Friday in Gugulethu

Friday came too quickly. And to think that when I left for Gugulethu on Tuesday, I honestly thought it was going to be one of the longest weeks I’ve had in a while. Mama woke us up and reminded us to say goodbye to Papa as he had to head off to work. It was at this time that they presented us with pins that have the logo of the JL Zwane community center on them. Last minute hugs, and Zukile was out the door. I had barely had time to sit down to my last bowl of Corn Flakes and cream milk when we heard the sound of our cockroach (taxis in Gugulethu) out front. I wish we would have time to watch a part of Generations (the popular South African soap opera. It’s actually very similar to soap operas you would see in the states, except the characters speak in English, Xhosa, and Zulu. Add in the drama of show in this genre, and it makes for good tv). I feel like we always want more time… more time to rest; more time to play; more time to go out; more time to be with family; more time to finish that last to-do item; more time to be silly with friends; more time to be with a significant other; more time to enjoy on vacation... just more time for everything. I know I wanted more time with my host family, especially since our car came early and caught us as well as Mama off guard. We just have to remember to cherish the time we have so even if do we wish for more time, we will have known that the time we did have was memorable. (Hope that made sense).

I forgot to mention that I had the question of the day for Thursday. (Each member of my class was assigned a day of the trip to come up with something for the class. I was assigned a question). It sparked a healthy, productive, and emotional conversation. I think that we all want to bring back the same thing, but individually emphasize what will make the most impact in our lives back in the states. I know that I want to bring back hugs. Whenever people you know see you, they give you a hug. And not one of those lame and awkward hugs. Big warm hugs that transport love from one body to the other. Sometimes a hug can make a person’s day… I hope to make more people’s days like this back home. I think I will re-visit this idea later on in the third week after I’ve had some time to reflect on the past week. I just wanted to bring it up because it sparked something great within our group; I’ve been feeling very introverted during discussion time so the fact that I facilitated a productive discussion made me feel proud to be a leadership minor student once again.

Today, we had a service project at Tembalethu, a school for physically handicapped children. It’s the only one of its kind in all of Gugulethu (a township of over 400,000 people). Seriously, children are beautiful. We stepped out of the transport to be greeted right away with cheery smiles and vigorous waves… just because of our presence. Sometimes I don’t think I appreciate the greatness that comes with playing with a child; I need to be around that more. Our purpose today was to clean up the school and help out in any way we could. The jobs varied from filing, helping out in classrooms, to yard work. We were brought into a dining hall where the principal of the school started have all of the students gather for an assembly. I know that I am telling you about a school for children with disabilities, but I actually have to think very hard to remember them. I think that as a group, we didn’t see disability in these children… only joy. You know, the kind of joy that brings out the kid in you that isn’t paying attention in Language Arts because you’re dreaming about recess. The principal addressed the children and then gave each of us the chance to introduce ourselves. Of course, I have nothing prepared (I hate impromptu speeches) but I winged it… when it was my turn I just said my name and that I was excited to be there with enthusiasm and the crowd went wild! Awesome! After the assembly, we went to our individual jobs for the day. I figured choosing to do some filing for the administrative office would be not only a stress releaver but a good way to do something low key. Oh boy, was I wrong. Turns out that there were a ton of files to sort through, like that never ending pile of documents that sits on your desk at work…. We came up with an alphabetical system that seemed to work fine, but then realized that the files were so out of shape that there was no order. Last names were first names and vice versa; since we don’t know many names in Xhosa, we didn’t know any better. It made for a long process. It felt sort of wrong to be looking through files to find the correct name for the correct pile since that wouldn’t be tolerated in the U.S., especially because I couldn’t help but look at some of them. (I was curious, sue me). The files recorded the disabilities or diseases that facilitated a reason for why the child was at learner at Tembalethu. I couldn’t help noticing that more than some of them listed polio as a reason. Some of these files from 1987 and later. This stuck with me. I always thought of polio as the disease of the past. But with all the filing, it gave me time to think. It’s the disease of the past in America, not South Africa. It’s just another reason to step out of my American way of thinking. It’s just so sad to have children be sick or die from polio in recent history when there is a perfectly effective vaccination out there. Then again, as an American I had access to that quite easily; it might not be access but rather required. It’s not the same all over the world. I don’t understand why going abroad showed me this. Okay. Seriously, I can see this point. But why wasn’t I able to understand that other parts of the world are different from America? I suppose there is a difference of being told and fully understanding. While the filing was therapeutic, there were some that would jump out… like the ones that had the word “Deceased” written in red, haphazard letters across the front of them. I guess I’ll stay away from being a medical technician as a potential career choice.

Our time was up, and after a short art show at the community center we found ourselves back to our living situation in Mowbray. You’d think we would be excited to be going home. But for most of us, it was like we were leaving home instead. Gugulethu became our home during this week. Mix together a tight-knit community, with lots of love, throw in good food and fold in 17 students and their instructor and you’ll get a brand new home. It was so hard to drive away. Especially because about 10 minutes of driving, and you couldn’t even see the shacks anymore. Instead, your eyes indulge in houses that are mansion-sized in comparison to shacks and the beginning of the stadium for the 2010 World Cup. It’s like they never existed. Maybe that’s why people who live in Cape Town don’t venture in the townships. They just aren’t reminded of them. The irony here is so frustrating; I can’t even explain it. It’s easy to turn our heads away from poverty and hardship. Why do we do this? Why do I do this? I hate to admit it, but it’s because I am selfish. I’d rather save any money that I could donate for college or for things that I do that are associated with grounding myself after graduation. Plus, I have a sister starting her post-secondary education soon that will be funded from only one income. I want to be able to help her start her college life. Is it so wrong that I am planning for the future? Absolutely not, and I would defend this to anyone. But is it wrong that I buy ten things that weren’t on my list when I walk into Target because they were “a good deal”? I don’t know.

As you can probably tell, I’ve got an internal fight raging in my brain. I thought I would have some conclusions for you at this point. But I don’t know what I think. Hopefully, discussions in the third week will help me come to peace with my feelings.