I'm not sure I even know where to begin in filling you all in on the happenings of this past week. A quick itinerary will have to do to start... Sunday morning I took a taxi to Khayelitsha, where I stayed the night. Monday was 9 hours on a backpackers' bus to Plettenberg Bay. This morning (Friday) I left Plettenberg Bay, and returned west to stay in Mossel Bay. So that's where I've been... now, as for what I've been doing...
The drive to Khayelitsha was an experience in and of itself. My cab driver, Andy, is a gay, colored man of about 40. (As a quick aside, there is a very large gay and lesbian community in Cape Town, and it really doesn't seem to be given as much thought or attention as it is in the States- in fact, all of the "controversy" over homosexuality stirred up in the States is laughable to other "modern" countries.) When he found out that I'm studying psychology, the floodgates opened and he divulged the fairly tragic story of his life. Andy is the oldest of 3 children, his parents are dead and he is raising a daughter alone. He didn't finish high school, so that he could work and provide for his younger brother and sister. When apartheid fell, both siblings had the opportunity to attend university... for which Andy paid. He never finished school, never got out of the township, never was able to improve the quality of his life because he was working hard to improve the quality of his family's life. He even bought his brother a car to commute from home to university. A year before finishing his degree, Andy's brother was killed when he was robbed for that very car. Andy himself had previously been carjacked and stabbed... with an empty whiskey bottle... by a white man. Despite all this, he was so sweet and open and kind. He was so excited for me to be traveling, saying how "brilliant" I must be to be doing the things I am doing with my life. When he left me at the B&B in Khayelitsha, he blew me a huge kiss goodbye and went on his merry way. In the half an hour it took to drive from the city to the township, I felt almost as though I had made a new best friend.
I really don't quite know how to describe Khayelitsha or my experiences there, and it really won't do the town or the people justice to just give plot summary. Every person I've come across since I started planning this trip months ago has asked me, "Why South Africa?" I could never really answer that question fully, and I still can't. Walking down the streets in Khayelitsha, though, I felt it. It was a different type of beauty than untouched white sand beaches and rocky cliffs plunging into turquoise waters. I think, as a part of the Western world, we take for granted the beauty of the human spirit. We look at someone who has done a good deed and say to ourselves, "Now that is what is beautiful about a person." It seems like we get off so easy in America for having a beautiful spirit, because it takes so little work. In Khayelitsha, though, that spirit is what makes the town work. Neighbors care about one another. They make do with what they have and they help one another out. As all humans do, they have wants; unlike us though, they do not confuse their wants with their needs. They live for each and every day, because in so many cases they aren't guaranteed work past today. Food on the table and a roof over their heads are considered blessings. Seeing this, it makes me realize that so many of the worries and fears we have are byproducts of our comfort. We see a future, so we worry about it. We have time to look at the past, so we dwell on it. The beauty in Khayelitsha is that yesterday is over, and tomorrow isn't guaranteed, so today is really all there is.
The drive to Khayelitsha was an experience in and of itself. My cab driver, Andy, is a gay, colored man of about 40. (As a quick aside, there is a very large gay and lesbian community in Cape Town, and it really doesn't seem to be given as much thought or attention as it is in the States- in fact, all of the "controversy" over homosexuality stirred up in the States is laughable to other "modern" countries.) When he found out that I'm studying psychology, the floodgates opened and he divulged the fairly tragic story of his life. Andy is the oldest of 3 children, his parents are dead and he is raising a daughter alone. He didn't finish high school, so that he could work and provide for his younger brother and sister. When apartheid fell, both siblings had the opportunity to attend university... for which Andy paid. He never finished school, never got out of the township, never was able to improve the quality of his life because he was working hard to improve the quality of his family's life. He even bought his brother a car to commute from home to university. A year before finishing his degree, Andy's brother was killed when he was robbed for that very car. Andy himself had previously been carjacked and stabbed... with an empty whiskey bottle... by a white man. Despite all this, he was so sweet and open and kind. He was so excited for me to be traveling, saying how "brilliant" I must be to be doing the things I am doing with my life. When he left me at the B&B in Khayelitsha, he blew me a huge kiss goodbye and went on his merry way. In the half an hour it took to drive from the city to the township, I felt almost as though I had made a new best friend.
I really don't quite know how to describe Khayelitsha or my experiences there, and it really won't do the town or the people justice to just give plot summary. Every person I've come across since I started planning this trip months ago has asked me, "Why South Africa?" I could never really answer that question fully, and I still can't. Walking down the streets in Khayelitsha, though, I felt it. It was a different type of beauty than untouched white sand beaches and rocky cliffs plunging into turquoise waters. I think, as a part of the Western world, we take for granted the beauty of the human spirit. We look at someone who has done a good deed and say to ourselves, "Now that is what is beautiful about a person." It seems like we get off so easy in America for having a beautiful spirit, because it takes so little work. In Khayelitsha, though, that spirit is what makes the town work. Neighbors care about one another. They make do with what they have and they help one another out. As all humans do, they have wants; unlike us though, they do not confuse their wants with their needs. They live for each and every day, because in so many cases they aren't guaranteed work past today. Food on the table and a roof over their heads are considered blessings. Seeing this, it makes me realize that so many of the worries and fears we have are byproducts of our comfort. We see a future, so we worry about it. We have time to look at the past, so we dwell on it. The beauty in Khayelitsha is that yesterday is over, and tomorrow isn't guaranteed, so today is really all there is.
Anyway, my day in Khayelitsha was spent with my wonderful hostess, Thope, and her daughter, Mpho. As the day wore on and the other guests of the B&B arrived (a white lesbian couple, and their two adopted, black children), Mpho took us out on our walking tour of the community. She explained to us a lot about the way people there live, what both the government and the community are doing to improve the quality of life, and the expansion of the community as a whole. As I have previously posted, Khayelitsha is the the largest township in Cape Town and is rapidly approaching a population of 2 million. People from other parts of the country are flocking to the township in search of employment, but it is hard enough for residents to find a stable income (the unemployment rate in South Africa is about 25%, compared to the US which fluctuates anywhere between 3% and 8% at any given time). Physically speaking, the township was established on sand dunes near the False Bay coast in Cape Town. In winter, floods devastate the informal housing (squatter camps) and their contents, while in summer fires caused by propane and other heating materials will spark in the heat and can take out thousands of "houses" in a matter of minutes. Many people wonder why there is still so much informal housing. The answer, relatively speaking, is simple: people are still waiting for their government subsidies and land grants to build. Some communities have taken it upon themselves to build houses for residents, but the process is slow and money is always in short supply, especially with regard to building houses for millions of families. With all of this in mind, though, the people are happy and welcome visitors, as they are proud of their culture and heritage as well as the history they have survived. For now I'll let the pictures speak for themselves...
Thope and Mpho's street in Khayelitsha
Drinking the customary porridge-like concoction at a local shebeen (tavern).
One of my new friends... one of the friendly, local drunks.
What much of the permanent housing looks like... very, very small.
The kids love to have their pictures taken... especially with digital cameras. The one in the blue and yellow yacht club coat is my new best friend and was introducing me to everyone.
What a lot of the temporary housing looks like. Many people live in this small area.
Hair salons and barbers in metal sheds are like the Starbucks of Khayelitsha.
Sunset over a squatter camp.
1 comment:
hey erin! i have really enjoyed reading along with your brilliant commentary of your journey. chad and i will be in california in august and i would love to be able to see you and hear more about your wonderful trip! love, rachel
Post a Comment