Final post, i think

Drinking rooibos tea, reminiscing about my trip to southern Africa quickly fading into the past.  I came home to find 2400 pictures that Mike and I had taken.  I reduced that to 1025, then to 850.  Of those, plus minus 260 are available for viewing on my Facebook page.  If you would like to see these but do not have a Facebook account, give me your email and I can invite you to see the album. 

If you are up for seeing the 850 photos, plus some video footage, I'm hoping to have a slideshow presentation - very informal - in the next couple weeks.  Maybe August 4th?  Maybe 60-90 minutes. This wonderful rooibos tea will be served.  Call me.

Well, writing this blog has been fun...mostly because of all the comments i've received on it and about it.  I'm tempted to keep it going, but i'm afraid my everyday life just isn't that interesting.  although teaching first grade occasionally rivals lions and pony trekking in excitement. 

I'm off to Cooperstown and NYC, where I will further spread the word about South Africa, its wonderful people, music, culture, and struggles.  oh, and i'll watch some baseball.

Cheers.

African Rain

I'm starting to forget what i've posted, what i've written in my journal, and what has just passed through my mind.  It's pouring here in africa - well, in southern south africa - which reminds me of the nice fellow who gave me a lift to port elizabeth.  he played the song by Toto for me, about the rains of africa.  he's convinced that rainfalls here are different.  they bring you in touch with the soil, and the soul that is Africa. 

The best land-based whale watching in the world has produced no whale sightings in 3 days.  but as i stare out at the sea, i've had time to ponder my 5 weeks in africa.  overall, it has felt so much safer than people made it out to be.  My worst experiences relating to people have been either with foreigners or customer service.  the people are so open, so eager to please, and show off their nation.  this world cup has truly been a showcase for south africa. and Africa.  The people here are very proud of what they have put on, and it shows.  it's a relief to me that the theme songs to the world cup - those sung and played everywhere you go - are quite enjoyable.  i love hearing little kids singing shakira's "waka waka" or delivery men singing k'naan's "give me freedom.  give me power.  give me reason. take me higher."

Here's to hoping the rain won't cancel my trip to Robben Island on monday.......

Vuvuzelas anyone??

so i'm wondering how popular these crazy horns are back home?  do they sell them anywhere?  do people want them?  Please let me know if you would like me to bring you one back and i will see what i can do.  and annoying.  and fun. i do not recommend them for children.  although i do plan on having one in my classroom.


just like my amazing paragliding experience in brazil 5 years ago, Mother Nature has stepped between me and shark diving.  With paragliding there wasn't enough wind.  Now it's too windy to see the sharks.  Anything over a 3.5 meter swell is considered unsafe to take the boat out, with the cage moored to the side for optimal shark viewing.  the swells for the entire time i'm in hermanus are around 4.5 meters. ugh.  so please, don't ask me how the shark diving went.  if you do, there's no chance your getting a vuvuzela.  or even a keychain. 


I was hoping to watch the final with Gil, and old friend from college who now lives in Cape Town, but he just was invited by some millionaire to take a private jet to Joburg to watch the final at Soccer City in a skybox.  My sob story didn't work on him either, so i'll be in Cape Town with some new friends i've made.  not sure who to root for.  The dutch look great, and the locals are leaning their way.  the spanish are fun to watch, and i've actually been to their country.  i'll let you know who i rooted for after the game.  if the games to this point are any indication, i'll be rooting for the team that loses.

again, if you want a vuvuzela, write it in the comments on this blog entry.  if enough people want them, i'll draw names.

back home in just a few days.....

Go Dutch??

First I'd like to thank the comments - posted here and via email - to my last post.  All very interesting and a dialogue that should and will continue.  Now to soccer....

I've never been to Holland.  I don't speak Dutch.  Despite all the rave reviews, I've never felt compelled to fly to Amsterdam.  But there's something contagious in the air.  it's orange.  partially because there are many people with Dutch ancestry (remember apartheid?  oh yeah, soccer...), but also because they were playing Uruguay, the team that embarassed Bafana (South Africa) early on 3-nil, and also eliminated the last standing African nation, Ghana, with an intentional handball in the dying minutes of the quarterfinal match.  Whatever their reason, everyone in South Africa is rooting the the Flying Dutchmen. and it's exciting. 

