Out of Africa

I apologize for the cliché title but it is what it is. My African summer (winter…whatever) has come to a close. I’m now back in the familiar (home in Rochester before heading down to DC) and it feels great. I was ready to leave Cape Town but of course the departure was bitter sweet. Already thinking about how I’m going to get there for 2010 World Cup.

You’re probably wondering why I haven’t blogged in a while, especially since I had an incredibly packed last few weeks. My first excuse is just exhaustion: Brendon and I were super tourists, moving from one activity to the next without so much as a moment to breathe. My second excuse stems directly from our lack of downtime: the last two days in the Mother City Brendon and I both came down with some sort of horrible stomach bug that kept us confined to Bedford Street. Two and half months in that crazy place and I get sick my last 72 hours. Beautiful. Fortunately, being the savvy travelers that we are, we each enthusiastically downed a course of Cipro each after 24 hours of sickness and the realization that it probably wasn’t a virus. The source of our sickness is unknown (dirty beer glass, Asian soup, a germy train ride?) but we were both definitely ready to back in more familiar (and comfortable) environs. We missed our last 2 days of activities (a township tour and wine tour) but felt that out of everything, we were glad those were the ones we missed rather than any of the others, which I’ll tell you all about now…

Our adventures continued on Saturday as we woke up early to take the cable car up Table Mountain. The mountain can be seen from almost any point in the city and – as one would expect from the name – is as flat as a table, allowing you to walk leisurely along it while taking in fabulous views of Cape Town and beyond. The cable car sits at the base of mountain and is a short ride up to the cable station but certainly not a boring ride at that. A glass pod of sorts (very reminiscent of Willy Wonka) it holds a fair number of people and rotates very slowly as it ascends allowing everyone to see the views from different angles. Once at the top, you’re allowed to wander on your own (there are a number of designated paths) or can wait for a guide. When we got to the top, it was FREEZING! Brendon even pulled out his hat. If I remember correctly, it was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit. For about 20 minutes, we had gorgeous views of the city, the ocean, and some very brave climbers (called “abseilers” who were descending the mountain). Then the clouds started rolling in (known as “the tablecloth”). Fortunately, we were able to snap some great photos and enjoy the indescribably fresh air before making a beeline for the gift shop (there is actually a post office box on top of the mountain, prompting Brendon to write a few cards that would receive the Table Mountain PO stamp). We climbed back into the cable card, chilly and ready for some warmth, and headed back down. Upon arriving at the bottom, we found more beautiful views and snapped many more photos as we waited for a cab to pick us up and take us to the end of the peninsula.

I had already been but wanted to visit Cape Point/Cape of Good Hope with Brendon. Not much new to report from my last visit there, except that we ran into a fellow New Yorker whose ex-husband happened to teach at Columbia Law School. SMALL WORLD. We had a friendly cab driver who chatted with us (at times a bit too much) but provided a comfortable ride with plenty of photo-ops. Our favorites came about as we were leaving the Cape of Good Hope and encountered a family of baboons who had gotten hold of some human food (clementines and popcorn!) and were munching contentedly beside the road. Normally, the Cape is crawling with them but they had been more elusive due to the winter weather. It was quite a sight, especially as the baby baboons scampered around looking for scraps. They’re honestly pretty ugly creatures but were so much fun to watch. Little did we know this would be only one of our baboon sightings.

On Sunday, Brendon participated in my usual ritual of going to the craft markets. We went to Green Point Market, which is currently in the parking lot of the Green Point Stadium (one of the many arenas being revamped for the World Cup). Out of all the markets I had frequented, I liked this one the best as the merchants were friendlier (and less pushy) and there was a larger variety of crafts. Armed with a list of gift recipients, we perused the tables and walked away with many placemats, bowls, jewelry and other local goodies. Both of us being the talkative types, we constantly engaged with the merchants, hearing stories of refugee flight, life in the townships, and basic craft instruction. Now after most of the gifts have been given to the lucky recipients, we clearly made good choices about what to get people (not to mention for ourselves…come to either of our apartments and you’ll see what I mean).

After the market we went to the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront where we caught the ferry to Robben Island, the notorious former prison that held Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners. On my prior trip to Cape Town, I had visited but wasn’t going to leave without going again. There’s not much to tell about Robben Island, as it’s hard to do it justice without actually being there. The main focus of turning the former prison into a museum was that it be left mostly untouched so as to convey the reality of what life was like for the prisoners. All the guides are former prisoners themselves and always share their own horrific stories at the end of tour. Our guide (whose name I unfortunately am unsure how to spell or pronounce but I believe it was Ndani) told us of his out-of-country training for the military wing of the ANC (Nelson Mandela’s party) and how he was caught, tortured, and imprisoned. It’s always humbling to visit places like Robben Island and always a reminder for me personally why I have been drawn to South Africa and other countries trying to heal. The view from the island, that the prisoners saw every day, is the most breathtaking view I have ever seen.

On Monday, we had a real treat: we went on a one day private game park drive. Up before the sun, we were picked up at my house, taken to another hotel, and after a bit of a transportation mix-up, were finally picked up by a van service and driven out to the Aquila Private Game Reserve, about 2 hours northeast of Cape Town. Despite the early hour (were picked up at 5 am) we enjoyed the scenery as we were taken farther from the coast. We stopped once to relieve ourselves and couldn’t get over how cold it was! Being deep into the mountains, it felt like the temperature was hovering at about freezing, despite the crisp blue sky. As we arrived at the game reserve, the sun was continuing to shine but the air was still pretty frigid. We went to a large restaurant were other safari-goers were fueling up on a gigantic buffet and warm coffee before we were all to head out on the reserve. Around 9:30 am, everyone there divided up into various 4X4s (with guides and drivers) and headed out into the 4500 hectare grounds for 2-3 hours. What a phenomenal experience! Despite TECHNICALLY being captivity, you truly felt you were out in the wild among the animals. We saw 4 out of the big 5 (the leopards come out at night usually) plus springbok, wildebeests and a number of other creatures. It was thrilling being right next to the animals and thanks to the wonders of my new digital camera, it seemed as though I was standing right next to them (in some cases, we were no more than a few feet away). A cheery guide provided us with an appropriate commentary throughout the ride, with many stories and facts about the animals. The reserve itself is huge beyond comprehension so the animals are truly on their own (they find their own food) but are protected from hunters and the like. Bumping around in the vehicle with a family from Dubai, a South African guide and another American (an amateur photographer from somewhere in the South), we enjoyed being out in the fresh air and feeling as far from home as possible. We decided our next trip to South Africa should include a visit to Kruger National Park, a truly enormous park near Johannesburg.

On the ride home from Aquila, our driver pointed out various sights and even suggested driving over some mountains in hopes of seeing more baboons (which we did). He also offered to take us to a lion sanctuary, which didn’t sound that exciting but ended up being phenomenal! On the way back to Cape Town, we stopped at the Drakenstein Lion Park, a sanctuary for captive lions (who had been in circuses, canned hunting parks, etc. and were not able to be rehabilitated to go back into the wild) just in time for feeding time. Yum. There were about 18 lions there, all pacing around and frothing, starving for dinner. We watched as employees literally threw chicken after chicken (dead already) over the fence for the lions to audibly gobble up. It was an amazing sight (and sound), especially since were able to be so close to the lions.

