Sarah on the many things she has to smile about

Courtney, Sarah, & Vernon at the Supervisor Thank You Dinner April 2014

It's been almost three weeks since I flew into JFK. I said goodbye to the friend I met on the plane, breezed through customs with absolutely no line, and then met my mom and BriBri happily. After a two-hour drive home I showered quickly, grabbed a notebook and rushed up to Storrs (suddenly on the opposite side of the road) . . . time for class. 

I'd grabbed a coffee in an attempt to ward off the impending doom of jetlag. Though I managed to stay awake, I sat there a bit dazed and confused. Are those derivatives?? Is this calculus?!? I panicked a little. I hadn't done math for a class in two years! And our first of three exams was in two days. Never mind that I landed less than six hours ago (poor planning on my part). I walked back to my car to be greeted by a parking ticket. Welcome home, I told myself, laughing. 

As expected, the class was a bit hectic and I spent a fortune in gas money for the three-hour round trip five days a week. Thankfully, the driving time was peaceful and the busyness was routine. The commute gave me time to catch up on all the new radio hits and more importantly, plenty of alone time to reflect. And landing into a lull after the buzz of elections would have made any adjustments more challenging.

An aside on elections . . . I feel so blessed to have been able to extend my stay in Cape Town. That couldn’t have happened without the care and enthusiasm of those at the IEC, who checked in on the status of my Visa paperwork daily, or the willingness of program staff to answer my questions and spend time at (multiple) Home Affairs. And the elections were certainly exciting! I spent Election Day recording hundreds of political queries and reporting them to the Operations Team, surrounded by the buzz of media personnel, political representatives, and security staff. And spent the eve of Election Day at the results center, so impressed by the dedication exuded by the team of staff, most of whom worked for over 24 hours straight and in certain cases, about 48 hours without seeing their home or family or bed. I feel both humbled and honored to have been a very small part of such a large historical event. It was inspiring to see all of the IEC’s hard work over the last four month finally fall into place. And in typical fashion, I could not have been received with more hospitality, welcomed in the live broadcast of the opening of the results center by the head of the Western Cape. Later, I was privileged to travel with members of the American, English, French, Russian, and Japanese consulate personnel on an Election Day Tour sponsored by the Communications Team. 

On the road I met a 109 year-old women who felt strongly enough to spend the energy to cast her vote. I saw queues of South Africans, willing to wait to exercise their rights. And perhaps most importantly, the extra two-weeks of my stay allowed me to spend more time with the friends I’d come to know and love through work at the IEC. I will never be able to thank the staff enough: for the stories they shared, the lessons they both knowingly and unknowing taught me through action and conversation, the warm memories I will forever cherish, and the recording of my stay in dozens and dozens of photographs I carried back back with me across the Atlantic. I was received into several homes where I got the chance to meet the families of a few of my wonderful colleagues. I spent my last night in Cape Town relaxing under a gorgeous sunset in a vineyard quarry, listening to Freshly Ground live one last time. I couldn’t have asked for a better stay or goodbye to Cape Town.

It’s strange being gone from a place for four months and returning where very little has changed. Where work procedures are no different. Where my bedroom looks exactly like I left it …during packing (what a disaster!).  It’s a comforting yet odd phenomenon. Because I feel like there's a part of me missing. I want to drive down my favorite street in Westbrook and end up by the Rondebosch Commons. Or jump on the Metro North and hop out at Kalk Bay. Or stroll into the IEC office any one morning. It all feels so close still, so fresh. And yet its miles and miles across the ocean. How I want to merge both places I love without touching the imperfect perfection of either.

I wrote not long ago that my Cape Town experience was very much about firsts. But since I've been back, I've realized many of those firsts were within reach all along. Routine and familiarity–the expectedness of both–possesses potential to be blinding. To ease my drive to Storrs, I've been offered four places to stay. I've discovered a few outdoor concert venues since returning. I've been hugged, greeted by tears of joy, and cared for by all my friends and family in wonderful ways. And though there's nothing quite like standing below Table Mountain, dwarfed by the presence of something so grand, I've taken the Connecticut shoreline for granted all these years. There's nothing quite like driving down a small town road either–sunlight dancing through the full canopy of leaves overhead, across the winds and bends, country music up, windows down. It's beautiful in its own right. And when I take the time to look, a sunset over Long Island Sound or even Messerschmidt's Pond is still pretty amazing. I've gladly realized that though unique in Cape Town hospitality, adventures, and scenic views might be closer than I previously imagined. 

