Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Prayer Service

A week ago, when I finished my first meal with my house parents, Zukile and Loretta, from Gugulethu, they asked if I would be interested in attending a prayer service at one of their friend’s houses. Unsure of what a prayer service was, but eager to get out of the house, I agreed to the offer. On the car ride to the prayer service, Zukile explained exactly what a prayer service was. He explained that a prayer service is a public ceremony that is for family and friends to come and pay respect to those of the deceased. For this particular prayer service, we were having a ceremony for a man that recently passed away from HIV/AIDS at the age of 35. I was expecting something similar to that of an American wake.
Prior to us arriving to the house of the prayer service, I noticed a line that seemed to go on for days. I asked Zukile what people were waiting in line for. He explained that the line was for people to purchase electricity, which he said could be compared to plugging a meter for a car, but for their home. It was incredible to see the blocks upon blocks of people waiting to pay a vendor so they could have electricity for the night. Zukile said it could take up to three hours for a person to wait in line for electricity. I could not imagine having to wait in an endless line to make sure that my home had electricity for the night.
We arrived at the home for the prayer service, and immediately, I was unsure of what I should or should not do. I filed into a back row of chairs in an attempt to blend in with the crowd (next to impossible as I was the only white person in the room), and as soon as I sat down, one of the family members grabbed me and brought me to the front of the room into a chair that seemed to have the best view. Zukile explained to me that the family was honored to have me at their prayer service. Although I was hesitant to, I was told to take as many pictures as possible so that I could better tell the story to others. That is what the family wanted, so I obliged, although it seemed vastly different than what someone would do in America. I would not go to my a family members funeral taking as many pictures as I possibly could.
The prayer service itself was fascinating. It had a lot of singing, and stories that were used to better describe the life of the deceased. The room itself was small, and was filled with white lawn chairs. (I was later told that the chairs were rented, and they cost a pretty penny in order to rent them) In the room to the left of where I was sitting, I could see a women lying on a mattress filled with pillows and blankets. Zukile saw me looking into the room, and told me that the room was filled with female family members of the deceased. The woman on the mattress was the mother, and in Gugulethu, if the man is unmarried, then the mother must lay on the bed for a week prior to the funereal. She is not allowed to go to the grocery store or leave the house, other than to go to the bathroom. Other family members and friends bring here food and water throughout the week. This is how the mother mourns for her son, and pays her respect for his death. The entire service was in Xhosa, the language spoken by the township, but I could feel the passion from the family and friends when they were praying. Before we left for the evening, the family members asked if I could say a few words to the mother lying on the bed. As I was walking to the bedroom, a million thoughts popped into my head. What do I say? Could I say the wrong thing? What if I cause an international incident on my first night? As I bent down to pray for the mother, I told her that I was sorry for her lose and that I would keep her and her son in my prayers. The mother began to tear up from my words, unsure if that was a good sign or not, I left and went home with my house parents.
Culturally, the prayer service impacted me on a number of different levels. Visiting the prayer service, and the family of the deceased putting me on what seemed to be a higher “pedestal” than their own family, was very hard for me to handle. Why did they put me on a higher level than their family members? What did I do to deserve that kind of special treatment? It was difficult for me to be treated so well by the people of Gugulethu, during their time of mourning. Seeing the mother of the son who had died from HIV/AIDS at age 35, was difficult and almost unbearable to be a part of as she wanted to hear my words of remorse over that of the close friends I went to the prayer service with. I cannot help but ask myself, was it because of the color of my skin that they seemed to be giving me special treatment? Or was it because I was a guest to the community, and the color of my skin would not have mattered? This experience has changed the way I view Cape Town, for when you hear or learn that a cultural norm of Gugulethu is for the people to be welcoming, you never truly understand until you witness it at a time in which people are most vulnerable. A wise man once told me that it is not the good times you are there for people that shows them how much you care for them, but rather the difficult times. In my opinion, funerals are a time in which people need you the most, I am only shocked that if I was in America, and visited a strangers funeral, I would not receive anywhere near the same level of gratitude for my presence as I had from this event. I am unsure how I should feel about this experience, but I know that it is something that I will remember from my township experience for the rest of my life.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

