I fail at blogging.
And apologize for my absence-- I have absolutely no legitimate excuse as all I've been doing as of late is reading, eating, watching movies and shopping. I suppose the crux of the matter is that when i get lazy, i get really lazy. It's that whole "i don't want to do things half-assed" deal. (might I add that that's CLEARLY b.s.)
But in all seriousness, England was amazing. I saw tons of BEAUTIFUL buildings in Oxford and felt like I was perpetually on a movie set, ate some great food, drank some great drinks (Mr.Pimm's lemonade, anyone?) and had a blast.
I crashed on Lyds' dorm floor on a hiking pad with a sleeping bag and thoroughly enjoyed my poor man's trip to England. We crammed a lot in a few days, so here's a bulleted list of half of what I did.
* Shopped
* Explored pretty much all of Oxford University
*Sat next to a professor wearing a pink button-up and a checkered bow-tie in a coffee shop where he actually said, "oh, poppycock!" in normal conversation!
* Read
* Went pubbing
* Saw Hairspray and Transformers (both were good but WOW-- I'm so in love with Hairspray it's not even funny)
* Ate from the wonderfully amazing Kebab stands (and the Crepe stand, too!)
* Took the bus to London and explored in record time
* Silently giggled everytime I heard a British accent
* Saw a bunch of flooding
* Met some really interesting people (yes lyds, I am including Mr. New Zealand)
* finally ran into my great friend Cates, with whom I had a week's worth of communication errors
* spent far too many hours wandering around bookstores
* and... much more, none of which I can remember right now.
Suffice to say, I had a blast and England's amazing and someday I will live in a cute little village with a stone house surrounded by a wonderfully colorful English garden. And cats. I'll have cats too. And two Alaskan Malamutes named Apollo and Helo. And life will be swell. And I'll be able to incorporate the word "swell" into everyday conversation because I'll be in England and it's okay to say swell in England.
And... it's actually nice in Stavanger today (a rarity) so I don't know what lies ahead for the day.
Perhaps we'll go wandering amongst the scenery.
But that's all for now!
Until later, my loves.
A.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Alanna went to England!
Well, I went to England last week to visit Lyds. I'll write about it in more detail tomorrow, but for today, here's a picture post! They were all taken in Oxford or London, just so ya know.
until tomorrow,
A.
until tomorrow,
A.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Four Days into my Trip
[picture of the day: Me, my sister B, and my friend M on the peak of Preikestolen]
Well, it's been an interesting past couple of days. I'm here in Norway with my sister and my dad and his family and having brought along a friend, we've been exploring and hiking around!
Wednesday, the day we arrived, can't really be accounted for. Jet lag + pouring rain = not much done.
Thursday was a day for exploring, where M and I wandered around downtown Stavanger, seeing the Harbour, the adorable shops, and walking into every single shoe store in the city where we drooled over all of the adorable Victorian ankle boots that are apparently back in style.
Friday we hiked Preikistolen. Now if I, like most Norwegians, were insanely toned and incredibly in shape with the blood of Vikings running through my veins, this would be no sweat. A 5 hour hike that culminates in a cliff 2,000ft above a fjord? Child's play. (Which it actually is-- I couldn't keep track of the amount of kids under the age of 5 doing this hike.)
For my blubbery, sloth-like American body with an injured knee, this was not the case. Nonetheless, 5 hours of huffing and puffing and grunting and complaining resulted in some spectacular views of the fjords, not to mention attractive Norwegian men running (!) up and down the trail (and when I say "trail" I use the term lightly. As in a "see the blot of red paint on that rock up there? It's the trail! Now, choose your very own path of boulders and climb to get there!" sorta way.) sans shirts. It also was a time for great conversation with my dad, B and M. And, wonders of wonders, it didn't rain! Which really is a miracle in Norway. Seriously.
And then yesterday was a very chill day (I read the new Harry Potter!!) and then M left to go home this morning. le sigh.
And it's raining again.
But I leave to go visit L in Oxford tomorrow! Where it is, unfortunately, raining but hopefully a warmer rain. So I must be off to finish packing for it's an early morning waiting to be had!
I may update from England, but most likely not. In which case, expect an update in a week!
bye!
A.
Well, it's been an interesting past couple of days. I'm here in Norway with my sister and my dad and his family and having brought along a friend, we've been exploring and hiking around!
Wednesday, the day we arrived, can't really be accounted for. Jet lag + pouring rain = not much done.
Thursday was a day for exploring, where M and I wandered around downtown Stavanger, seeing the Harbour, the adorable shops, and walking into every single shoe store in the city where we drooled over all of the adorable Victorian ankle boots that are apparently back in style.
Friday we hiked Preikistolen. Now if I, like most Norwegians, were insanely toned and incredibly in shape with the blood of Vikings running through my veins, this would be no sweat. A 5 hour hike that culminates in a cliff 2,000ft above a fjord? Child's play. (Which it actually is-- I couldn't keep track of the amount of kids under the age of 5 doing this hike.)
For my blubbery, sloth-like American body with an injured knee, this was not the case. Nonetheless, 5 hours of huffing and puffing and grunting and complaining resulted in some spectacular views of the fjords, not to mention attractive Norwegian men running (!) up and down the trail (and when I say "trail" I use the term lightly. As in a "see the blot of red paint on that rock up there? It's the trail! Now, choose your very own path of boulders and climb to get there!" sorta way.) sans shirts. It also was a time for great conversation with my dad, B and M. And, wonders of wonders, it didn't rain! Which really is a miracle in Norway. Seriously.
And then yesterday was a very chill day (I read the new Harry Potter!!) and then M left to go home this morning. le sigh.
And it's raining again.
But I leave to go visit L in Oxford tomorrow! Where it is, unfortunately, raining but hopefully a warmer rain. So I must be off to finish packing for it's an early morning waiting to be had!
I may update from England, but most likely not. In which case, expect an update in a week!
bye!
A.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
In Stavanger
Well, I'm currently in Stavanger, Norway visiting my family with my buddy Miranda along for a few days.
Not much to report as of yet. I'm trying to get over my jet lag and Miranda and I went a wandering around downtown Stavanger today, which is, might I add, the cutest little cobblestoned harbor city in the world.
Tomorrow I think we'll go hiking somewhere in the mountains.
More later, once more has occurred.
-A
Not much to report as of yet. I'm trying to get over my jet lag and Miranda and I went a wandering around downtown Stavanger today, which is, might I add, the cutest little cobblestoned harbor city in the world.
Tomorrow I think we'll go hiking somewhere in the mountains.
More later, once more has occurred.
-A
Monday, July 16, 2007
So... I went to the U.P.
I recently spent 10 days in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my mom, sister and extended family. Here are some pictures from the experience! They were taken mostly while wandering around my great-aunt Ina's property or while kayaking lake superior at sundown.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Lady sings the "I've got jet lag" blues
[picture of the day: some graffiti from the Bat Centre, featuring Zulu condoms going to war with AIDS.]
Well, I've been wide awake since 4:30 this morning, so I decided that it was finally time to do something productive with my morning. And, since the final copy of my paper is due at midnight tonight, what better way to use my time than update my blog!
All of our various flights went well . However they were, of course, terribly uncomfortable, and I also COMPLETELY lost my voice somewhere between point A and point B, leaving me with a rather dismal whisper. Most people in this situation would be like, "finally! A reason to not talk!" But for me, that whole not talking thing really doesn't work too well. If at all. So I've been whispering away like an overly talkative kid playing hide n' seek.
It's good to be home. Seeing my mommy and sister, my wonderfully wonderful and terribly cute kitty, making cupcakes, sleeping in my own bed, swimming in my own pool.
But I do miss South Africa. It's a great country and a great place to be. I loved practically everything about it, and I really can't wait to go back. This whole experience was just so awesome and enriching. I learned so much, experienced so much, and really loved it.
I guess I don't really have too much to write. My trip has ended. And that's that.
Which means this blog will go on temporary hiatus until yet another voyage comes up. Luckily, it's Summer which means there will be at least two more trips yet to blog about so it's not the end yet.
So farewell for a while, my friends.
A.
p.s. my other blog, the poor neglected thing, will be being updated more frequently now. I promise!
Well, I've been wide awake since 4:30 this morning, so I decided that it was finally time to do something productive with my morning. And, since the final copy of my paper is due at midnight tonight, what better way to use my time than update my blog!All of our various flights went well . However they were, of course, terribly uncomfortable, and I also COMPLETELY lost my voice somewhere between point A and point B, leaving me with a rather dismal whisper. Most people in this situation would be like, "finally! A reason to not talk!" But for me, that whole not talking thing really doesn't work too well. If at all. So I've been whispering away like an overly talkative kid playing hide n' seek.
It's good to be home. Seeing my mommy and sister, my wonderfully wonderful and terribly cute kitty, making cupcakes, sleeping in my own bed, swimming in my own pool.
But I do miss South Africa. It's a great country and a great place to be. I loved practically everything about it, and I really can't wait to go back. This whole experience was just so awesome and enriching. I learned so much, experienced so much, and really loved it.
I guess I don't really have too much to write. My trip has ended. And that's that.
Which means this blog will go on temporary hiatus until yet another voyage comes up. Luckily, it's Summer which means there will be at least two more trips yet to blog about so it's not the end yet.
So farewell for a while, my friends.
A.
p.s. my other blog, the poor neglected thing, will be being updated more frequently now. I promise!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Honey, I'm Home!
Well, I've arrived safely and am currently baking cupcakes with my baby sister in a vain attempt to de-jet lag myself.
I'll let you know how that goes.
A bigger and better post to follow when I'm more coherent and human-like.
I'll let you know how that goes.
A bigger and better post to follow when I'm more coherent and human-like.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
A Final Hurrah!
[picture of the day: me and the girls all being insane before our last night out.]
Ok, let me preface this by saying, "no, I'm not as loserly and studious as I probably appear to be from the past few posts." Granted, I have been working my butt off, but we've been having a lot of fun in the downtime. Problem for this blog being the fact that my blog time (late evening) happens to correspond with the time I do work. So sadly, given my proclivity for procrastination, the two appear to be mutually exclusive.
But on to an actual update!
We had our final day at St.Philo's on Thursday, and I'm really going to miss those kids. We essentially spent the day just hanging out, playing some 3D cut-throat monkey in the middle, and exchanging email addresses. Spending time at the children's home was a real eye opener for me, and the kids really made an impact my life. It's just so inspiring to meet kids who, despite their less-than-perfect circumstances, work hard to overcome the lot they've been given and manage to still keep their smiles. Also, meeting the people who lived with them and essentially dedicated their lives to enrich those of the kids was inspiring, humbling and really made me reevaluate my priorities.
Friday we gave our presentations and my, was that an all day experience. And by all day, I mean from 8:30am until 4:30pm. It was grueling, painful (I was sitting in a plastic lawn chair all day), but informative and the feedback we got was really helpful. So, naturally, after such a day, we deserved a night out. And that's exactly what we had.
Though we've gone out fairly regularly while we've been here, this weekend was particularly cool because the clubs we hit were the "local" clubs and a lot more mixed than the touristy clubs we'd been going too. Here in South Africa instead of there just being Black and White, there's African, White, Indian and Coloured, and I fall into the latter category. For what ever reason, I find not being considered "white" a totally liberating experience and love it when random people we meet allude to my colouredness. That having been said, this weekend's choice of clubs were mostly coloured and Indian, and were by far the most fun of any of the other one's we've been too.