Since leaving Cape Town, I noticed I feel more comfortable discussing my opinions, even when they differ. I'm much more interested in the daily news, global occurrences, and life outside of the little bubble I previously surrounded myself in, better known as college textbooks. And my emotions surface more quickly. Prior to leaving for Cape Town, I'm embarrassed to admit the only movie I ever cried watching was "Ted" (yes, because I thought the teddy bear died). Now sometimes, I tear up just thinking about things. I bubble into anger over topics I never thought I could care so much about. And I most definitely laugh more easily. 

I'd always wanted to travel the world, to make it to every continent, to see riches and ruins and history and foods and cultures. And I still do, but differently now. The idea of visiting different places, of standing here and climbing there or seeing this and hearing that, offers so much less me to me now. Instead, I want to experience and to live in different places - to be a participant rather than a spectator. I want to come to know the heart of the people, the habits of the street corner vendors, and the nuances of daily life rather than sightsee alone. For me, my focus on travel has shifted from quantity to quality overnight.

And for some reason I'm unsure of how to explain, I know that no matter where I go or what I do or how I age, part of me will always miss Cape Town. And not the physicality so much as the entire, unique experience. Martia found a quotation that sums this up better than I ever could:

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave place. Like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place because you'll never be this way ever again" (Azar Nasifi).  A little piece of my heart, my home, and my self will always be in Cape Town, summer 2014 . . . no matter how illogical or emotional that may sound. 

If anything, my Cape Town experience has made me value time. If four months abroad could offer so much, a great deal can be accomplished in just a short while. If I could build lasting friendships, go on memorable adventures, and learn in ways that alter perspective, then there's a lot to do! I plan to make the most of my time here. And it's already been about a month! I hope to make this summer a productive and memorable one.  As for the fall semester, I have an internship and UConn Community Outreach position lined up, both of which I'm thrilled about. I hope they’ll offer me space to employ lessons I learned in Cape Town. 

In the same breath, there's no denying that I miss it. I never thought I'd miss waking up to the buzz of dishes, voices, and showers in the pool house. But I do, immensely! When I wake up to my droning alarm to a completely silent house, all I want to do is roll over and sleep for another few hours. I miss the closeness of South African and American friends - the laughs and hugs we shared daily - with whom I can now only contact via email and social media. And I miss the spontaneity of things . . .of life, of actives, of afternoons. I know adventures and firsts are just around the corner here though . . . they may just require a little more seeking out. 

As for Cape Town, I can't tell you exactly when but I know someday, somehow I'll be back. In the meantime, I'll live by the words a dear friend told me before I left (whom I’m so thankful to still be in contact with): "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." I guess I have an awful lot to smile about. So here's to another fabulous four months. 

Sarah's farewell to her Cape Town co-educators

Emily, Vernon, Sarah, Allie at Farewell dinner

So today is April 27th. It's the day that sounded light years away back in January. I'm currently sitting in the common room at Loch. . . and the house is so quiet and empty! I'm still trying to process the fact that about three hours ago I cried and hugged and waved goodbye to the strangers who have become family. This semester has flown by. I wish there was some way I could sum it up . . . some way to tell you all the stories. But there simply isn't (I'll apologize now for the listing). There's been the exciting checklist of activities: climb Table Mountain, go black water tubing, hand-feed an elephant, ride an ostrich, walk through the bush at Krugar, tour Joburg, explore Langebaan, eat at Die Strandloper . . . But then Cape Town has been so much more. 

I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunities the program has offered us: to meet young people from all over Africa; to have frank discussions on human rights; to share jazz and community with Gus and the band; to sample countless cuisines; to have safe space to talk about the difficult issues of race, class, and gender; to better understand the tumultuous history of apartheid and its living legacy; to explore the realm of NGOs; to step foot in historical places across the country; to hear tour guides who've lived through the history they preach; to intern at the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC); to form a close-knit community of UConn peers. And then there's been those odds and ends . . . I wrote, a while back, that I realized it was those small interactions that were making the trip. Now I can only agree more vehemently. It's been the way in which I've been welcomed into strangers' homes, the frequency that I've had meaningful chats with a taxi driver, those moments of laughter with my peers, the hugs I am greeted with each morning at the IEC. The cultural attitude here is infectious. If anything, I want to always carry a piece of Ubuntu with me and the open, genuine, caring atmosphere it creates. I'm a bit of a busy body, and I've learned how to relax on this trip. I want to that back as well, because quiet moments are so often underestimated. I want to take back my new perspectives and our meaningful classroom discussions. I want to take back the realization that when you hope to accomplish something, you need simply start . . . it's at least worth a try. 

