Of Films, Oceans and Silly Academics

Hiya,

[I wrote this last week and forgot to publish it. It's a bit dated but here it goes. Will do an updated post soon. Plus, Jean is back and has some great stories from the road show to share. yay!]

Thanks for the concern. Me is well again. Freaked out for a day but I woke up right as rain. I felt great enough the next day to go take in some of the films at the Cape Town World Cinema Festival.

The festival ran for about 10 days and had a solid line up. Unfortunately, I could only make it to one evening. I saw a feature film called Son of Man and a bunch of South African shorts. Son of Man is great. I highly recommend it. It’s the story of Jesus set in a South African township. Because it’s set in a contemporary African community, many of the historical figures seem strangely familiar. King Herod seems like a cross between Idi Amin and Mugabe (or any of the list of African dictators). The ethnic conflicts are reminiscent of Rwanda or Darfur. Jesus is a rabble rouser who challenges the “interim military government” of the day who appear to have no desire to transition into democratic rule. The Virgin Mary is played by Pauline Malefane, the famous South African Opera singer and star of U-Carmen eKhaleyelitsha (I think Jean mentions the film in the preceding blog). It’s not totally true to the biblical recollection of events. 2 of the disciples are women and Jesus doesn’t physically rise from the dead (although he does raise someone else from the dead). The ascension is metaphorical as his legacy inspires his mother and community to rise up against their oppressors. It’s very well done and it’s fun to see them integrate African themes and culture (Jesus goes through a traditional Xhosa coming of age initiation ceremony called the home coming) into the biblical story. They didn’t go as far as depicting Jesus as marrying Mary Magdalene but they took some risks. I was hoping the cast would attend but they were busy rehearsing for the next day’s performance in the centre of the Guguletu township as part of the festival’s outreach program. The film would be shown to the township residents in the town centre. And followed by a song and dance performance. I would have loved to go but you don’t really wander into the townships unaccompanied.

Ongeriewe was one of the South African short films I saw and my favorite. It was a finalist in the Best Short Film category at Cannes. It’s a great depiction of the crystal meth (Tik) addiction that’s consuming youth in the cape flats. As per previous blog, CT is home to the largest coloured population in the country. During apartheid the coloured communities were housed in the cape flats. The cape flats are home to about 1million people and has the highest concentration of drugs and gang related crime in the city. I don’t know if we’ve blogged about this but crystal meth (aka Tik) is huge here. There was an article in the last Mail & Guardian focussing on the impact of tik on families in the Cape Flats. The film was similar in that it focussed on the toll it was taking on one family with 2 boys. One who committed suicide after a binge and another who was supposed to be helping to find his brother but was too consumed with his search for his next hit. According to the M & G article, of 41 flats in the block profiled, there were only 11 families that didn’t have members hooked on the drug. Stories about tik related vicious rapes, murders and suicides abound. Some statistics indicate that about 60% of substance abusers in CT are hooked on tik. The police blame the addiction for the increasingly violent nature of street crimes such as muggings. And, as with any cheap inhibition suppressant, it’s the favourite for gangs. Ongeriewe tells a poignant story of one Cape flats family and the impact of tik. It was filmed as a school project and is now on the festival circuit. I’d expect it to be making a showing at TIFF (that’s if it wasn’t already on this year). Definite must see.

I attended a conference on public participation in Jo’burg last week. What a humongous disappointment!!! 22 of the 23 panellists were white. All but a handful were non-South Africans and they didn’t seem to have made any attempt to be culturally or otherwise sensitive. Many city councillors were invited and attended the conference. The reality is that most of the councillors are not highly educated. At the CLC we publish a local bulletin geared at councillors and we assume our readership has a high school education and is probably ESL. The presenters were so condescending that I wondered if the councillors would stage a walk out. One presenter started her speech with a joke about how she didn’t expect to see so many councillors the day before so she went home and put more “big words” into her presentation so that the councillors wouldn’t understand. The only people laughing were a few of her co-presenters. In describing the history of the African National Congress (ANC) another presenter said they “pretend to be a social movement”. I couldn’t believe my ears. If there were any organization that can claim to have been a social movement, I’d dare say it’s the ANC. I haven’t been here that long but it’s long enough to know that ANC allegiance is like a religion for blacks (and many coloureds) here. Notwithstanding the corruption scandals and the Jacob Zuma spectacle, people are still very attached to the ANC’s ideals. Not that people don’t criticise the actions of specific people in the ANC or specific decisions, it’s just you don’t do it flippantly. After all, this is the party that brokered freedom for the people only about 12 years ago. Mandela’s party! It’s truly heresy. At that point the councillors were really acting up and grumbling I was surprised they waited until question period to tear the guy to bits. Thankfully, the guy was French and didn’t appear to fully understand the feedback.

Another problem with the event: yes, western countries have expertise to offer. However, something gets lost when the French government sends French experts with limited English language skills and very strong accents to research and give a highly technical presentation to ward councillors for whom English is also a 2nd or 3rd language and who are not accustomed to the French accent. It was quite bizarre. There were no questions asked of some of the speakers, probably cause people didn’t really understand their presentations. A few presenters couldn’t answer questions because they couldn’t understand the accent of the person who was asking the question. I’m used to French accents and could only pick up about 40-50% of what some speakers said. My colleague, who is English South African didn’t understand anything one guy said. There is absolutely no reason why they couldn’t have partnered with some local organizations that could assist with the cultural translation or could more effectively deliver the material. It was also bizarre that the leading South African experts on the topic (who happen to be coloured and black) were in the audience. So you had this sea of black and coloured faces sitting there being instructed by these well meaning researchers who had been in the country for only 4-12 months. Apparently, after we left things came to a head when the Executive Director of one of the South Africa’s leading institutes of democracy asked why they didn’t have more diversity on the panels. The response was that they didn’t know there were local people who were experts in the field. Funny that, considering they did know them well enough to invite them to attend the conference. Over lunch, I heard one of the presenters saying that it’s a pity that the councillors were being so defensive instead of acknowledging that they didn’t understand the theoretical framework. I had to remind myself that I was attending as a representative of the CLC and had to restrain myself. Forgive me but I thought it was the presenter’s job to ensure that her work is accessible and tailored to her audience? Nigerians would say, “see me see trouble” (translation: can you imagine this nonsense). Anyway, I could go on and on. I was so outraged.