I put on my new orange sweatshirt and participated in a "fan walk" from downtown to the stadium, with tens of thousands along for the walk.  There was music, dancing, singing, costumes.  Some people compared it to Carnaval.  Let's not get carried away now.  After wandering for awhile and testing the scalpers market, I found two police officers confiscating two $600 tickets from a scalper.  I told them a sob story about my ticket being stolen, how I just came to Cape Town for the game, and could they please give me one of the tickets.  No dice.  My story wasn't convincing.  Eiher way, I managed to find a ticket for about $80 just after kickoff from a local who had dated a girl from Minnesota. 

If you saw the game, I need say no more.  If you didn't, you need to.  I was 2nd level, right behing the first goal that was scored.  best goal of the tournament.  i cheered after goals for each team.  i wanted to root for uruguay - i did - because I always root for latin america over europe.  but i couldn't help myself. the better team won and i was happy.  and south africa is happy.  like the semi-final, the netherlands will have home field advantage in the final, despite being 5000 miles away from home.

Oh, i went to a penguin colony yesterday.  and i climbed Table Mountain today.  beautiful.  truly.  off to hermanus tomorrow.  shark diving soon. go spain.

The Black People

I've thought about writing this post for awhile, but I can't even articulate it in my mind, let alone on a computer screen.  Race has come up with every South African that I've sat down with.  While it would be easy to label most whites as racist, it would miss the point completely.  They are a product of their environment, just like we all are.  They were raised under an oppressive system.  Many of the white people I've spoken with talk of pre-1994 as the good 'ol days, even if they acknowledge the atrocities that occurred.  Like the Pinochistas in Chile, or the Franquistas in Spain, they commonly cite personal safety as the primary reason for their negative views of the current government, or even the society at large.  When someone starts a sentence with "I don't want to sound racist, but..." you know they are walking this fine line between facing their own realities and blinding themselves of the realities of others.  With that said, here are some observations I've made and things I've heard....

from white south africans:
"You don't want to go that route.  It's all flat.  There are just goats, cows, and blacks."
"If you go to the beach, be careful with your stuff.  Whites are okay.  Blacks are not."
"Outside the city there are baboons.  In the city there are baboons, too, but a different kind of baboon."
"It used to be that the emperor could do no wrong.  Now a kaffir can do no wrong."
"We used to have one of the best militaries, like Israel.  Then the whites were paid to leave the military.  Now our military is useless.  The blacks have no idea what they're doing."
"After apartheid ended blacks felt like they should just be given everything.  They are lazy and still expect the world."

from black south africans:
"Things are getting better.  It's hard for the people still struggling to notice, but things are getting better for a lot of people."

Not one black person I've talked to has talked about the discrimination under apartheid nor the present-day. It exists, no doubt, but their focus seems to be on the future.  Many whites I've talked to are also trying to build a better future, facing tough race questions everyday.  As in the US, classism is often mistaken for racism.  Coloured - those not considered black or white - seem to be comfortable on the periphery of these issues.  I haven't talked to many, but one girl who I thought was white had a woman recently say to her leaving a crowded theatre, "Don't touch me you dirty coloured girl."  I asked what her ancestry was.  Part Swedish, and afraid to research the rest. 

In most schools, English and Afrikans are taught.  At a public school I visited, they also taught Sotho (the local language of most blacks) and German.  They recently dropped Sotho. 


While people of all races interact on a daily basis in South Africa, rarely does it extend beyond the workplace or the street.  Minibus taxis are only used by blacks.  The farmers market is only attended by whites.  Everyone is friendly at work, but cultural differences rarely allow for mixing at social gatherings.  There I go generalizing again.  Sounds a bit like the US actually, but with many fewer exceptions to the rule.  

When white people speak of blacks, they refer to them as "the black people."  i.e. "To find the right minibus taxi, you'll need to ask the black people."  And there it is, my first and maybe last installment of race relations in South Africa.  Comments?

Ponies and Huts

 (Oops.  can't figure out how to rotate it. and it's out of focus.  you get the idea.)