Just the other day I was shopping around at Old Biscuit Mill for the last time. I noticed a plaque that read, "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" I suddenly realized that I could answer that easily and abundantly. This trip has been a lot about firsts. Add "in Cape Town" to any activity and it could be considered a first for that matter! But really, this trip has been very much about growth - growth in outlook, in friendships, in communication skills, in adaptability, in music appreciation, in empathy, in social awareness, in historical knowledge, in awe for nature's beauty, in personal openness, and yes, even in taste for fine wine. After mildly debating, I decided to buy that plaque because I never want to forget its message. Sometimes its necessary to step into what David calls the "Ohh shit!" zone (in other words, out of one's comfort zone). There's something magical about firsts. And that magic has no doubt added its sparkle to my experiences in Cape Town. But even back at home, I want to remember that firsts are achievable. There's always more to learn, always new opportunities to challenge oneself. Even as I grow older, I want to remember that firsts needn't disappear with age. Even in 30 years, I aspire to answer the plaque's question readily. 

I'll be in Cape Town now for about two more weeks. I leave on May 12th and I'm thrilled to continue at the IEC until then. With elections on May 7th, it's crunch time! The office is buzzing - today we moved out of the office and into the results center in preparation for the big day. I found out where I'll be sitting come election day and precisely the work I'll be doing. I hope that I can contribute to the elections in some meaningful way, but also know that I'll have a lot to learn. [Common theme during this trip] In the meantime, here's to hoping that every one of my fellow co-educators got home safely (and David - enjoy backpacking)! I miss you all. And here's wishing the best for the South African National Provincial Elections of 2014. 

When I leave in two weeks, I hope to make others feel as welcome as I've been made to feel in Cape Town. Regardless of circumstance, I hope to make others feel just as at home.  

Sarah's reflections on her time in Cape Town

Sarah with Courtney Sampson from IEC & Vernon Rose, Study Abroad Cape Town Coordinator

 Just the other day, someone asked me what I thought about South Africa . . . "Do you like it? What is the one thing you will tell people about when you get home?"  

My immediate response: laughter. How could I possibly sum it up!? And then, lightheartedly, I managed to mutter, "All of it!" Thinking I was off the hook of answering that loaded question, I relaxed. But my answer was exactly what the asker didn't want to hear and he was waiting. It had been my easy way out of really chatting, of opening up, of really reflecting. So I took a moment, took a breath, and figured I'd better dive in. 

My second answer, probably spoken a bit too hesitantly, was "the people." Well, I was asked to elaborate . . . "What about the people?" This group of almost perfect strangers really cared to know about my experience here. 

In that instant, I realized I'd known the answer all along. Our conversation was just further proof. I rephrased myself quickly and confidently, "The vibrancy of the people." Our one-minute conversation turned into two hours quite quickly. 

Yes, I'm only 19 with a lot of places left to go and a lot of life left to live., but I have never experienced more hospitality than I have in Cape Town. And from perfect strangers. There is something all at once infectious and graceful about it . . . When I met my internship host, I wasn't welcomed into the office. I was adopted as a child into the IEC family. When I chatted with a stranger at a bus stop, it wasn't frivolous small talk. She missed four of her buses to chat longer (we later met up for lunch). When I was lost with friends walking to Die Strandloper, I wasn't offered a ride. A family refused to drive further until we accepted a lift. When I was offered a true South African braai "some other time," it wasn't an empty promise. We enjoyed some of the best food I've had the very next weekend. When I hopped into a cab one morning, I wasn't another stranger. I was someone to share a 45-minute personal conversation with.  When I was trying to sort out a place to stay, I wasn't wished good luck. I was offered a bed from three different people. And when I close up like a clam in conversation, I'm not left alone. I'm not even asked to open up. I'm expected to share my thoughts as freely as others share theirs. 

