Today,
we officially finished our activist project! We delivered all of the school
supplies and toys that we fundraised to Maitland Cottage. It was very exciting
to finally see all of our hard work pay off. We also handed out notebooks made
out of construction paper and crayons to all of the children, as well as Easter
eggs and lollipops. Once again, I was amazed by how excited and appreciative
all of the children were. I am really sad, knowing that is the last time that I
will be able to go to Maitland Cottage. But I am also really happy that I had
the opportunity to meet these amazing children and make (hopefully) a tiny
difference in their life.
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| Lauren at Maitland Cottage |
It
is strange to think that we have less than a week left in Cape Town. Sometimes
I feel like we just arrived yesterday, and other times I feel like I have lived
here for my entire life. Capetonian life just seems so natural now, and I am
realizing that I have gotten used to so many things here that I will never see
once I am at home. Little things, things that are likely to be missing from the
conversation when I try to explain to people at home what my experience in
South Africa was. These are the things that I am trying to pay attention to
now, the things that I am trying to ingrain in my memory. Because when I am
back home in Rhode Island, or at UConn, I certainly won’t see ten guys casually
sitting in the back of a pickup truck next to me on the highway. I won’t see
Table Mountain in the background of my walk to Main Road, looking almost like a
fake backdrop due to its immense beauty. I won’t see fruit stands on the side
of the road where you can buy strange but delicious mystery fruit for 5 rand. I
won’t be able to hear conversations on the train, when people slip so easily in
and out of three different languages. I won’t hear Parks’ morning announcement
from outside our gate, when he comes to pick us up and bring us to our
internships, “MORNINGS MORNINGS! BUS IS HERE!” I won’t be able to go
to Monday night jazz at Lyra’s. And I won’t have my morning chats
with Abdul, the security guard outside of the Treatment Action Campaign office.
In less than a week, these will no longer be my daily experiences. I am sad
whenever I think about this, but I am also just incredibly grateful that I had
these experiences and memories in the first place. I hope that when I go home,
I will continue to pay attention to the little details and learn to appreciate
them more fully.
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