So Friday night was a night spent dancing until the morning, and then Saturday we went to the marketplace to finish up our shopping, back to the B&B to continue our paper writing, and then out yet again for a final hurrah. Which lasted until 5am.
Which brings me to today, which so far has involved much writing, procrastination and resultant self-loathing, an incredibly grumpy packing spree, and a farewell dinner at Vukile's, one of our professors here.
The farewell dinner was a blast. Great people, great food, great times, and all of us enjoying each other's company and trying to ignore the fact that we were witnessing our last evening in Durban. It was a lovely way to cap off a great-- nay, phenomenal-- trip and had the equal parts of celebration and melancholy requisite for farewell events.
So that means that most of the excitement for the trip is done, and I'm left with a partially packed suitcase, an almost written paper, and a missing voice (which I'm blaming on the fact that I've had about 9 hours of sleep since Friday). Oh, and a dreadfully long flight(s).
So I guess next time I post here, I'll be back on American soil, sleeping on an American bed, eating American food, and pondering the reason why American dirt is so brown. My journey here is almost at end, but never fear! I'm already planning my next trip to South Africa. Which, at the latest, will be summer 2010. Also known as the World Cup.
And on that note, I'm going to try to get at least a little bit of sleep (though I only have the physical possibility of getting 4) before the arduous trek back to the States commences.
Goodnight and sweet dreams.
A.
Ok, let me preface this by saying, "no, I'm not as loserly and studious as I probably appear to be from the past few posts." Granted, I have been working my butt off, but we've been having a lot of fun in the downtime. Problem for this blog being the fact that my blog time (late evening) happens to correspond with the time I do work. So sadly, given my proclivity for procrastination, the two appear to be mutually exclusive.
But on to an actual update!
We had our final day at St.Philo's on Thursday, and I'm really going to miss those kids. We essentially spent the day just hanging out, playing some 3D cut-throat monkey in the middle, and exchanging email addresses. Spending time at the children's home was a real eye opener for me, and the kids really made an impact my life. It's just so inspiring to meet kids who, despite their less-than-perfect circumstances, work hard to overcome the lot they've been given and manage to still keep their smiles. Also, meeting the people who lived with them and essentially dedicated their lives to enrich those of the kids was inspiring, humbling and really made me reevaluate my priorities.
Friday we gave our presentations and my, was that an all day experience. And by all day, I mean from 8:30am until 4:30pm. It was grueling, painful (I was sitting in a plastic lawn chair all day), but informative and the feedback we got was really helpful. So, naturally, after such a day, we deserved a night out. And that's exactly what we had.
Though we've gone out fairly regularly while we've been here, this weekend was particularly cool because the clubs we hit were the "local" clubs and a lot more mixed than the touristy clubs we'd been going too. Here in South Africa instead of there just being Black and White, there's African, White, Indian and Coloured, and I fall into the latter category. For what ever reason, I find not being considered "white" a totally liberating experience and love it when random people we meet allude to my colouredness. That having been said, this weekend's choice of clubs were mostly coloured and Indian, and were by far the most fun of any of the other one's we've been too.
So Friday night was a night spent dancing until the morning, and then Saturday we went to the marketplace to finish up our shopping, back to the B&B to continue our paper writing, and then out yet again for a final hurrah. Which lasted until 5am.
Which brings me to today, which so far has involved much writing, procrastination and resultant self-loathing, an incredibly grumpy packing spree, and a farewell dinner at Vukile's, one of our professors here.
The farewell dinner was a blast. Great people, great food, great times, and all of us enjoying each other's company and trying to ignore the fact that we were witnessing our last evening in Durban. It was a lovely way to cap off a great-- nay, phenomenal-- trip and had the equal parts of celebration and melancholy requisite for farewell events.
So that means that most of the excitement for the trip is done, and I'm left with a partially packed suitcase, an almost written paper, and a missing voice (which I'm blaming on the fact that I've had about 9 hours of sleep since Friday). Oh, and a dreadfully long flight(s).
So I guess next time I post here, I'll be back on American soil, sleeping on an American bed, eating American food, and pondering the reason why American dirt is so brown. My journey here is almost at end, but never fear! I'm already planning my next trip to South Africa. Which, at the latest, will be summer 2010. Also known as the World Cup.
And on that note, I'm going to try to get at least a little bit of sleep (though I only have the physical possibility of getting 4) before the arduous trek back to the States commences.
Goodnight and sweet dreams.
A.
Super Quick Update
I rocked my presentation.
Work on the paper is ongoing.
I leave tomorrow morning, which makes me incredibly sad.
And I will actually post a detailed post later this evening.
Work on the paper is ongoing.
I leave tomorrow morning, which makes me incredibly sad.
And I will actually post a detailed post later this evening.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
This is what I am doing.
I have now written 8 pages.
And I have purchased everyone's souvenirs.
Onward I go, for my presentation of research is tomorrow morning at 8:30. I think that sleep may fall by the wayside for tonight.
Days like today make me want to do cocaine.
And I have purchased everyone's souvenirs.
Onward I go, for my presentation of research is tomorrow morning at 8:30. I think that sleep may fall by the wayside for tonight.
Days like today make me want to do cocaine.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Strike Update
*EDIT: For more information, click HERE*
[image courtesy of Time.com]
Well, whether or not we actually have a chance to leave the B&B today is up for debate as the strike is intensifying into a "sympathy strike," with many other South African unions showing their solidarity with the striking public servants.
The most disruptive new development is the addition of the KZN Taxi Alliance to today's sympathy strike. As I've written about before, most of the "public" transportation around Durban is by way of Khumbi, (I spelled it Combee before, but one of the Zulu speakers who works here just spelled it for me. Hey-- I can't spell in English, so if you were expecting any spelling prowess in Zulu from me, think again.) privately owned taxi-buses that ferry people around the city. This is how most people in the area, especially from the townships, get to and from work and them striking will affect almost all business in the city.
Actual taxis in the western sense of the word are also helping out with the whole ordeal by clogging traffic by driving exceptionally slow today. There were rumours that taxis would block roads to and from Durban International Airport, but those seem to be untrue. Instead, they'll just make everyone late.
Universities, including UKZN, are also on strike for the day as well as members of the South African Municipal Workers' Union (Samwu). However, essential services are not supposed to be disrupted. (not that that matters as we've already lost our water. They say it's a water main break, but who knows?)
To quote the first paragraph of the front page in "The Mercury" today:
"Commuters in and around Durban will not reach their destinations on time today, streets will not be cleaned, refuse will not be collected, no government services will be rendered, schools and hospitals will remain closed and KwaZulu-Natal-- and the rest of the country-- will come to a grinding halt when unions embark on a "sympathy strike" with striking public servants."
So... what we'll be doing today remains to be seen. We were supposed to go downtown to Victoria Street Market, but Downtown is a bit on the unsafe side today; these people take their striking very seriously.
However, hopefully we'll be able to make it to the orphanage to spend our last day there with the kids.
So... until later, I suppose.
A.
[image courtesy of Time.com]
Well, whether or not we actually have a chance to leave the B&B today is up for debate as the strike is intensifying into a "sympathy strike," with many other South African unions showing their solidarity with the striking public servants.The most disruptive new development is the addition of the KZN Taxi Alliance to today's sympathy strike. As I've written about before, most of the "public" transportation around Durban is by way of Khumbi, (I spelled it Combee before, but one of the Zulu speakers who works here just spelled it for me. Hey-- I can't spell in English, so if you were expecting any spelling prowess in Zulu from me, think again.) privately owned taxi-buses that ferry people around the city. This is how most people in the area, especially from the townships, get to and from work and them striking will affect almost all business in the city.
Actual taxis in the western sense of the word are also helping out with the whole ordeal by clogging traffic by driving exceptionally slow today. There were rumours that taxis would block roads to and from Durban International Airport, but those seem to be untrue. Instead, they'll just make everyone late.
Universities, including UKZN, are also on strike for the day as well as members of the South African Municipal Workers' Union (Samwu). However, essential services are not supposed to be disrupted. (not that that matters as we've already lost our water. They say it's a water main break, but who knows?)
To quote the first paragraph of the front page in "The Mercury" today:
"Commuters in and around Durban will not reach their destinations on time today, streets will not be cleaned, refuse will not be collected, no government services will be rendered, schools and hospitals will remain closed and KwaZulu-Natal-- and the rest of the country-- will come to a grinding halt when unions embark on a "sympathy strike" with striking public servants."
So... what we'll be doing today remains to be seen. We were supposed to go downtown to Victoria Street Market, but Downtown is a bit on the unsafe side today; these people take their striking very seriously.
However, hopefully we'll be able to make it to the orphanage to spend our last day there with the kids.
So... until later, I suppose.
A.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
One more week left!
[picture of the day: a generic Bird of Paradise. Because I haven't taken any pictures in the past couple of days.]
I need to be writing papers. Which is precisely why I'm updating.
So yesterday I had my first South African church experience. A group of 8 of us went with Vukile, one of our professors here, to his church in downtown Durban. According to my friends who belong to predominately black gospel churches back home, it was a church that felt just like home. For me, it was a totally different experience.
First off, I was one of the 3 lightest people in the entire crowd of approximately 500. Me, the pastor, and my fair-skinned Mexican roommate. When I say that we stood out like sore thumbs, we truly did. People were infinitely polite, but everyone was curious to know where we were from. And then when we told them "the United States," it was always accompanied by a long, "ahhhh... well now, that makes sense."
I suppose I had been expecting more Africany sounding music with drums and loud vocals, but for all intents and purposes, it was gospel. Albeit half of the time sung in Zulu. The contrast between this church and my church back in Fray-town was incredible. Instead of the weakly pathetic singing of our church's starkly white congregation, this congregation was LOUD. Loud, excited to be there, and really into what they were singing. (even while clicking! that was the coolest part as mid-word the entire congregation would use a resounding "click" in some of the Zulu songs. It was super cool.)
Though I didn't agree with some of what the pastor was preaching, he was gregarious, funny, and long-winded. A Durban native and former drug-dealer, he used personal anecdotes throughout the sermon to illustrate what he was saying and made the 2 hour sermon more tolerable than it would've been otherwise. All in all, an interesting experience.
And then we came back to the B&B and did work. Until our Taco Zulu excursion.
Yes, I did just say Taco Zulu, the local Mexican Restaurant. Not exactly authentic, but tasty nevertheless. T., my Mexican roommate, was vexed that it did not taste like her grandmother's cooking, but for those of us who did not grow up in Guadalajara, we were pretty satisfied. My chimichanga was really more of an over sized, mexicany egg-roll, but hey-- it had guacamole. And generally if there's guacamole involved, I'm not complaining.
Speaking of guacamole, I should mention that these South Africans love their avocados. They're EVERYWHERE!!! We even had avocado on our pizza the other day. And, believe it or not, it was fabulously delicious. You should try it if you get the chance. Just put some slices of avocado on pepperoni pizza and "mmm." Yes... it qualifies for a "mmm."