Jean came back for the weekend and we went for a lovely drive to and hike in Cape Point. What a glorious day to be outside! Cape Point is on the cape peninsula. It is at the South western tip of South Africa, and the continent. It is rumoured to be where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet but it is apparently not. The oceans meet somewhere between Cape Point and Cape Agulhas. It’s a lovely drive from Cape Town, past Camps Bay and Hout Bay through Chapman’s Peak and along the coast all the way there. Would be the perfect drive in a convertible, hair loose, chic sunglasses, sipping a non-alcoholic beverage and singing along to Melissa Etheridge (or whatever tickles your fancy). But we managed to enjoy it in our not quite rickety little 1996 Toyota Tazz with no cassette player or radio (the face of the radio has been stolen so its stuck on one sappy Afrikaans station – every now and then they play a nice song but most of the time it’s a bunch of crap and we can’t understand the news). We saw a family of baboons on our drive. They were mostly minding their own business occupying half of the road but there are lots of warnings about how aggressive they can get. Cape Point is a definite must! It’s soooooo beautiful! You walk up the stairs or take the cable car (although no one under 65 should be taking the cable car unless you have a back problem) to the lighthouse and you can see both oceans for miles. It’s spectacular. It’s part of the Table Mountain National Park. Although there are signs advising that the baboons are attracted by food, we saw a few groups picnicking. It’s a beautiful picnic spot if you’re willing to share your lunch with the baboons.

Jean is in Zambia now. This is the last week of her road show…yay!!! I’ve missed her terribly and I’ve been feeling a lil homesick. Missing everyone of course, but also missing the independence of home: the joy of a subway or bus ride to anywhere I feel like going to; a run by my lonesome; free calls to friends etc. I’m really looking forward to Jean’s company. She comes back on my birthday and we’re going to see Yvonne Chaka Chaka and the Cape Town Philharmonic Orchestra the next day, December 3rd. I love Yvonne Chaka Chaka. Growing up she was my favourite African singer. I’ve alsto heard great things about the orchestra’s conductor. This show is the kick off to their summer season. We’ve also been invited to meet the Governor General at the Zip Zap Circus (http://www.zip-zap.co.za/). She’s on a 3-week Africa tour and CT is her last port of call. We’re both hoping that she’ll confess to us that she’s really bored having to do all this travelling and would love it if we could accompany her as she tours the world. Well, a girl can wish!