I cannot count the number of conversations I've found insanely casual! These conversations I'm referring to take on topics that, in my experience,  many would struggle to discuss amongst close friends. Drug abuse, suicidal attempts, living on the street, extreme racism, family loss . . . and these are just the first that come to mind. In today's world, where people are so constantly immersed in indirect communication through social media, where concerns are high regarding political correctness, it's refreshing to here the likes of, "I'm just me-I don't pretend. That word is not even in my vocabulary. And why? It would take up too much time and energy . . ." or "You know me today. You know me in three weeks. No point in wasting time politely getting to know me . . . here I am!" While this has come from certain individuals and not others, the generally frank, transparent, and laid back attitudes I've encountered have enabled me to connect with a multitude of amazing people.  I wish I could soak up every bit of life advice I've been so graciously offered in everyday conversation. 

I also feel extremely fortunate to have been in South Africa in the present era. It has been 20 years since the end of apartheid and less than a year since Mandela's death. The generation that lived through the struggle is very much alive. I would have been content to hear tour guides speak at the different historical sites we traveled to. But instead, I've heard history from those who've endured it . . .   At Robben Island, it is moving to listen to a former political prisoner speak on his experience. It is incredible to be shown the District Six Museum by a man removed from District Six as child under apartheid's Group Areas Act. It is special to tour the Slave Lodge when your tour guide speaks about her own ancestors. It is surreal to hear about the old South Africa from professors, strangers, and colleagues who lived in it. In one instance, I was sitting in a fancy hotel dinning room with two IEC staff members. Both identified themselves as black and were complete strangers to me. As we began chatting over lunch, they casually mentioned that 20 years ago they were not even allowed through the entrance of the hotel, never mind the dinning area. It really hit me then, sitting in the very room they were once restricted from. As a white, young, American female-as a foreigner-even I would have been allowed into that hotel 20 years ago. Having the opportunity to experience living history has made my stay in South Africa profoundly personal-emotions on the forefront. 

Sarah with new and old friends at an evening of "Cultural Infusion" at the home of Marianna September.

And, let me say, the people of South Africa know how to dance, pastors and college students alike. And sing, for that matter. And play phenomenal jazz. And protest. As joked about by the locals, South Africans dance when they're happy AND angry. I will be forever grateful for my evenings spent with a few co-educators listening to jazz in Mariana's garage. A group of locals organized an intuitive titled, "Bringing Jazz/Culture/Music to the Community." There was something magical about taking the time to simply sit amongst friends in a backyard as day waned into dusk. And then there was the passion, the warmth, and the energy with which the local band played their jazz, the soul with which the singers sang, and the heart with which the poets shared their language.  

Jen, Marianna September, & Sarah

It's funny. When I last spoke with my academic advisor before leaving for South Africa, she exclaimed, "You're going to love it! The colors there will be so vibrant!" We had been talking about clothing. And she was right. But the colors of personalities and attitudes and peoples are what have made the city come alive for me. 

So when I come home in another few days, if you ask about Cape Town, I will tell you as much as you'd like to hear. I will try my very best to explain the city and the scenery and my experiences. I will answer your question "What's the one thing about Cape Town?" more readily now. I will tell you stories as I have above. But to you they will be just that. I cannot recreate the magic and warmth and love . . . the singing, dancing, hugs, laughs . . .  Don't be alarmed if I simply recommend you hop on the next plane to Cape Town. I'll be saying it out of love for you, this city, and the vibrancy of its people. 

Sarah's cousin's visit to Cape Town

Brian, affectionately known by all at the house as Bri Bri, came to visit! He made it safely across the Atlantic to Joburg and enjoyed his adventure on a train ride to Cape Town. As I was out of town for the weekend in Plettneburg, I was grateful Jen and Snigs so graciously volunteered to pick up the extra suitcase Brian brought overseas for me (thanks Mom and Dad for the sweets, Aunt Annie's Mac and Cheese, and the Goldfish). They even took him to dinner his first night out in the city! Vernon saw Brian before I did too; he kindly took Brain on a community tour, showing him a side of Cape Town he would have otherwise never seen. 