But back to Taco Zulu. It was interesting with the brightly woven cloths everywhere and the Corona and Jose Cuervo adverts adorning the walls. And the West-Coast rap blaring from the speakers (I was informed that it was West-Coast rap by J; apparently there's an obvious difference from East-Coast rap. Not being a rap aficionado, I'll take J's word for it.) There were also security guards carrying assault rifles. Two weeks ago, there was a shooting in a local restaurant, and restaurant owners all over Durban have taken it seriously.
Unlike security people in the U.S. with their nice little uniforms and big flashlights hanging from their belt, security people in South Africa don't give a shit about being politically correct and blending into the surroundings. They dress in street clothes, black hat included, and sling M-16s around their necks like they're merely murses. [definition: a man purse. Man + purse = murse.] And then they glare at any black male in sight. Last night, a few of our guys got glared at, which was kinda scary. Luckily, when you start speaking loudly in an American accent, they decide you're not really a threat as you're just a tourist, and look elsewhere.
But anyways, Taco Zulu was relatively good (despite the fact that they were out of stock of Corona and Tortilla Chips. I mean really. They call themselves a Mexican Restaurant! The silly kids.) We had fun. Then we came home and went to bed at an hour that would make most Farmers quite happy.
Today was not very interesting. We went to an under-stocked museum about Cato Manor (read: one room exhibit detailing the years 1940-1960.) and went to the orphanage.
Where Pumi professed his undying love for me and tried to kiss me multiple times. I finally told him that he'd have to wait until he was taller than me, as I only kiss boys who are taller than me. That seemed to work, though he has a while as at the moment the top of his head only reaches my waist.
There was also a security guard at the supermarket today who asked one of my friends how he could "get" the white girl. She then told him she would ask me. Which she did. I, being ever the bitch, just flashed him a smile and laughed. Sorry, but South African Security Guards aren't exactly my type.
And that was my day. Plus one nap, and a paper that I have yet to write. With 30 minutes of battery remaining on my laptop. So tonight will be an interesting one. Especially as we stocked up on some more fabulous South African wine while at the Pick-n-Pay.
Ha! Like I've ever been productive until the very last minute in my entire life. I have until tomorrow at 4.
So wish me luck! And I officially come home in one week, which I've decided to start thinking very positively about. Here are the things/people I can't wait to see/do upon my arrival:
* First and foremost, My Mommy. I'm so pathetic-- I definitely cried myself to sleep on Saturday night because a.) I had a mommy and b.) because I missed her. I swear, sometimes I think I'll never grow out of my 4-year-old stage of life. 21-years-old and still crying for her mommy...sheesh.
* Bwurp. ie. my baby sister. With whom I shall make cupcakes upon my return. Because I've really been craving cupcakes lately.
* Mister Wiggles. ooo... kitty. I love my kitty.
* Lyds! For, like, three days until she leaves me for frickin' Oxford. I mean seriously, how lame is that? Who goes to England?
* My fabulous grandparents.
* Taking a bath. A long, luxurious bubble bath.
* Eating crap-loads of grape leaves from Schotts. mmm.
* Seeing my garden. (sidenote: Mom! You never sent me pictures of my garden! You failed!)
* many other people and things, but these were the ones on the front of my brain today. But if you were not mentioned, never fear! I have a HUGE brain! you're in there somewhere!
Ok. This procrastination is insane. And my battery is about to die.
So until tomorrowish-but-more-likely-Wednesday,
I need to be writing papers. Which is precisely why I'm updating.So yesterday I had my first South African church experience. A group of 8 of us went with Vukile, one of our professors here, to his church in downtown Durban. According to my friends who belong to predominately black gospel churches back home, it was a church that felt just like home. For me, it was a totally different experience.
First off, I was one of the 3 lightest people in the entire crowd of approximately 500. Me, the pastor, and my fair-skinned Mexican roommate. When I say that we stood out like sore thumbs, we truly did. People were infinitely polite, but everyone was curious to know where we were from. And then when we told them "the United States," it was always accompanied by a long, "ahhhh... well now, that makes sense."
I suppose I had been expecting more Africany sounding music with drums and loud vocals, but for all intents and purposes, it was gospel. Albeit half of the time sung in Zulu. The contrast between this church and my church back in Fray-town was incredible. Instead of the weakly pathetic singing of our church's starkly white congregation, this congregation was LOUD. Loud, excited to be there, and really into what they were singing. (even while clicking! that was the coolest part as mid-word the entire congregation would use a resounding "click" in some of the Zulu songs. It was super cool.)
Though I didn't agree with some of what the pastor was preaching, he was gregarious, funny, and long-winded. A Durban native and former drug-dealer, he used personal anecdotes throughout the sermon to illustrate what he was saying and made the 2 hour sermon more tolerable than it would've been otherwise. All in all, an interesting experience.
And then we came back to the B&B and did work. Until our Taco Zulu excursion.
Yes, I did just say Taco Zulu, the local Mexican Restaurant. Not exactly authentic, but tasty nevertheless. T., my Mexican roommate, was vexed that it did not taste like her grandmother's cooking, but for those of us who did not grow up in Guadalajara, we were pretty satisfied. My chimichanga was really more of an over sized, mexicany egg-roll, but hey-- it had guacamole. And generally if there's guacamole involved, I'm not complaining.
Speaking of guacamole, I should mention that these South Africans love their avocados. They're EVERYWHERE!!! We even had avocado on our pizza the other day. And, believe it or not, it was fabulously delicious. You should try it if you get the chance. Just put some slices of avocado on pepperoni pizza and "mmm." Yes... it qualifies for a "mmm."
But back to Taco Zulu. It was interesting with the brightly woven cloths everywhere and the Corona and Jose Cuervo adverts adorning the walls. And the West-Coast rap blaring from the speakers (I was informed that it was West-Coast rap by J; apparently there's an obvious difference from East-Coast rap. Not being a rap aficionado, I'll take J's word for it.) There were also security guards carrying assault rifles. Two weeks ago, there was a shooting in a local restaurant, and restaurant owners all over Durban have taken it seriously.
Unlike security people in the U.S. with their nice little uniforms and big flashlights hanging from their belt, security people in South Africa don't give a shit about being politically correct and blending into the surroundings. They dress in street clothes, black hat included, and sling M-16s around their necks like they're merely murses. [definition: a man purse. Man + purse = murse.] And then they glare at any black male in sight. Last night, a few of our guys got glared at, which was kinda scary. Luckily, when you start speaking loudly in an American accent, they decide you're not really a threat as you're just a tourist, and look elsewhere.
But anyways, Taco Zulu was relatively good (despite the fact that they were out of stock of Corona and Tortilla Chips. I mean really. They call themselves a Mexican Restaurant! The silly kids.) We had fun. Then we came home and went to bed at an hour that would make most Farmers quite happy.
Today was not very interesting. We went to an under-stocked museum about Cato Manor (read: one room exhibit detailing the years 1940-1960.) and went to the orphanage.
Where Pumi professed his undying love for me and tried to kiss me multiple times. I finally told him that he'd have to wait until he was taller than me, as I only kiss boys who are taller than me. That seemed to work, though he has a while as at the moment the top of his head only reaches my waist.
There was also a security guard at the supermarket today who asked one of my friends how he could "get" the white girl. She then told him she would ask me. Which she did. I, being ever the bitch, just flashed him a smile and laughed. Sorry, but South African Security Guards aren't exactly my type.
And that was my day. Plus one nap, and a paper that I have yet to write. With 30 minutes of battery remaining on my laptop. So tonight will be an interesting one. Especially as we stocked up on some more fabulous South African wine while at the Pick-n-Pay.
Ha! Like I've ever been productive until the very last minute in my entire life. I have until tomorrow at 4.
So wish me luck! And I officially come home in one week, which I've decided to start thinking very positively about. Here are the things/people I can't wait to see/do upon my arrival:
* First and foremost, My Mommy. I'm so pathetic-- I definitely cried myself to sleep on Saturday night because a.) I had a mommy and b.) because I missed her. I swear, sometimes I think I'll never grow out of my 4-year-old stage of life. 21-years-old and still crying for her mommy...sheesh.
* Bwurp. ie. my baby sister. With whom I shall make cupcakes upon my return. Because I've really been craving cupcakes lately.
* Mister Wiggles. ooo... kitty. I love my kitty.
* Lyds! For, like, three days until she leaves me for frickin' Oxford. I mean seriously, how lame is that? Who goes to England?
* My fabulous grandparents.
* Taking a bath. A long, luxurious bubble bath.
* Eating crap-loads of grape leaves from Schotts. mmm.
* Seeing my garden. (sidenote: Mom! You never sent me pictures of my garden! You failed!)
* many other people and things, but these were the ones on the front of my brain today. But if you were not mentioned, never fear! I have a HUGE brain! you're in there somewhere!
Ok. This procrastination is insane. And my battery is about to die.
So until tomorrowish-but-more-likely-Wednesday,
A.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Busy Busy Busy
**EDIT: This post was completed yesterday and meant for publication then, but the wireless had a different view on the matter. So two posts for today, though this is technically Sunday's.**
[pictures of the day: a tie. The one on the left is the Valley of 1,000 Hills and on the right is a group from the Isicathamiya competition.]
Well, it's been a busy couple of days, and that's not even counting all of my reading and researching and writing!
Yesterday (Saturday) morning we went on our tour of the Valley of 1,000 Hills which is precisely what its name implies: a bunch of hills (roughly one thousand) and valleys. We started off with a tour of a crocodile prison (it had another name, but that's the more accurate version) where we watched a bunch of variously sized and aged crocs (one was 104 years old!) lie catatonically in the sun. Some with their mouths open.
Then we went across the street to the "Zulu village," a tourist attraction with fake Zulu huts where we listened to guides talk about traditional Zulu life, and then watched a dancing performance. Though it was well done and informative, I felt extremely awkward and voyeuristic the entire time as if I was personally exploiting Zulu culture. Which I guess I wasn't, but still. Didn't make me feel any better about the whole ordeal.
After our touristy portion of the day, we then went to an AIDS orphanage that was situated in the Valley of 1,000 hills. Though we've been volunteering regularly at St.Philos, this was a vastly different experience. The orphanage itself is the home of the woman who runs it, and after her husband died of AIDS, she decided to care for the children who were also suffering from the loss of loved ones, or even from AIDS themselves. So she did, and slowly over time through generous donations and whatnot, its expanded to the point where she currently cares for 50 children.
And these are not just children who come from bad homes. These are children who have no homes-- orphans in the truest sense of the word. All of their parents have died from AIDS, and the vast majority of the children are infected as well. So while these children were delighted to see us, eat the oranges we brought, and teach us Zulu songs and dances, many of them will die before they reach their next birthday. Some of them were going blind, clearly had thrush (a common disease of AIDS), and had open sores around their bodies.
I spent most of our time there hanging out with a little girl and her orange. She was around 1 and at that stage where she's physically capable of walking, but just not so good at it yet. And, for whatever reason, she liked me. So while the bigger kids sang and danced and ate their oranges, we sat on a step and rolled her orange back and forth, back and forth. And then she crawled up in my lap, and I peeled her orange for her.