While I thought I had been in the Africa since June 9th, tourist brochures tell me that I wouldn't see the "Real Africa" until I trekked up the mountains of Lesotho on a pony to stay overnight in a hut in a village with just a few families with children who have never seen a car in their lives.  so that's what i did.  i guess you could say i'm back to "fake Africa," where white people still own the majority of the land and complain about "the black people."  but that would be generalizing. and unfair.  but seriously, what a contrast from south africa to lesotho, where white people are all foreigners, called mahoas, and there are no wounds from apartheid that need healing.  or counseling. 

I've spent the last 3 days traveling with a couple other americans, which has brightened my days and made me forget that i'm on my own.  i'm off tomorrow to cape town.  i refuse to take the Intercape bus, which blares in-your-face, horrendous acting, christian movies through speakers that cannot be controlled.  It's all a plot to convert the riders, said our driver.   The train only offers economy class to cape town tomorrow, which i've been told by some is unsafe and by others will be beyond uncomfortable.  There's a convenient bus on Road Link, but a simple google search reveals why their rates are so low.  Unlicensed drivers, buses without breaks, numerous fatalities, you name it.  So...

Please note: If you are my mother or my oldest sister, please stop after the next sentence.  I've decided to fly to Cape Town.

Okay, now for the rest of you.  I think i'm going to hitchhike.  should be fun.  i'm hoping to get there in time to try to get tickets to see argentina vs germany.  perhaps get a cheap single ticket at gametime.  i'd really like to see the sweet stadium.

go paraguay! go ghana!

cheers.

Only Two Years?

Heartbroken after the game last night, I decided to sell my tickets for the Quarterfinal match in Soccer City.  Shady business in the mall, but no cops in sight.  While no part of me wanted the US to lose last night, I am happy that the only African nation is still alive.  Not happy enough to watch them play at Soccer City against Uruguay. 

George - who I met at the Algeria game - flew up from Cape Town to meet me in Rustenburg and use my extra ticket.  While the South Africans had backed the US in all of their games up to this point, there was an expected change in loyalty against Ghana.  Accompanied by many bitter Brits who thought they'd be watching their own team, the bulk of the crowd was behind the Black Stars of Ghana.

I just arrived in Bloemfontein - smack dab in the middle of this country - for my second couchsurfing experience.  I'm sold, by the way, on this mode of travel.  Gerhard and his friends were splendid hosts for 4 nights in Pretoria, even picking me up at 4am this morning upon my return from the game (I told you Rustenburg is awful).  It's not very often you find a group of friends in another country that you know would easily fit in with your group of friends back home.  Gerhard and company were educated but humble, fun but not crazy, and always made for great conversation.  Over the course of 4 days, we talked a fair amount about race relations in South Africa.  "To fully understand it, you'd have to live here for two years," said one roommate.  I would be thrilled if I could begin to comprehend such a complex issue in 2 years.  I'm even nervous to attempt to tackle the issue in a blog.  Maybe next time.

Heading to Lesotho tomorrow for 3 days.  Hitching a ride with three sad Brits (lost to Germany 4-1 today) and a hitchhiking legend from Russia.

When grown men cry

Crazy things can happen at a World Cup.  The US team had already packed their bags, ready to hop on the next flight home.  Only injury time was left....4 minutes.  Landon Donovan somehow found the back of the net as the crowd went wild in disbelief.  It wasn’t a pretty goal - just a putback after the last of several close shots.  but it was a goal.  1-nil.

I went into the stadium with George, a tall soccer fanatic from California who made me ashamed to admit my limited knowledge of the US players - their club teams, hometowns, strengths, etc.  We met just minutes before the game when we combined our extra tickets to make a pair to sell to a father and son.  This, naturally, occurred just minutes after my hour-long scalping debut in South Africa culminated in two police officers escorting me behind a police truck to interrogate me regarding my extra ticket.  I was trying to sell it for under face value, but I quickly learned this still can get you arrested.  They didn’t accept a simple “I didn’t know” nor an apology.  They kept me for a long 5 minutes, looked through my bag, and ended by saying “I am a man, you are a man.  We can arrest you right now.  You must not sell that ticket.”  I asked if I could give it away, which became my plan as they let me go, shaken up and on the verge of tears.  

