Into Africa

I wrote the following reflection on my trip to South Africa in 2006. It was published in my undergraduate university’s newspaper, and now I’m sharing it with you.

I returned from a rather extensive trip abroad, feeling tired, relieved, and a bit disenchanted. I had made my annual trip to France, then Spain, then miles and miles away to South Africa. I had been through quite a lot in those past few weeks—from lost luggage to missed flights, being myself lost, and much more. Yet despite all that, I look back now, marking every moment of that trip as a veritable adventure, of memories that are solely mine. This is a detailed account of the last leg of my journey that summer of 2006, my experiences in South Africa. From the plane, the lights of Johannesburg illuminated a hazy blue sky on the very cusp of greeting another day’s sunrise. After a cross-continental flight that had experienced quite a bit of turbulence, the passengers applauded the moment that the plane touched land. The sun then rose to reveal the splendor of the city. From Johannesburg, I hopped a connecting flight to the coastal town of East London, my final destination. Flying in a pristine blue sky, sparsely filled with the slightest of clouds, the snow-covered Drakensburg Mountains were clearly visible, which from our view, resembled rugged mounds of gingerbread dough generously doused with powdered sugar. The flight was nearing its completion; and as we approached the airport of East London, the plane gently skimmed over the coast, where the blue waves of the Indian Ocean hugged the uneven shore. Simple rectangular buildings painted in a bright sherbet palette dotted the land below. My Orbitz agenda read that during this trip I would travel almost 22,000 miles. I had come all this way to help conduct research on sustainable development, an independent venture with no ties to any school or group. Before the start of the project, I spent some time in the city. I stayed in a hotel along the esplanade, with the Indian Ocean literally at my front door. South Africa was going through its last weeks of winter and during my first day there, it was bitingly cold. With the airlines having ‘lost’ my luggage, I did not have the sweaters that I had originally packed. Anyway, on my very first day and upon arrival at the hotel, I had intentions of doing a little shopping. However, as I roamed the grounds and stopped to enjoy the amazing scenery, two drummers approached me and invited me to play with them. A bit timid, of course, I said that I simply wanted to watch; but they insisted that I play with them. Richard and Bev, seasoned drummers who had been playing for years, played on the beachfront every so often. The passersby enjoyed the complimentary entertainment, a surge of traditional music. Time flew by. I had been playing for nearly an hour and a half, learning and trying to keep up with the masters. Though my amateurish hands were quite sore, the experience left me exhilarated—in the country for only a few hours... and what a welcome! One day, I attended a brief seminar focused on the dynamics of modern South African society. It was there that I was informed that I would be living in a rural village with a host family. My imagination, as it tends to do, painted a picture of what life would be like in the village. Almost immediately, I thought of the GlobeTrekker episode that featured visits to the Venda tribes of the Limpopo province, where life for the villagers focused deeply on their traditions. Nonetheless, I learned so much during those few hours, the socio-political issues that shaped the community—from AIDS taboos to the history and remnants of apartheid. A great number of diverse layers truly comprises this vibrant nation. Karen, my in-country support and the facilitator of the seminar, and I, had taken time off from the seminar and had just returned from a coffee break. A few minutes past 2pm that day, someone suddenly knocked on the office door. As Karen opened it, a tall white South African man dressed very casually and wearing a floppy khaki hat entered. His name was Gary Atherstone, sole project manager of the research project aimed toward the building of sustainable development practices among the poor rural South Africans of the Eastern Cape. We then left East London. Our first task was to collect spinach seedlings from a nearby farm, and then we would make our journey to Mzwini, the heart of the project.