And then I finally met up with Brain at the IEC! I took the next two days off from work and spent them showing off the magic of the city. Tuesday was our beach day. I brought Brian on the train and we headed to Muizenburg to surf. I will admit Brian was better than myself, but I did manage to stand up on the third try. Unfortunately it went downhill from there . . . I think I spent more time being pushed around on the surfboard by our instructor than actually surfing. The experience was phenomenal though, between the wind,  the splashing waves, and the excitement each time we actually managed to stand.  We finished our beach day off with lunch in Kalk Bay. Turns out Brian loved the atmosphere there as much I do.  After two delectable crepes each from "Excuse my French," we shopped around some antique stores before racing back to Rondebosch. Then up the mountain we went. 

We decided to hike Lion's Head for the full moon - a Cape Town tradition. I desperately wanted Bri Bri to see the sunset from the mountain, so we actually jogged for the first five minutes of the hike. I regretted that when I couldn’t move in the morning, but we did make it just in time to see the sun sink below the water!  It was my last time on Lion's Head this trip, probably my favorite place in all of Cape Town. . . . Something about the 360 view as you climb its winding trail is surreal. Its incredibly calming to stare out at the two oceans, neighbors with Table Mountain,  Devil's Peak, and the twinkle of city lights. As nightfall was coming, I realized I'd forgotten one of our flashlights. Thankfully we met the strangers hiking in front of us . . who happened to be from Connecticut! Such a small world in Cape Town, really. Our newfound friends helped us make the hike up and down by sharing their LED light. I think Brian fell in love with Lion's Head as much as I have. How often can you look up a mountain at night and trace a trail of lights to the very top? There is something special about so many people hiking the trail at night. And there is simply nothing like the full moon from Lion's Head. It hangs in the sky and feel so incredibly close, just out of reach, lighting the trials with its warm glow. When I come back to Cape Town (not if!) Lion's Head will be one of the first spots I return to. 

We woke up to clear blue skies and decided to tackle Table Mountain. We chose the Skelton Gorge, Kirstenbosch route. I don't think I've ever disliked stairs more in my entire life. But the five-hour journey was well worth it and made for a wonderful day outdoors. Half way up the mountain, we stopped by a reservoir. Who knew there'd be smooth white beach sand and a swimming area in the middle of rocky terrain?  When we finally arrived at the cable car, there was such a crowd. And everyone was dressed so nicely! Meanwhile, Brian and I were covered in dirt and sweat in workout clothes just laughing at the scene. No doubt though, we were both grateful to have chosen the less traveled route up the mountain. 

In a rush to meet friends at Loch, Brian and I quickly chose the closest restaurant for dinner. Thank goodness we did! We accidentally discovered a quaint Italian restaurant called "The Cousins." Its run by two cousins who grew up in Italy. After a ten minute speech on the real do's and don'ts of pasta (pesto is a cold sauce and its practically a sin to serve Bolognese with spaghetti but the way)  I feasted on the best pasta I've ever had and probably will (blue cheese pecan sauce on homemade wet pasta).  I think almost everyone in our program has since been and felt similarly, so if you're ever in Cape Town, I recommend it! 

Thursday we spent the day in the city, shopping in Green market Square. - lots of bargaining. Good Friday proved to be a clam day as well. Brian attended the Greek Orthodox church in Woodstock and we enjoyed a dinner at Marita's flat with Walsh, Cassie, and their families. We finished off the evening with Aunt Libby's sweet bread recipe, mixing, kneading, and baking for Pascha. I'm grateful for the bit of home that activity brought with it. Everyone in the pool house helped out and decided Bri Bri is an expert baker after sampling the bread (we managed to devour all six loaves in just a few days). 

Saturday Brian bravely drove Jen, Snigs, and I to Langebaan! So he's officially driven on both sides of the road. Die Stradnloper restaurant was just as amazing as it was the first time . . .  ten courses of seafood right on the beach, toes in the sand. The chefs cook it front of you on open fires right alongside their home baked bread.  Brian and I returned to attend the midnight service for Pascha in Woodstock. The service was a bit confusing in Greek, but beautiful nonetheless. Sunday we spent the morning at the Mount Nelson Hotel for High Tea – my dream come true.  Evening arrived and we enjoyed a nontraditional Easter dinner (I cooked your Rosemary chicken successfully Dad!). A few of us chatted for hours around the table, laughing off all the food we ate and more.