She didn't speak a word of English-- in fact, I don't even know if she spoke at all-- and I have no idea if she was healthy or not, but it was a very powerful experience. Seeing this adorable little girl who had no family in the world, who may be dying, who was so happy just to roll an orange.
But after a few hours there, it was time to go home and rest for our big and exciting night for it was a Saturday night and Saturday nights in Durban mean one thing: Isicathamiya competitions.
The word Isicathamiya means "to tread softly like a cat." And that's precisely what they do on stage. Evolved from traditional Zulu singing, Isicathamiya is an a capella form of singing in precise 4-part harmony with careful choreography, The competitions themselves have been going on every Saturday night for at least a century, though the outfits evolved after American jazz singers made an appearance in the 40's, prompting the change to tailored suits and snazzy shoes.
The singing itself is mind-boggling. The amount of sound that only 15 men can produce is incredible-- easily filling the Durban YMCA and reverberating through the broken windows. It envelops the listener like a warm, down blanket and seeps into your every pore while the harmonies flow through your limbs. It's just pure, unadulterated sound the way only the human voice can produce it.
And this is a serious competition. If any of you have ever heard of Ladysmith Black Mambazo (they were the African group featured on Paul Simon's "Graceland" -- I know you know of them, Dad.), they were the most famous group to come out of this competition. It also seriously influenced the Broadway Lion King. If you listen to the soundtrack, the portions that are a capella are Isicathamiya. They both sound good on CD, but nothing compares to the live performance.
The performance itself is an all night ordeal. And by all night, I seriously mean all night. As in, from 11pm-6am. The competitors are different groups all aligned with a different area YMCA and identifiable by their uniquely different suits. What happens is that each group has a 20 minute "warm-up" on stage from 11-4:30. Then the official judging of the competition is from 5:00- 6:00. So warm-up = the time to really show off; the competition = the time to be nervous, as there is a moneyed prize at stake.
Unfortunately, we only stayed until 1 (it had been a long day) and only had a chance to see some of the warm-ups. However, the experience was one I won't be forgetting anytime soon. It was Awesome. As in the original definition of the word.
And I officially only have one week and two days left until I leave. Though I don't know if you ever really leave Africa. People say you don't, and I'm inclined to believe them. I love this place. I love these people. I love these cultures. I love the deep red of the dirt, the blood red of the setting sun. The sound of the monkeys as they bicker on the roofs and the long-necked birds as they caw mid-flight. I love that people actually care about politics and take part in them. I love the Ubuntu.
In a nutshell, I can't wait to come back.
And you should come with me.
A.
[pictures of the day: a tie. The one on the left is the Valley of 1,000 Hills and on the right is a group from the Isicathamiya competition.]
Well, it's been a busy couple of days, and that's not even counting all of my reading and researching and writing!
Yesterday (Saturday) morning we went on our tour of the Valley of 1,000 Hills which is precisely what its name implies: a bunch of hills (roughly one thousand) and valleys. We started off with a tour of a crocodile prison (it had another name, but that's the more accurate version) where we watched a bunch of variously sized and aged crocs (one was 104 years old!) lie catatonically in the sun. Some with their mouths open.
Then we went across the street to the "Zulu village," a tourist attraction with fake Zulu huts where we listened to guides talk about traditional Zulu life, and then watched a dancing performance. Though it was well done and informative, I felt extremely awkward and voyeuristic the entire time as if I was personally exploiting Zulu culture. Which I guess I wasn't, but still. Didn't make me feel any better about the whole ordeal.
After our touristy portion of the day, we then went to an AIDS orphanage that was situated in the Valley of 1,000 hills. Though we've been volunteering regularly at St.Philos, this was a vastly different experience. The orphanage itself is the home of the woman who runs it, and after her husband died of AIDS, she decided to care for the children who were also suffering from the loss of loved ones, or even from AIDS themselves. So she did, and slowly over time through generous donations and whatnot, its expanded to the point where she currently cares for 50 children.
And these are not just children who come from bad homes. These are children who have no homes-- orphans in the truest sense of the word. All of their parents have died from AIDS, and the vast majority of the children are infected as well. So while these children were delighted to see us, eat the oranges we brought, and teach us Zulu songs and dances, many of them will die before they reach their next birthday. Some of them were going blind, clearly had thrush (a common disease of AIDS), and had open sores around their bodies.
I spent most of our time there hanging out with a little girl and her orange. She was around 1 and at that stage where she's physically capable of walking, but just not so good at it yet. And, for whatever reason, she liked me. So while the bigger kids sang and danced and ate their oranges, we sat on a step and rolled her orange back and forth, back and forth. And then she crawled up in my lap, and I peeled her orange for her.
She didn't speak a word of English-- in fact, I don't even know if she spoke at all-- and I have no idea if she was healthy or not, but it was a very powerful experience. Seeing this adorable little girl who had no family in the world, who may be dying, who was so happy just to roll an orange.
But after a few hours there, it was time to go home and rest for our big and exciting night for it was a Saturday night and Saturday nights in Durban mean one thing: Isicathamiya competitions.
The word Isicathamiya means "to tread softly like a cat." And that's precisely what they do on stage. Evolved from traditional Zulu singing, Isicathamiya is an a capella form of singing in precise 4-part harmony with careful choreography, The competitions themselves have been going on every Saturday night for at least a century, though the outfits evolved after American jazz singers made an appearance in the 40's, prompting the change to tailored suits and snazzy shoes.
The singing itself is mind-boggling. The amount of sound that only 15 men can produce is incredible-- easily filling the Durban YMCA and reverberating through the broken windows. It envelops the listener like a warm, down blanket and seeps into your every pore while the harmonies flow through your limbs. It's just pure, unadulterated sound the way only the human voice can produce it.
And this is a serious competition. If any of you have ever heard of Ladysmith Black Mambazo (they were the African group featured on Paul Simon's "Graceland" -- I know you know of them, Dad.), they were the most famous group to come out of this competition. It also seriously influenced the Broadway Lion King. If you listen to the soundtrack, the portions that are a capella are Isicathamiya. They both sound good on CD, but nothing compares to the live performance.
The performance itself is an all night ordeal. And by all night, I seriously mean all night. As in, from 11pm-6am. The competitors are different groups all aligned with a different area YMCA and identifiable by their uniquely different suits. What happens is that each group has a 20 minute "warm-up" on stage from 11-4:30. Then the official judging of the competition is from 5:00- 6:00. So warm-up = the time to really show off; the competition = the time to be nervous, as there is a moneyed prize at stake.
Unfortunately, we only stayed until 1 (it had been a long day) and only had a chance to see some of the warm-ups. However, the experience was one I won't be forgetting anytime soon. It was Awesome. As in the original definition of the word.
And I officially only have one week and two days left until I leave. Though I don't know if you ever really leave Africa. People say you don't, and I'm inclined to believe them. I love this place. I love these people. I love these cultures. I love the deep red of the dirt, the blood red of the setting sun. The sound of the monkeys as they bicker on the roofs and the long-necked birds as they caw mid-flight. I love that people actually care about politics and take part in them. I love the Ubuntu.
In a nutshell, I can't wait to come back.
And you should come with me.
A.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Temples, the Children's Home, and How South Africa is Going on Strike
[picture of the day: me with pumi in a picture in which he's convinced i look like a bunny
rabbit.]
So things are officially crazy: I have one huge paper due on Tuesday, and then Friday -- as in exactly one week from today-- I have to give my final presentation of my research to the entire History faculty of UKZN, the UofM professors, my trip mates, and a plethora of students who apparently show up just to see how Americans give presentations.
I also have to write my thesis.
So if postings get more erratic than they already are, it's probably because I have no life and am spending every waking minute doing work.
But on to the stuff you actually want to hear about!
When last I wrote I promised an update on our "ethnic identities" tour. Essentially we went to a mosque, a traditional medicinal market, and a Hindu temple. While all were equally interesting, I was particularly fascinated by the mosque. Having never been to a mosque before I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I loved it. Something about the mosque just seemed 20x more sacred than any church I've ever stepped foot in. Maybe it was how you had to wash your feet, hands and face of your external worries and troubles before entering the sanctuary. Or maybe how prayer was treated as such a special, formal thing between you and God. Or the stillness and elegance of the elaborate marble.
I really can't articulate it, but I certainly felt closer to God while sitting in that Mosque than I ever have in my entire life.
And then we went to the market and temple to continue learning.
In addition to touring around, we've also spent quite a bit of time at the Children's Home. I'm loving hanging out with the older guys, but one little six-year-old has particularly decided to attach himself to me. A rambunctious little kid with what has to be ADHD, Pumi has, for whatever reason, decided that I cannot move an inch without his permission. It's kind of cute in way, but yesterday I nearly lost all of my limbs when we had to leave. I ended up having to teach him what a pinkie swear was, and then pinkie swear that I would be back next week.
It's just so heartbreaking to see these great kids and know that they don't have safe homes to go home to. Pumi certainly doesn't-- yesterday when he was being stubborn I plucked him up to carry him away from the soccer field and saw a huge mass of scars crisscrossing his back.
But the kids were having a great time yesterday as they didn't have school due to the strikes. Which brings me to topic #3: The Civil Servant Strike here in South Africa, which is currently the largest strike since the end of Apartheid.
Today is the biggest day (so far) of the Nation-wide Strikes here in South Africa. Essentially what the unions are demanding is a 12% pay increase-- not an unreasonable request as high government officials just got a 50% increase. The problem is this: the pay of people has been no where near equal to what the inflation here has been. The rate of pay for a public school teacher at the moment is barely enough for them to qualify as middle class. For a public school teacher who splurges on nothing and lives as frugally as possible, they may just be able to afford a two bedroom apartment.
So what's going on is pretty much all civil servants are striking. The most problematic issues of this is that almost all schools and most major hospitals are closed, so for the past few days critical patients have been being transported to neighboring private hospitals and students have been preparing for their exams at home. So far things haven't gotten violent here in Durban, but in Cape Town and Jo-Berg, police have been firing rubber bullets and water cannons at the strikers, and I believe in Jo-Berg a few people were beaten to death.
We were supposed to go on a tour of a few schools and Gandhi's settlement (located on a school campus) today, but due to safety concerns we'll be hanging out at the B&B to work instead.
As of now, all's well in Durban and today is expected to be the biggest day of the strike. However, UofM is keeping a very close eye on the situation and sending us regular updates. If anything goes wrong, we'll be flown out of South Africa immediately. In other words, don't worry; we're fine. (we're having an official debriefing at the moment, and it looks like everything should be fine after today's work day.)
But research calls and I have papers to write, so off I shall run.
love and kisses,
A.
rabbit.]
So things are officially crazy: I have one huge paper due on Tuesday, and then Friday -- as in exactly one week from today-- I have to give my final presentation of my research to the entire History faculty of UKZN, the UofM professors, my trip mates, and a plethora of students who apparently show up just to see how Americans give presentations.I also have to write my thesis.
So if postings get more erratic than they already are, it's probably because I have no life and am spending every waking minute doing work.
But on to the stuff you actually want to hear about!
