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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Durban, Day 2: Observations and Notes

[picture of the day: the skyline of Durban from the mouth of the harbor. taken at sunset.]

Ah! Durban on 13 hours of sleep is much, much more enjoyable. And what great sleep it was, minus the one brief distraction of the alarm clock ringing at 2:45am, for whatever reason. Not that you want to know about my sleeping habits.

But regardless, today was our "free-day," which essentially meant that we had all day to do whatever we wished, so long as we were back at the B&B by 4:00 when we would leave for a ferry tour of Durban Harbor. So, after a leisurely breakfast (I had forgotten that the second B in B&B stands for Breakfast), where we were provided with further evidence of South Africa's former status as a British Colony in the form of Vegemite, a big group of us decided to go to the mall. The term "mall" being loosely used in this context, as we were technically going there for the "pick n' pay," the local Meijer equivalent (which, in size, is more like the local CVS). There we discovered, among many useful edible items, an enormous selection of South African wines. Which are apparently the next big up and coming thing. So we decided that we will drink our way through South Africa. Which is why there are 7 bottles of wine (all different brands and varieties) sitting in my refrigerator (for the whites) or the counter (for the reds-- see, people? I'm not a heathen!) No wine for tonight, though. Tomorrow's the first day of class.

However, all love for commercialism aside, today was not just a day for spending money. We also made plenty of observations--first and foremost being the local obsession with security. Never in my life have I seen so much barbed wire, or spiked walls, or electric fencing. In fact, every house in our district seems to take part in this trendy blight. Here we are in this beautifully landscaped district with gorgeously designed houses that really seem more like high-security compounds. (I'll post pictures of them later.) I guess it's probably necessary in some instances, but honestly-- is crime really that bad? People (and by people I mean some of our Durban-based program people) say that it's really the rich white folk overreacting and that crime isn't' that bad, but are they? Without the risk of self-impalement or electrocution, would the crime rates soar? Who knows. But it certainly doesn't inspire confidence in one's fellow human beings.

We also learned quite alot about about Durbian's (I believe I just made that word up) driving habits. Think Detoiters drive like crazy? Don't-- at least not until you've experienced the driving here. Like dyslexic New Yorkers on speed with a touch of Boston aggression. Well, maybe not that bad because the traffic has nothing on those big cities, but they just zip around in their tiny little cars at super high speeds in narrow little lanes precariously close to the sidewalks without a care in the world. Oh, and they're quite fond of the last minute break, also known as 2-second whiplash.

Nonetheless, I'm still falling in love with this city. It's an interesting confluence of so many cultures: Zulu, Indian, British, Dutch, Asian...all rolled into a mind-boggling one. Islam also has a much bigger hold here in Durban than I had initially been expecting, as was evident by the huge Islam schools we drove past and the gigantic billboard downtown that told me "Islam Wants You." (I wonder if that's as amusing to the Durban natives as it was to us Americans.) And it's beautiful. Almost Bahamian. With more monkeys. And red dirt.

After our shopping adventure and my attempt at getting through the history of South Africa that we were supposed to have already completed, we went on a ferry tour of Durban Harbor, and my does the city look beautiful from a boat. In fact, it looks like a scene straight out of Miami Vice. With slightly fewer drugs (as far as I know... although when we stopped to get dinner tonight, a couple of people from our group were offered weed.) and slightly more sharks. Great Whites, to be exact. As we sat on the ferry listening to the little "you're about to take a ferry ride so now I have to give you the spiel about life jackets and stuff" the guide casually stated, "and please guys, don't joke around. If you fall in, the Great Whites won't necessarily attack-- that's what happens in the movies-- but I won't lie: if they're hungry, they'll eat you and won't feel a bit of remorse." Wonderful. However, completely ineffective at acting as a deterrent for my desire to learn to surf. It'll happen--Alanna, future surfer extraordinaire. And then we flew around with the wind in our faces learning many interesting things about tug boats and barges and cargo holds and stowaways and break waters and harbor pilots and politics and the fact that the super bright thing in the sky that I thought was a satellite was actually Venus the Planet.