Brian swears he'll come back if he gets the chance. Glad we'll have the memories to share for a lifetime. And glad he'll better understand both the struggles and the beauty of the South African city I've come to love. 

Sarah's Human Rights Training Weekend

 

Sarah (far left) with some of her housemates and new friends from the Human Rights Training Weekend.

I haven't written in a while . . . and have quite a bit of catching up to do!  I think it's now been just about a month since our weekend in Malmesbury. We traveled from Cape Town to arrive at an olive farm, where our Human Rights weekend was held. Just when I thought South Africa's natural beauty couldn't be more stunning, it was! I have seen nothing still to parallel the rolling hills and endless shades of green. Far and away, however, the best parts of the weekend were the people and the discussions. The program was run by the NGO Africa Unite and our history professor Vincent Williams. Besides our group of 26 American students, young people from all over Africa came to participate in the training.  It was quite amazing to hear perspectives from all over the world regarding the meaning of human rights.  It was also the first time on this trip that I've really gotten to learn about other countries in Africa. I never would have known, for example, that in Uganda, laws were passed just recently that persecute those who show homosexuality in public. Or that in Rwanda, there is currently a major economic crises coupled with staggering rates of unemployment. We discussed the difference between civil rights and human rights, and later the distinction between basic rights and access rights in South Africa. I think what was most enlightening about the weekend, though, was reflecting on the way in which we think. 

In one activity, we were divided in five or so groups. Each group was assigned a country in Africa. We were then given the following information: Earth was destroyed and human life would die if we stayed on the planet. Two of the five countries had already moved to the new, safe planet and settled in the inhabitable space there. Three countries were left behind on Earth and needed to leave if they were to survive. We were then told to break into country groups and discuss proposals to move to the new planet. 

Instantly, the two groups whose countries had moved safely began debating under what conditions they would allow the other countries onto "their" planet. They sought out what could be "in it for them."  Simultaneously, the three countries still on Earth began debating. What would they willingly concede? Citizenship? Property access? Voting eligibility? Within two minutes, the discussions turned to weaponry and war strategy - just in case, of course, war might be necessary to obtain space on the viable planet. Never mind that just twenty minutes ago we had defined human rights as a group. We had discussed the value of civil rights. We had discussed the danger of unbalanced power relations. We had discussed recent tragedies, where fellow humans seemed to forget that their enemies were human too. And suddenly, somehow, we were back to encouraging war and rights deprivation. It happened that quickly, that subconsciously. When we reconvened as a group, we were reminded that no countries had been given official ownership of the new planet - we had falsely assumed this. Our groups had found ourselves locked into a system of thinking based on power and privilege. And this was despite the fact that we had agreed to honor the principles of acceptance and equality only minutes earlier. How easily we turned to war while at a human rights conference certainly leaves a lot to reflect on . . . 

For the rest of the weekend, we participated in similar group activities. And also great fun. There was socializing, dancing, dress-up, singing, eating, and laughing. And I enjoyed a night under the stars amongst friends - yes we survived without being eaten by anything but mosquitos. Being in such a rural area, the olive farm was absolutely gorgeous at night. I've never seen the Milky Way so bright! After camping out for the night and three hours of sleep, I greeted my sore back with a sunrise hike up the mountain with Walsh . . . because why not take the opportunity? By the time we got to the top, I was glad we'd dragged each other out of bed (or up from the ground, that is). The view made a peaceful goodbye to our time at the olive farm. 

I'm happy to say we later got together with a few friends from human rights weekend, who introduced us to the infamous Mzolies. We chowed down on delicious braai meat - lamb, chicken, Boerewors, and beef - and sang to Shakira’s “Waka Waka" while enjoying the buzz of the place. Isaac was also gracious enough to welcome us into his humble home in the township called Europe. His section of the neighborhood is composed of shacks, portable toilets, and one water spicket. Isaac’s family is actually a fortunate exception - he recently built his own bathroom within the confines of his home and was proud to show us.  His wife and child will no longer have to travel in fear or in darkness to relieve themselves at night. Isaac also proudly showed us the foundation of his house, built so that "rats don't eat my babies!" Despite the overwhelming poverty present, Isaac reminded us of the strong sense of community he has amongst his neighbors.  It was evident in the kindness we were greeted with during our brief stop. We met his adorable children and friendly neighbors before heading back home to the comparative luxury of Loch. 