Our guide himself was also quite an element to this whole Cape Town adventure. As Brendon and I were the last to be dropped off in Obs, he told us a little bit about himself. He lived with his son (probably a little older than us, if I had to guess) in Sea Point (LOVELY area of Cape Town) who ran an outdoor adventure company. Roy (our driver), a white South African Jew, used to be a diamond cutter for DeBeers (we don’t know if he worked exclusively for them, but they were the company he mentioned) and had traveled all over the world. Whoa. So what was this guy doing driving a van? He said sometimes he helped out his son. Sheepishly, I handed him the tip (which he clearly didn’t need) and thanked him for sharing his story (he had also offered us his take on Jacob Zuma, the next-in-line for president, as well as his somewhat muted enthusiasm for Obama to become US president).

The adventure (and crazy photo-taking) continued Tuesday when we took the train down the peninsula again to Simon’s Town to see Boulder’s Beach Penguin Colony. A hilarious sight, African penguins are quite smaller than the traditionally known Emperor Penguins of Antarctica and (I’m guessing) much smellier. It was a beautiful day and the constant activity was starting to catch up with us both as we moved much slower through the town.

Unfortunately, Tuesday was our last day of adventuring as Wednesday was the start of our illnesses. Who knows where they originated but like I said, we were both happy with the sights we did get to see and the township visit and wine tour will have to be included on the next trip.

All in all, it was such a whirlwind experience these past few months. I’m still processing (and will be for quite some time, I imagine) all that I learned and experienced. What I do know is that it felt great to be out there, working and being part of this world instead of just reading about it from the classroom. It will certainly help me approach my studies this final year in a different light, with more a focus on how to utilize them as a practitioner. I know that this internship will also be seen by others as an impressive experience, one that I am grateful I for. I miss Cape Town, the friends I met, the people I worked with, and much of the quirkiness and chaos of South Africa but I must say, it’s good to be home with family, familiar surroundings, and my crazy little dog (who was so happy to see me when I got off the airplane he practically licked my face off!).

I know I’ll be back. But for now, on to the next…

Beginning of the end

It’s hard to believe but my internship has ended. Yesterday was my last day of work and to celebrate, we all went out to lunch at one of my favorite neighborhood eateries. I had essentially finished my work last week but have been editing my final report and tying up loose ends. There are going to be two interns working on the pardons project for the next few months so I had to make sure that all the relevant documents and information was organized and understandable. Rebecca, a University of Cape Town graduate student, began her internship this week so we were fortunate enough to actually discuss what has been happening in regards to the project. She’s very bright and passionate which makes me confident that she’ll do a great job picking up where I left off. It’s hard to leave something so unfinished – one of the drawbacks of just being an intern. The day before I left, we finally received a response from the Reference Group regarding our suggestions for victim inclusion: they will not be consulting victims. Obviously, this is a disappointment but was somewhat expected. The fact that they are choosing to do so boggles my mind, both in the moral and legal sense. One of our partners from a different organization is a lawyer and is quite certain that by not including victims, the Reference Group is in direct violation of the Constitution – a sad reality in a country that worked so hard to establish a democratic system. I will continue to keep tabs on CSVR’s involvement, as the next step will probably be to draw national attention to this issue. I loved this internship and have learned so much. My colleagues there are definitely people I look forward to working with again in the future. This whole experience has made me less nervous about the (gulp) job search. I’ll try to keep that confident feeling with me six months from now when I really have to think about that…

So here we are: my last week in Cape Town. But the bright side: Brendon is here! He arrived safe and sound (after a loooooong flight) on Monday evening and spent the past few days resting, poking around my neighborhood, getting to know my friends, and getting over jet lag (ugh). He came to work with me on my last day and got to finally meet my colleagues after having heard about them for the past 2 months. I’m so glad he’s here with me for this last week as we’re enjoying a whirlwind sightseeing tour, hitting all the great spots and essentially enjoying “vacation” together for the first time in our relationship. Today was his first “real” day in Cape Town, which we spent downtown. Our first stop was the District Six Museum, a tribute to the first area in the city where non-whites were forcibly removed from. This museum was pretty much the reason I became interested in South Africa and memorialization in the first place as it is a demonstration of the incredible resilience of the people here and the importance of preserving memories. The building itself is an old church that sits on what was the edge of District Six (renamed Zonnebloem by the apartheid government) and is filled with memorabilia and participatory elements (such as a giant floor map on which former residents could write in where they used to live). The museum originally started with a tower of street signs, which the man in charge of the original demolition saved, despite orders to dump them into the bay. Even though this was my second visit to the museum, it was just as powerful as the first. I have a feeling that it will always remain that way to me.

After the museum, we wandered around city, stopping to see Parliament, Long Street (the main drag with lots of stores), and Bo-kaap (the predominantly Muslim area with beautiful colored houses). Brendon also had his first African market experience as we negotiated the price of two small stone hippos with a merchant at Greenmarket Square (she wanted to sell us a “marriage sculpture” which we politely declined – eesh). We had gorgeous weather and are crossing our fingers that it will hold for the next week.

We have an intense itinerary of events planned over the next week but I’ll try to blog when I can since we’re nearing the end of my time here (and I am constantly reflecting). It’s only 9:30 pm but I swore if I put my head on the pillow I’d fall asleep.

Dreams of Table Mountain await…our first stop for tomorrow!

A little bit of home in South Africa

It’s hard to believe that it’s August. When I left the States, it was barely summer. Now, it’s almost fall. It’s strange how for so much of my life I seem to set my internal clock by the starting and ending of academic seasons. After being here for the past few months, very much out of my traditional summer mode, some part of me still has that sense of the end of summer even though I’ve yet to sport a flip flop.

The next 11 days are going to be packed as my internship ends and Brendon arrives for a whirlwind visit. There are many sights to see and presents to buy in such a short amount of time that I’ll barely have time to glance at a clock.

My boss returns to work on Monday but arrived back in town on Friday, hence I’m back in my rental house. In a weird way, it sort of felt like coming home as I unpacked my stuff in my room here. But then again, I won’t be sad to leave this house. The kitchen is still a mess (though the obnoxious roommates are gone – hurrah!), my ceiling is still moldy, and the front door still rattles. It was sad to leave our “vacation house” as my friends and I so affectionately called it, with the animals, spacious kitchen, and dryer. We spent many a night watching DVDs near the warmth of the wood burning stove (when we were able to get it lit – I never claimed to be an outdoorsy person and the task of lighting a fire usually falls to someone with more “rugged” experience). We kept it simple, hanging out a lot and playing board games (FYI – the version of Monopoly that was at the house was a Cape Town one that must have been about 50 years old with both English and Afrikaans on all the cards and no mention of the townships). On another cultural note, I’m amazed how much I’ve picked up on the nuances of speaking here. The differences in the accents depending on race and economic status are very apparent now that I’ve been here for a while. Many local phrases have also made their way into my own vocabulary. For example, a few nights ago we were watching “Blood Diamond” (if you haven’t seen it, go get it right now) and while I’ve always mused over how well Leonardo DiCaprio put on the Zimbabwe accent, I hadn’t picked up on HOW good it actually was. Throughout the movie, he uses so many phrases that I never even noticed until I lived here. Makes me feel more like a local and not a tourist.

Speaking of tourist, my friends and I went to the Green Point Market today, which is held in the parking lot of a stadium. It was one of the more impressive markets, with a wide variety of crafts and many – surprisingly – friendly merchants who were happy to engage with customers about matters other than just prices. One woman who was in traditional garb explained to me that she and her husband make crafts out of old wires and recycled bags that would normally cover the ground of Khayelitsha, one of the largest townships, where she lives. She was warm and smiley, interested to hear that my roommate was a teacher in Heideveld (another township) and that both of us were interested in South Africa not simply as tourists. I bought a little chicken statue from her, made out of recycled plastic bags.