O

Where I've been

Hi Guys,

I know Omo has been doing a stellar job of keeping you updated. Here's my rare and humble offering.
As I mentioned before I've been working with four journalism students at a community radio station in Cape Town called Bush Radio. I am having a great time with them. They're hardworking, attentive and have a great sense of humour. They have to put together newscasts and headlines all day. They also have a weekly one-hour magazine show where each reporter contributes an item. I've been helping them with story ideas, writing and structure. They're picking things up quickly.They're second year students at a local university. Their first year is print, then they're thrown right into internships with the most basic of broadcast training in their second year. They have to learn on the job. I love that they're not intimidated and willing to try things I suggest. The only thing that makes me nervous is that it's in a dodgy neighbourhood. In fact that's too polite a word. They've pointed out to me the drug house to avoid. We all make sure we're out of the radio station before dark. The news editor had her car stolen outside the building. Her partner is a police detective. It was pure chance that he spotted the car that had been sprayed and had its licence plates changed. Some how he was able to recognize it on the highway. Cape Town can be so violent in spots that a woman driving home at night is allowed to run red lights after 10:00, particularly if she feels threatened. Also, having three locks on the doors made this a whole different way of living. Initially it felt like house arrest, but I am used to it now. I've been trying to take Friday's off to sight see.
I recently went into my first Black township. Wow. What a &**^%$ disgrace. It's called Khayelitsha. There are about one million people living in the depths of poverty you cannot imagine. It's a sea of shacks. The place stretches for miles. Townships are not places where you can just walk in alone. You need someone local to take you and for a reason. Desperate people will do desperate things. The townships are crime ridden and ruled by several gangs. The police presence is non-existent and so they have by far the highest crime rates in the area. One of my students was going to cover a story with two consultants and I tagged along.
It was a nice story. The local government was giving away bicycles to schools in the township. Getting to school is difficult for many students. They have to walk long distances passed the gangs. Two wheels are meant to help the lives of some students. These bikes were so nice I could have walked off with one myself.
Khayelitsha is said to be growing so quickly that it may one day rival Soweto which is currently the largest township. Actually, we first saw Khayelitsha on screen a couple of years ago at the Toronto International Film Festival. U- Carmen eKhayelitsha is the opera Carmen set in the township, using local actors along with a professional opera singer as the star. If you haven't seen it, it's really good. I never imagined I'd actually see the township. I'm currently on the road for four weeks of giving journalism training. I started off in Namibia. My first stop was in a rural town about 100 kilometres outside the Namibian capital. Reheboth was hot, hot, hot and dry. It's such a rural town that there are no sidewalks, just sandy tracks. Just about everyone here is of mixed heritage of Black and Afrikaans. The first language is Afrikaans but most people also speak English. I was treated really well. In fact the woman who runs the B and B where I stayed spoiled me rotten. My exercising in Cape Town was shot within two days with her because of the way she was feeding me. She's like my mother. She just walks into my room sits on my bed, just to see what I'm up to and starts yakking. It may seem rude but she's great, everyone is so welcoming and sociable. They're thrilled that someone is taking the time to work with their young journalists.
I later went on to the capital, Windhoek, where I was at a university radio station. To listen to the three presenters was cool. There's one woman who was so fluent you could put her on any station at home. These guys are naturals.
The professor who's in charge of the station was cool and I will put money on being a brother. He showed me around, took me to lunch etc. I really like Namibia. It doesn't have the racial tension I often feel in Cape Town. Omo and I will be travelling through there as part of our Christmas tour.
My second week of training was in South Africa in the eastern part of the country. After flying to a small town, Richards Bay, I drove two and a half hours into the mountains. The area is called Maputaland and it is in the heart of Zulu land. I fell in love with this place. The community is literally up a mountain. It is the rainy season so the land is green and lush. The view of the mountains from my chalet was breathtaking. I also loved the people. The staff members were very funny I had a laugh with them. I became so attached I was actually feeling emotional as I was leaving. I want to go back with Omo. My only regret is that I couldn't share it with her.
The station manager and some of the others took me for a drive and I went into the Kingdom of Swaziland. Didn't see too much, as it's a border area, but you can feel the difference from South Africa and I actually say I've been there.
The town where I was staying in Maputaland is also close to the Mozambique border. The station manager was going to take me there also the following day but I decided not to go for a few reasons. I was really tired, also the guys were drinking and driving when we went to Swaziland. I wasn't impressed with them. Thankfully I was driving my rented car because we had so many people. The day were supposed to go to Mozambique though, it would have been me and three guys. I didn't want to risk having them drink again, plus the woman I was close to wasn't going to be there. Another reason is I've been nagging Omo about us going to Mozambique so I think it'll be nice for us to experience an unknown country together.
I'm currently wrapping up my third week in the independent homeland of Lesotho. It's been a very challenging and emotional week. Overall I haven't found the country as welcoming as the others places I've seen. Some of the women I've been dealing with in the hotel etc, have been downright rude. I find some of the people passive aggressive about their rudeness. Thankfully people at the radio station have been decent. The training, though, was also quite a task in the beginning. People at the radio station saw me as fresh ears to bend with complaints. Anyway it was dealt with after I asked the director to meet with them and address their concerns. I'm happy that the staff listened when I suggested they be respectful and mature about how they air their grievances.
Geographical Lesotho is beautiful. It is the most mountainous part of Southern Africa (not officially part of SA but surrounded by it)
You see many people walking around with blankets. Although it's summer now people are prepared in case they get caught in the rural and mountainous areas where temperatures can be cool.
I was out in the country yesterday meeting rural women listening to their music and hearing about their groups.
As I write this the daughter of one of the presenters has walked into the office. She's seven and my little darling, a real sweetheart. She was with us yesterday when we went to the country.
Lesotho is very poor and life is hard for many people. My seven year old's mother for instance has been on a tough road. Her husband was killed in the mines in South Africa in March. He was 38 and leaves her with two children. She's 42 and I can see the pain in her eyes when she talked about him. Her parents were also killed by a mob a couple of years ago. Her father was a chief and he was trying to solve a dispute when he and his wife were murdered.
The sad stories go on and on here.
Anyway folks, I am heading home a day early so I can prepare for next week in Zambia.
Hope all is well with you guys.
Take care,
love Jean.

EYEWITNESS - INCIDENT REPORT

As per previous blog, Jean is away (she’s in Swaziland right now – Maputaland is close to the border and one of the people she’s training drove her across). She usually drives me to work and picks me up and so I’ve had to make other arrangements for this month. Thankfully, the CLC’s Director lives close to me so I’ve gotten a ride with him. But that means I’ve only gone to work on days when he’s been going in. He was going in late today so I decided to try to figure out how to get to work on my own.

We live in Gardens, which is a trendy white neighbourhood in the “City Bowl” (i.e. downtown or city centre). Jean’s regular volunteer job is in Mowbray, a dodgy neighbourhood close to home. I work in Bellville, which is a northern suburb of the City. About a half hour drive without traffic on the highway. The first mistake I made this morning was deciding that I’d try to avoid the rush hour and leave home after nine. It didn’t occur to me that suburb-city travel is usually during rush hour so there’d be less frequent buses etc after rush hour and the stations would be more desserted.

Anyway, I asked the caretaker in our building how to get to the taxi rank. Minibuses are called taxis here. These overflowing, recklessly driven minibus taxis are a staple in any African city although known by different names (Matatu, Danfo etc). The taxi rank is usually located next to the Golden Arrow bus station. The Golden Arrow buses are similar to the TTC buses. I think they are municipally operated but I’m not certain. I hopped in a taxi close to home and made it to the rank and all went smoothly. The bus inspectors were very helpful. I had a stroke of bad luck and arrived in Mowbray as the Bellville bus was leaving so I had to wait an hour but the bus inspector was happy to keep me company so I didn’t feel unsafe. Anyway, the bus arrives and I get on. The bus ride was really pleasant. Usually we drive on the highway so it was nice to weave through the city in the bus. Just when I was starting to think ‘wow, this ain’t too bad, if I can get my timing right I could do this on a regular basis’, we come to a stop and the following happens:

On Thursday, 16 November 2006 at around 11am I was on the Golden Arrow bus heading to Bellville from Mowbray. I do not know exactly where we were but we had just come over a bridge and passed a sign pointing in the direction of Athlone. The bus stopped at the next bus stop and I observed three people waiting to get on the bus. One is a middle-aged woman. In front of her is a young, dark skinned “coloured” woman, appears to be in her early 20’s. The young lady was wearing a long white gypsy skirt, with a fitted white shirt, big white belt, white slippers and (unfortunately) a large white tote bag. Standing behind her was a young “coloured” man of around the same age. He is about 5ft 10inches tall, clean-shaven. He was wearing a red polo shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. He had an earring in one ear and a pimpled face.