So yeah, that was today. Chilly, but not bad. (The dude who owns the B&B tells us that it is unusually cold this week but that next week it should be back to the winter norm of 80's.) And tomorrow's our first day at K-Zed-N (U of KZN) (ahh.. those silly Brit descendants. Zed. Seriously, who says Zed? That's so 19th century.) Which means I should probably get some sleep.

And if you were expecting a phone call, I tried tonight but apparently US phone cards do not work overseas. Which means I have to buy something else that will work. I'm also going to load my pictures on facebook once a week and I'll try to set it up so that people without facebook can access them too-- I'll let you all know how that endeavor goes.

But in the meantime, it's time for bed (though I'm not remotely tired) for tomorrow calls and I still have to finish this stupid history before class.

A.

AT LAST

[picture of the day: the view from my room]
Finally Arrived.

Am Exhausted.

It's amazing how approximately 5 hours of sleep in 2 nights and 3 days of traveling can really, really do you in. The effectiveness of sleeping pills when I'm utterly uncomfortable? Non-existent. In our 11 hour flight from London to J0Burg, I slept for approximately 2 hours. My computer clock is telling me that it's 8:19am. So I suppose that here it's 2:18pm. All I know is that my body is begging for some sleep.

I feel like I should be overwhelmed and bursting with excitement, but I'm just too tired at the moment. Today has merely been a day of floating through exotic scenery and surroundings and going,"... huh." Take, for example, landing in Johannesburg. We landed around 7 o'clock this morning, and seeing Africa for the first time was wonderful. Beautiful. Flat. Red. You know, generally when landing there's a color scheme... gray and green for Norway, green, white and purple for Alaska, green and brown for Detroit. Johannesburg, however, was Red. Deep, burnt red ground that blended into the deep, burnt red of the rising sun that blended into a blue sky. Intellectually I thought, "this is something that excites you." On an honest level, i thought,"...huh."

Same goes for flying into Durban. Seeing the Drakensburg mountains? huh. The little gray monkeys that skitter around here much in the way that little brown squirrels skitter around Ann Arbor? huh. The palm trees? The contrast between the shack-neighborhoods we passed on our way to the B&B and the beauty of our gated neighborhood? huh.

So in conclusion, I'm not quite coherent. I'm absolutely exhausted. Nonetheless, the paradoxes of Durban and South Africa are already making themselves apparent. The contrast between wealth levels, which is surely something I'll examine more in depth later on. The co-existence of natural beauty and industry. The fact that although South Africa is, demographically speaking, mostly black, we've encountered mostly whites.

And I'll leave you on that note. My goal is to stay up for just a while longer. Stupid Circadian Rhythm.

A.

Welcome to Alanna's Voyages

Mark Twain once said:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

With that in mind, I am off to Explore. Dream. Discover.

The purpose of this blog is to chronicle those explorations, dreams and discoveries. To let you know where I am in the world, what I'm doing there, what I'm feeling as I do it and so forth.

Now let me introduce you to my latest voyage-- studying abroad in Durban, South Africa. Part of a program through the Center for Afro American and African Studies (CAAS) at the University of Michigan, I'll be there for a month to learn about all (or at least many) things South Africa: Colonialism, Apartheid and post-Apartheid politics, the AIDS crisis, Zulu culture, what African animals actually look like up-close, and the list goes on and on.

Armed with a laptop, books, sunscreen, what will inevitably be an over-packed suitcase and an inexhaustible supply of enthusiasm and excitement, I'll be leaving Detroit this Sunday with a group of 13 other UofM students to make the arduous journey to Durban. Because streamlined direct flights and flights with cheap prices are rarely one and the same, we'll be criss-crossing the world via United Airlines in what will be a three day trip consisting of four planes, five airports, and forty-two hours en route.

Upon our arrival in Durban, we'll crash in a swanky B&B that will be our home for the next month, get to know the University of KwaZulu-Natal and our professors there, and begin exploring the city that is Durban.

So until then, au revoir. I have yet to do laundry, make my packing list, pack, clean my room (or risk having its contents thrown into black garbage bags and stuffed under my bed, courtesy of my mother), make various preparatory phone calls, and write my preliminary research proposal for my research project while in Durban. And, as always, I'm running out of time.

A.