If you are interested in checking up on the next phase of my life, you can find me at http://lisainphoenix.blogspot.com. Thanks for your love and friendship in this endeavor. See you in Phoenix.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Stranded
Ihave made it home for Christmas! I'm enjoying a little time in Birmingham before returning to Murfreesboro for the holiday season. I have to admit that I've been remiss in keeping up the blog. Sorry about that! I am planning to have a little more time on my hands, though, and I will work on doing some processing both on my own and through this blog.
Many of you are not aware that I spent some time before I left South Africa in Cape Town visiting friends of mine who are living there. I was really excited to get a chance to see the Mother City again, as it was one of my favorite places to visit in South Africa, and I had only one goal for the week--to see the city from the top of Table Mountain. For those of you who are not South Africa officionados by now (I can't imagine, but I'll indulge you nonetheless), Table Mountain is iconic in South Africa. EVERYONE knows what it is, where it is, and what it looks like. If you go to Cape Town, it is imperative that you travel up the mountain to see the vista that awaits. This is why it seemed criminal to me that I had visited Cape Town thrice and never seen the city from the mountain. Just so that you can get an idea of the role of the mountain in the life of Capetonians, here's a picture:
As you can tell, anywhere you are in the city, you can see the mountain. So, obviously, I had to go up the mountain. I told my friend Elliot that I wanted to go, no matter what else we did in the week, and he agreed, but suggested that we not take the cableway since it's expensive and he had done it multiple times during the year. So we decided to make the climb up the mountain. We would then look around the top, take the necessary tourist photos, and then ascend via the cableway. Our friend Emily would pick us up at the bottom and ferry us back to the flat in order to get ready for a night at the theater.
We knew it would take us 3-4 hours to reach the summit, and so we started off, snacks and Energade (think Gatorade) in hand...backpack. We had brought jackets with us because the guidebooks all warn about the possible winds on the top of the mountain. We began hiking around 1pm, and it was a beautiful day. Probably 80 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. Perfect for hiking. So we set off up Skeleton Gorge, which is a relatively strenuous climb, but nothing too dangerous. It is really a lovely ascent and we were enjoying it to the full.
As we reached the first plateau, it began to get cloudy. Now, I was none too pleased about this development, but we kept on the sunny side (if you will) and suggested that it would likely blow over when we reached the top, allowing us to have a wonderful view, but not get too hot while reaching the top. Since there was no longer tree cover, we were happy to have a few clouds.
The clouds didn't clear, though. In fact, as we hiked across the top of the mountain, it got cloudier, and windier, and foggier, and colder. Scroll back up to that picture for a moment. Do you see how long the flat part of the mountain is? We started somewhere on the right...and hiked all the way to the left. In the fog, not sure of how far we still had to go. About an hour was the answer. All the time, the weather is getting worse and worse. At some point on that trek, Elliot says, "I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but I doubt that they're running the cable car. It's getting way too windy." I chose to ignore that one, as my thighs were asking me not to climb down the mountain as well.
At this point, I began to be really grateful for the mittens sitting in my pocket. Like a good mom, my mother always made me keep mittens in my pocket--and I still do! Never so grateful in my life. As we continued walking, Elliot was cold, but I was freezing. So, I was really, really happy when we reached the paved area, and I knew that we were near the cableway station. As we neared the "inhabited" area, we realized that it was not inhabited at all. In fact, it was a ghost town. Complete with wispy clouds swirling about your head. The restrooms were locked, the restaurant deserted and the cableway station completely empty.
Plan B: Call Elliot's friend who knows the mountain well and inquire as to what is the best choice for our descent--on foot. He suggested that we hike down the front of the mountain. Thepath began at the same point as did the path we walked in on, so we should be able to find it easily. It should be stated at this point that it is so windy by now that my body is moving without my volition and that is NOT fun for me. And I am still freezing. And so is Elliot at this point, so I know it's genuinely cold. We return to where we walked in...and we can only see about nine feet in front of us...and we can't find the trail...the one we JUST walked in on. In order to keep from walking off of a precipice, we turn around and head back to the cableway station. At the station, I had observed a pay phone with the number for mountain rescue, and we decide that we are now at the point that mountain rescue is a necessary addition to our adventure.
So while I use the restroom (the natural one--remember that the actual restroom is locked, so imagine how cold I am at this moment), Elliot calls mountain rescue. The conversation goes something like this:
"Hello. My name is Elliot. I hiked up Table Mountain earlier today, back when it was a nice day. Now we're at the top of the mountain and it's not so nice and the cable car isn't running, so we need some advice on what to do."
"Are you lost?"
"No, I know exactly where I am--I'm at the payphone at the cableway station at the top of the mountain, but I need to know what to do now."
"Table Mountain....Cape Town! Please hold."