They were standing so close together that I assumed they were a couple heading to campus together. Just as she was about to enter the bus, the young man reached into her purse. She seemed a little surprised but she wasn’t screaming or anything so I assumed he was just kidding around. He grabbed her phone and turned around and ran off. He wasn’t running very fast but it took a few seconds for everyone to realise that the girl had just been robbed.

Afterwards, the woman was so distraught. I was stunned. You hear often about how people get mugged in broad daylight and how nobody does anything. Well, today, I was one of the people who did nothing. Besides the bus driver, I was sitting closest to the door and I’m sure I could have outrun the stupid guy (although he probably wasn’t running fast cause he didn’t need to. No one was chasing after him). However, I now realise that these things happen so fast that it’s over before you can even think to respond. I just couldn’t believe the nerve of the guy to steal from her in plain view of everyone on the bus, the bus driver, and the other woman waiting on a high traffic main road. He was just so smooth. It was such an eye-opening experience for me. I didn’t see a weapon but the girl didn’t protest when he stuck his hand in her purse, she probably didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. I offered her my phone so she could call her mother. Anyway, I give this report here for the following reasons:

1) Even though I saw the entire thing unfold and can describe the guy, this is the only place I will get to give my statement. These things happen so often here that no one even bothers to report it and the police will probably laugh if you called to report it. This is probably one of the reasons the idiot guy felt so emboldened. It didn’t even matter that someone might recognise him;

2) I have decided to retire all but the Swiss Army city bag that I wear around my body and that has several zippers for the entire duration of my stay here. No more bags matching outfits;

3) I must keep said bag strapped around my body at all times, even at restaurants and the movies. My co-worker’s best friend had her bag stolen from between her legs at the movies last night;

4) Contrary to what I had assumed, these thieves aren’t always drug-addicted people that you can spot. Sometimes, they are nice, even good-looking people who are very calculated and very skilled;

5) I will not in fact become a regular Golden Arrow or other public transit rider. Luckily there was no weapon involved this morning but after the incident people on the bus were sharing their stories of similar broad day light bus station and street corner muggings. Most involved knives. A guy who tried to chase the mugger soon observed that he had backup and gave up the chase. The trains are the worst. Gangs target them and there are several reports of rapes and murders on them. I may ride the bus again on occasion but probably not alone;

6) I will only carry cards and things that are absolutely necessary;

7) I could do all these things and still get robbed or mugged;

8) Should that happen, I will gladly unstrap said Swiss Army bag and hand it over.

9) I will resist the urge to chase.

I’m feeling a bit freaked out today. Not crazy about being by home alone tonight. I know I’ll get over it but right now I’m feeling vulnerable. I’m not sure why I was so affected by it, but I think I’m not crazy about the fact that there are people walking around doing whatever the hell they please confident that they won’t get caught…AGGHHHHH. Maybe I’m having security consciousness fatigue.

How I Hate Linear Time: What happened to Cyclical African Time?

Yep, it’s another blog so soon after the last one. I told you we had turned a new leaf. Diligent blogger I am. Blame it on Jean being away and leaving me stranded. As per previous blog, I can’t drive a stick/manual car so I’ve enjoyed the luxury of being chauffeured around since Jean arrived. Now that she’s taken her good news on the road to journalists everywhere I am stuck.

We don’t have satellite television (satellite dishes are prohibited by the bylaws of this lovely development we live in) and I don’t tend to watch much TV other than news. I tried to get into one of the many soap operas here (there must be like 5 million) but it quickly became apparent that the Xhosa news made a lot more sense even if I couldn’t understand a word. In the soap they were holding a funeral for someone who had died in a fire. But, of course, in universal soap style, he wasn’t really dead. He had managed to escape and was actually alive and watching the funeral from his secret hiding place…AGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH. As with all things here, there appear to be black soap operas and white and coloured soaps, same for game shows.

One of the things I find so fascinating is the language aptitude. People flow effortlessly from one language to the next. There are eleven official languages here and so all are fair game for interviews etc. That also means there aren’t always subtitles. Oftentimes, while watching the SABC English news broadcast they’ll interview someone who starts out in English and then switches to another language and they don’t translate. People at work do that as well. I’m actually quite enjoying the sounds of all the different languages (especially the Xhosa clicks) and getting used to the fact that I can’t expect to comprehend everything that goes on around me. I’m also determined to learn the national anthem, which includes several of the official languages. Very difficult to memorize a bunch of sounds that make no sense to me but I’m determined. I think I’ve got it when I’m singing along to the Ladysmith Black Mombaza version I have on my ipod but then I turn it off and I realise I can’t get past the 3rd word syllable unassisted.

Yesterday, we went in search of the whales in Hermanus. Hermanus is a lovely seaside town along the Indian Ocean. It’s about 120 km from Cape Town and supposed to be the best place to see whales. The travel guide says you can expect to see about 70 whales during the season, which ends in November. Well, we had no luck. The whales heard we were coming and decided they’d go hang out elsewhere. It was still a beautiful drive and we got to see a bunch of dazis (I’ll confirm the spelling and correct this). They are little beaver like animals with no tails. Jean bought some nice necklaces from the craft market before we headed back to the city. The verdict: Hermanus is lovely. Judging by all the signs there and all the recommendations we got, it’s truly a great place to view whales. However, if you’re in SA after October, don’t hold your breath. Go for the drive and hope for the best.

