Katrina's reflections on Cape Town

A week from today, I’ll be getting ready to hop on an 18 hour plane ride back to America. There are definitely things I’m looking forward to, seeing my family and friends, driving, taking a bike ride, non-instant coffee; but I can’t help but feel so sad to leave this place I’ve come to think of as my home. I never thought I’d be able to say that about a place, after just a few months, and I’ve been thinking a lot about why I’ve loved this place as much as I do.

 My first inclination is to think about the natural beauty of Cape Town as well as South Africa. Table Mountain is one of the world’s 7 wonders of nature, and it seems that everywhere you look around you is from a national geographic magazine. Half of my pictures look completely photoshopped and even then they barely do the views justice. Everything from Cape Town, to Mpumalanga to the Garden Route have made me speechless.

But beyond the natural beauty, it also seems to be the most fun place in the world. Between the beaches, the adventures, the hiking, and the buzzing downtown Cape Town there is ALWAYS something to do, maybe that’s why we never sleep? There are fun restaurants, bars, and plenty of places to listen to some live jazz or go to a music concert on the green.

But what I realized this weekend as I hung around UCT after running the Two Oceans Half Marathon was while all these things have been great, it’s the people I’m truly going to miss. I’ve made roots here, even just through something as seemingly simple as running. When we walked into the expo on Thursday, the first guy we saw working there was one of the guys we met at the Constantia 15k some weeks ago. He gave us a HUGE hug and proceeded to give us awesome advice on completing the half. Before and during the race we met more people, and watched in admiration as we spotted people with bibs showing they’d run over 10, some over 20 and even one who’d ran the Old Mutual Ultra marathon (35 miles) 31 times. After the race we ran into Joy, the woman who completely took us under her wing back at the Koeberg 15K, in which we had no idea what we were doing or even how we were going to get home. Since then we’ve run into her twice more, once at a race on her birthday. This time she made sure we didn’t leave before we planned a time for her and her husband to take us out to dinner before we go home. As the morning went on we moved from being cheered on and encouraged throughout the half marathon, to joining the crowd in cheering on the ultra marathon finishers. Watching the elite athletes cross the finish line brought tears to my eyes, especially the first female finisher. The accomplishment is unthinkable, and the amount of hard work and dedication those athletes put in is inspiring. After watching for a while, Melanie and I headed over to the grass area where many of them were sitting. We people-watched and listened as they limped and hobbled around, nursing their sore legs. 

Melanie & Katrina after race with Elias

One of runners, a very elite looking athlete, sat somewhat near us, and eventually we nervously asked him how he was feeling. He gladly opened up to us, and we quickly learned his name was Elias, an elite ultra marathoner, from a rural area near Kwazulu-Natal. Even as a top runner, and after running the whole 35 miles at around a 6 minute per mile pace, he was about to head back on a 12 hour cramped bus ride. He told us all about the school and church he works with, at giving youths in his area more opportunities, and wanted more than anything to welcome us into his village and have us meet the kids. There’s a million more people like this we’ve met, and I could write an essay about each one- their friendliness and hospitality, their inspiring stories, their love of running. And this is only in the running community. I get sad to think of seeing Joy for the last time, or running to our favorite street fruit vendor for the last time, and saying goodbye to these people that have left such a mark on me, in a way I never would have expected. 

I can’t even think about leaving Sister Castle, the head nurse at Tafelsig that we’ve all become so close with. I feel just as at home with her, crammed into “Gracie,” her little buggie, driving the roads of Cape Town, as I would with anyone at home in America. I hope I can bring what these amazing people have taught me back home, and spread a little of the love I feel here. We’ve seen a lot of terrible and tragic things in our time here as well, but I’m leaving with a sense that humans have a great capacity for love, that overrides the evil we see in our world today. I’m so inspired by people- what they’ve done, what they’ve been through, and what they’re passionate about. And I’m weirdly excited to meet the many other people that I’ll cross paths with in my future. I’m so sad to leave my home at Loch Road, and all the amazing people living here with me that have come to be something like a family as well. So come this following Sunday, I’ll be so excited to see all the people I love, sad to say goodbye to Cape Town, but overall just so thankful for this incredible opportunity that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Katrina & Sister Castle

Katrina's valuable lessons learned during her days at the clinic

Days at the clinic are often filled with excitement, curiosity, chaos, and lots of laughter with the nurses we work with and have come to love. We’re often intrigued with some new or gross health condition, all crowding around the doctor trying to help or nervously practicing our new skills, such as taking blood or giving EKG’s. But some days, like today, are heavy.

