Reality Check

*Note: due to my lack of internet I’m posting this MUCH later than I was supposed to. Sorry for the delay friends :-(

Cape Town, South Africa is a beautiful city. It’s built up and industrial, but not in the New York City sense. It has more of the Baltimore/Albany feel. The V & A Waterfront is the host to hundreds of tourists daily and with stores like Gucci and sushi bars in the center of the malls, how can we resist? And now that the 2010 World Cup is being hosted here as well the construction industry is booming. New hotels and stores are being built in order to accommodate the thousands of people who will flock these streets. As a matter of fact, “The One and Only”, the hotel, is opening here. There are two hotels in this chain: Paradise Island, Bahamas and Dubai, India. Down the road from this famed 7-star hotel is an Aston Martin dealership and walking distance to the waterfront.

But take a step outside of your comfort zone and enter the ‘real’ South Africa. Get out of the rich, touristy areas and drive into a township where poverty and dirt overwhelm you. Welcome to Khayelitsha—home to 1 million South Africans.

Now please don’t misunderstand me—there is nothing beautiful about this place. There are dirt roads filled with trash and debris and animals roam the streets with no home or direction. It doesn’t make you feel warm butterflies in your stomach. Instead the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see the people staring at you…the foreigner...the alien. Of course a lot of this feeling is here because Semester at Sea decided to scare the holy-be-Jesus out of us before me made port in Cape Town. When we pulled up to our destination part of my wanted to run back into the car and demand they drive me back to my safe, comfortable little ship.

But here I am…sitting in Vicky’s Bed and Breakfast in the middle of a township completely okay with my surroundings. Kristen and I were picked up at the clock tower at the foot of the Alfred Mall by Pikstel and Siya, his 3 year old daughter. He drove us about 30 minutes out of Cape Town into Khayelitsha, to the B & B he and his wife have owned for the past 10 years. After playing in the car with our new friend we took a tour from one of the local kids, Alex (17), gave us a tour of the town. We saw the kindergarten and got to play with the kids before they went home for a nap. Afterwards we were taken into the pub across the street from the B & B to meet some more locals and shoot some pool.

There, we were engulfed with smiling faces and welcoming handshakes. People wanted to know all about our lives and where we were from. As the only two foreigners and the only two Americans we were bombarded with questions. For a few hours we discussed music, politics, and religion. I was taken aback by the positive views the South Africans had toward our government and how well informed they were on various controversial topics we faced. As it was 1:30 in the afternoon and all the locals were having a pint, or two, and shooting pool and chewing the fat with us, it was obvious that work was sparse for these people. Many of them told us they had part time jobs and they didn’t want us the leave thinking that South Africans didn’t work and just sat around drinking beer all day long.

Roxy, Vicky’s eldest daughter, and Alex took us to see the local meat market where dinner was going to be picked up. We got two chickens. But more exotic foods like lamb liver and intestine, ox heads, and some other bizarre looking meat were all on display within the township. When we came back from the market all of Vicky’s other children and nieces were home and they quickly developed a bond with us. We all sat in our room singing Rihanna, Jordan Sparks, T-Pain and Chris Brown songs and learning some Afrikaans (one of the languages spoken here). Malande (11), Thandile (8), and their cousin Masandi (12) sang us the South African National Anthem and a song entirely in clicks, another local tongue. In exchange Kristen and I sang a horrid rendition of The Star Spangle Banner.

Later the girls, along with a few friends, took us to the Fruit and Veg stand where we bought grapes for .10 American! Dinner was served shortly after we returned and we had chicken with amazing vegetables. It was so great having a home-cooked meal again. Ship food gets a bit…shall I say, questionable? After the girls and Kristen and I ate we all helped clear the table and washed dishes. Well, Malande washed, Kristen dried, and Masandi and I put everything away. I hate to say this…and I know when my mother reads this she’s going to die…but cleaning the kitchen felt great. It was nice to be in a family setting where everyone has responsibilities instead of having the ship staff wait over your shoulder waiting to clear your plate—trust me, it’s nice but you need a break.

Once the kitchen was cleared Masandi and Malande whipped out their homework. We discussed the differences between schools in South Africa and in America. Did you know they all wear uniforms—public and private? And did you know that the school year starts in January and ends in December? The kids go to school all year with only a few breaks during Easter, June, September, and Christmas. All you Americans be grateful!!! The girls explained they study 11 subjects a day at school—3 of which are language: English, Afrikaans, and a language of entirely clicks.

Thandile read Shakespeare to us…at 8 years old! Malande read us her homework assignment. She had to write a short story, 100-200 words, about a fictional crime tale. Malande wove us a tale where a man breaks into her house and puts a gun to her head, rapes her sister where she contracts HIV. The story winds in and out of family members until the police arrive, arrest the man, and bring her sister to the hospital. Two weeks later her sister dies of complications due to AIDS. And the harsh reality is that at 11 years old, Malande’s creative side wove together this story of horrific situations.

Every morning the girls wake up at 5:30 am and leave the house by 6:30 to get to school. And they didn’t go to bed until 10:30 pm. Malande was washing the kitchen floor before bed and Masandi was putting Siya to bed. At 11 and 12 years old these girls amazed me. And to top it off they never complained about their lives, they never had one negative comment, they only smiled.

This stay has been nothing short of an eye-opening, life changing experience.