We realised yesterday that we forgot to blog about our 10-km run in Stellenbosch a few weeks ago. Even though neither Jean nor I had run in months we (well, more like I – Jean did register her objection) decided the 10km run would be a great way to see the winelands. We didn’t know exactly how to get to the winelands (we had directions but we’d never been) or how long it would take us to get there. That notwithstanding, I decided that morning that Jean absolutely deserved to have 2 songs she had been telling me about on her ipod for the run. She couldn’t be expected to run 10km without those two songs. That would be cruel and unusual punishment. So, we wasted even more time with me downloading the song. When we finally got on the road, and made our first wrong turn, it became apparent that we might be late for the run. But, this is Africa and I am nothing if not African, so I assured Jean that everything in Africa starts on African time. In fact, I am a great proponent of cyclical time (it’s my excuse for being late – “us Africans are programmed differently”). Well, to my complete dismay, Cape Town is not quite as African as I had imagined. The race started on time and we were very late. There were no runners in sight. Even the walkers and 5km runners who started later were long gone. In fact, we didn’t even know where or whether to run. After asking a few people, some official looking person pointed us in the general direction. Thankfully, we soon caught up with the walkers so we were able to follow the trail and finish the race. We spent the first 10 minutes stumbling around laughing. Like we weren’t embarrassed enough, we found out at the end of the race that they don’t track individual race times so they assumed we started on time. I’ve been too embarrassed to check the published race time. I blame the darn British and Dutch for bringing their crazy notions about time to Africa. If they had just stayed in their respective countries, Jean and I might have had a respectable performance on that race. But, oh no, they had to come and colonize the place. The price we have to pay for colonization and domination!

Stellenbosch is so beautiful. There’s a lovely long stretch with several wine farms. It was so gorgeous that we flirted with the idea of a hike but settled for a high carb breakfast and strawberry picking. We’ve got some funny pictures of us hanging with the multitude of scarecrows on the strawberry farm and of the ostriches we passed on our way home.

We also went to a fun women’s party called Hectic on Hope (I love the name). It’s on the last Saturday of the month. So, if you’re a queer woman (no men allowed) and planning on visiting and want to go to a fun party plan to be here at the end of the month. There are also lots of straight clubs on Long Street and gay male clubs in Greenpoint. For those, any weekend will do (lucky buggers). Plan to arrive unfashionably early if you’re into anything besides house music. They LOVE house music here. Starting from about 10:30 its pure house. Jean loves house music. I HATE house music. I can abide the first couple of songs but the beat just seems so repetitious. But y’all know Jean isn’t usually much of a dancer, so it was fun just to see her get really excited about the music and trying to convince me to dance for a change.

So, where is jean now? She’s on her way to Maputaland in the heart of Zululand, Kwazulu-Natal province. She left today. Her flight was delayed in Johannesburg for several hours due to a bad thunderstorm. I just booked a hotel for her to stay in Richards Bay by the airport for the night. She’ll have to do the 2 ½ hour drive to Maputaland at the crack of dawn – she has to do a training session at 9. In my search for a hotel, I also discovered that Maputaland is a malaria zone and neither of us is yet on anti-malarial. We knew she’d need it for Zambia and that we’d need it for our holiday trip but we had no idea about Maputaland so now we’re a bit worried about that. She’s going to put our plan B into effect i.e. spray bug spray in her room and lock herself in there with the windows closed at night, stay away from water especially stagnant water etc. Anyway, we’re keeping our fingers crossed.

Still trying to decide if I’ll join her in Lesotho next week or go with her to Zambia the following week so we can spend my birthday together.

Bye for now.
Omo

You don’t get more touristy than the big red bus

Hi everyone,

Hope you’re doing well. Life is good. We’re all settled into our new life in Cape Town. Our apartment looks very well lived in. We’re even going out at night. On the weekend we had to go to an internet café to send Jean’s report to Canada. In all the commotion of trying to get it into the right audio format to send it, we lost track of time and didn’t leave the mall till almost 11. Having submitted to an 8pm curfew, we were quite amazed at how lively things were at that time of the night. Most of the City was dead but Long Street (the clubs and backpackers’ district) was full of action. We even wound down to listen to the music from the clubs. So much for locking ourselves in after dark! I guess there comes a point when you just have to accept that crime happens everywhere and you hope for the best and just go on living.

Since the last blog, we’ve been on tourism over-drive. We even swallowed our pride and got on the cheesy double-decker tour bus. Yep, the buses with the giddy, pointing, snapping tourists. That was us, heads held high, cameras around neck. Jean was deliriously happy to have someone else driving us (she's stuck doing all the driving again cause I can't drive standard - yippee for me) so she could OD on picture taking without me screaming “put the darn camera away. Are you trying to get us mugged?” We made notes of all the places we wanted to re-visit and have visited a few since.

Last week we visited the Jewish Museum. It’s a lovely museum with mixed media documentation of the rich Jewish history in Cape Town and South Africa. Who knew that so many South African Jews came from Lithuania? The first Jews arrived around 1869 and most arrived in Cape Town and moved inland with the discovery of diamonds and gold. There is a video re-enactment of the establishment of the first synagogue. There is also a picture of the old hostel that housed poor Jews. The hostel kept great records of the comings and goings and those records are available for Jews who wish to trace their family’s history. We would highly recommend the audio tour. One can hear the story of how the Jewish Council advocated against anti-immigration laws and condemned apartheid. The museum also profiles many of the Jews who were active in the anti-aparthieid movement. Helen Suzman is the most famous one of many. There were many others who provided legal assistance to those who were charged by the nationalist government and many others still who were very active and vocal in the movement and were arrested. However, it also acknowledged that Jews were treated as whites under apartheid and many did nothing. It’s a definite must for anyone visiting Cape Town. And, you can’t leave without trying the yummy sandwiches at the café.