Sarah so very happy to be interning at the IEC

This study abroad experience continues to surprise me, day in and day out. And I could not be happier having been placed to intern at the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC). This year is a big one. It marks not only 20 years of democracy, but South Africa’s fifth, presidential election post-apartheid. Furthermore, the national election is declared to be in honor of Nelson Mandela’s legacy. As the country moves forward in this exciting time, there is much work to be done. 

I’ve been fortunate to be working with the Electoral Operations team here in the Western Cape Provincial Office of the IEC. My hosts could not be more welcoming. After only four days of interning, the team included me in their work over Registration II Weekend. This was the final push for voter registration across the country. With over 800 voting stations in the Cape Town region of the Western Cape alone, the operations center was quite busy–receiving political queries, collecting registration statistics, compiling new registrations into the national voter’s roll, ensuring 800 plus stations opened and ran smoothly, answering all incoming calls, and sorting out political protests. The IEC staff worked tirelessly from 6AM to 11PM both Saturday and Sunday. It was throughout this weekend (where office hours were longer than my flight here!) that I really became comfortable with the staff. I was introduced and welcomed by all individually, given work to assist with, and kindly looked out for.  As announced by IEC staff, we had dined, traveled, worked, visited, and laughed together and suddenly I was made family . . . I even found myself dancing with Rachel, the housekeeper.

 

Sarah dancing with Rachel

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had the chance to sit in on party-liaison committee meetings, city buildings public use meetings, and educational outreach gatherings. The Provincial Operations Center being constructed to manage the national elections is particularly exciting. Come May 7^th, a community gymnasium will be temporarily transformed with infrastructure into stages, cubicles, office space, seating, and electronic technology. The largest media houses, local radio stations, political party liaisons, catering services, and the electoral operations staff will work under just one roof throughout the voting period.  This past week at my internship also brought excitement; I was able to observe local by-elections (elections held to fill a vacant political office between regular elections) in the Mitchell’s Plains area. The electoral team was testing the use of voting centers, which are essentially larger versions of a traditional voting station. A voting center, by definition, has multiple voting stations (substations), which helps improve traffic flow and reduce queues in places with about 3,000 plus voters. It was neat to observe how the voting process works here in-person, especially after hearing about it for weeks prior to (one fun fact: when you vote, your thumb is marked with ink to help prevent fraudulent, double voting).

On a day-to-day basis here, I am confronted by the contrast of the most beautiful and the most unbeautiful. There is the simple and pure beauty of the landscape, of Ubuntu, of people’s warmth and resilience, and yet the extreme pains of poverty and destructive traces of apartheid still littering the country. A few months ago, I never would have guessed the impact of socioeconomic disparity on voting. Location determines almost everything when it comes to setting up a voting station – whether a tent will be erected or a building used, the amount of South African Police staff during voting hours, the population size due to vote, the handling of cues and traffic flow, and which political parties and media stations are involved, amidst other factors. And more often than not, entire areas tend to lean one way or another in terms of socioeconomic status. This means that a few voting station receive the privilege of air-conditioning and the majority do not. This means that in a poorer, more heavily populated area a cue of 300 people is considered long. But here in Rondebosch, a traditionally wealthier area, a “long” cue might consist of only 9 people. This means that the voting station staff in one area will work until 3 AM counting votes because of high population, where the staff in roomy suburb will work only one or two hours after close. And yet, everyone’s vote counts equally. Everyone deserves the same treatment–respect and human dignity when voting. And all election staff members receive equal pay regardless of place or time.

I never guessed I’d be learning about issues of equality, of human dignity, of socioeconomic status, and of conflict resolution alongside electoral processes. Or that I’d be singing and dancing with the staff. At the very start of this trip, I feared I wouldn’t enjoy my internship. Now I only look forward to it. I have no doubt I will leave knowing more about South African elections than those back at home! And I have the wonderful staff at the IEC to thank.

Sarah on the strength of resilience and the power of simplicity

When I hear “Ocean View,” I’ll always think of Lantor, Thelma, and Xavier. And I’ll think of the nonchalant nature with which they opened up their home to complete strangers. Katrina and I were welcomed in the same manner as their family and local friends–joked with immediately, offered a seat on a couch, and told we would serve ourselves. We were welcomed as part of the household instead of pampered as foreign guests. The experience was refreshing.

