skeleton Gorge; Clem and some other hikers near Castle Rocks; Soweto Gospel Choir at Kirstenbosch; St. George's Cathedral; the pulpit at the Lutheran Church.

Politics...

Two weeks from now I will be grateful to be on American soil again. For a rainbow nation, there is so much race consciousness here - and the industry which must be doing very well in SA is the security industry. Guards, gates, razor wire, and armed response signs are everywhere. So ubiquitous that, after awhile, you don’t even see them anymore. Missed President Obama’s State of the Union speech this year, but I did see President Jacob Zuma on SA television, presenting his State of the Nation speech at the opening of Parliament on February 11, which was also the 20th anniversary of the freeing of Nelson Mandela from prison. Zuma’s speech sounded like the typical “State of the… “ speech, outlining accomplishments and future agendas. Nelson Mandela was present, sitting between Winnie and his current wife, Graca Machel. He is frail, looking up in surprise from the printed text of Zuma’s speech which he was reading, every time his name was mentioned. Afterwards, there was some footage of Archbishop Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and Jacob Zuma leaving the auditorium one behind the other.

Jacob Zuma succeeded Thabo Mbeki when he was ousted over some scandal last year. Of course, Zuma has been behaving scandalously too, both recently and several years ago when he was brought up on rape charges (but acquitted). A leader who claims that taking a shower after having sex with an HIV-positive woman makes it all better is not what this nation (with its high rates of HIV) needs. Recently, the media was also abuzz with the news that he had fathered his 20th child with a woman who is not one of his four or five wives, the daughter of a friend. His family had to make recompense to her family in the traditional Zulu style. Any South African I have spoken to here in Cape Town, regardless of race, thinks that Zuma is a disgrace. But he has a huge following elsewhere in the country, especially in KwaZulu-Natal province.

Capetonians are also not very satisfied with the ANC (African National Congress, the ruling party) anymore. Last year they elected Helen Zille as provincial head of state (for the Western Cape province) and, as head of her party, the Democratic Alliance, she has become a very vocal critic of Zuma. Zille is loved by Capetonians, liked by South Africans elsewhere and with her at the helm of the DA, may at least provide the nation with a viable opposition party, something I think SA very much needs. Zille is a white woman who first gained attention as a journalist when she was active in exposing many of the horrors of apartheid.

Discrimination in this country didn’t just start in 1948. Apartheid only codified what was happening for many years before: white supremacy and colonial rule which left a legacy of racial, economic and land segregation policies. The liberation struggle has been going on for over 100 years. ANC (outlawed during apartheid) was established early in the 20th century. According to what we are told, many changes have occurred in SA since its first democratic elections (1994) with many socio-economic improvements and improved equality and legislative reforms in the last decade. But SA continues to face inordinate challenges in relation to poverty and unemployment amidst its ambitious reconstruction and development plan. They say the divide between rich and poor continues to grow and continues to bear the scars of its apartheid history. A long way to go before the dream of being a rainbow nation where all the colors are equal is realized…and they need another Nelson Mandela.

South African English

This afternoon, as I write this, the rest of the group - those who haven't already dropped out - are attending their IsiXhosa lesson. I was planning to start Afrikaans this afternoon, but there was a mix-up and they cancelled the lesson. I am giving up on IsiXhosa - it is just too hard and I am not using it anyway!

So here is some information on how English is spoken in SA. We all know that the Aussies have their special lingo - so do the South Africans!

Howzit? How are you?

Izzit? Really?

My bru - My brother

Just now - Sometime soon

Now now - Very soon

Yebo -Yes

Bakkie - Pick-up truck

Biltong - Dried meat/Jerky (very popular food - you can find it anywhere)

Tsotsi -Thief

Dorp - Small town

Doff - Stupid

Cherry - Girlfriend

Braai - Barbecue (also very popular!)