A week before that we drove down to Houts Bay for fish and chips. We weren’t going to have the fish and chips but our friends advised that it is required of all visitors and that it would be an embarrassment to our countries to not partake. They even sell “I Had Fish and Ships at Hout’s Bay” shirts. Once we heard that, we decided we just had to do our country proud and dig in. Patriotism (and grease) have never tasted so good…yum. Hout’s Bay is simply spectacular. The beach is lovely and surrounded by mountains. We drove up the mountain and had a little hike. We even saw a whale sunbathing in the water. What a view! I’m thinking I’m going to have to buy a thesaurus so we can vary our adjectives for describing this place. One can only use the word ‘spectacular’ so much in six months.

We went to see the play “You Strike a Woman You Strike A Rock” at the lovely Baxter Theatre in Rondebosch. The play itself left much to be desired. It’s about the plight of women under apartheid told through the life of three women selling their wares at a bus station. For a three woman show, there was just tooooooo much going on. They tried to cover way too much in an hour and a half (without intermission) and it felt a bit tedious. That said, the three actresses were excellent. They were engaging and funny. They did the best with an overly ambitious script. However, it was worth seeing for its history if not for the script. The play was a collaborative effort between a white playwright, a black playwright and the actresses. It was written and first mounted during apartheid. Rehearsals took place in a bathroom in a township church. It was closed under the threat of the apartheid government. It was again mounted for the ANC leadership in exile in London. It has now come full circle starring the original three actresses. Interestingly enough, the play has been heavily criticised by the current ANC cabinet. I believe it was the Minister of Culture who said it was vulgar and a bad influence on the South African people. It was shown in the smallest and most uncomfortable room at the Baxter, which is actually a lovely, grand theatre (with a restaurant that serves a yummy buffet of South African fare). We’re planning on returning to see some of their amazing line up of small fringelike plays (they also have their share of mainstream acts).

Work is well. Last week we had a conference on inter-governmental relations. The participants were mayors, municipal managers, senior officials and MPP’s from the provinces and the National Minister for Local Government. It was really interesting to hear them talk about the challenges that they face building an emerging democracy. I won’t bore you with all the details but it really helped me acknowledge that twelve years really isn’t that long a time in the life of a nation. There is a lot of capacity building work that needs to happen in order to bring about monumental change in the lives of the people. It was remarkable to see that the politicians are still feeling their way around and trying to understand their role in this new dispensation. For instance, there is an ongoing debate about whether provinces are necessary. The Constitution recognizes all three spheres of government (levels is a four letter word here as it suggests there might be a hierarchy and everyone is very quick to point out that all three spheres are equal) and all three have delineated powers and functions. However, local government is under the supervision of both the national and provincial government. The local government is responsible for service delivery and generates its own funds. In contrast, the provinces, have few sources of their own funds – mostly lottery and casinos and most of their services are delivered through the municipalities. The municipalities get transfers from the national government and the primary legislation regulating municipal action is national. So, whenever one gets to discuss the challenges that municipalities face in delivering services to the people, the argument about whether provinces are necessary is always raised. Many feel that the existence of provinces unnecessarily complicates intergovernmental relations and hinders local governments in service delivery. They essentially have to answer to a sphere of government that can offer them little. In fact, the budget and revenue of metropolitan cities such as Cape Town far exceeds that of the province. Anyway, I say all this to say that everything is still up for grabs here. Nothing is set in stone. The current system of government reflects the constitutional negotiations that took place post-apartheid. The system is still being tested and over the years some major tweaking is likely to happen. It is, however, heartening to see that the discussion around what needs to change is focussed on what facilitates service delivery. However, whatever changes will also have a lot to do with politicking. The ANC runs the show across the board (national, provincial and in about 90% of municipalities – Cape Town being one exception) so, they’ll be sure to make the changes that also entrench their hold on power.

Did anyone hear Jean’s report about the black communities' response to PW Botha’s death? It was on the air on Sunday evening. What a flipping lunatic he was!!! I’m sure there’s a special place in hell for unrepentant bigots and murderers like him and Hitler. Someone sent me a copy of a speech he gave in Parliament. It made my blood boil. It’s hard to imagine that someone actually said those things. In the speech he spoke of how they have their scientists working on ways to control black fertility and how it was pretty clear from history that blacks were inferior and made to serve whites… He also spoke of how the worldly tacitly approved of their actions by doing the same to their black populations and by continuing to support their economy. I can’t even repeat it. I’m sure you can find some of his speeches online. It’s been an interesting time to be here and see how some media outlets, in keeping with the “don’t speak evil of the dead” rule, struggle to find something positive to say about him. The best they can come up with is that he was a historical symbol. Most don’t even try. From all indications, he went to his grave cocky as ever and totally unrepentant. People have been upset at the government’s decision to fly flags at half mast. Until I read the speeches yesterday, I was thinking it made sense in the spirit of reconciliation and protocol. Now, I think it is totally inappropriate. He refused to appear before the truth and reconciliation committee and took most of the secrets of that oppressive regime to the grave. He made no attempt to reconcile in life, why should the country, still burdened by his hateful legacy, pay him any respect. It’s simply ludicrous. No wonder there is still such distrust of the Afrikaner whites here. It’s hard to trust a community that allowed such people to lead them and fell into line. The speeches also speak to some of the challenges HIV/AIDS activists are having with getting the message out. Many people view the HIV message as another attempt by whites to control black fertility. I saw a documentary about how young people had dubbed AIDS the “American Initiative to Discourage Sex” in Africa. Anyway, that’s my rant about that.