I’m friendly but I’m shy, and so I often take a while to open up to strangers. But Lantor and Thelma laughed easily. Married 15 years, they live in the house Lantor purchased from his grandparents. They have a sky blue truck lounging in their driveway, now broken for several months.  And while they’re saving up for a new one, they refuse to fix it. Thelma pitched the importance of family time, of simply relaxing, and of the drastic impact that broken truck had made in those departments.  She explained something along the lines of “We had more friends because people used to hop in the truck, and we were never home. Or together, for that matter. Xavier went there for a few hours, Lantor and I somewhere else . . . It’s better now.” Her explanation of a hectic “on-the-go” lifestyle hit a note I, like many, know too well. And so we enjoyed our Thursday night simply, just sitting and chatting by the TV.

On Friday, I had the most wonderful Valentine’s Day. No, not romantic . . .but utterly adorable. We volunteered with a local crèche. And Destiny, a sassy five-year old girl decked out in a red stripe dress, became my Valentine. I loved every moment spent with Destiny and the other 40 children. They had me laughing at their bold comments, smiling over their excitement on the farm, and exhausted of carrying them on my shoulders.

 

Emily & Sarah at the crèche

The history behind the crèche offered something as memorable as the experience itself. Raised by alcoholic parents, the owner described her childhood house as a “party place where you’d better disappear and fend for yourself on the weekends.” In yet another drunken fight there, she witnessed her mother kill her father. She was pregnant by age 17 with her first child. In spite of the world she grew up in, she promised a better one for her children. And so she and her husband run the crèche, which houses children from abusive households during the day, feeding them a meal and teaching them basics. She does all of this out of her own home, built brick by brick by hand. As she delivered this history, I couldn’t help but notice that she stated no survival, no good will, and no accomplishment without thanking God. It was moving to listen, to pause, and to think about those things I generally take for granted.

We spent that evening playing card games with Xavier and Lantor. And BS is called Bullshit in that home. We were instructed to not to call is some flowery name, plain and simple. The guys also revealed some fun magic tricks, and were kind enough to share their secrets.

Saturday morning, we awoke to a grand breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, cereal and yogurt. Lantor explained that this was their breakfast of champions, their weekend feast–all of which was delicious. It was somewhat upsetting, however, to discover that the family rarely drinks milk, rarely gets calcium. That fruit is an uncommon commodity to be selected at the grocery store. That food is so frequently fried. (Though I will give proper credit to Lantor’s mouthwatering fries and Thelma’s chicken.) That vegetables are not eaten even once a day consistently. That soda is the new water–as declared, “We don’t drink it.” While I’ve heard and understood how poverty can impact diet countless times, I finally saw it. I also saw, however, the extent to which cultural norms surrounding diet influence food choice, even when money is less tight.

Saturday afternoon we headed to the beach with Thelma, Xavier, and his cousin Gianno. I live by the shoreline at home, and I keep thinking I’ll get over how absolutely beautiful the coastline is here. But I haven’t and am realizing I probably won’t. Fish Hoek was stunning beyond words. Of course Katrina and I forgot bathing suits, but sports clothes worked too. We fell in love with the relaxed atmosphere, where Thelma greeted over 5 local families on the walk-in alone. My favorite moment of the day was Xavier’s beach run. I found myself jogging along the beach, dropping for planks in the sand, and jumping rope with the largest piece of seaweed I’ve ever laid eyes on.  

We were briefed before our trip to Ocean View, told repeatedly that we should not expect a lot of “things.” Very much of this warning rang true. Instead of a shower, there was a bath. Air conditioning did not exist. As mentioned, the family had no private mode of transportation. I’ll admit I missed these luxuries in certain moments, but discovered they mattered very little in the grander scope of things. The family did have a large flat screen TV front and center in their quaint living room though. Ironically, this was the first weekend Katrina and I had access to a TV. So we spent our Saturday evening enjoying classic comedies like “Daddy Day Care” and “Madea, ” laughing with the family. Sunday was another day of relaxed cards before we packed and waved goodbye. 

Though we’ve left Ocean View, I hope to remember the people, the humble attitudes of those I encountered, and the their unbeknownst reminder about the strength of resilience and the power of simplicity