Takkies - Sneakers

China - friend

So much for useless information! But here is something really important: The South African National Anthem Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika is sung in four languages (Xhosa, Sotho, Afrikaans, and English) and when I heard it sung by that rainbow group of mostly young spectators at the University of Cape Town rugby game I attended, it was thrilling! The anthem was composed in 1897, adopted by the ANC and, of course, banned during apartheid.

More Adventures in Cape Town...

Now that we are in our fourth week here, the demands on our time by CCS are fewer, so I am planning to spend the whole school day at Blossom Street Primary several times this week. The children in all the groups I am working with need the help so badly.

This past weekend, several of us drove out to the wine country and the town of Stellenbosch. Lovely countryside once we got there, but passing through the Cape Flats was depressing, as usual. Miles upon miles of shacks - of the 40 minute drive, it took us about 30 minutes to travel past the enormous slums of Cape Flats townships: Langa, Athlone, Guguletu, Nyanga, Khayalitsha, etc. These are all communities started when the apartheid government kicked people of color out of the southern suburbs (such as Rosebank - where home base is), the downtown, and the Table Bay areas. Some communities, like District 6, were even leveled (yes, homes which some of these people had lived in for generations). Folks were forcibly moved to the dusty, barren, sandy, windy wastelands of the Cape Flats - where the Cape Town airport also is. So that is why the first sight people see coming into town are these miserable areas where the shacks crowd up one against the other, with outdoor toilets stacked in a row opposite the hovels, which are fenced off from the highway. These shacks are electrified by webs of wires hanging down from the street lights. People spill over the fences and hang out in the grassy strips along the highways. This is also where the children play.

Passing these scenes makes it difficult to enjoy the prettier places I am traveling to visit, especially the opulent vineyard establishments surrounding Stellenbosch. The contrasts are just too great. And Stellenbosch was a very white town!

On Sunday I was privileged to be able to join a group hiking in Orange Kloof (a ravine) on Table Mountain. One can only hike in Orange Kloof with a permit and the elderly mountain man type with whom we hiked had one of these. Actually, it was Clem, the husband of the woman who conducted the walk out from the cable car station on Table Mountain the previous Sunday, when I was up there with Michael Arrowood. Clem picked me up at 7 A.M. and we walked with the others (all South Africans) up a fire road and then up a rocky trail to a green ravine where we saw the day's prize, the glorious red disas (wild orchids) disa uniflora. Smaller blue disas were also spotted along the way, in addition to many proteas, ericas in bloom, and a huge lycopodium, among other treasures. The high point/low point of the day was when the group misunderstood Clem's directions pertaining to the huge water tunnel through the mountain he brought us to. We thought he meant for us to go through the tunnel and the folks at the front went charging on down the 800 steps in the pitch black darkness of the wet, cold tunnel. I, of course, followed - never quite sure I am understanding the South African English anyway, but Clem and one other did not. The steps ended in nothingness (I never got there) and I turned around when the group headed back. All the way up those steps - only this time one could see because of the light at the end of the tunnel, where Clem stood. Apparently he had shouted for us but we never heard because of the sound of the rushing water. There was a wet railing to hold onto in the darkness going down - and no idea just how much of a drop-off it might be if one missed a step. So, needless to say, the way was made in baby steps. Heading back UP, one could see that falling off the staircase would only result in a drop of several feet - not hundreds! What I learned is how important it is for a hike leader to be VERY specific about what he/she says...one never knows how people might be perceiving the words they hear. Apparently, this had never happened to poor Clem before and he has taken many, many groups to the tunnel. He was so worried about us...me, especially, because I was the most senior of the group (excepting him) and a foreigner to boot!

You ask about the weather? Too hot! It was in the mid-90s on Saturday and also warm on Sunday except that in the green ravine where we hiked there was a cloud cover and breezes which kept it cool.

You ask about the pictures? The top two are from the District 6 Museum (those signs are from streets now missing from what was District 6), then there's Clem and the adventure in Orange Kloof - and me emerging from the tunnel of darkness. Sorry those disas are sideways...