So, where is Jean? She’s in Namibia. She’s gotten an amazing training gig and will be touching down in several southern African communities with her journalist training road show. Sadly, it also means she’ll be gone every weekday for the next month. She left for Namibia on Sunday. She returns on Friday and is off again on Sunday etc. She absolutely loves it and I’m so happy for her. You should hear her talk about it. She’s positively giddy. I’m sure she’ll blog about it when she gets back. She has also loved working with and mentoring the college students at Bush Radio. You’ll hear all about it in future blogs.

I’m off to Johannesburg on Sunday for a conference on public participation. I’m really looking forward to doing some travelling. Two weeks after Jean gets back from her road show, we’re off on our 24 day southern africa tour. We’ll drive through the Namibian dessert to Windhoek, visit the dunes, see the wildlife, eat game (yikes), over to Botswana, Zambia and end in Vic Falls in Zimbabwe. We’ll stay for a couple of days and then fly to Jo’burg for five days to see Soweto, find the women’s community and visit Pretoria before heading back to CT on January 15th. We’re so looking forward to it. We’re having to delay the countdown until when Jean gets back (I’m not the queen of countdowns for nothing).

I hope this long blog has made up for the long silence. Hope y’all are well. We love to hear from you. Drop us a line when you get a chance. We miss you.

Omo

p.s. Happy 40th to you know who. See, I’m a good friend. I’m trying to protect your identity. Want to make sure you can still pretend to be youthful. Enjoy it!

Jean's Welcome to Cape Town

Sorry folks, we know it’s been a while but we’ve needed a bit of time (one week in Jean’s case) to move into our new apartment and get settled in. We’ve also discovered we can’t sign up for internet without three months worth of South African bank statements. Anyway we are now on line at home (connected via usb from computer to cellphone). We’re also discovering how important conservation is. Electricity, phone and internet … all pay as you go. You have to buy pre-paid electricity and phone cards and make sure they’re topped up at all times. Otherwise, as we found out, the electricity runs out in the middle of laundry.
It is all good though. Cape Town is a spectacular city. You can not truly put into words how stunning the geography is. Whereever you go there’s an incredible view of Table Mountain. Whereas some mountains look intimidating, Table Mountain, grand as it is, envelops the city in a welcoming and protective way. Omo is determined for us to climb it. I’m scared of heights and think, ‘yeah right”. I may consider the cable car with my eyes closed.

Where do we begin to tell you about Cape Town? The coastline is incredible. We went to a place called Camps Bay to see a guy about our internet. He said “you have to come to Camps Bay it’s beautiful”. We thought okay we’ve seen beauty already. Well…to get there you drive up around the mountain. The view down to the area is mind blowing. We saw the most beautiful sunset there. Of course the area is inhabited by rich White South Africans. Homes are in the range of 10-millon rands (about $2m). We did see two Black women taking dogs for a walk. They were "domestics" walking their employers’dogs.

The racial divide in South Africa has been interesting. About 50% of Cape Town is Coloured. See Omo’s earlier blog about the definition of coloured. Maybe because this is a huge tourism destination, the reception we’ve received has largely been good. We’ve eaten in nice restaurants (the food is amazing and affordable) and haven’t had a problem. We do however see the how the institution of apartheid has not been truly dismantled. We pass communities of shacks on the way to Omo’s work. Black and Coloured people are everywhere begging, hanging out with nothing to do.

I was talking to a personal trainer who’s Coloured. Denzil asked if I’ve seen Cape Town yet? I said I’ve only been here for a week and seen bits and pieces. He said “no the real Cape Town. The townships, the shacks”. Denzil is a condition coach for the South African rugby team but he says he can’t support them because after 12 years, the team is still not diverse.
Desmond Tutu recently told the BBC how he expects social unrest because of the level of poverty and despair amongst Blacks and Coloureds in South Africa. We’ve been told not to go out after dark because of the threat of crime. At first it felt like house arrest. There was also something unnerving about having three locks plus an iron gate on your front door. We have been out and will go out again. The idea is to know exactly where you’re going at night. Even during the day, no maps and camera. They are the undeniable markers of tourists which unfortunately makes you a target for muggers etc. That’s been a problem for me since I love taking pictures and how else can we capture and share the magic of this place?

Omo did a great job of finding a lovely and secure apartment. We also have a car to get around, which is a must. We’re renting a car from Theo, who is Afrikaans. Anyway he kept going on about how we should look after the car, keep it clean, don’t overload it. Then he says “I’m not being racist but the people who misuse my cars are the Blacks. They pack it up with people and go to the beach leave sand in it.” Can you imagine our faces? We let him finish and calmly but firmly put him in his place and reminded him he was talking to two Black people. It really is about ignorance that needs education. Theo and his wife have been lovely to us since. He’s been quite helpful and accommodating.
You know when people say ‘pick your battles?’ We’ve decided when it comes to race here we will be picking EVERY battle.