When last I wrote I promised an update on our "ethnic identities" tour. Essentially we went to a mosque, a traditional medicinal market, and a Hindu temple. While all were equally interesting, I was particularly fascinated by the mosque. Having never been to a mosque before I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I loved it. Something about the mosque just seemed 20x more sacred than any church I've ever stepped foot in. Maybe it was how you had to wash your feet, hands and face of your external worries and troubles before entering the sanctuary. Or maybe how prayer was treated as such a special, formal thing between you and God. Or the stillness and elegance of the elaborate marble.
I really can't articulate it, but I certainly felt closer to God while sitting in that Mosque than I ever have in my entire life.
And then we went to the market and temple to continue learning.
In addition to touring around, we've also spent quite a bit of time at the Children's Home. I'm loving hanging out with the older guys, but one little six-year-old has particularly decided to attach himself to me. A rambunctious little kid with what has to be ADHD, Pumi has, for whatever reason, decided that I cannot move an inch without his permission. It's kind of cute in way, but yesterday I nearly lost all of my limbs when we had to leave. I ended up having to teach him what a pinkie swear was, and then pinkie swear that I would be back next week.
It's just so heartbreaking to see these great kids and know that they don't have safe homes to go home to. Pumi certainly doesn't-- yesterday when he was being stubborn I plucked him up to carry him away from the soccer field and saw a huge mass of scars crisscrossing his back.
But the kids were having a great time yesterday as they didn't have school due to the strikes. Which brings me to topic #3: The Civil Servant Strike here in South Africa, which is currently the largest strike since the end of Apartheid.
Today is the biggest day (so far) of the Nation-wide Strikes here in South Africa. Essentially what the unions are demanding is a 12% pay increase-- not an unreasonable request as high government officials just got a 50% increase. The problem is this: the pay of people has been no where near equal to what the inflation here has been. The rate of pay for a public school teacher at the moment is barely enough for them to qualify as middle class. For a public school teacher who splurges on nothing and lives as frugally as possible, they may just be able to afford a two bedroom apartment.
So what's going on is pretty much all civil servants are striking. The most problematic issues of this is that almost all schools and most major hospitals are closed, so for the past few days critical patients have been being transported to neighboring private hospitals and students have been preparing for their exams at home. So far things haven't gotten violent here in Durban, but in Cape Town and Jo-Berg, police have been firing rubber bullets and water cannons at the strikers, and I believe in Jo-Berg a few people were beaten to death.
We were supposed to go on a tour of a few schools and Gandhi's settlement (located on a school campus) today, but due to safety concerns we'll be hanging out at the B&B to work instead.
As of now, all's well in Durban and today is expected to be the biggest day of the strike. However, UofM is keeping a very close eye on the situation and sending us regular updates. If anything goes wrong, we'll be flown out of South Africa immediately. In other words, don't worry; we're fine. (we're having an official debriefing at the moment, and it looks like everything should be fine after today's work day.)
But research calls and I have papers to write, so off I shall run.
love and kisses,
A.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Sorry for the lapse in posting...stupid internet.
[picture of the day: a zebra, because I haven't taken any pictures since I got back from the Game Reserve.]
Well, I'm back! Sorry for the long delay in posting...the Internet here sucks. As in really, really sucks. But no matter-- on to the post!
We were at the Game Reserve from Friday afternoon until Sunday afternoon and man, was it great. Despite the weather. It rained, it poured, it let up for a bit, then it monsooned, the sky fell, and I was sure that it would be only a matter of time before we'd have to build an Ark, pack the animals away, and stay afloat until god knows how long.
In other words, it was like Norway. With elephants.
Terrible weather non withstanding, we had a great time. We stayed in these snazzy tree houses on stilts (to better keep the Black Mambas out) that were set up like camps you'd see in old-school safaris (see previous post for the picture of my room) with yards and yards of beautifully draped mosquito netting, a gorgeous thatch roof (which, amazingly enough, actually kept out the rain) and teak flooring. These little tree houses were connected by wooden pathways where impala and these little gray monkeys liked to hang out and also led to the Dining hall, the bar and the lounge. All appropriately snazzy. It was pretty much one of the most amazing places to stay ever.
For the actual safari part, because our group was too big to all pile into one open land rover we split into two groups and, if I do say so myself, I had the world's best guide-- Milton. (The other guide seemed fine, though he had an eerily perfect resemblance to Joakim.) Milton was super cool, a freakin' genius on all things African wildlife and could, and did, track an elephant through a rainstorm. He has also been attacked by a leopard and lived to tell the tale. (we thought he was joking until he showed us the scars running up and down his arms and crisscrossing his chest.) So, as we had the world's best safari guide, we saw a crazily large amount of animals super close: Zebras, Giraffes, Baboons, Rhinos, Buffaloes, and Elephants.
It was fun and often wet and chilly, but nothing beats seeing an elephant in the wild only a foot away from your face. That is, until he nearly attacks you.
So, we're just chilling in the Land Rover watching this elephant do elephanty things like eat and urinate and flap his ears... until he suddenly turns around, looks directly at our Land Rover, starts flapping his ears at a much higher intensity than before, begins waving his trunk like he's directing traffic and rumbles closer. But then Milton stood up, started making some hideously ugly loud noise, and the elephant turned around and went back to his tree.
But all in all, the game reserve was a great experience. Our group really bonded while sitting in front of the fireplace playing cards in the lounge while it poured outside, or watching the monkeys steal fruit from the dining room (i tell you-- they're just like squirrels but with posable thumbs), or snuggling together miserably as the open land rover flew through the freezing cold rain on the way back to the resort.
So we came back to Durban on Sunday with no complications except for one flat tire and I have been being academic ever since with a paper due yesterday and TONS of research to get caught up on.
And then yesterday we took our "ethnic identities" tour around Durban, where we visited a Mosque, a marketplace for traditional healing, and a Hindu temple. But that requires another post completely, so I think I'll write about it later this afternoon when I get back from the Children's Home.
Until then.
A.
Well, I'm back! Sorry for the long delay in posting...the Internet here sucks. As in really, really sucks. But no matter-- on to the post!We were at the Game Reserve from Friday afternoon until Sunday afternoon and man, was it great. Despite the weather. It rained, it poured, it let up for a bit, then it monsooned, the sky fell, and I was sure that it would be only a matter of time before we'd have to build an Ark, pack the animals away, and stay afloat until god knows how long.
In other words, it was like Norway. With elephants.
Terrible weather non withstanding, we had a great time. We stayed in these snazzy tree houses on stilts (to better keep the Black Mambas out) that were set up like camps you'd see in old-school safaris (see previous post for the picture of my room) with yards and yards of beautifully draped mosquito netting, a gorgeous thatch roof (which, amazingly enough, actually kept out the rain) and teak flooring. These little tree houses were connected by wooden pathways where impala and these little gray monkeys liked to hang out and also led to the Dining hall, the bar and the lounge. All appropriately snazzy. It was pretty much one of the most amazing places to stay ever.
For the actual safari part, because our group was too big to all pile into one open land rover we split into two groups and, if I do say so myself, I had the world's best guide-- Milton. (The other guide seemed fine, though he had an eerily perfect resemblance to Joakim.) Milton was super cool, a freakin' genius on all things African wildlife and could, and did, track an elephant through a rainstorm. He has also been attacked by a leopard and lived to tell the tale. (we thought he was joking until he showed us the scars running up and down his arms and crisscrossing his chest.) So, as we had the world's best safari guide, we saw a crazily large amount of animals super close: Zebras, Giraffes, Baboons, Rhinos, Buffaloes, and Elephants.
It was fun and often wet and chilly, but nothing beats seeing an elephant in the wild only a foot away from your face. That is, until he nearly attacks you.
So, we're just chilling in the Land Rover watching this elephant do elephanty things like eat and urinate and flap his ears... until he suddenly turns around, looks directly at our Land Rover, starts flapping his ears at a much higher intensity than before, begins waving his trunk like he's directing traffic and rumbles closer. But then Milton stood up, started making some hideously ugly loud noise, and the elephant turned around and went back to his tree.
But all in all, the game reserve was a great experience. Our group really bonded while sitting in front of the fireplace playing cards in the lounge while it poured outside, or watching the monkeys steal fruit from the dining room (i tell you-- they're just like squirrels but with posable thumbs), or snuggling together miserably as the open land rover flew through the freezing cold rain on the way back to the resort.
So we came back to Durban on Sunday with no complications except for one flat tire and I have been being academic ever since with a paper due yesterday and TONS of research to get caught up on.
And then yesterday we took our "ethnic identities" tour around Durban, where we visited a Mosque, a marketplace for traditional healing, and a Hindu temple. But that requires another post completely, so I think I'll write about it later this afternoon when I get back from the Children's Home.
Until then.
A.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A Busy Few Days and Negligent Posting
[picture of the day: the back of another Taxi-bus, taken from the inside of our taxi-bus.]
Sorry for the absence-- due to a busy past few days and increasingly unreliable Internet, I had no access to Ye Olde Blogger. So I'll summarize.
Tuesday (when I copped out by doing a picture post rather than writing with words) morning we went to Killie Campbell, a Zulu research museum and library established by the daughter of the Sugar Baron Campbell (you know, the Campbell's Soup Relative). A gorgeous Victorian-era house with absolutely stunning landscaping-- the kind you can only manage in tropical climates--Killie Campbell contains some of the most precious archives of the Zulu Kingdom from a time when historical preservation wasn't seen as necessarily important-- particularly for the African peoples. We toured the museum, and then spoke with the head librarian to get ideas for our research.
After a brief lunch, we then went to St.Philomena's, a "Children's Home" and Community Center where we met the kids. It's not an orphanage in a traditional sense where the children all live in a large dormitory like setting, but one where children are divided up into "cottages" where they live in a family-like setting with approximately 5-10 other children and a social worker that acts as a sort of head-of-household.
It was interesting because, a.) it was nothing like I had been expecting and b.) the children were like nothing I had been expecting. St.Philomena's itself is a well-funded (relatively speaking) Catholic organization that also holds conventions and acts as a B&B to help stay self-sufficient. Therefore it's beautifully landscaped with a large pool and guest houses, in addition to the children's cottages. The cottages were also completely unlike anything I was preparing myself for. Instead of those drab, institutional farms that are so often portrayed in the media, the cottages at St.Phils (as the children refer to it as) are just like what one would expect at a home. Dining room, kitchen, living room, bathrooms and bedrooms.
My friend and I spent most of our time there hanging out at the older boy's cottage (aged 13-18) and think that we'll do our volunteer work with them. Genuinely interesting and talented, some of these boys had families that they were taken away from due to abuse or neglect, others had no families at all. Nonetheless, they didn't focus on their hardships but rather their dreams. And it was inspiring. They didn't look or talk or seem like children from an institution. They just seemed like ordinary kids forced to work extraordinarily hard to reach their goals. While J (my co-patriot) and I bonded with the boys, I was just struck at how normal it all seemed. Just like hanging out with some guys... rolling my eyes when necessary.
Yesterday was a free day for all intents and purposes and a group of us decided to go the the beach. So we caught a taxi-bus and headed sea-side. Now, let me explain the concept of a taxi-bus (also called a comby or combee). During the apartheid years, there was no public transportation available for the African population, so enterprising individuals decided that they would start their own versions and they continue to today. Much like government funded transportation in the sense that they have (quasi) designated routes, these taxi-buses are essentially 16-seater vans that zip around the city, cramming in as many people as possible and charging between 2R and 3R a person. There's the driver, and then the "helper dude." I'm sure there' s an actual title, but as far as I'm concerned he's a helper dude.