Valentine's Day celebration at Blossom Street Primary

Friday was a big fund raiser day - organized by the teachers, not the parents, to supplement federal monies and school fees to help pay for basic school needs. There was a "market" with things to buy, food goodies, drinks, etc. And then there was the contest for Mr. Valentine and Miss Valentine (both lower and upper grades) of Blossom Street Primary School. Those children who entered, by paying a fee, were placed on a "stage" in the interior courtyard formed by plywood boards placed on tables, where they preened and strutted their stuff, in their Valentine Day attire of choice - red and white suggested. We volunteers were the judges, and it wasn't easy. All the children were charming.

Saturday was supposed to be a hike into Skeleton Gorge up Table Mountain with Michael Arrowood, who is spending a few days in Cape Town at the end of his tour - but he didn't make his plane from Jo-burg. So I took the train to Simon's Town to see the penguins again and stood there transfixed for several hours. Much of the courtship behavior is finished and the females are either scratching their nests in the sand or already sitting on their two eggs in very basic nests. The males take their turn as well. Both parents must be watchful or a crafty kelp gull will make off with their eggs. I actually saw this happen - and saw the gull drop the egg on a nearby rock to crack it and devour its contents.

Sunday was the cable car up to the top of Table Mountain with Michael - this time with plenty of time to wander and ponder. Even saw a dassie aka rock hydrax - most closely related, they say, to the elephant. A lovely elderly hiker-type led a guided walk and was very informative. Then on to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, which never seems to amaze me with its varieties of the indigenous fynbos plants of this region - the proteas, the ericas, and the restios (horsetail grasses).

They are keeping us very busy after placement this week. Yesterday we attended a special performance in the township of Gugulethu of singers and dancers who teach about HIV and how to prevent it. Today we went to two museums (the Slave Lodge and the District 6 Museum) and then came back to language lessons. I had decided to switch from isiXhosa to Afrikaans (since I have gone as far as I think I can with isiXhosa) but the Afrikaans teacher didn't arrive today. IsiXhosa is one of South Africa's eleven official languages - and the one mostly spoken by the local blacks. It was thought that it would prove useful for me at school, but all the children understand basic English. Afrikaans, however, is spoken in the staff room. It is the language in which the teachers crack their jokes and I would like to be able to understand it a little. It shares some vocabulary and sounds with German, so I might catch on. IsiXhosa, on the other hand, is very different from anything resembling English, with clicks for C, X, and Q - and different clicks, mind you, from a cluck, to a sound you would make calling a dog, and another you might make calling a horse. Difficult, to say the least. Will tell more about the Slave Lodge and District 6 (one of the areas from which black and coloured South Africans were forcibly removed during Apartheid) another time...

And today it was back to work! But I am having such a wonderful time working with these children.

About the volunteer experience so far...

The Cross-Cultural Solutions home base (top picture) in the Rosebank section of Cape Town was built in the late 1800s (as a farmhouse) and is large and airy with high ceilings! I am really psyched this time because, somehow, I have a room all to myself! We get our meals here and they serve a variety of cuisines, some heavily spiced and others stewed and potted. Beef, lamb, chicken, etc., always a fresh salad, good vegetables, no desserts. And they cater to special requests such as vegetarian or low salt.

Breakfast is at 7 A.M. and we are in the vans by 7:45. Even though my trip to the township of Athlone should only take about 15 minutes, I am in the van for an hour each morning because we must first head into the downtown area (before the traffic builds up) to drop off volunteers who work at refugee centers and job training centers. Next we drop off a volunteer at Groote Schuur Hospital (where the world's first heart transplant was done in the 1960s - remember? - I'm the only one in this group who does!). Then we head out to the township areas to drop off the orphanage and day-care folks. Finally, Peter and I are delivered to Blossom Street Primary School. Oh, for those days in Tanzania when I could walk the pot-holed, red dirt roads to Mwereni Primary. and back.