Today it seems that spring has sprung, with no clouds to be seen and the temperature around 62. I’m sitting outside in our garden (read: open car-park that serves as a garden with a few potted plants) as my roommate and I go over our final to-do lists and marvel over the fact that we have so little time left here (he’s been here since February and leaves one week after me). He has been working at a rape crisis clinic and doing interviews for his master’s thesis.

My work has more or less ended. I finished my report on my pardons project though will continue to tweak it all week. I’ve learned a lot from this process, not just the project itself but more so from being in the working NGO world. I have really enjoyed working at CSVR and am definitely interested in working at an organization that operates in a similar way. So much of what they do is about coordination, trainings, education and community engagement. As a mid-level NGO, they work both on the ground and with larger actors, such as the government. They work on many different initiatives but remain true to their mission. I’m so fortunate to have worked with such amazing people and hope that I’ll see them again. While I don’t want to live here, I know that I want a job that lets me travel to Africa a lot. I don’t know if this is possible right out of grad school but we’ll see.

Brendon is coming to visit tomorrow! After a crazy summer of his own, he’s finishing it out by spending 2 weeks with me. We have a long list of things to do and since I’m only working through Thursday, it will feel more like a vacation for me – a nice way to end the time here. He’s never been to Africa so I’m looking forward to seeing it with someone who is viewing it for the first time.

Wake up

I am heading into the home stretch, so to speak, of my time here in South Africa but the lessons just keep on coming. The next 3 weeks are so packed full that my head is already spinning. Talk about ending on a high note.

Before I get deep into my latest learning experience, I want to clarify some things. When I would tell people that I was spending the summer in Cape Town, there were a select few who sort of chuckle and say, “Oh, so not the real Africa, huh?” Many a pompous, uninformed person – despite high levels of education – incorrectly classified this country as something of a “fake” experience of Africa. (For all of you who are faithfully reading this blog, you know this wasn’t any one of you, but nevertheless, I wanted to share this. Now that you are informed as well as what life is really like here in SA, as least from my perspective and experience, you can shake your head at these naïve statements like I do.) I never quite knew what these comments meant, but I can assume they meant that SA, filled with its paved roads, electricity, internet access, and democratic ideals didn’t quite fit in with most of the African continent. In other words, it was a “soft” experience of what Africa is truly like. Many call it “Baby Africa.”

Ha. Wake up.

While this country has no doubt made remarkable progress in the world of democracy, and does in fact have many modern comforts that are still absent in many African nations, it is very much real Africa (whatever that means). Here’s my take: all of America is not the same – rural West Virginia does not exactly look like the bustling metropolis of lower Manhattan but they’re both very much America, right? In fact, the contrast of the two is exactly what defines America. In my humble opinion – unfortunately not yet having been to other parts of Africa (cursed poor graduate student, gah) – the African continent is also diverse in the same way that different parts of the US are. Egypt and Benin are both African but are very different in many aspects. Madagascar and Morocco are also both African. Chad and South Africa. You get the idea. If everyone thinks of Africa as looking like the “development pornography” (as per my boss’s wife’s perfectly cynical description) that we see plastered across many forms of American media, then they are sorely ignorant. Wake up. Africa is chaos. It’s a world of juxtapositions, with people who have no running water or electricity but have cell phones that allow them to call someone hundreds of miles away. Governments operate each and every day, passing legislation but never even reaching their far away constituents. Million dollar houses sit in Camps Bay, perched on the edge of the world while millions of people are crammed into shacks that are shabbier than most backyard tool sheds in America in the townships of South Africa.

Before you accuse me of spouting off liberal anger, I must clarify that I’m not bitter, nor truly angry at those who are so unaware. I recognize that it is not entirely an individual’s fault of his or her misinterpretation of this country (and others in Africa, for that matter). However, I merely want to point out that these misinterpretations exist, and that is precisely why so many injustices continue, even in a place as modern as South Africa. This is not meant to be cynical and cold, but I want to be sure to provide you readers, as I have so fortunately discovered myself, that even in what we assume to be one of the most progressive states, corruption, injustice, and conflict is still very real. Just because I have internet and a grocery store doesn’t mean life is perfect.

You’re probably wondering where this all is coming from. Call it the natural end-of-experience reflection. Maybe it’s from my bittersweet feelings of my impending departure. Maybe it’s my desire to accurately describe – at least through my eyes and my humble opinion – of what life here is like, or at least what I’ve seen. Nevertheless, this is all coming from my interaction with the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. Life in South Africa is very real, and that is apparent by the number of people and organizations that exist trying to make this a better place.

Yesterday, my colleague Richard and I attended the monthly meeting of the Western Cape Network for Community Peace and Development. This network consists of about 30 member organizations – all local or regional – that work in the fields of peace promotion, justice, and youth. Many organizations work to create positive alternatives to violence for kids, particularly in the form of fostering community dialogue and awareness through sport and theater. Other organizations deal with trauma issues and health issues (especially HIV/AIDS). It was one of the most inspiring experiences I’ve ever had. Before we went to the meeting, Richard told me that many of the other members were very excited to meet me, as many of them had seen my resume (possibly during my internship search, it had been passed around by people I had contacted) and had been eager to have me work for them. I was beyond flattered that these incredible practitioners wanted to work with me. The meeting was held at the German Consulate downtown. The Consulate, particularly their cultural division, is very engaged in the non-profit community of Cape Town (there is a large population of Germans living here) and I found their representative to be friendly and engaging. The office was on the 19^th floor of a building, filled with modern furniture and tight security (they took our fingerprints before entering, and assured this rights-conscious American that it would be wiped from their system in 24 hours, as it was merely a security measure). There were about 20 people in attendance, and I found everyone to be welcoming and motivated. A number of new organizations were in the process of applying to be members and made presentations to the group. The applicants were very diverse, from a youth group that focused on nonviolence to a theater group that performed playback theater in order to promote storytelling and community dialogue, to an organization focused on HIV/AIDS education and foster parent assistance. After the presentations, the member organizations voted as to whether or not they wanted to accept the applicants (all were in favor). The meeting continued with discussions about current initiatives, new projects that the network wanted to work on, and general conversation about the state of life in South Africa. One of the discussions focused on the issue of foreigners coming in for research and internship purposes, and developing a set of guidelines or a sort of orientation program so as to make sure that cultural awareness occurred AND good practices were in place. Many organizations, while open to having foreigners come work for them, have had problems in the past of people not behaving appropriately when engaging with the local community. For example, there have been instances where researchers came in and interviewed ex-combatants, and then left to publish research findings without getting consent or properly crediting those who had helped them! A horrible practice, I was appalled that people who had been in my shoes had behaved in such a way. In coming here, my goal was not only to learn about working at NGO and on the ground, but also to offer my own skills and knowledge to help people as much as I could. It’s so sad to think that others have a completely different agenda. A woman, originally born in England but has been living and working in Cape Town for five years, talked about the difficulty of entering this country, both from a cultural perspective as well as a professional perspective. The issue of gaining trust and legitimacy is huge, as there is a very fine line between helping organizations and imposing outside practices. We talked a lot about how to educate visitors as to both bring their expertise to work as well as how to appropriately take away important lessons and skills from this environment. As someone who has been through this experience, I offered to help in any way I could in spite of the fact that I’ll be leaving the country in a few weeks. They were all excited and glad that I offered to participate, and assured me that they would love to have my help, even though it would be mostly through email. The meeting in general was a wonderful experience and I met many incredible people who I hope to keep up with. As a number of current collaborations are in the works, next week Richard and I will visit the offices of 2 different organizations to exchange some materials. Both are located in 2 different townships and I’m eager to see how these grassroots organizations, literally embedded in the community, operate.