The morning started off with a little boy who had fallen at school and split his forehead open. He needed sutures, which the doctor gave, but something about the location or nature of the cut left the child in extreme pain, thrashing and screaming in agony. We had to hold him down to keep him still, as his mom began sobbing as his screams became too much to bear. You know in your heart you’re helping him, but it sure doesn’t seem like it when you hear a little boy in pain like that. You feel helpless, listening to the screaming, and every bone in your body wishes you could do something, ANYTHING, to ease it in the slightest.

Later on in the morning we heard a woman hysterically screaming in the waiting room. The whole place was chaotic when I went outside to see, and the nurses quickly brought her into the emergency room to calm her down. She was having a panic attack, because her father, who was very ill and had been waiting for hours to be seen, had just lost consciousness in front of her eyes. Her mother was on her death bed at home, and she thought her father would die in front of her today. She would have no one left to take care of her in the world. To add to the fact, she was pregnant, with no father in the picture. Once again there was nothing I could really do to ease her pain. I can’t imagine feeling so alone in the world, and dealing with so much tragedy and pain all so quickly. I am so lucky to have healthy, loving and supportive parents, but also numerous friends and other family who would always be there for me to make sure I was ok.

In the afternoon, as I was sitting in Sister Castle’s room, a very tough looking young man came in. The kind of tough you’d never expect to see cry. He was so shaken up, and could barely form words. He had just witnessed a double murder, of two of his friends, a husband shooting his wife and then himself. The man was shaking, and told us they left behind a 13 year old son with no other family. Before he was finished, another boy came in, probably around 15, with a shirt covered in blood. He was stabbed after school, and was calmly asking for some sutures. The amount of pointless violence we see here is incredible, and in its wake is broken, hurting people, dealing with this kind of devastation on a daily basis.

As sad I was feeling by the end of the day, I learned important lessons from Sister Castle. With each and every one of these patients, you could see how she truly cared about their wellbeing as people, not just as patients. While I love medicine and health care, I’ve been turned off by how doctors treat patients, dehumanizing them or only doing it for the money. Sister Castle is not only these people’s health care providers, but she acts as a guardian to them getting them through their hardest times. I’ve especially seen her do this for young women, many lacking parents or guardians to support them and many pregnant with children from their early teen years. These girls have no one, and feel so lost and alone, and she provides comfort but is also very honest with them in the advice she gives. Even when the clinic is jam packed and she has 50 folders waiting, she realizes how important that moment is and will take the time to make sure they are ok before they go. People truly come before herself, and that seems such a rare quality in our individualistic society driven by success and productivity. When I work in health care, I want to be the best medical professional I can be, by investing and making relationships with my patients. I want to hear their stories, their struggles their pain and make them feel taken care of the way Sister Castle does for all her patients. I know that you can’t get too emotional or attached to patients in the sense that it may cloud your medical judgment, but I’ve learned through working at the clinic that being in some sort of medical emergency can be one of the scariest and most vulnerable times in a persons life, and taking the time to help ease their fears can make all the difference in the world. 

http://katrinahodgkins.wordpress.com

Katrina's recognition of her privlege

The train that runs through much of Cape Town has become one of my favorite discoveries over the past few months. With the Rondebosch station a mere 20 minute walk (but more often a 10 minute sprint), you can hop on and get a round trip ticket all the way to the beautiful beaches of Muizenberg for about 180 rand (the equivalent of less than a dollar seventy-five). The train here is pretty different from the handful I’ve been on back home, a metro ticket entails cramming yourself into the door and pushing your way through a mosh pit of people hoping to get a ceiling hold for when the train jolts off. From there you stand, holding on by one arm, as you get pushed every which way by people coming and going, old and young, everything from beggars to performers to preachers. One morning a few kids even got the whole train singing a Bruno mars song…good stuff.