Blossom Street is a well-run school carefully overseen by Mr. Davids who has been principal there (first a teacher) for many years, and his mostly-experienced staff. I am working with a Mrs. Joan Abrahams, who is about my age, rather a strict disciplinarian with a very warm heart. She has almost 35 students - not that large a class by African standards - and teaches the reading and social studies for her class and the other fifth grade class. Since it is still the beginning of the school year here, I spent the first few days assessing the reading abilities of all the fifth graders and am now happily taking them in small groups to another room for instruction every day. They are delightful, well-behaved children and I am enjoying every moment. Mrs. Abrahams and I are getting along very well. Her daughter (along with her grandsons) have been living in New York for the past several years, working on a doctorate at Columbia and one of the first stories she told me was how she (Joan) was subjected to racial profiling in a shop on a visit to her daighter in New York and how totally unexpected and disappointing that was for her. She didn't expect that to happen in the USA after she had suffered so much discrimination in SA over the years. Made me feel awful!

Blossom Street Primary is organized around an interior open courtyard, typical of many African schools, and is much better supplied than Mwereni in Tanzania. There are books, maps, chalk, erasers, posters on the walls, staplers, scissors, a copy machine in the office and all kinds of other things I never saw in Tanzania. Yet the desks are the same double wooden benches and the children labor in the same kind of large, thin, narrowly-ruled composition books you just don't find in the U.S. Blossom has the feel of a 1950s NYC public school; Mwereni felt more turn of the (20th) Century.

More next time...

The Other Cape Town...

Cape Town is a city which contains a stunning national park, Table Mountain, in its heart. The city is basically arranged around the mountain and encircles it by about 270 degrees. The real estate on the Table Bay side of the mountain is prime and includes the downtown and the waterfront. On the other side of the mountain, real estate values decrease with altitude until you are in the Cape Flats which is where those former township areas are. A township was, of course, a designated district where blacks or coloureds were mandated to live during apartheid and its inhabitants had to carry passbooks clearly showing who they were, of what race, why and when they were allowed to leave the township (to go to their jobs in the white areas). If you were not carrying your passbook or exceeding the curfew limits, you were thrown in jail or worse. Of course, whites had to carry passbooks too, but their movements were not as curtailed.

The areas in the Cape Flats are still referred to as townships, even though people can come and go freely now. These areas contain some decent housing, but are overwhelmingly populated by very sub-standard housing. Shanties, shacks, former hostels (built for male workers during the mining days) where large numbers of families share communal cooking and eating space and inhabit one room. Really awful. The unemployment rate in South Africa is an overall 38%, but you know which groups have jobs and which have much higher unemployment rates. In the white areas, you see plenty of blacks in the service jobs; in some of the less prosperous inner suburbs, such as where the CCS home base is, you see integrated neighborhoods and people of this "rainbow nation" interacting; and there are many properous black and coloured South Africans - but overwhelmingly the have-nots are black!

For those of you who are wondering, black is an African tribal native (Xhosa, Zulu, etc.), and a coloured is anyone mixed. Coloureds could also include Malaysians and Arabs who were originally brought here as slaves, as were natives of Madagascar. This term is not a slur - it is how people identify themselves - and proudly. Actually, the word native is considered a slur by black folks.

Whites are either of English ancestry or Afrikaaners or both. Afrikaaners are also proud of their "pioneer" heritage. Where I did see lots of wonderful rainbow interaction was at a rugby game at the University of Cape Town. Lots of people I have spoken to have said that it will take some time yet - the next generation perhaps - before true racial harmony exists. I think it might be much longer, because in the meanwhile you have this awful disparity between the way less than 20% of the population thrives and how the majority barely manage to survive.

Meanwhile, at CCS we spent the first days involved in orientation, language lessons, history and HIV lectures. My placement is at a primary school in Athlone, one of the formerly "coloured" townships, and I am enjoying myself immensely. More about that next time.