What is does is look out the window at the street to see if there is anyone waiting. If there appears to be a potential passenger, he makes a hand signal. Now, each route has a hand signal and the Durbanites know each one. (the signal for downtown is pointing up with the index finger up and a closed fist. To the beach it's the same hand position, but swirling around, as if making a spiral in the sky. Still haven't figured out what the one is to get back here.) If the potential passenger is going in the same direction, he'll repeat the hand gesture, the van will come to a screeching halt, and everyone will become even more squished and uncomfortable than they already were.
Fast, efficient, and cheap, they're all privately owned and some more flamboyant than others. Though the ones we rode yesterday were relatively boring, there are some intense ones. You know the term "a party in my pants?" There should be a term "a party in my combee/comby" that has equal impact. For example, we saw one the other day that had a huge "G-Unit" painted on the side in electric pink and green and on the back window the phrase "Get Rich, or Die Trying." To accompany the custom work, there was appropriately loud 50-Cent coming from the inside. (For those of you who don't know, 50-Cent, known for the aforementioned phrase, is an American Rapper who is part of the group G-Unit, frequently collaborates with Eminem and has an enormous following on the African Continent. For the people of my generation, far greater than Nelson Mandela for sure.)
So it was an experience. We rode downtown, and then walked to the beach front where we met some interesting people and had a wonderful time playing in the huge waves and recreating New Orleans in the sand, only to watch it be washed away by "Katrina" ie. the tide. (no one ever said we were politically correct.)
It was also the first time in my life that I've ever been in a situation where I was the only white person.
In a sea of chocolate, caramel, and ebony, I stood out as a most glaringly obvious peach and for the first time in my life, got a taste of what so many people, particularly at Fraser or UofM, go through on a regular basis. And it certainly makes one reconsider the idea of privilege. and whiteness.
As it got cooler and the sun began to wane (around 3 o'clock-- it is winter here, you know) we headed back downtown, caught a few more taxi-buses, and came back to the B&B for class.
Then today happened, and all I did was go to class, read for class, research for my project, nap, and now blog.
But tomorrow we leave bright and early for the Game Reserve Ubazani where we will go see numerous exotic, wild animals. I most want to see hippos. Pretty much everyone else is excited about the Giraffes, Baboons, and Rhinos. But c'est la vie; to each his own.
So until Monday, my friends. (when you should expect a picture post)
love and kisses,
A.
Sorry for the absence-- due to a busy past few days and increasingly unreliable Internet, I had no access to Ye Olde Blogger. So I'll summarize.
Tuesday (when I copped out by doing a picture post rather than writing with words) morning we went to Killie Campbell, a Zulu research museum and library established by the daughter of the Sugar Baron Campbell (you know, the Campbell's Soup Relative). A gorgeous Victorian-era house with absolutely stunning landscaping-- the kind you can only manage in tropical climates--Killie Campbell contains some of the most precious archives of the Zulu Kingdom from a time when historical preservation wasn't seen as necessarily important-- particularly for the African peoples. We toured the museum, and then spoke with the head librarian to get ideas for our research.
After a brief lunch, we then went to St.Philomena's, a "Children's Home" and Community Center where we met the kids. It's not an orphanage in a traditional sense where the children all live in a large dormitory like setting, but one where children are divided up into "cottages" where they live in a family-like setting with approximately 5-10 other children and a social worker that acts as a sort of head-of-household.
It was interesting because, a.) it was nothing like I had been expecting and b.) the children were like nothing I had been expecting. St.Philomena's itself is a well-funded (relatively speaking) Catholic organization that also holds conventions and acts as a B&B to help stay self-sufficient. Therefore it's beautifully landscaped with a large pool and guest houses, in addition to the children's cottages. The cottages were also completely unlike anything I was preparing myself for. Instead of those drab, institutional farms that are so often portrayed in the media, the cottages at St.Phils (as the children refer to it as) are just like what one would expect at a home. Dining room, kitchen, living room, bathrooms and bedrooms.
My friend and I spent most of our time there hanging out at the older boy's cottage (aged 13-18) and think that we'll do our volunteer work with them. Genuinely interesting and talented, some of these boys had families that they were taken away from due to abuse or neglect, others had no families at all. Nonetheless, they didn't focus on their hardships but rather their dreams. And it was inspiring. They didn't look or talk or seem like children from an institution. They just seemed like ordinary kids forced to work extraordinarily hard to reach their goals. While J (my co-patriot) and I bonded with the boys, I was just struck at how normal it all seemed. Just like hanging out with some guys... rolling my eyes when necessary.
Yesterday was a free day for all intents and purposes and a group of us decided to go the the beach. So we caught a taxi-bus and headed sea-side. Now, let me explain the concept of a taxi-bus (also called a comby or combee). During the apartheid years, there was no public transportation available for the African population, so enterprising individuals decided that they would start their own versions and they continue to today. Much like government funded transportation in the sense that they have (quasi) designated routes, these taxi-buses are essentially 16-seater vans that zip around the city, cramming in as many people as possible and charging between 2R and 3R a person. There's the driver, and then the "helper dude." I'm sure there' s an actual title, but as far as I'm concerned he's a helper dude.
What is does is look out the window at the street to see if there is anyone waiting. If there appears to be a potential passenger, he makes a hand signal. Now, each route has a hand signal and the Durbanites know each one. (the signal for downtown is pointing up with the index finger up and a closed fist. To the beach it's the same hand position, but swirling around, as if making a spiral in the sky. Still haven't figured out what the one is to get back here.) If the potential passenger is going in the same direction, he'll repeat the hand gesture, the van will come to a screeching halt, and everyone will become even more squished and uncomfortable than they already were.
Fast, efficient, and cheap, they're all privately owned and some more flamboyant than others. Though the ones we rode yesterday were relatively boring, there are some intense ones. You know the term "a party in my pants?" There should be a term "a party in my combee/comby" that has equal impact. For example, we saw one the other day that had a huge "G-Unit" painted on the side in electric pink and green and on the back window the phrase "Get Rich, or Die Trying." To accompany the custom work, there was appropriately loud 50-Cent coming from the inside. (For those of you who don't know, 50-Cent, known for the aforementioned phrase, is an American Rapper who is part of the group G-Unit, frequently collaborates with Eminem and has an enormous following on the African Continent. For the people of my generation, far greater than Nelson Mandela for sure.)
So it was an experience. We rode downtown, and then walked to the beach front where we met some interesting people and had a wonderful time playing in the huge waves and recreating New Orleans in the sand, only to watch it be washed away by "Katrina" ie. the tide. (no one ever said we were politically correct.)
It was also the first time in my life that I've ever been in a situation where I was the only white person.
In a sea of chocolate, caramel, and ebony, I stood out as a most glaringly obvious peach and for the first time in my life, got a taste of what so many people, particularly at Fraser or UofM, go through on a regular basis. And it certainly makes one reconsider the idea of privilege. and whiteness.
As it got cooler and the sun began to wane (around 3 o'clock-- it is winter here, you know) we headed back downtown, caught a few more taxi-buses, and came back to the B&B for class.
Then today happened, and all I did was go to class, read for class, research for my project, nap, and now blog.
But tomorrow we leave bright and early for the Game Reserve Ubazani where we will go see numerous exotic, wild animals. I most want to see hippos. Pretty much everyone else is excited about the Giraffes, Baboons, and Rhinos. But c'est la vie; to each his own.
So until Monday, my friends. (when you should expect a picture post)
love and kisses,
A.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Picture Post!
I have far too much to say for today and far too much to digest, so instead of writing about it before I've decided what I think of today, I'll avoid it completely and provide you with pictures!
An example of the super intense security that's evident EVERYWHERE in the richer neighborhoods of Durban. Note that the spiky things coming out of the walls are actually akin to razor blades... and if that wasn't enough deterrent, they add the barbed wire for added precaution.
Yes, the beachfront of Durban does look like South Beach. South Beach, however, doesn't have Great Whites, which makes it infinitely less cooler that Durban.
This is a portion of our group awaiting our ferry ride of the Durban Harbour.
This was taken on the beach front. The woman in the front is Beth, our fabulously wonderful program advisor, and the man on the upper right is Peter, the owner of the B&B we're staying in.
Us on a night out waiting for our taxi. Unfortunately, Durban is very similar to Detroit in the aspect that you have to have a car to go anywhere... public transportation is practically nonexistent.
And... I'll actually use words tomorrow. Once I've decided which words they'll be.
Peace out, my loves.
A.
An example of the super intense security that's evident EVERYWHERE in the richer neighborhoods of Durban. Note that the spiky things coming out of the walls are actually akin to razor blades... and if that wasn't enough deterrent, they add the barbed wire for added precaution.
Yes, the beachfront of Durban does look like South Beach. South Beach, however, doesn't have Great Whites, which makes it infinitely less cooler that Durban.
This is a portion of our group awaiting our ferry ride of the Durban Harbour.
This was taken on the beach front. The woman in the front is Beth, our fabulously wonderful program advisor, and the man on the upper right is Peter, the owner of the B&B we're staying in.
Us on a night out waiting for our taxi. Unfortunately, Durban is very similar to Detroit in the aspect that you have to have a car to go anywhere... public transportation is practically nonexistent.And... I'll actually use words tomorrow. Once I've decided which words they'll be.
Peace out, my loves.
A.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Quite Literally Spewing Academia
[picture of the day: the indian ocean on my morning run]
Today was one thing and one thing only: academic. We had a four hour class session in the morning, time to go to the bookstore to purchase books that we'll need for our research (the professors recommended certain books for certain people depending on our research proposals), time to read the books, and time to discuss our research proposals with the professors during the office hours cleverly disguised as a "welcome dinner."
I also napped.
But seriously, initial panic at suddenly having a research progress report due in two days aside, I learned a lot today and am looking forward to my actual research.
For those of you who don't know, I'm researching the South African government's impact on the HIV/AIDS epidemic. South Africa has more HIV/AIDS per capita than any country in the world with an estimated 5,500,000 people living with AIDS; 3,100,000 of them women. There are staggering figures upon staggering figures, but also notable is that by 2014, it is expected that South Africa will have 5.7 million orphans under the age of 18 due to AIDS. These are figures that aren't matched anywhere in the world, which makes one wonder "why?" That's what I hope to discover, and I have an inkling that the government, either by their action or inaction, had something to do with it.
To assist in that discovery, we have to read books (duh.). [side note: I will eternally love whoever can tell me the proper punctuation of a parentheses. punctuate inside it? end the sentence you're parenthetically commenting on before the parenthetical statement? after it? ack. I'm clearly not an English major.] And the book I've selected to begin with is called Witness to AIDS, by Edwin Cameron.
Edwin Cameron is a South African Supreme Court of Appeal Justice and the first high-ranking public servant/official to come out and say, "yes, I have AIDS." In addition to keeping the South African legal system in line, he also is trying to draw attention to AIDS and de-stigmatize it, for the stigma of AIDS is one of the reasons it is so often ignored-- particularly in South Africa. Though I've only just begun the book, my professor told me that it is one part memoir and one part critical analysis on the South African government's reaction and policy of dealing with AIDS-- hence, why I'm reading it for my research. It's riveting (at least until page 27), and if you're in the market for a memoir/criticism on AIDS policy in South Africa, I already recommend it.