After the meeting, Richard offered to take me to his favorite fish and chips place in all of Cape Town. (By the way, Fridays in the professional world in Cape Town – especially the NGO community – are very low key days, usually with people leaving the office early. Taking advantage of this cultural norm of sorts, we decided to follow tradition and head out for lunch, anticipating returning to work after to only check email and phones and then head home for the weekend.) The fish and chips place is a dumpy looking shack of sorts, out near some warehouses and shipping area in Hout Bay, a gorgeous enclave on the Western side of the peninsula. At the restaurant, you sit outside on picnic tables with 360 degree views of mountains and ocean. It was incredible. And Richard was right – it was the best fish and chips I’ve ever had. Doused with plenty of vinegar and salt, and costing a mere R34 (about $4), it was absolutely delicious. But besides the food, the company was even better. Richard shared with me much about his childhood and what life was like in South Africa during apartheid. As a liberal white South African, he had an absolutely incredible insight: he was in the South African police force for about 20 years! I was completely unaware of this until yesterday and was fascinated that my fellow peace freak had been an employee of the apartheid government. He was posted for most of his service at the airport, before private security companies were in charge, as well as the head of the crimes unit at Camps Bay, the wealthy seaside community. He grew up all over South Africa, and has been in Cape Town for quite a while now. He shared many stories with me of the exciting and volatile time during the 1980s-1990s as the apartheid regime came to an end. He described the isolation that he and only one other fellow policeman felt during that time, as they were quite vocal about the injustices perpetrated by the government. I’m amazed that he was never forced out of his post. I guess the government decided they had bigger fish to fry. He is very wise and insightful, and listened to my many (sometimes naïve) questions. We discussed mostly how South Africa is not as perfect as many think. Looking around, you’d have to be blind not to see the blatant racial divides that still exist in many communities, though the outright racism has certainly disappeared (or is well hidden). The gap between the wealthy (mostly white) and the poor (mostly black) communities here is staggering. Despite the new government and constitution and all the progress this country has undeniably made, corruption, injustice, and poverty are still very much a problem. While I admire those who have worked so hard to make South Africa the progressive place it is today, I am struck by how hard life still is for so many.

So now you see where my whole rant came from. South Africa is indeed a wonderful place of progress and democracy. But it is by no means perfect. And it is in fact, as real as Africa can ever get.

Someone's in the kitchen with Dyna

It seems we’ve finally gotten over the hump of dreary winter here in Cape Town. A local Capetonian told me that we should expect spring in a couple of weeks. Coming from the land of endless winter, I was amazed to hear that here the dreaded season is usually a month long. However, while warm temperatures are in our future, August is supposedly the windy month. Hang on to your hats (and scarves and sunglasses and everything else)…

Speaking of whirlwind, it’s been pretty chaotic. I have about four weeks left here in Africa, only three at my internship with the last week reserved for play. I’ve been here long enough now, and despite loving it, I’m very much missing home and all things associated.

More friends have come and gone. Agnes, my energetic, bubbly buddy (who is moving to DC in August – yay!) is continuing her global adventure in London with some cousins. I’m quite jealous as I haven’t been back to London since I lived there my junior year of college and have been feeling an ache to go back. It seems whenever I travel – and wherever I go, for that matter – makes me want to continue travelling. Too bad my bank account doesn’t share this longing. My friend Jenny took a long weekend, in celebration of her 25^th birthday to head to Zambia to visit a college friend who has been working at an orphanage there for a year. They’re going to bump along in her friend’s jeep, exploring Livingston, heading on a safari, and seeing Victoria Falls. If I could pick one other place to go right now, I think my next ticket would be there. Or Namibia. Or Mozambique. Or Tanzania…oh hell, I wish I could travel more. And yes, I know, I get no pity seeing as how I AM living quite the life here. Never happy with what we’ve got.

Speaking of traveling, my boss and his family are away on holiday for the three weeks and I am house sitting (with 2 happily mooching friends joining me). His house is cozy and homey, and a welcome escape from my stale, moldy rental (not to mention a great relief from sharing a kitchen with messy roommates). There are two dogs (Toulouse and Dyna), four cats (Ninny, Molasses, Couscous, Scouter) and a hamster (Squeezy). It’s right in the same neighborhood as my rental and the office so it’s not much of a change. There’s also a woodburning stove, big comfy couches, and hundreds of books to keep me occupied. We’ve been calling it our vacation home.

Work continues to keep me busy. With my boss gone, I’m left to handle the pardons project. While another colleague can sign off on big issues, I’m definitely holding the reins (not to mention, the other colleague is at a workshop in Uganda for a week). We were able to get our meeting with representatives from the Pardons Reference Group and were pleasantly surprised with how they listened to our position and engaged in hot discussion. The meeting was held in Parliament which was impressive. It sits on a multi-building complex with (not surprisingly) a million different security check points and lots of very official people wandering around. We had our meeting in the very room that the reference group meets in. I’m not sure how much about the content of the meeting I’m allowed to divulge so I’ll have to wait to give details. One of our main concerns about the whole process was the lack of victim participation. As this process stems directly from the “unfinished business” left after the expiration of the TRC Act, it seems only natural – and we would argue, imperative – that for those who are recommended for pardons for politically motivated crimes are not the sole voice describing what happened.

My project will continue long after I’m gone but it’s been incredible part of its formulation. My final main task is draft what will eventually become the first part of a large report on this project (as we expect it to have many phases). Until I leave, that will be my big focus.

To end on a fun note: tomorrow is Nelson Mandela’s 90^th birthday. The universe works in mysterious ways, as it is also my dog, Louie’s 1^st birthday. And to think I almost named him Nelson…

Life goes on

It's been a tough couple of days for me. My family put Kacie to sleep on Monday evening and even though I'm not there, I still feel some emptiness (and lots of sadness). Losing a pet is one of the worst things ever. (Brendon usually makes fun of me for talking in absolutes but this time I really mean it.)

I don't have anything specific to blog about but because I've been feeling sad, I wanted to write as it makes me feel closer to all of you who read this. Thank you, by the way. I miss you, each and every one of you and can't wait to see you when I get home.

The weather here has been AWFUL for the past week or so. Yes, I know it's winter but enough already. It's been raining and windy and just generally dreary. It's not like rain you've ever seen before - it is truly torrential. It's so weird to think that many of you are hanging out in flip-flops (which they call slip slops here) and tank tops and enjoying the beach. I will be the only one in DC who won't complain about the sticky weather that will last through October - I am waiting for it.

We have a new intern at work. He is a graduate student in the International Peace Studies Program at Notre Dame but is originally from Liberia. He's awesome - is incredibly bright and friendly. Not to mention the fact that he's about as qualified as you can get to work at CSVR being that he worked on the Liberia Truth Commission. Ridiculous. It's been a busy few days so we haven't had too much time to chat but I'm looking forward to getting to know him.