First Week in Cape Town

It has officially been my first week in Cape Town. My experiences thus far have been extremely touristy. We have seen everything imaginable that most Americans would see if they were to visit Cape Town. (I will have to keep this blog short as we are getting ready for our 5 day stay in the township of Gugulethu)

From pirate ships to Safaris, to seal watching boat rides; the group has seen the beauty of the Cape Town region of South Africa. "This is a 3rd world country with aspects of a 1st world country."

This has been apparent during our first week. We have dined like kings at local restaurants paying the equivalent of $20 American, at most, for every meal. We go half way across the city with 10 people paying (a total of 6 miles round trip) $20 for transportation. Aside from the amazing exchange rate of the Dollar to the Rand, I have had mixed emotions about how I should feel about this. At one of our meals for instance, we spent a total of 1,500 rand, which I was told that many families in the townships live off of less than 100 rand a week. It was here that I began to feel guilty, that the group is spending more money in a week than most people living in the Townships spend in a year. Should I be feeling guilty? or should I be fortunate for the life I live, that I have been given the opportunity to do so many things ranging from my educational experiences to my ability to take off of work for three weeks and travel to South Africa? Although I do not have the answers yet, since I have only seen the outside of the townships from the car and have only experienced the aspects of this country that some could classify as being a 1st world country, I am open to those that have experienced this before, and to those that haven't, to answer some of these questions or to pose some questions for me. This will help me better understand what I am observing and experiencing.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Arriving in Cape Town

After an 11 hour plane ride from Hewthrow, London to Cape Town International, I found myself hardly rested and clearly jet lagged from the extremely long plane ride. But, upon arrival in this unfamiliar country, I found myself rejuvenated and ready to explore this breathtaking country.

I was met in the airport by the program instructor, Christen Christopherson, and the assistant director of the CapeTown Interstudy Program, NJ. It was great to see at least one familiar face, Christen, as I had spent the past 22 hours alone traveling. (So thanks Christen for picking me up! It meant a lot to me)

I drove with NJ, and Christen drove with her husband Mark (who will be with us for about a week and is a very fascinating individual). It was 11 am in the morning, it was a comfortable 65' in Cape Town with a light cloud cover over the city. The first thing that caught my attention was when NJ made a comment about the Table Cloth (Which is the Cape of Good Hope, a mountain that the first explorers used as a land mark to identify a supply replenishment point for sailors attempting travel to the Indies). After asking what the Table Cloth was, NJ pointed out how the clouds rolled over the Mountain, making the mountain appear as if there was a table cloth upon it. The biggest take away from this interesting ride to the home I would be staying, was when we traveled past a township that was right off the side of the highway. It was here that I observed people walking barefoot through a muddy road, living in small shacks, and going about their morning as if the highway was non-existent and perhaps some of the locals in CapeTown not living in the townships go through their day without noticing the townships, as if the townships were a world apart from their own (This is an assumption). NJ turned to me and said, "Matty (We got to be friends pretty quickly), one thing you always have to remember is that Cape Town is a part of a third world country, but it has the aspects and features of a first world country." This is a quote that I will be referring to throughout my future blogs. I can not comment yet about this statement, as I have not experienced how the living in the townships differs from that of Southern Suburb CapeTown living.

After 33 hours of travel, 6 hours of sleep, and four decently good airplane movies later; I finally arrived to my home in Mowbry, CapeTown (Just 5 blocks away from CapeTown University) where myself and 9 other males and females would spend most of our nights over the course of the next three weeks.