There have been no reports of arrests for scalping, so I figured it was just a scare tactic.  Mission accomplished.  It was only by chance that I ran into George and sold the ticket in under a minute for a crisp ben franklin on my way to the gate.  He was a fast-talking, beer-drinking, blackberry addict that could not have made for better company for this game.  After the game he was not the only fan who broke down.  Across the aisle was a man clutching his son, crying uncontrollably, tears smearing the red, white, and blue face paint.

George took my number and may use my extra ticket with me in Rustenburg.  which reminds me.... i’m headed to Rustenburg.  ugh.  It should be another amazing game, with the US to face Ghana, the only remaining African nation in the first World Cup on African soil.  I didn’t want to go back to Rustenburg.  It’s cold, ugly, nearly impossible to get to/from the venue, and it messes up my travel plans for the next 10 days.  But the US advanced with the most exciting boring goal I have ever witnessed.  It's impossible not to be high on victory right now.

Race relations continue to fascinate me here.  Soweto 2 days ago and all-white gatherings last night are also worth their own entries, but I’m trying not to write a book here.  

Alone in Africa

Mike had to go back to his cubicle in Minnesota so i am now on my own, without a car, without a companion, without an idea of what to do next.  so it goes.  I'm staying with Suz and Tony in Joburg for a couple more nights before 'running solo' will really set it - riding buses, walking around aimlessly, maneuvering stadiums, etc.

Before he left, we went back to Ellis Park to watch perhaps the best game of the tourney thus far.  After the game, Suz congratulated us on a US victory.  When Tony got home he lamented a tough loss for the US squad.  In fact neither was true.  Tony apparently just watched the first half, when Slovenia stunned the US with 2 goals.  Half of their population of 2 million appeared to be in the stands.  Suz must have stopped watching when the US capped an amazing comeback with a last minute goal to go ahead 3-2.  With beer flying everywhere, strangers hugging each other, and vuvuzelas reaching unprecedented levels, we noticed that Slovenia was taking a goal kick.  The ref called a foul on the play.  no goal.

On a different note, we got a glimpse of south africa under apartheid over the last few days.  At a bar in Graskop we met a chubby middle-aged white man with apartheid still flowing through his veins.  The first red flag was when he said he wanted any result that would be bad for bafana bafana - unheard of in these lands.  Then, as the French team was introduced, he was disgusted that so many non-French players were on the team.  "they should all go back to africa."  I responded in my head, "you're white, perhaps you should go back to europe."  i remained tight-lipped.  Then he argued with Mike about the vuvuzelas being a 'cultural thing.'  He insisted they were a 'black thing,' apparently unaware of the realities of his country.  He left before the Mexico-France game was underway, and everyone in the bar seemed relieved. 

Two days later, we went to the Apartheid Museum outside of Soweto, which was amazing, chilling, and overwhelming.  I can't help compare race relations here to those in the US.  Perhaps more on that later.... 

I didn't lie.  This is us at the game on saturday.  We saw Brazil struggle to get past Kim Jong Il's soldiers last night.  In fact, the last time I was with so many North Koreans was in Castro's birthtown in rural Cuba. 

We left Joburg at 5:30am this morning, driving from the megacity to the rolling hills and rhino-crossing signs in northeastern SA.  We went to our favorite stadium yet - pillars in the form of enormous orange giraffes - to watch Chile squeek past Honduras 1-0.

I've discovered that all i have to do to make a stranger smile here is say "Go Bafana Bafana!" Translated as 'boys boys' the people are so proud of their soccer team they appear to be right up there with mandela.

...heading to God's Window and Blyde River Canyon tomorrow morning...

oh, i just discovered how to read comments on this thing.   i love it.  hearing from you makes me smile.  GO BAFANA BAFANA!!

Safari vs Soccer

Okay, so I convinced the lady at the internet cafe to stay open an extra 15 minutes so i could write a line or two.  Each day of this trip has felt like the most amazing day of my life, only to be topped by the following day.  US v England was everything it was hyped to be, plus pure chaos before and after the game trying to find parking, then our cars.  Americans celebrated the draw while the Brits dropped their heads. 

Safari exceeded my lofty expectations.  Last night we watched 2 lions eat a wildebeest from 15 feet away.  Seriously.  Giraffes, elephants, rhinos, you name it.  We saw a rare porcupine, ready for battle.  Warthogs, zebras, and so much i can't imagine what it was like.  I had to remind myself that this wasn't a zoo.  The animals could come at us at any moment.  Or run away....and keep running.  But generally they did neither.  Except for the angry elephant.