Work continues to go well. Next week is our big meeting with members of the Pardons Reference Group. We're actually meeting at Parliament (sweet!) so I'm psyched. I've been continuing to review journal article which I'm actually enjoying. Maybe it's the fact that they're not listed on a syllabus under required reading. I've started to write an article which I hope to get published sometime this year. I've also stared a new project updating and adding to our office's video/DVD database of TJ related material. If anyone has any suggestions, please send them my way. More and more projects keep popping up each day and it's a wonderful feeling to actually be excited to go into work (despite the monsoon-like conditions that make me dread my morning walk).

Other news...

My boss is going away on vacation here for almost 3 weeks and I and 2 friends will be housesitting/pet sitting for him. His house is walking distance from work and is going to be wonderful. No more moldy walls or roommates that cook endless amounts of rice and then when they are unable to find a storage container (despite being on sale for R5 at the grocery store a 3 minute walk from our house) takes the leftovers to work IN A FLOWER VASE. (Don't even get me started. I may never stop.) My boss's house has a woodburning stove, a menagerie of animals, a fully equipped (and clean) kitchen, and plenty of books, games, and 2 huge couches (I'll be happy to take a break from our common area that consists of patio furniture in the entryway.)

I only have about a month left at my internship. I try not to get spazzy as I think about how much more I want to get done before I leave. I suppose this, like so many other things, will inevitably feel unfinished. But that's what the job hunt is for, right?...

Things that go bump in the night....and other lessons from Cape Town

Before I arrived here, I was warned about the Cape wind. As I’ve been to Cape Town before, I remembered that being down on this peninsula, it was quite windy even in the summer months. However, I don’t think I truly experienced the Cape wind until last night.

I’m up early. Early for a Sunday morning. Early for a morning after many glasses of wine and fun times with friends. I’m up early because this crazy wind woke me up. Many of you may be laughing but this is no joke. It seems wherever I live someone/something is determined to disrupt my sleep.* My room opens on to our patio (which is really an open top garage park which serves as a garden/braai/laundry drying area) as well as facing the street (read: basically on the corner of the house, though attached to the garage door in the front – sounds confusing, but just go with it). I went to bed last night at a reasonable hour last night because I’m an old lady, my tummy filled with spirits and lemon meringue pie (the drunk munchies hit a group of us and we trekked over to Café Ganesh, this mishmosh little restaurant that has some of the best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted). Around 3 am, I woke up with a start. Was that the door opening? (Again, a common occurrence as I live with 4 other people who enjoy the late-night weekend life). Was someone trying to break in? (Also an unfortunate occurrence in our somewhat shady neighborhood). I grabbed my pepper spray and personal alarm (makes this absolutely horrifying noise that can wake up the entire block) and opened my bedroom door. Nothing. Not even a bug (yep, they live with us too). I realized that despite it being locked, the front door of our house was rattling, something that Brandon and I discovered it does constantly which is quite annoying (many a trick has been tried to keep it quiet). Sleepy and confused I went back to bed. But once again, I was awakened with a start around 7 am, this time almost positive someone was determined to get into our house. I’ve no longer become scared of this (well, mostly not) but am more annoyed since it was freakin’ early. Then I heard it – a bizarre slamming sound against the garage door. It sounded like someone was determined to get that metal, locked garage door open. I bravely (well, more like timidly) opened my curtains to the patio window and found the perpetrator: a cat was scrambling around with (yes) a soccer ball, AND the plastic patio chairs had blown against the garage door. This may not seem like much but they are stacked three high and are actually pretty bulky.

Effing wind.

*When I lived at Bryn Mawr, my dorm room was on the main campus drag where the Blue Bus (that ran between Bryn Mawr and Haverford) traveled. In London, the city bus was RIGHT outside my window (I could hear people’s conversations as they waited). In NYC, I had mating pigeons (no, not the expected traffic sounds but deranged birds who perched on my windowsill and went at it at all hours of the day and night). DC is the only peaceful place, strangely enough. Though my landlord’s 2 year old has a pretty loud laugh.

Anyway…

I realized I haven’t blogged all week and I apologize. I’m so settled into the swing of things that I hadn’t been keeping track of what’s going on. The weather here was truly wretched this week (and is disgustingly rainy and cold, as I sit here under the covers with my heater turned up all the way) so not a lot of exploring was on the agenda. My boss was away for a few days this week in Joburg but I still had a lot to do. His wife, Shelley, who works part time in our office and is an awesome, feisty American, shares an office with me and we share many a story. She has a great sense of humor and knows this field inside and out. We talk about everything from African politics to her kids school (they attend this amazing school called the American International School of Cape Town) to the slow internet (some days it actually hurts, it goes so slowly) to books and movies (we have the same taste in both). As Shelley worked on print material for our organization, I read journal articles and graduate student papers (my boss was an external grader for a transitional justice class at a university here and wanted my opinion on the class as a whole and the student’s work – pretty cool, huh?). Our pardons project has been progressing better than I expected. We have arranged a meeting to meet with some representatives and discuss our concerns. I get to go to Parliament (this time I’ll remember my ID, thank you) with our partner NGOs! I’m so excited to see this project continuing – it’s wonderful to see your contributions actually turning into substance. Hopefully, the meeting will go well and we’ll be reassured of the free and fair practices of the South African government.

Switching gears completely… I debated whether or not to put a lot of personal stuff on this blog but I feel like for all of you to understand not only what I do each day but how I’m experiencing life here in general, it’s necessary. As most of you know, I’m incredibly close with my family. While I love being here (and traveling in general for that matter), I know that I will have to live near them. It’s too hard being so far away, especially during difficult times. Our wonderful family dog, Kacie, has been getting older and showing it. She’s 13, which for a dog of her size, is very old. We got Kacie when I was in middle school, and she would be my faithful after-school buddy, as I came home each day on my own and did homework. She’s an incredibly affectionate dog, which most people can’t believe if they only hear her bark or see her from far away, as she resembles a small black bear. Like most old dogs, she’s developed pretty severe arthritis in her hips and has a lot of trouble getting up and moving around. Louie, my crazy little Westie, is living with my family this summer, and is totally enamored with Kacie, despite the fact that she doesn’t feel like playing most of the time. (This picture of them "standing guard" cracks me up!) Kacie hasn’t been doing very well – her arthritis seems to be causing her a lot of pain and after years of taking aspirin, her stomach can’t handle much. After many discussions and many more tears, we’ve decided to put Kacie to sleep. She’s had a wonderful life, been a perfect companion, and will be missed more than I can ever express. Pets never live long enough. It’s almost a crime that creatures who offer such unconditional love only live a fraction of our own lives. At least we’re fortunate enough to have them in our lives at all. As cheesy as it sounds, there’s nothing like the love of a pet. I’m incredibly sad and upset that I won’t be home to say a proper goodbye, but the last thing I want is for Kacie to suffer. I have fond memories of her and thanks to the brilliant technology of webcams and Skype, I’m able to see her sweet face. This is very difficult for me, but I felt was an important thing to share with all of you, as its simply part of my life. For all the people who are far from their families, whether in the services, or out in the field, I understand what a brave and difficult thing it is to be so far from the ones you love, even the four-legged ones. Again, pardon the cheese factor, but cherish the ones you love. We are all lucky to have friends, family, and loyal pets in a world that seems filled at times with corruption, hatred and greed. Even the dreary rains of Cape Town produce the most beautiful rainbows…

Feels like home. Well, not really.