So while I'm huddled nearby shivering uncontrollably, Elliot is on hold listening to a recording in all 11 of the national languages playing on a loop. Eventually, another guy gets on the line, asks for our cell phone numbers, asks our ages, how we came up the mountain, and what supplies we have with us, then tells us that he will call us back with a plan. Meanwhile, we find an alcove in the building where we can huddle together and keep a little more warm. Keep in mind, we are in shorts, windbreakers, and I have mittens. Otherwise, we're pretty exposed, and by now I would guess that it's around 40 degrees Fahrenheit on the top of the mountain. We agree that if the phone hasn't rung in 10 minutes, we'll call back. After nine minutes, my phone rings.
"Hello."
"Hi, I am calling back because I hear you're stuck on the top of the mountain."
"Yes sir," I respond, puzzled at how campy and chatty this guy is.
"Ok, I need you to take down some numbers. Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Um, NO."
"Ok, well, you need to remember these numbers."
"No problem. Elliot, take down these numbers on your phone." Elliot attempts to take down the numbers, but is unable to move his frozen fingers fast enough to unlock his phone. He's useless, so I ask the guy what the numbers are for. Turns out they're for the code to the men's toilet. So, I walk there (slowly due to the gale force winds) and put the code into the lock and open the door. A rush of warm air overcomes us. Now the man is giving me a code to the cupboard in the room. I open the closet and there are blankets, a kettle, and supplies to make coffee! Score! I tell him thank you and he says:
"Ok, the first cablecar will be down in the morning, and we'll see you then."
"Are you kidding?!"
"Nope. Can I get your names?"
At this point, the phone cuts out. Elliot and I laugh and begin to prepare for a night in the mens toilet. Supplies: eight blankets, four small and four large, plenty of coffee, two bags of almonds, four Energades, and one bag of dried mangoes. We are now regretting the choice to leave Newsweek in the car. Activities: 20 questions, which I actually hate due to long car rides with my family in which my six-year-old brother would insist on playing unlimited questions. Seriously. Apparently, I'm also not that good at choosing 20 questions, nor guessing. Whatever. Discussing our theses. Planning our lives for the next year. Freezing.
Remember how I said it was warm earlier? Apparently that was just because we were so cold. Those of you who know me well, also know that I am extremely cold natured. So being that cold is BAD in my book. The only time that I'm warm the entire night is when Elliot is sleeping with his head on my feet. That's also almost the only time that I can sleep. We don't sleep much. I think that goes without saying. An important detail in the coldness factor is that Elliot is convinced that at some point during the night it will clear and we will be able to go outside and see the sunset, the stars, or the sunrise as the only people on Table Mountain. I am not so hopeful. But because of his hopes, Elliot is led to open the door, letting in a rush of cold air, every hour on the hour. This is closely followed by his quick retreat back to the "comforts" of the mens toilet and the bubbling of the kettle to make more warm drinks. He's a silly kid.
We do finally get a little sleep from 5-7am. When we awaken at 7, Elliot emerges from the restroom to see if he can get cell phone reception and to check out the cableway station. Sure enough, the top of the mountain is still abandoned. Elliot does get reception, though, and calls back the mountain rescue guy. He cheerfully responds and Elliot asks if he should be concerned that the first cablecar is posted to leave at 7am and it is now 7:30 and still deserted. Mountain rescue guy promises to call back momentarily with an answer to that query.
He calls back directly to inform Elliot that there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that the cablecar isn't running because the wind is still too high. The good news is that they think they can run it for a rescue mission! He instructs us to remain in the restroom and someone will be up to get us shortly. We procede to have a breakfast of almonds and mango slices and not twenty minutes later, we hear a lovely sound: a knock on the door of the toilet! Our saviors, two mountain rescue guys in the flesh, are here to ferry us down the mountain to warmth! And so while they regale us with stories of daring, dashing mountain rescues, I strain to see the view, and Elliot calls Emily to request a pick-up, we descend on the cableway, free of charge!
When we finally reach the ground, it is as if our experience on the top of the mountain was a dream. It is a warm, sunny day in Cape Town. Emily later tells us that it has been the entire time we were on the mountain, though it was quite windy during the night. And once we returned to the flat, had showers, and a bit of a nap, it began to seem more and more like a dream. Thank goodness!
Total time spent in the men's toilet on the top of Table Mountain: 14 hours.