We also had a very in depth (and incredibly long) class session that I'd love to summarize, but am physically incapable of doing so in a remotely timely manner, dealing with the history of Durban, the Zulu Kingdom, the South African Mining Industry (you can thank the Americans for that one), the Boer Wars, the Territories, Policies of dealing with African Natives, Money money money money money, England, the Netherlands, etc.
But now I must get back to reading (believe it or not, I actually want to!) for tomorrow is an early day as we're touring all around. I think it'll be a few mosques and temples, and an orphanage, but don't quote me on it.
So until later, love and kisses.
A.
Today was one thing and one thing only: academic. We had a four hour class session in the morning, time to go to the bookstore to purchase books that we'll need for our research (the professors recommended certain books for certain people depending on our research proposals), time to read the books, and time to discuss our research proposals with the professors during the office hours cleverly disguised as a "welcome dinner."
I also napped.
But seriously, initial panic at suddenly having a research progress report due in two days aside, I learned a lot today and am looking forward to my actual research.
For those of you who don't know, I'm researching the South African government's impact on the HIV/AIDS epidemic. South Africa has more HIV/AIDS per capita than any country in the world with an estimated 5,500,000 people living with AIDS; 3,100,000 of them women. There are staggering figures upon staggering figures, but also notable is that by 2014, it is expected that South Africa will have 5.7 million orphans under the age of 18 due to AIDS. These are figures that aren't matched anywhere in the world, which makes one wonder "why?" That's what I hope to discover, and I have an inkling that the government, either by their action or inaction, had something to do with it.
To assist in that discovery, we have to read books (duh.). [side note: I will eternally love whoever can tell me the proper punctuation of a parentheses. punctuate inside it? end the sentence you're parenthetically commenting on before the parenthetical statement? after it? ack. I'm clearly not an English major.] And the book I've selected to begin with is called Witness to AIDS, by Edwin Cameron.
Edwin Cameron is a South African Supreme Court of Appeal Justice and the first high-ranking public servant/official to come out and say, "yes, I have AIDS." In addition to keeping the South African legal system in line, he also is trying to draw attention to AIDS and de-stigmatize it, for the stigma of AIDS is one of the reasons it is so often ignored-- particularly in South Africa. Though I've only just begun the book, my professor told me that it is one part memoir and one part critical analysis on the South African government's reaction and policy of dealing with AIDS-- hence, why I'm reading it for my research. It's riveting (at least until page 27), and if you're in the market for a memoir/criticism on AIDS policy in South Africa, I already recommend it.
We also had a very in depth (and incredibly long) class session that I'd love to summarize, but am physically incapable of doing so in a remotely timely manner, dealing with the history of Durban, the Zulu Kingdom, the South African Mining Industry (you can thank the Americans for that one), the Boer Wars, the Territories, Policies of dealing with African Natives, Money money money money money, England, the Netherlands, etc.
But now I must get back to reading (believe it or not, I actually want to!) for tomorrow is an early day as we're touring all around. I think it'll be a few mosques and temples, and an orphanage, but don't quote me on it.
So until later, love and kisses.
A.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Weekend Fun and History Part 2
[picture of the day: musicians at the market place.]
It's official: the wireless in this B&B is the most unreliable Internet I've ever encountered. I would've posted yesterday, but alas, it was not to be. So now you will all have to put up with reading for far longer than you were expecting.
I have to admit that I was surprised at the overwhelming interest in my history of Durban, so I figured today I'll do a brief and absolutely incomplete (emphasis on brief and absolutely incomplete) history of the country as a whole up until Apartheid. (Apartheid deserves its own post) As well as tell you about my weekend.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF SOUTH AFRICA UNTIL APARTHEID
B.C. until 1487: All native Africans of South Africa gradually make their way to the bottom of the continent.
1487: Bartholomeu Dias, a Portuguese explorer, happens upon this lovely little location. People go "ah Ha! There is a bottom to this continent after all!"
1652: Realizing that they got thirsty on their way to India for spices, the Dutch East India Company decides to build a refreshment station at a place they name the Cape of Good Hope. Good Hope, because now they have a better chance at making it to their destination free of dehydration or scurvy. No research done on whether or not they ever used the term "you scurvy knave!" or its Dutch equivalent.
1652-1795: Dutch settlers, known as the Boers or later as Afrikaners, begin making their way to South Africa. Most want to be farmers and begin a difficult life moving to the interior of the country-- think Oregon Trail, though I doubt there were ever oxen involved.
1795: The Brits come into the picture and, still ticked that they just lost the States, decide that they'll settle for South Africa. Consequently take the Cape Colony away from the Dutch.
1803: The Dutch take it back.
1806: The Brits take it back, again.
1806-1899: The Brits and Afrikaners continue to hate each other and squabble and kill each other. Both treat Africans like shit and kill them mercilessly for their land and resources.
1899-1902: "The War of the Whites." The Brits win, and the Afrikaners will be continually pissed off about it until they regain power in 1948 with the National Party.
1906-1907: The Brits (in actual England, this time) give parliamentary government to the former republics. As is to be expected, only whites can vote.
1910: As a member of the British Commonwealth, establish a "Union of South Africa," which incorporates the colonies/territories of The Cape Colony, Natal, the Transvaal, and the Orange Free State into one nation (or union, if you want to be fancy about it.)
1913: Reserves are made for Native Africans (following in the ingenious footsteps of America) and the Natives Land Act is passed, which limits African landownership to the reserves only.
1914-1919: World War I breaks out and as South Africa is technically a member of the British Empire, thousands of people go to war in countries they had nothing against for a country they'd never seen.
1939-1945: World War II. Same thing happens, only this time around more people die and they call themselves members of the "Allied" side. A lot of people are very unhappy about the whole ordeal. Particularly the Afrikaners.
1948: The Afrikaner National party wins the general election and come up with this policy that they are convinced will make life better for them. This policy is called "Apartheid."
So there's that, in a nutshell. I actually stole the dates from "A History of South Africa" by Leonard Thompson (like I could remember them!? puh-lese.) which, despite being frightfully dull, tells you pretty much everything you could ever want to know about the History of South Africa. Hence its title, I suppose.
And now for something completely different--(I really hope you read that in a British accent. Otherwise it would've totally sucked and been so not funny)-- my weekend.
Friday-post-previous-post we ended up going out to this swanky and trendy restaurant-cum-art gallery where I had 3 cocktails and a super deluxe artichoke pizza for the equivalent of $20. No joke; in the states, you'd have to pay $20 just for the ambiance. And then we went clubbing until the wee hours of the morning.
And then woke up promptly at 6:45am (which gave us about 3 hours of sleep) to go for a sunrise run on the beach. And then went to an open air market (we were told it would be of the traditional African variety, but upon arrival discovered it was more of the A2 Art Fair variety) where I spent far too much money on jewelry and souvenirs.
After compassionately giving to the African economy, (or so I'm telling myself) we walked across the street to the local mall and saw Pirates of the Caribbean III which, all negative reviews aside, I ABSOLUTELY LOVED. Call me crazy, but I enjoyed it far more than any of the other ones. And though people thought it was confusing, I understood the whole thing. Maybe I just watch so many complicated and twisty weird movies that this was all old hat. (is that a phrase? I think it's a phrase and I think I've heard it. So I'm using it. If it's not a phrase, well, it is now.)
Sunday, which is today, left us for a relaxing time going to uShaka (which means shark in Zulu) Marine World and Water Park where I looked at Sharks and went flying down 14 slides numerous times. After which we went swimming in the balmy and salty, white shark-invested Indian Ocean. Ahh... Ocean... how I love thee; let me count the ways.
Which brings us to now, where I have a looming 300 pages of reading to do before class at 10:00 and my 7:00 beachfront morning run. So that's what I'll do. After de-salting and de-sanding via that wonderful invention known as the shower. Hmm...shower... I should find out how to say that in Zulu.
A.
It's official: the wireless in this B&B is the most unreliable Internet I've ever encountered. I would've posted yesterday, but alas, it was not to be. So now you will all have to put up with reading for far longer than you were expecting.
I have to admit that I was surprised at the overwhelming interest in my history of Durban, so I figured today I'll do a brief and absolutely incomplete (emphasis on brief and absolutely incomplete) history of the country as a whole up until Apartheid. (Apartheid deserves its own post) As well as tell you about my weekend.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF SOUTH AFRICA UNTIL APARTHEID
B.C. until 1487: All native Africans of South Africa gradually make their way to the bottom of the continent.
1487: Bartholomeu Dias, a Portuguese explorer, happens upon this lovely little location. People go "ah Ha! There is a bottom to this continent after all!"
1652: Realizing that they got thirsty on their way to India for spices, the Dutch East India Company decides to build a refreshment station at a place they name the Cape of Good Hope. Good Hope, because now they have a better chance at making it to their destination free of dehydration or scurvy. No research done on whether or not they ever used the term "you scurvy knave!" or its Dutch equivalent.
1652-1795: Dutch settlers, known as the Boers or later as Afrikaners, begin making their way to South Africa. Most want to be farmers and begin a difficult life moving to the interior of the country-- think Oregon Trail, though I doubt there were ever oxen involved.
1795: The Brits come into the picture and, still ticked that they just lost the States, decide that they'll settle for South Africa. Consequently take the Cape Colony away from the Dutch.
1803: The Dutch take it back.
1806: The Brits take it back, again.
1806-1899: The Brits and Afrikaners continue to hate each other and squabble and kill each other. Both treat Africans like shit and kill them mercilessly for their land and resources.
1899-1902: "The War of the Whites." The Brits win, and the Afrikaners will be continually pissed off about it until they regain power in 1948 with the National Party.
1906-1907: The Brits (in actual England, this time) give parliamentary government to the former republics. As is to be expected, only whites can vote.
1910: As a member of the British Commonwealth, establish a "Union of South Africa," which incorporates the colonies/territories of The Cape Colony, Natal, the Transvaal, and the Orange Free State into one nation (or union, if you want to be fancy about it.)
1913: Reserves are made for Native Africans (following in the ingenious footsteps of America) and the Natives Land Act is passed, which limits African landownership to the reserves only.
1914-1919: World War I breaks out and as South Africa is technically a member of the British Empire, thousands of people go to war in countries they had nothing against for a country they'd never seen.
1939-1945: World War II. Same thing happens, only this time around more people die and they call themselves members of the "Allied" side. A lot of people are very unhappy about the whole ordeal. Particularly the Afrikaners.
1948: The Afrikaner National party wins the general election and come up with this policy that they are convinced will make life better for them. This policy is called "Apartheid."
So there's that, in a nutshell. I actually stole the dates from "A History of South Africa" by Leonard Thompson (like I could remember them!? puh-lese.) which, despite being frightfully dull, tells you pretty much everything you could ever want to know about the History of South Africa. Hence its title, I suppose.
And now for something completely different--(I really hope you read that in a British accent. Otherwise it would've totally sucked and been so not funny)-- my weekend.