I’ve been here over a month now. Most of the time, I feel like I just got here though I must admit that I’ve settled in pretty well. And while I love it here, of course I can’t help missing home. No matter how much I feel like I’ve created a comfortable, familiar place here, each day brings new surprises. I thought I’d share with you all some more cultural reflections…

On the day that we went to Hout Bay/Camps Bay, we parked our car on a side street before heading to find somewhere to eat. Here, there are “parking attendants” who literally sit by the curb and “watch” your car while you go off to shop, eat, etc. Usually, you acknowledge them after you’ve parked, and give them a few rand for keeping their eye on your vehicle after you return. During this particular excursion, a persistent man kept asking us if we wanted our car washed. Paul’s car was a rental and not exactly in top form. We kindly declined but the man kept insisting that he would make it shiny and new by the time we got back from our meal. We weren’t about to hand over any money so we left the man with his bucket and rag standing near the car. When we returned, he was finishing up what I must say was a lovely washing job. But now he expected to be paid. Paul – having excellent negotiation skills and a naturally schmoozy persona – bargained with the man for quite some time. He was paid – far less than he had hoped – and kept wiping the car as we drove away. Not exactly the smartest business scheme, doing your work without promise of payment, but anything to make a buck (or a rand), so to speak.

Lessons in speaking:
Howzit? = How are you?
Is it? = Really/you’re kidding? (Added at the end of a sentence for emphasis)
See you just now = Back in a sec/see you soon

Paul and April left last week but for the end of their time here, they stayed in a nicer apartment downtown (much more comfortable than the shared house they had been living in that prompted pregnant April to get sick every time she went into the bathroom). The toilet appeared to have 2 buttons instead of a flusher. We were informed by our South African friend that 1 button is the “half flush” for Number 1 and “full flush” is for Number 2. This is supposed to be part of the water preservation plan here. We just thought it was a fancy toilet.

(On another note, April and the growing baby are doing well. They found out last week they’re having a boy! I’m determined to find a bib or romper that says “Made in Africa” on it.)

More cultural musings to come…

I’m enjoying the balance of work and play. Last weekend I went to the South African Jewish Museum which also included a Holocaust Memorial. The museum was wonderful – beautifully constructed and incredibly comprehensive. I learned that most of the Jewry came from Lithuania only about 200 years ago! My friend, Meg who was born in Joburg but grew up in San Diego, has family here 3 generations back, which is pretty close to the start of the populous. Many of the Jews came here after hearing about the active gold trade. My own Jewish heritage isn’t a major part of my identity but is one I’m cognizant of, and it felt neat to be tied to South Africa even if my relatives ended up in Queens rather than Cape Town.

This weekend we also went to the Cape of Good Hope. This national park includes 2 major points: the Cape of Good Hope, which is the southwestern most point of the African continent; and Cape Point, which is where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. Both are indescribably beautiful, with pristine cliffs and seemingly endless horizons. The ocean is the truest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. It was hard to grasp that by gazing out into the ocean, the next land was Antarctica.

Meg left to spend a week in Joburg with some family she still has there, and then heads back to the States to take some summer classes to finish up her degree at University of Arizona. I’m sad that she’s gone, as she and I had gotten very close; we were eerily alike. As I’ve said before, the bonds shared with people here are unique and it’s a wonderful feeling knowing that I have new friends all over the world now. I’m already planning a trip out to AZ, somewhere I’ve never been. Gotta love the fact that by the time I return to the States, I’ll have racked up almost 2 free airline tickets thanks to Star Alliance miles. Yep, that’s what you get for traveling 16,000 miles. That, a fantastic adventure, and if you're a lucky, a place that feels like home. At least for a little while.

Clicking and Crying

Today was one of those days when I am truly reminded of why I’m here.

I guess it’s more or less been hitting me all week, starting with our strategic planning meeting. On the second day, we ended up just working in the morning, wrapping up project reports and go over logistical stuff. That afternoon, we went for a hike (I use this term loosely, as it was more of a walk) in Newlands Forest, which runs along the base of Table Mountain. As we set out for the hike (after many a joke about fitness levels, or more so the lack of) I found myself feeling very comfortable with everyone. I don’t think I stopped smiling the whole time. There I was, this goofy un-athletic American, enamored with the breathtaking views and feeling proud to be included with such a wonderful group of people who actually make a difference every day when they show up to work. We all went out to dinner to A Touch of Madness, a restaurant 2 blocks from my house where I swear the name refers to the waitstaff. Half the time I never know what they’re saying, but the place is cozy, the wine is plentiful, and the food is indescribably good. It was at dinner that I had my first lesson in Xhosa. Well, sort of. Xhosa is one of South Africa’s 11 official languages and is spoken by many people here (Nelson Mandela’s tribe primarily speaks Xhosa). The language contains clicks, which are quite difficult to actually get right. For those of us unfamiliar with this element, our attempts are usually pathetic. Try as I might, we all ended up laughing as I click-and-clacked my way through basic words. All in good fun though. The staff left the next day to return to Joburg, and I’m sad that I wasn’t able to spend more time with them. I can’t wait for the day when we get to work together again.

So back to today…

CSVR is part of a newly established consortium called the South African No Torture Consortium (SANTOC) made up of 5 different South African organizations that deal with rehabilitation of torture victims as well as preventative policy development. Today was the launch ceremony and was held at the Slave Lodge, a museum about slavery in South Africa, in downtown Cape Town. My colleague Glen and I attended on behalf of our office.

(A note about Glen: he has one of the warmest hearts. He is a jolly, friendly Zimbabwean who is the Regional Coordinator at CSVR and is also working toward a PhD in Political Science at University of Cape Town. He’s a very bright, passionate guy and reminds me of a watchful older brother. He also has one of the best laughs. His family is all back in Zim and he is surprisingly calm about it, despite the chaos that continues there. Such is life in Africa.)

Some of our Joburg colleagues who work in the Trauma and Transition Programme coordinated the event (again, I got to meet more CSVRers who are fantastic). SANTOC’s mission is to work toward eradicating torture, as well as develop the best practices for rehabilitation of victims and establish preventative torture legislation (as none exists).

Today’s launch ceremony included presentations by SANTOC/NGO members, as well as a number of cultural elements, including readings by members of Khulumani Western Cape (see more about Khulumani in my links list on the side).

Now, it’s one thing to read about torture and abuse in books, articles, etc. Even to see documentaries on TV. It’s quite another to watch an individual describe how he was tortured and the pain he continues to deal with, even decades later. As the child of two mental health professionals – one who deals a lot with trauma – I consider myself to be more knowledgeable about issues of trauma and healing. But nothing can prepare you for the feeling you get when you hear someone tell you that they found out their mother, after working as a freedom fighter, was captured and tortured for years. Years. One of the presenters, while sharing his story, had to stop and collect himself for a few minutes. In a room of 50 people, including parliamentarians, human rights advocates, religious leaders, and other survivors, you could practically feel the support and comfort buzzing in the air, yet it was quiet. Never in my life have I felt such compassion for another human being that I did not know. How could you not do everything in your power to make sure that people never have to experience such pain and hardship that it paralyzes them?

This is why I’m here.

Part of the solution

I know I haven’t been talking about my internship that much, but that’s not because I’m unhappy. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. As most of you know, I’ve been interested in transitional justice for a long time, particularly in post-conflict situations with multiple transitional justice mechanisms. South Africa was one of the first cases that I studied way back at the beginning of undergrad, and I’ve been hooked since. They had one of the most widely publicized truth commissions and have been used as a model for other societies.