Off to see Brazil v North Korea tonight.  wow.

Soccer is under way...

My first full day here was spent going around Alexandra, the township that Mandela called home when he left the transkei (down south).  It's said to be very rough, high crime, etc. but my experience quite pleasant.  I was told that locking the car when we parked was not necessary.  Maybe it's just world cup fever, but there were only smiliing faces ready to greet foreigners.  The vuvuzelas - the buzzing horns you hear as you watch the games - are everywhere.  In order to avoid going crazy, i decided to join the ranks, and by the evening i was blowing my vuvuzela out the car window. 

Mike and I heading to a fan park with our hosts to watch the opening ceremonies and the opening match.  In the middle of 20,000+ fans - mostly locals - I started to envision what a stampede would look like.  So cramed my feet were falling asleep,  no moment was greater than when South Africa took a 1-0 lead and everyone found a way to stand up and hug everyone around - strangers and all.  even after it ended 1-all, the vuvuzelas accompanied us all the way home.

Brits v Yanks tomorrow.....

Touchdown in Africa

It took 2 long flights.  The first was under 3 hours, but was spent trapped between a window and a broad-shouldered, stumbly man with bloodshot eyes.  His clammy hands and swollen fingers gave way to unwashed clothes, a few days without a shave, and an oily face.  His dead stares told me he knew he smelled of stale beer, he knew he was a wreck, and he was sorry.  It didn't make the flight any easier for me, however.  The flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg was nothing short of jubilant, with cheers upon takeoff and landing, and soccer jerseys and sombreros in abundance.  yes, sombreros.  most of the fans were Mexicans, heading to see the opening match friday against the host country. 

My face paint made it through, despite being 4 liquid ounces.  My one checked bag - my large backpack - is still in Atlanta.  Ugh.  So here I am, at an internet cafe in joburg, unbathed, wearing the same clothes i put on tuesday morning, teeth unbrushed, wondering when i will start emitting an odor similar to the guy next to me from msp to atl. 

world cup fever is everywhere.  i can't wait to shower.  cheers.

My attire for Saturday

This is what I'll be wearing while I mock the Brits.  Oh, and i'll have a US jersey on, of course.  USA!!!!  Their empire is long gone.

Comments

Can someone try to post a comment and email me if it doesn't work?

thanks.

Packing

Last day of school = Travel to Africa.  i'm taking a half day tomorrow to get to the airport in time to take my shoes off, get body scanned, and hopefully avoid another case of TWB - traveling with a beard - that often results in a thorough search of my belongings.  Of all the things they might check my bag for, I'm most concerned about the masa flour - tough to x-ray.  Or will my red and blue face paint be more than 3.4 ounces?

It hasn't hit me yet, but on saturday i will be at a game the New Yorker claims is "expected to draw one of the largest audiences in the history of televised sports."  USA vs England.  They've sought revenge for 60 years, since we last played them in the 1950 World Cup.  Some say it was the greatest upset in World Cup history.  Now known as "Miracle on Grass."  Word on the street is that the Brits are riled up.  And here i am, with my US jersey, an Uncle Sam hat, a red-white-and-blue lei, and red and blue face paint.  seriously.

T minus 6

The question for the class was "How many siblings do you have?" When explaining why she changed her answer from 2 to 5, a student interrupted herself - "well, see, my family is confused."

I'm gonna miss these kids. and their confused families.

so 4 people have told me to continue writing, but only 1 appears to have visited at all. Do you not realize I can see the hits? I'm assuming you're waiting until I have some substance to write about. But what if it never shows up? I mean, soccer goal here, zebra there, but what's this trip really have in store?

Eight days left....

So apparently this is the new way to keep people in the loop about what my life has offered me. My first-graders are forcing me to keep my head on straight as the school year simultaneously comes to end with the beginning of my trek to south africa. my flight leaves in 8 days, just an hour after my students get on the bus the last day of school. seriously.

i've never read - and certainly never written - a web log. yes, i know they call them "blogs" these days. any feedback is appreciated. if and when i get going on this, it will only be a result of your encouragement.