All in all, we’ve been having a pretty amazing time. Besides the spectacular views, we’ve also been meeting some wonderful people. A woman we were introduced to had us over on Saturday night so we could meet the women’s community here. It was so much fun. It was great to hear the stories from the older women who have been out and active in the community for decades. Plus, the woman’s partner baked the most amazing lemon meringue cheesecake. Omo & I were still talking about it the next morning. Apparently the woman had offered for us to take the leftover pie, and Omo, in her infinite wisdom and desire to get our out of control diet under control (we’ve both reunited with the meat pies and sausage rolls of Omo’s Nigerian and my English childhood and it’s been quite the reunion – our waistlines will tell the tale) she declined. Only for us to see the friends we were giving a ride home carting away the pie. The next morning, we had fantasies about marching over to their apartment and demanding a fair share of the loot.

Like that wasn’t enough fun for one weekend, a lovely couple we had been introduced to by some Canadian friends had us over on Sunday afternoon to celebrate the husband’s birthday. They have the most adorable five-week-old baby. The grandmother is here visiting from Vancouver. There was an older man holding the baby for most of the time we were there so I assumed he was the grandfather. While talking to the grandmother, I asked if that was her husband. She responded, “I don’t have a husband. I have a girlfriend.” I almost choked on my drink. So, we traded coming out stories and had a good laugh. The entire family is very sweet. We plan to get together again soon.

Anyway Omo is hard at work. I’m relaxing, finally over the jetlag, planning trips and places to explore.This weekend we plan to get over to Robben Island.

I have lots of pictures and will post them as soon as we figure out how to. Hopefully, within the next day or two . Now that we have internet access at home, we promise to do a better job of updating the blog. Take care our Canucks.JeanplusOmo

Gave wrong number

My email was wrong. My phone number for calls and text ends in 9986 not 9936. Hope to hear from you.

In Cape Town and Still Black

Miraculously I made it through all that needed to be done and arrived in Cape Town on Tuesday. Still going through the settling down motions. It's a bit cold and it's been raining a lot but it's still gorgeous. It truly is a beautiful country. Even in the suburb, the landscape is extraordinary. My colleague has been showing me the City. The waterfront is very familiar cause my friend and I spent a lot of time around there when we visited in 2002 but a lot of the City is new to me.

My organization is putting me up in a converted hotel in Bellville. Bellville is a white and coloured northern suburb (will get into the racial issue later) It's a lovely, spacious room and very safe. The University of Cape Town is renting the hotel to house about 20 graduate students sponsored by the World Bank to attend an International Trade in Africa course. I'm staying in an extra room. The room is so nice that I would have considered staying here long term but I'm not too crazy about the communal kitchen. I tend to be a loner around living spaces. I don't like being compelled to be friendly all hours of the day. It's become pretty clear that we're going to need a car. It's really difficult to get around without a car and the public transit system is not great and definitely out of the question in the evenings.

It's funny cause I had no qualms about walking around when I was here in 2002 but I've heard so many stories about how unsafe Cape Town is these days that I've been weary of walking alone. I had to channel some warrior energy before I decided to take a walk yesterday. You should have seen the major strategizing. Credit card in the left pocket of my jeans; cash in the right; two 5 rand coins in my left jacket pocket (in case I get accosted by someone wanting money - apparently someone in this building was held up with a knife on a street close by a couple of weeks ago); a 20 rand bill in my right pocket with my cell phone. My purse in my bag strapped around my body. I was all geared up and ready for war. Needless to say, my walk was without incident. Went to the Nandos chicken (kinda like a swiss chalet but with spicier and healthier fare) and had lunch. I wondered if my Nandos chicken bag would make me more vulnerable on my walk back home but noone paid me any attention...lol.

Apparently, the fact that I'm black is a big advantage for me. It means I'm less likely to be a target for muggers etc (provided I don't walk around alone at night). That brings me to what I anticipate to be the biggest challenge I'll have here: race. I'm in South Africa so I didn't exactly expect to see whites and blacks hanging out together everywhere. In fact, I think my friend and I were always the only black people at the restaurants we visited while we were here in 2002 (except when we deliberately visited black restaurants). However, I was oblivious to the black-coloured divide.

Well, what an awakening. I thought I was imagining the strange looks as my colleague showed me around town but it quickly became clear that I wasn't so I asked him if he had noticed. Well, he explained to me that the looks are because he is coloured (In Canada he'd be black or maybe mixed race) and I'm black. Here, anyone with a drop of blood that isn't fully black is elevated to the coloured status. According to Reuben, Beyonce, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah, Condoleeza Rice, Colin Powell etc are not black, they are coloured. South Asians and other non-white or black people would also be coloured. The aparthied government intended Cape Town to be a coloured settlement so it has the highest population of coloureds. One of the other legacies of aparthied is that there is still very little mixing. So, coloureds hang with coloureds and blacks hang with blacks etc. Now, everytime I see a group I look to see if there's any mixing and every time I think "there's a black/coloured group over there" I look closely at the person I think is black and inevitably I notice there's some feature that'd entitle them to be "coloured", maybe an otherwise inconsequential wave in the hair texture, or a pointier nose or some other feature. I know this probably sounds ludicrous but trust me it all matters.

So, here I am thinking I had the whole thing figured and I decide to ask a woman that looked black to me where I might find a black hairdresser or a salon that does black hair. She gave me a really strange look like "How would I know?" and said she had no idea to ask someone else. And then she asked me where I was from, cause I'm sure a black SA would never have asked her that question. In the middle of this exchange I suddenly notice that her hair texture is a little straighter. So, I have to hone my skills a bit better before I get myself slapped... Actually, I wanted to slap the insulted look off her face.

But, I am happy to declare that I am still black even in Cape Town. The bridge of my nose might necessitate a closer look from someone who's not as sophisticated in the art of distinguishing but I've been confirmed black....YAY.

I'm kinda worried about Jean. I suspect she'll be considered coloured and overnight we'll be transformed into an interracial couple, worthy of stares... Welcome to beautiful SA.