(A short lesson for those who aren’t so familiar with this field: transitional justice is pretty much like it sounds. In the world of post-conflict reconstruction, it refers to a set of mechanisms that address issues of the past while fostering greater sentiments of healing, reconciliation, and justice. It places the emphasis on nurturing a collective narrative, hoping to build a cohesive society amongst those who were formerly divided, in many cases, between victims in perpetrators. Truth commissions are a commonly used mechanism where participants fully disclose details from the past. In many cases, perpetrators are offered amnesty in return for telling the truth. This is what happened in South Africa.)

CSVR has many different divisions but I work in the Transitional Justice Programme. Today and tomorrow our colleagues from Johannesburg are in town for a strategic planning meeting where we go over current projects and discuss new ones. I’m thrilled that I’m here for this (it happens only twice a year) so that I can meet everyone involved. Everyone has come from different backgrounds and brings extraordinary passion and skill to the work we’re doing. For the first time, I really feel like I’m able to contribute and be part of the general solution of working toward peace.

Here are just some of the projects that we’re working on:

- Violence in Transition: very long term project (has had continuous funding for 10 years now) surveying the role of violence in transitioning and post-conflict societies.

- Gender and Memory: looks at issues of gender in conflict and conflict resolution, as well as how conflicts are remembered. A current project is developing an exhibition and book telling the stories of 8 mother-daughter pairs in which the mothers played a role in the anti-apartheid struggle. We are interested in understanding how they live their lives now, and how they convey their experiences to their daughters. The exhibition is tentatively scheduled for September and I’m so sad I’m going to miss it.

- African Transitional Justice Regional Network: working to establish connections between NGOs, research centers, and practitioners that focus on transitional justice throughout the African continent. A website allows people/organizations to engage and inform.

Today, all the projects were discussed. We also talked a lot about the current xenophobia problem here in South Africa (hopefully you’ve been watching the news and know what I’m referring to). An ad hoc project has been established as we scramble to understand what’s going on. Xenophobia is not a new issue and there is lots of scholarship and evidence out there that allows us to understand a violent demonstration of xenophobia but nevertheless, it still is a frustrating and unpredictable experience. Many people today discussed if we ever can really predict or know why this occurs, which led to a larger discussion of our roles not just as practitioners but neighbors, friends, and habitants. Many people in CSVR are foreigners and can identify with the issues of resettling, but are also in a completely different world than those who are being targeted. It’s upsetting to see a country from which so many fled to the safe havens of other nations become so intolerant of outsiders, many from countries that provided refuge during apartheid. Coming from the United States, a country filled with immigrants and descendants of immigrants (my great-grandparents came over from Eastern Europe in the early 1900s), it’s sad to see people having to flee their homes because they’re not from here. Mind you, I know that the US is not exactly a model society for immigrant treatment, but still…

Switching gears completely…this weekend I was able to get out and about to explore. On Saturday, I went to the Gold of Africa Museum. I’m a museum junkie and heard this one was unique and beautiful. It told the story of the gold trade on the African continent, and the role of gold in many societies. The museum space was indeed incredible and offered an interesting historical lens. We also tried to go to the Jewish Museum but not realizing that it was an active synagogue, found it closed for Shabbat on Saturday. There is a large Jewish population in South Africa (one of my new friends here was originally born here but moved to the US when she was young but comes from 3 generations of Jewish South Africans) and I’m very interested to learn more about them.

On Sunday, we finally had nice weather and took the train down the peninsula to Simon’s Town, an adorable area. It’s the Royal Navy Base of SA and is a big naval area. It’s also home to the Boulder’s Beach community of penguins! There is a colony of about 3000 jackass penguins here, which are indigenous to this area. They’re quite little and funny (and smelly!) and we were able to get quite close to them. They make a funny noise that sounds like a donkey, hence their name. Simon’s Town also has great seafood so we had a leisurely lunch on the water enjoying fish and chips (and wine of course). The train which ran from our neighborhood all the way down was about an hour and allowed us to see the various towns and beaches, especially the big surfing areas. Surfing is done year round here – I don’t even want to know how cold the water is now!

Tomorrow morning we’re finishing up our planning and then spending the afternoon hiking in Newland’s Forest, which is at the base of Table Mountain. Then, it’s out for drinks and dinner which should be fun. Just another day at the office, eh? Wednesday it’s back to (real) work.

Sounds like...

It is late Sunday night and my usually quiet neighborhood has been taken over by some sort of drumming extravaganza. Or it may just be a DJ, but it sure sounds like drums. No, tomorrow isn’t a day off (so Sunday night partying wouldn’t be so strange) nor is today a holiday. I have no idea what the occasion is, but there’s definitely some celebrating going on. Cars are cramming our tiny street, facing all different directions as here that doesn’t warrant a parking ticket (in fact, I doubt parking tickets are ever issued as that would be a sign of a regular police presence which is certainly not the case here).

I find myself constantly aware of the sounds – or lack of – here. Many of you are probably laughing as I am known to usually be the loudest person in the room (or the restaurant, or the entire building) but I’m telling you, this place is LOUD. It’s almost as if my sense of hearing has become heightened. Or maybe it’s just that I’m paying more attention to unfamiliar surroundings. Whatever it is, I’m feeling constantly bombarded by sounds – many languages (there are 11 official ones in SA), music, traffic, people yelling from kombis, creaky buses lumbering down Main Road, horns honking (usually for fun), someone digging through the garbage outside my window, some sort of construction, etc. And let’s just say this – I’ve met my match: one of my housemates is actually louder than me. One of our friends who lives next door says she can hear my housemate from her room with her window closed.

Enough about noise…

On Friday after my very early morning religious experience, I had to go to Parliament to drop off the letters for the Pardons Reference Group members as well as other Parliamentarians. This is the first major step in my project. My roommate Brandon doesn’t have to work on Fridays and wanted to tag along. Thank goodness he did: upon arriving (after asking 3 different security guards how we actually entered the whole complex, all of whom gave us bizarre looks), I realized that I didn’t have any identification on me and was therefore not able to go into Parliament. I needed to get the letters in and Brandon stepped in to save the day. He had his driver’s license, confidently took the letters, and dealt with the difficult and cranky woman who sat in the mail room as she stuffed the letters in the boxes and threw the ones of people who didn’t receive mail there back in Brandon’s face. He wasn’t sure what to do and told the lady he needed to call his “boss” (me, sitting in the waiting area for visitors) to check in. We figured that some of the Reference Group members may not be MPs so it was no problem. Mission accomplished. Stay tuned as I await a response…

The party outside seems to be breaking up and this little peacemaker needs to get her beauty sleep. Tomorrow all of the people from CSVR’s Transitional Justice Programme begin our 1.5 day long strategic planning meeting. Our colleagues from the Jo’burg office will be attending so I’m excited to finally meet them. It’s going to be an interesting but long day (no worries, in true Africa fashion lunch and 2 tea breaks are already scheduled in, plus a half-day of TBD fun and drinks/dinner on Tuesday).

I had another fun-filled weekend but am getting sleepy. Will write about it all soon. For now, I’ll leave you with some hints: gold, surfing, bare feet, penguins, scarves. You’re curious, aren’t you?

She got religion

Well, not really. But she did get a handshake from one of the most influential and kind human beings ever to walk this planet: Desmond Tutu.

Today is World Refugees Day (so take a moment). As someone who considers herself more conscious than the average person of the plight of the less fortunate, I find myself feeling inadequate at times, especially in the presence of those who have literally lived their lives to serve others.

This morning I went to mass. Before you get all spazzy, just relax. No, I haven’t actually “gotten religion” as they say. And yes, I’m still a Jew (who scrambles to remember the high holidays, but Jew nonetheless). But I have always been interested in other religions and the way that faith is able to guide people, particularly those in conflict. As religion is a common theme in healing, it’s not surprising that I would admire those men and women of the cloth who have participated in resolving conflict.