Currently seeking his Master’s degree in sustainable development at the University of Stellenbosch, Gary set up this project months ago and has become quite a mover and shaker in the area. With the successful growth of the organic vegetables by the participants in the village, the harvest would be sold into the city markets, raking in decent profits and providing some income for the farmers. In addition, some of the produce went toward building a stable healthy feeding scheme for the local school children. All aspects of the project were carefully planned, from the irrigation to the amount of vegetables produced. As a research assistant, I was to help Gary with administrative matters, some bookkeeping, and even assist in the gardens. It was like those projects that I had read about in my political economy classes; I was definitely excited to be able to be a part of this! Mzwini, the village, was situated some 45 minutes northwest of East London. It was one out of a few villages that made up the MooiPlaas Sustainable Development Compound. Off the main highway and in what is considered to be the South African Bush, the appearance of Mzwini seemed poles apart from the mega city, Johannesburg and even from East London. The roads, terribly rocky and uneven, served many purposes to the villagers, whether it is a playground, meeting point, or of course a traveling path. Numerous rickety one-room huts were spread out throughout the area. The villagers, scattered about outdoors, worked, conversed with each other, or simply people-watched. One could already sense the presence of solidarity in the village– people were always helping and spending time with each other. They communicated predominantly in Xhosa and less frequently in English. Everywhere I went, I was greeted with a warm “molo,” or hello. It seemed that everyone in the area knew Gary, like their very own celebrity figure. The villagers frequently associated him with the rugged white pick-up truck that he drove. With that truck, he would give people lifts or take children around for fun. Very, very few people there, as one can imagine, owned any sort of vehicle. Gary had helped make arrangements for me to be a guest in the home of one of the participating farmers. I spent the duration of my research in the home of Nozalile Gowa. Nozalile, a strong middle-aged Xhosa woman, raised her three sons alone in the poverty-stricken rural Eastern Cape. Deprived of such ‘luxuries’ as running water and outdoor electricity, Nozalile and the others in the village found ways to sustain themselves, making do with the little that they had. For example, they shared an outdoor water pump centrally situated in the community. People would come bringing their large white buckets, filling them with water to trudge back to their homes. The water ported in these buckets helped manage households as it was used for an assortment of things, from washing clothing and dishes to cleansing bodies. Although a stranger to these conditions, I embraced the experiences, or what Gary called ‘challenges,’ having opened my mind to new things.

Despite being in great financial need herself, Nozalile still finds the time and possesses the great will to help those in her community. Realizing the immensity of the AIDS problem in her country, she takes it upon herself to counsel those stricken with the illness. I had accompanied her on one of her bi-weekly ‘client’ home visits, often long journeys (well more than an hour round-trip) on foot across the rugged and rocky terrain of the village. Though the visit itself was rather short, it stood as a memorable moment in my voyage. On some occasions, I was invited to some parties and gatherings in and around the village. Gary had insisted that I come to a party thrown by his friends on a nearby plot of farmland. While waiting quite a while to prepare and (slow) cook the meal on a bonfire and in a genuine South African potjie pot, the two Alans entertained us with their African drumming. Under the starry, deep blue sky, there was nothing but rhythmic drumming, a warm, raging fire, and good company. In contrast to this relaxed evening, was the party held at the local schoolhouse. Bryony, a young British student was finishing her term as a teaching volunteer in the school, and the village’s school children were sending her off. In an elongated brick building of many windows and barren furnishing, it seemed that every young person in the village showed up to partake in the celebration. The hired DJ played as the children took turns dancing on the platform; their skills were absolutely phenomenal.

After just leaving a post as Student Coordinator of Leadership, I had been left with countless valuable lessons of such matters as diversity, community involvement, and tolerance. Miles apart and an ocean away from home; I saw those notions living in the youth of the village. They subsisted on fine values rooted in a tight-knit, family-oriented community; and many even took the initiative to volunteer their time and efforts to help others in the village. Several people my age approached me with a desire to learn about the ‘true America’—what the youth was like, what our economy was like, and other issues. Then each person would share stories and comments about their community and their nation. More than once I had been told that even though their people live in very poor conditions, they still manage to smile. In many, young, old, and all that in between, there existed aspirations of improving their quality of life (work, education, etc.), a great desire that could be seen in their eyes.

I left on a Thursday, just as Nozalile was preparing her famous Xhosa drink for an upcoming party. Gary extended an invitation for me to continue with the project in the future. I would absolutely love to return. Having met several incredibly hospitable and strong individuals, I know that they truly enriched my time there. South Africa, a veritable gem of the highest brilliance, has much it can share with the world. From its diverse population to its rich and varied culture and history, it is a nation bursting with a certain charm. Reaccustomed now, to the rhythm of what I call reality, my life back home, I sometimes draw comparisons from my time there to my life here. I miss it. I have my memories, complemented with many telling photos and souvenirs. Some of my recollections exist so clearly in my mind that they seem as if they happened yesterday. I hope to be able to retain those memories and revisit them in years to come.