On one of our first trips home on the train, four of us accidently got on the MetroPlus section, a section much less crowded and hectic than the Metro section, even offering a seat on the quieter days. We happily took a seat, pumped that we wouldn’t have to stand in the loud, cramped and sweaty section we were in before.

Two men wearing uniforms then came dramatically onto our car, yelling at people asking for tickets. I froze. Although I had suspected so, it was then I realized we were on the MetroPlus without the correct tickets, and we were about to get caught. Would I go to train jail?!?!? The officer first started yelling harshly at this old, frail women sitting across from us, ending with him ripping the brown bag with a bottle of alcohol in it and violently throwing it out the window. I could hear the glass shatter on the tracks as the women cried out. They argued with the next man, but in Xhosa so I couldn’t understand (all the good drama always is), but ended up forcing him up and out of the train on the next stop. I knew my moment was next, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. But the train official didn’t even look my way as he walked past. Initially I was relieved, over-joyed really to avoid that confrontation. How lucky I was! But it quickly dawned on me. Was luck really it? Why had he so harshly harassed the other people sitting around me and not even given us a glance? It was clear to me now. We were the only 4 white people on the train. He assumed that obviously we were not supposed to be on the Metro, and even if we weren’t it would not be worth the fuss for them to hassle us. I should’ve been happy for my free train ride, but all I could picture was the tears in the old woman’s eyes as the bottle shattered, falling quickly behind us.

Katrina opening her eyes to the world

Spending time here in South Africa has opened my eyes like never before to just how many free rides I’ve been given. I’ve been constantly confronted by my own privilege, which is honestly a very uncomfortable though necessary experience in my mind. Being a white America here, I am the top of the totem pole. If I walk around the township of Khayelitsha, children wave and flock to me, and people run out of their houses to take pictures of me. This is not after spending long hours volunteering or trying to improve living conditions, this is after I’ve done NOTHING. I am a celebrity simply because I am white and American. I am a celebrity in some of the schools because of what past students that looked like me have done. This is a very humbling experience, and I can only hope that any time I spend with the people during my stay can even come close to earning the respect they already give me.

Working in Tafelsig, I get to interact and get to know lots of patients living in the area everyday. Many of them ask me why I’m here, what my program entails, and how I like Cape Town. I can’t help but tell them I’ve absolutely fallen in love with their homeland, and never want to leave. While they want to hear that I like it, there is also the unspoken knowledge that my existence in Cape Town is very different from theirs. While I’m off hiking, running races, and surfing they are stuck in their small homes and shacks in unbearable conditions. While I go home at night and sleep in a (mostly) safe house, they don’t know what dangers the night will bring. We laugh and I’ve connected with many patients, but we each know the unspoken privileges that will mean very different lives for both us and our children.

Katrina (front center) with colleagues at Tafelsig Clinic

When I do clinical work in the prep room, it is my first job to ask them their age. Every time I get a patient who is 20 I can’t help but pause. Often times this 20 year old, sharing my age and time on this planet, has already been pregnant at least once, and likely without work or education. And she is looking to ME as her medical provider, a title she only gives me because I’m a white American wearing scrubs. I have a whole world of possibilities in front of me, while her life seems doomed to follow in the footsteps of her mother and grandmother, struggling to get by, day by day, and raising children from an early age. Some days this seems almost too much for me. Why was I born into such incredible privilege, and better yet, how could I have not even truly appreciated it until now? Of all the trivial things I complain and think about, it is rare that I realize how much I’ve been given. With loving supportive parents, all my basic needs met, and access to an amazing education and so many opportunities, my future was whatever I wanted it to be. I’ve found that both guilt and pity are unproductive emotions, but I’m still trying to find what to make of this privilege I was given, and how I can use that to help whatever community I end up living in. And for now I remain SO incredibly grateful to be having this opportunity, by far the best time of my life.