Friday-post-previous-post we ended up going out to this swanky and trendy restaurant-cum-art gallery where I had 3 cocktails and a super deluxe artichoke pizza for the equivalent of $20. No joke; in the states, you'd have to pay $20 just for the ambiance. And then we went clubbing until the wee hours of the morning.
And then woke up promptly at 6:45am (which gave us about 3 hours of sleep) to go for a sunrise run on the beach. And then went to an open air market (we were told it would be of the traditional African variety, but upon arrival discovered it was more of the A2 Art Fair variety) where I spent far too much money on jewelry and souvenirs.
After compassionately giving to the African economy, (or so I'm telling myself) we walked across the street to the local mall and saw Pirates of the Caribbean III which, all negative reviews aside, I ABSOLUTELY LOVED. Call me crazy, but I enjoyed it far more than any of the other ones. And though people thought it was confusing, I understood the whole thing. Maybe I just watch so many complicated and twisty weird movies that this was all old hat. (is that a phrase? I think it's a phrase and I think I've heard it. So I'm using it. If it's not a phrase, well, it is now.)
Sunday, which is today, left us for a relaxing time going to uShaka (which means shark in Zulu) Marine World and Water Park where I looked at Sharks and went flying down 14 slides numerous times. After which we went swimming in the balmy and salty, white shark-invested Indian Ocean. Ahh... Ocean... how I love thee; let me count the ways.
Which brings us to now, where I have a looming 300 pages of reading to do before class at 10:00 and my 7:00 beachfront morning run. So that's what I'll do. After de-salting and de-sanding via that wonderful invention known as the shower. Hmm...shower... I should find out how to say that in Zulu.
A.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Durban Explorations
[picture of the day: the Ivory Tower of UKZN]
Sawubona!
Well, now that my Internet is up and running again (it decided to commit momentary suicide last night) it's time for a new post on the past couple of days.
First item of note is that we have started class, and what a slap in the face that was. We have three professors here from the University of KwaZulu-Natal and then one professor from the University of Michigan who are "team teaching" this course. And, despite the fact that we are in a tropical paradise, they are not letting us slack off-- which is unfortunate, as that's precisely what we were doing. So back to academic reality. UKZN (the University) is gorgeous and the Ivory Tower can be seen from nearly every point in Durban as it's built on a fairly high ridge. Incidentally, it was also built on an elephant graveyard which I didn't know existed in reality (I thought it was just something Disney made up to keep the plot interesting for the Lion King) until yesterday.
Nonetheless, we had two class sessions yesterday and both were thoroughly interesting and dealt with the history of Durban up until Apartheid. Its history is a fascinating one. Originally the region known as eThekwini in Zulu (which means "single testicle" for the uniquely shaped 'mini peninsula' - for lack of a better word - that juts out into the harbor) wasn't settled by humans as it was densely populated by wild and not necessarily human-friendly animals, primarily elephants, lions, and cheetahs.
However, as the white settlers moved more into Zulu territory, one Zulu warrior named Shaka decided to fight back and took over the Durban region for this fight. Shaka, an illegitimate son of the rightful Zulu king, managed to forge an strong Zulu identity for his people while training extremely skillful warriors capable of defending their region against the onslaught of the whites. Though a despotic and ruthless leader, Shaka gave the Zulu people the reputation that perpetuated European myth until finally being beaten into submission by the British (after giving the Brits a severe run for their money) in 1860s.
This leads us into the colonial period, where Durban (or Natal, as the Brits referred to it) was a relatively unimportant place until slavery in the Americas ended and the sweet tooth of the Brits needed to be fed. You see, before there was oil, there was sugar, and the Brits were highly, highly addicted. This was the era of Dickens where the poor worked for long hours with very minimal nutrition just to survive, and as there were no energy drinks then, they had only one stimulant that would get them through their incredibly trying days in the dark and polluted factories: sugar.
Thanks to an enterprising Campbell (a member of the Campbell Soup family, who were pirate mercenaries and slave traders before converting to food manufacturing), he realized that eThekwini would be an excellent region to grow sugar. However, as no whites nor Zulus would work the plantations, he would somehow have to get cheap, menial labor (though not technically slaves, as that was technically illegal by then.) Luckily for him, Durban is right on the Indian Ocean which means that Southern India is fairly accessible via boat. Also convenient for the sugar industry was that this (being the 1860s) was a time when debt was a bad thing and often resulted in the sale of your labour, or the labour of your family members (even the future ones). So off went a bunch of indentured servants of South Indian descent to work the sugar plantations (not necessarily by choice).
This history continues, but in a nutshell it is this: whites move in and turn Durban into a profitable port town and sugar exporter. Indians, Coloureds (those of mixed descent) and Africans are treated like crap. Apartheid happens. Indians, Coloureds and Africans are treated even worse than before. Apartheid ends; today happens.
The Durban of Today, however, is not all sandy beaches and cheap food; it's also extremely poor. Today we went on a car tour of the entire city, just to get a feel for what we'll be experiencing as we start our volunteering in the next week, and it's not a sight that anyone can ever really be prepared for. You see poverty in movies and on TV but nothing can compare to the real thing.
We drove through what is essentially the Durban slum, known as Cato Manor, and it was nothing short of heart breaking. Houses made of scavenged wood pieces, tin, corrugated cardboard. Walls of twig, mud, broken pieces of brick, car doors. Roofs of garbage bags weighted down by any heavy object they can find or any remotely waterproof substance. Doors of old advertisements and chairs of old tires.
As the B&B's mini-bus drove along the dirt paths of Cato Manor, we got mixed reactions from the people who live there. Some stared at the van with looks of deep resentment and suspicion (generally the older women), others excitedly waved or yelled after us (generally the children), while yet others were merely in shock at the sight of a white man driving a van in which there were black passengers (generally the men.)
It was a humbling experience and one that made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, as if I was somehow flaunting my wealth in front of these people who had nothing. We weren't taking pictures as we didn't wish to become purveyors of "disaster pornography," like so many voyeurs of poverty, but it was awkward nonetheless. I'm glad that next time we go to Cato Manor, we'll be volunteering rather than just observing.
After our tour of Cato Manor, we drove through downtown and saw the marketplaces that we'll visit this weekend and stopped by the beach to see the Indian Ocean (and the surfers.) Tomorrow morning we're going to go walk along the beach at sunrise, which I'm excited about.
But as for the remainder of tonight, we'll probably go get Indian (again) and then either see Pirates III or go get a taste of Durban nightlife.
So, until tomorrow my friends, Hamba Kahle.
A.
Sawubona!
Well, now that my Internet is up and running again (it decided to commit momentary suicide last night) it's time for a new post on the past couple of days.
First item of note is that we have started class, and what a slap in the face that was. We have three professors here from the University of KwaZulu-Natal and then one professor from the University of Michigan who are "team teaching" this course. And, despite the fact that we are in a tropical paradise, they are not letting us slack off-- which is unfortunate, as that's precisely what we were doing. So back to academic reality. UKZN (the University) is gorgeous and the Ivory Tower can be seen from nearly every point in Durban as it's built on a fairly high ridge. Incidentally, it was also built on an elephant graveyard which I didn't know existed in reality (I thought it was just something Disney made up to keep the plot interesting for the Lion King) until yesterday.
Nonetheless, we had two class sessions yesterday and both were thoroughly interesting and dealt with the history of Durban up until Apartheid. Its history is a fascinating one. Originally the region known as eThekwini in Zulu (which means "single testicle" for the uniquely shaped 'mini peninsula' - for lack of a better word - that juts out into the harbor) wasn't settled by humans as it was densely populated by wild and not necessarily human-friendly animals, primarily elephants, lions, and cheetahs.
However, as the white settlers moved more into Zulu territory, one Zulu warrior named Shaka decided to fight back and took over the Durban region for this fight. Shaka, an illegitimate son of the rightful Zulu king, managed to forge an strong Zulu identity for his people while training extremely skillful warriors capable of defending their region against the onslaught of the whites. Though a despotic and ruthless leader, Shaka gave the Zulu people the reputation that perpetuated European myth until finally being beaten into submission by the British (after giving the Brits a severe run for their money) in 1860s.
This leads us into the colonial period, where Durban (or Natal, as the Brits referred to it) was a relatively unimportant place until slavery in the Americas ended and the sweet tooth of the Brits needed to be fed. You see, before there was oil, there was sugar, and the Brits were highly, highly addicted. This was the era of Dickens where the poor worked for long hours with very minimal nutrition just to survive, and as there were no energy drinks then, they had only one stimulant that would get them through their incredibly trying days in the dark and polluted factories: sugar.
Thanks to an enterprising Campbell (a member of the Campbell Soup family, who were pirate mercenaries and slave traders before converting to food manufacturing), he realized that eThekwini would be an excellent region to grow sugar. However, as no whites nor Zulus would work the plantations, he would somehow have to get cheap, menial labor (though not technically slaves, as that was technically illegal by then.) Luckily for him, Durban is right on the Indian Ocean which means that Southern India is fairly accessible via boat. Also convenient for the sugar industry was that this (being the 1860s) was a time when debt was a bad thing and often resulted in the sale of your labour, or the labour of your family members (even the future ones). So off went a bunch of indentured servants of South Indian descent to work the sugar plantations (not necessarily by choice).
This history continues, but in a nutshell it is this: whites move in and turn Durban into a profitable port town and sugar exporter. Indians, Coloureds (those of mixed descent) and Africans are treated like crap. Apartheid happens. Indians, Coloureds and Africans are treated even worse than before. Apartheid ends; today happens.
The Durban of Today, however, is not all sandy beaches and cheap food; it's also extremely poor. Today we went on a car tour of the entire city, just to get a feel for what we'll be experiencing as we start our volunteering in the next week, and it's not a sight that anyone can ever really be prepared for. You see poverty in movies and on TV but nothing can compare to the real thing.
We drove through what is essentially the Durban slum, known as Cato Manor, and it was nothing short of heart breaking. Houses made of scavenged wood pieces, tin, corrugated cardboard. Walls of twig, mud, broken pieces of brick, car doors. Roofs of garbage bags weighted down by any heavy object they can find or any remotely waterproof substance. Doors of old advertisements and chairs of old tires.
As the B&B's mini-bus drove along the dirt paths of Cato Manor, we got mixed reactions from the people who live there. Some stared at the van with looks of deep resentment and suspicion (generally the older women), others excitedly waved or yelled after us (generally the children), while yet others were merely in shock at the sight of a white man driving a van in which there were black passengers (generally the men.)
It was a humbling experience and one that made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, as if I was somehow flaunting my wealth in front of these people who had nothing. We weren't taking pictures as we didn't wish to become purveyors of "disaster pornography," like so many voyeurs of poverty, but it was awkward nonetheless. I'm glad that next time we go to Cato Manor, we'll be volunteering rather than just observing.
After our tour of Cato Manor, we drove through downtown and saw the marketplaces that we'll visit this weekend and stopped by the beach to see the Indian Ocean (and the surfers.) Tomorrow morning we're going to go walk along the beach at sunrise, which I'm excited about.
But as for the remainder of tonight, we'll probably go get Indian (again) and then either see Pirates III or go get a taste of Durban nightlife.
So, until tomorrow my friends, Hamba Kahle.
A.
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