My initial reaction of the house was that it was much nicer then what I had expected. There are 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms that have indoor plumbing, heaters next to most of the beds in the house, a kitchen with all appliances, showers that can run enough heat for 10 people every morning at 7 AM and a fireplace just in case we needed to warm up the house during the 40-50' South African nights. I will admit that I had some negative preconceived notions about what our living situation would be like. I knew, from the previous South African group from last year that we would have running water, but in no way did I think that we would have a home that could be compared to a cabin found in Northern Minnesota.

One thing that shocked me the most about our home in Mowbry was the security measures that the CapeTown University takes for its students. To put it into perspective for everyone, we live in a gated community, we have electric fencing above the white picket fence that surrounds the home, we have a lock on the white picket fence gate that allows us access to the front yard, we have a metal gate that is locked by a standard key pad lock, and we have a front door that has a dead bolt along with a handle lock. What did I get myself in to, I could not help but think to myself? Why do they need so much security? Is this trip truly safe?

It should be noted that this was my initial reaction upon arrival in Cape Town, that I felt before I received the explanation as to why the security measures are they way they are from NJ and the Interstudy Director Ouma. They said that all homes that are in the suburbs of Cape Town are protected by some form of secruity (ours just happened to be ADT Emergency Response) due to the established social norms in the culture. It is not because Whites are less safe than blacks are or vice versa, but rather that we do live in a city area, and like many areas that have a dense population; safety precautions are necessary to ensure that these citizens are safe. The level of security around and in our home was at first shocking and left me feeling more unsafe then if their was nothing. I almost would have felt safer if there was not the security measures taken. But after three days of exploration and observation, I see now that it is a social norm in Cape Town's society. So, I do feel much safer and through my excursions through the city, this has proven to be a safe location thus far.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

My International Flight Experience

So, I am a couple of days behind with this entry, but I thought that I would fill everyone in on how my flights getting to South Africa went.

I left for Chicago O'Hare International airport at 3 PM from my grandparents house (who were amazing getting me ready for my travels and they spoiled me with great food as usual!) to catch my 6 PM flight that would take me to Hewthrow International Airport, London. I was able to hook up a cheaper flight to Cape Town, South Africa if I had a 12 hour layover in London. The flight itself was awesome, Virgin International Airlines really knows how to treat their passengers as I was never with out some sort of cocktail. The flight was a record 6 hours (expected 8), and with all the fun I was having with the Brits traveling with me, I found it next to impossible to sleep.

With a 6 hour time change from the Midwest, I landed in Hewthrow at about 10 AM. Exhausted from the flight I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Do I sleep in the airport because I am exhausted? or do I explore a European city (In which I have never been to Europe before) ? Granted it was a no-brainer, I grabbed 2 cups of coffee (extremely thick in London) and headed for immigration so I could be granted access to the UK!

After one hour of getting lost in Hewthrow, exchanging currency (which the dollar isn't holding up to strong against the pound), and getting an all day pass to take a train through London; I was on my way to Green Park where I would visit some of the local attractions.

On the train I was extremely excited. I have never visited Europe before and I especially have never been in a foreign country without my parents, or anyone for that matter, before. It was a thrill because I was about to overcome one of my fears of going to a completely unfamiliar place alone. Hopefully I would make a few friends along the way.

I do not want to bore you with the little details of my London experience, but I will tell you that I walked 8 miles (not sure what that is in meters ;), I ate lunch at a Pub that cost me 10 pounds for a burger and 1 pound for a pint (naturally I got a few more pints at that price), I got lost one hour before I was supposed to board my flight in the heart of downtown London and had to walk a mile to the nearest Tube (London's Subway), and I was called a "Bloody American" about three times!

All in all, this was the best 12 hour layover I could have ever possibly experienced. In a way, I believe that having the opportunity to visit London and having the ability to go outside of my comfort zone while in an unknown European City, will help me in reaching my goals of learning as much as possible about Apartheid, HIV/AIDS, and Poverty while in South Africa.