The Development of an Activist Project

As those who have previously followed the UConn in Cape Town Class Blog know, student-interns participating in this program are required to complete an activist project for my class.  I've been continually impressed and inspired by students' ability to identify an issue and then create a project to help address a need they discover.  These undertakings provide students an opportunity to share their time, energy and talents within the communities that have taught them so much as well as to discover their own individual and collective potential to make a difference. The assignment is broadly defined as:

Identify an issue

Decide what you will do

Commit a minimum of 24 hours to this work. 

Collaborate with one or more other students on projects.

-----------------

Previously students have constructed and implemented an amazing array of successful projects.  One of the organizations with which students have worked is the Firefighters Football Club which was established in 1998 in Khayelitsha, the largest black township in Cape Town with a population of close to 800,000 people.  The football club is located in Mandela Park and has 5 youth teams: under 11, 13, 15, 17, and 19, as well as one senior team.  Firefighters FC athletes are leaders on and off the field. Participating players meet after school for peer education sessions. They work on everything from homework help, to presentation skills, to college preparation. Firefighters Football Club is about character building, about raising young men who will be positive role models for the next generation and will strive to make a positive impact in their communities. 

Over the years students have worked this club to: help with their tournaments; develop and write up their strategic plan; collect slightly used soccer cleats from family and friends; work with the coaches; and set up their website <http://firefightersfc.com/Firefighters_Football_Club/Home.html>

This year 5 students (Allie, Emily W, Jenna, Katrina, & Morgan) are working with players on life skills and tutoring as well as raising funds to buy water jugs for the teams and water bottles for individual players.  You can read more about their project below and anyone who would like to support their efforts may do so at their GoFundMe site:  http://www.gofundme.com/7qtgp4 

------

In our semester studying abroad here in Cape Town, South Africa, 5 of us students have started volunteering at the Firefighters Football Club, a local boys' soccer club in Khayelitsha, one of the poorest townships in Cape Town. The club is located in an area consumed by poverty with minimal sports and recreational infrastructure. Because of this, children are highly vulnerable to gangsterism and drug use. The club was created as a way to begin to address these issues within the community and provide them with a safe and fun alternative while learning vauable life lessons through their coaches and teammates.

After spending the last few weeks getting to know the boys and watching their practices, we noticed something was missing. Even after hours of running in the hot sun there was not one water break, not one kid had a water bottle, and at the end of practice they eagerly guzzled down what little water we'd brought with us. After talking with Bongi, the team's coach, we realized what a huge difference providing water coolers and a water bottle for each of the players would make. Our goal in our remaining time with Firefighters is to continue to get to know, play with, and tutor the players as well as raise money to provide them with the water bottles and coolers. We also plan on helping out at the Firefighters tournament by giving the kids support, as barely any of their parents come, as well as provide water and food seeing that it is an all day event. 

Despite having close to nothing, these kids' hard work and dedication has inspired us. We hope to use whatever money we raise towards getting new equipment, gear, and improving their fields. Any small amount will make a huge difference and the kids and coaches will be so grateful. Go Firefighters!

--------------------------

One of the wonderful things about social media is how many people can be reached simply by sharing information with facebook friends.  If you find this to be a worthwhile cause perhaps you could share it with your facbook friends along with a personal message as was done by my daughter-in law Betsy, who has been to Cape Town and had the pleasure of personally meeting Bongi and the Firefighters:

Anongile Qasana and his firefighter's football club are what grassroots change is all about. He inspires youth to change themselves and their community, all while having fun. I know some of my fellow soccer parent friends can connect to watching kids play soccer and grow in confidence, and many of my social justice friends might be inspired to get the word out.  http://www.gofundme.com/7qtgp4 

Or as by Dan who participated in this program in 2012 and did his activist project as well as spenting countless additional hours working with Firefighters:

Anyone who has heard me talk about Cape Town knows how influential Bongi and his soccer club, the Firefighters Football Club, were to me. This year's study abroad students have continued working with the team and are working to raise funds to buy the athletes water bottles. Yes, something as simple as water bottles are a commodity in the township the boys are from.  If you were ever an athlete and know what it's like to play in the hot summer sun, consider supporting their initiative. http://www.gofundme.com/7qtgp4