Anyway, back to the whole mass thing. I had heard from my friend that Desmond Tutu was leading mass at a cathedral in downtown Cape Town. At first, I wasn’t too keen on the whole concept, debating whether or not I could respectfully sit through a service. But seriously, who was I kidding: Desmond Tutu could have read the frickin’ phone book and I still would have showed up.

(For those of you who don’t know about Desmond Tutu, please go read up as he is an incredible person. He is the former Archbishop of Cape Town, was one of the leaders of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and a winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.)

So yes, I went to church. An Anglican church. The service started at 7 am. Yes, it was worth it.

While most of the content of the mass didn’t strike a chord (obviously), there was discussion of peace, justice, reconciliation for those living through conflicts around the world. The general idea – as I’ve found with most religious services I’ve attended – is to live your life respectfully and honestly.

Despite being another miserable, winter day here, listening to Tutu warmed us all up.

“He just winked at me!” Agnes exclaimed. Indeed he did.

After the service was over, he said farewell to all those who attended by blessing us and shaking our hands. He may be the only person to truly bless me and for me to feel honored and not offended by it.

And off she goes again to save the world…

TIA

I'm sitting at work, reviewing some articles for the journal. It's a pretty quiet day here, but Main Road is filled with its typical traffic. (This is the main thoroughfare to get from the southern suburbs to downtown and has 4 lanes of traffic, usually occupied by large buses, kombis, and crazy speeding drivers.) In a moment of daydreaming, I realize that a little white object appears to be scampering along the grass next to the hospital. It then jumps up on the bay of public telephones, pauses to look at some people waiting for the bus, then climbs up a tree and appears to vanish.

Yep, it's a monkey. TIA = this is Africa.

Through my eyes

Observations of Cape Town life

Instead of strollers, I frequently see women pushing babies around in shopping carts. Not in the stores, mind you, just out and about.

When people approach you for money (very frequently), they act very polite and reserved. When you tell them you have no money, they do a 180 and call you lots of names, too many to list here, usually in another language (but you can still imagine).

You will always have bizarre passengers with you in the kombis. They usually stare, even if you’re not doing anything.

More kombi facts: the driver may decide at some point that he needs to get more petrol. He may have a full passenger load. There is nothing more awkward then sitting in a kombi, at a gas station, with 15 other people waiting while the driver fills up. Even better is when the gas station is a block from where you need to get out and the driver simply tells you to get out there. Other passengers may advise you to try to get 20 cents (this is basically negative American dollars) back since you had to get out earlier. Best to just get out.

Locals complain about the so-called “winter” here. A lot. Yet they still go surfing year round.

You have to generally buy electricity at the grocery store. There is a box, similar to a credit card swipe machine in the house, that comes with a key card. Credits are listed and decrease as you use up electricity. In order to “buy” more, you go to the grocery store, tell them you want X amount of rand’s worth of electricity and they print out a receipt with a code. You go home, swipe the card or enter the code and voila, more power.

At night, there are vendors selling trinkets, eggs, potato chips, and grilled sausages. All on the same stand.

Common phrases of greeting:

- How you?

- You fine?

- You all right?

- Hiya!

Into the swing of things

Hello my faithful readers!

I am so sorry for having been such a bad blogger this past week. Now that I’m more settled, things really picked up and I never seemed to get around to writing. No fear, here is your much anticipated update…

Last Sunday was the kind of Sunday that one always hopes to have. After sleeping in (FINALLY over the jet lag and used to the pathetic mattress), I ventured down to Hout Bay with a few of my new friends. One of them has been renting a car and is very used to driving – I was quite impressed at the ease with which he navigated the roads while driving on the left AND in a stick shift car (yikes!). We took a scenic route to get down to Hout Bay. Take a look at a map of Cape Town when you have a chance. The center of the city sits higher up on the peninsula than you may think. All along, there are beautiful little towns (still part of the greater Cape Town area) that line the coasts, finally ending at Cape Point which is the south-western most point of the African continent (yep, been there before and will certainly be hitting it up again) where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet. Hout Bay is situated right in a bay (duh) and is filled with seaside restaurants and a lively community. They have one of the nicest (and completely town-run) craft markets on the weekends that you can find. The local crafts here are wonderful. My friends, April and Paul, are from Vermont and live in slippers practically 6 months of the year. A lovely couple was selling handmade sheepskin slippers that you could customize with different leather and appliqués. A matching set was ordered by the Vermonters! April and Paul are expecting and debated about buying little baby-sized slippers as well but ended up just treating themselves. They did buy an incredible soft baby carrier that is quite African looking. There were lots of beads, baskets, paintings, scarves – you name it. There was a photographer who had photos from an previously wealthy diamond mining town in Namibia that had since been abandoned (diamonds may last forever but the mines eventually are exhausted). She had pictures of houses that were once incredibly luxurious and were left abandoned and now were filled with sand! Safari’s are big here as most of you probably know so she also had many pictures of the big 5.

I’m settling in to a routine at work and am loving it. I’ve been reading more journal articles and am excited to see what’s coming up in the world of transitional justice. I’ve been able to really work on my own critical reading skills, discover more CR/TJ sources, and gain amazing insight from reviewers in the field. The pardoning project continues – we finished our draft letters to send to the Pardon Reference Group (PRG) and the Speaker of South Africa’s Parliament. Since a number of organizations will be collaborating on this project, we’ve circulated our letter for feedback. It’s a wonderful way to connect with other NGOs doing important work. Stay tuned, as for when we release a statement to the media, I’ll be sure to post it here. We have a new intern that started this week – she’s a law student (also from the States) and is focusing on human rights. She's not nearly as familiar with TJ as I am but she's definitely bright and eager to learn. We will definitely have a lot to talk about. We’re supposed to get one more intern during the course of my stay, who is originally from Liberia but in a master’s program at Notre Dame. I’m very eager for him to arrive as it’s hard to know what’s really happening on the ground in Monrovia concerning the Truth and Reconciliation work. He’s spent some time there and should be able to give us a better idea of what’s going on. The NGOs that are there are spread very thin and the general consensus is that the process is sort of a mess. Hopefully that’s not the case but even if it is, maybe that will prompt further action and projects…

Monday is a national holiday here so I am looking forward to the long weekend. I plan on exploring a few of the many museums here and possibly seeing a dance or theater performance. The weather is very unpredictable, but you can usually expect wind. As I said before, the heating here is pretty terrible and most of you know how much I HATE being cold so I’m looking forward to at least getting some summer when I return home.

A number of new interns with various organizations have arrived this past week and are living in other houses managed by the same company that mine is. One of them just started working at the Cape Town Refugee Center and she already has incredible stories. There is a huge influx of refugees here and another camp is set to close soon so it’s only going to get worse. From what I’ve heard, between that and the xenophobia attacks, people who have no home or are afraid are really struggling. There is not enough food to feed everyone each day and little is being done to amend that, despite the incredible work of the humanitarian organizations who are already involved. Cape Town may be metropolitan in some parts but it is very much still experiencing the poverty and struggles that plague many African countries. As humanitarian practitioners, we’re constantly reminded to take care of ourselves, as we will be of no use to those who so desperately depend on our help if we’re not healthy and happy. But it’s hard not to let it get to you – comes with the territory, I suppose.

I promise I will be better about blogging. For now, take care all. Sending you much South African love.