Many of you are not aware that I spent some time before I left South Africa in Cape Town visiting friends of mine who are living there. I was really excited to get a chance to see the Mother City again, as it was one of my favorite places to visit in South Africa, and I had only one goal for the week--to see the city from the top of Table Mountain. For those of you who are not South Africa officionados by now (I can't imagine, but I'll indulge you nonetheless), Table Mountain is iconic in South Africa. EVERYONE knows what it is, where it is, and what it looks like. If you go to Cape Town, it is imperative that you travel up the mountain to see the vista that awaits. This is why it seemed criminal to me that I had visited Cape Town thrice and never seen the city from the mountain. Just so that you can get an idea of the role of the mountain in the life of Capetonians, here's a picture:
As you can tell, anywhere you are in the city, you can see the mountain. So, obviously, I had to go up the mountain. I told my friend Elliot that I wanted to go, no matter what else we did in the week, and he agreed, but suggested that we not take the cableway since it's expensive and he had done it multiple times during the year. So we decided to make the climb up the mountain. We would then look around the top, take the necessary tourist photos, and then ascend via the cableway. Our friend Emily would pick us up at the bottom and ferry us back to the flat in order to get ready for a night at the theater.
We knew it would take us 3-4 hours to reach the summit, and so we started off, snacks and Energade (think Gatorade) in hand...backpack. We had brought jackets with us because the guidebooks all warn about the possible winds on the top of the mountain. We began hiking around 1pm, and it was a beautiful day. Probably 80 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. Perfect for hiking. So we set off up Skeleton Gorge, which is a relatively strenuous climb, but nothing too dangerous. It is really a lovely ascent and we were enjoying it to the full.
As we reached the first plateau, it began to get cloudy. Now, I was none too pleased about this development, but we kept on the sunny side (if you will) and suggested that it would likely blow over when we reached the top, allowing us to have a wonderful view, but not get too hot while reaching the top. Since there was no longer tree cover, we were happy to have a few clouds.
The clouds didn't clear, though. In fact, as we hiked across the top of the mountain, it got cloudier, and windier, and foggier, and colder. Scroll back up to that picture for a moment. Do you see how long the flat part of the mountain is? We started somewhere on the right...and hiked all the way to the left. In the fog, not sure of how far we still had to go. About an hour was the answer. All the time, the weather is getting worse and worse. At some point on that trek, Elliot says, "I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but I doubt that they're running the cable car. It's getting way too windy." I chose to ignore that one, as my thighs were asking me not to climb down the mountain as well.
At this point, I began to be really grateful for the mittens sitting in my pocket. Like a good mom, my mother always made me keep mittens in my pocket--and I still do! Never so grateful in my life. As we continued walking, Elliot was cold, but I was freezing. So, I was really, really happy when we reached the paved area, and I knew that we were near the cableway station. As we neared the "inhabited" area, we realized that it was not inhabited at all. In fact, it was a ghost town. Complete with wispy clouds swirling about your head. The restrooms were locked, the restaurant deserted and the cableway station completely empty.
Plan B: Call Elliot's friend who knows the mountain well and inquire as to what is the best choice for our descent--on foot. He suggested that we hike down the front of the mountain. Thepath began at the same point as did the path we walked in on, so we should be able to find it easily. It should be stated at this point that it is so windy by now that my body is moving without my volition and that is NOT fun for me. And I am still freezing. And so is Elliot at this point, so I know it's genuinely cold. We return to where we walked in...and we can only see about nine feet in front of us...and we can't find the trail...the one we JUST walked in on. In order to keep from walking off of a precipice, we turn around and head back to the cableway station. At the station, I had observed a pay phone with the number for mountain rescue, and we decide that we are now at the point that mountain rescue is a necessary addition to our adventure.
So while I use the restroom (the natural one--remember that the actual restroom is locked, so imagine how cold I am at this moment), Elliot calls mountain rescue. The conversation goes something like this:
"Hello. My name is Elliot. I hiked up Table Mountain earlier today, back when it was a nice day. Now we're at the top of the mountain and it's not so nice and the cable car isn't running, so we need some advice on what to do."
"Are you lost?"
"No, I know exactly where I am--I'm at the payphone at the cableway station at the top of the mountain, but I need to know what to do now."
"Table Mountain....Cape Town! Please hold."
So while I'm huddled nearby shivering uncontrollably, Elliot is on hold listening to a recording in all 11 of the national languages playing on a loop. Eventually, another guy gets on the line, asks for our cell phone numbers, asks our ages, how we came up the mountain, and what supplies we have with us, then tells us that he will call us back with a plan. Meanwhile, we find an alcove in the building where we can huddle together and keep a little more warm. Keep in mind, we are in shorts, windbreakers, and I have mittens. Otherwise, we're pretty exposed, and by now I would guess that it's around 40 degrees Fahrenheit on the top of the mountain. We agree that if the phone hasn't rung in 10 minutes, we'll call back. After nine minutes, my phone rings.
"Hello."
"Hi, I am calling back because I hear you're stuck on the top of the mountain."
"Yes sir," I respond, puzzled at how campy and chatty this guy is.
"Ok, I need you to take down some numbers. Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Um, NO."
"Ok, well, you need to remember these numbers."
"No problem. Elliot, take down these numbers on your phone." Elliot attempts to take down the numbers, but is unable to move his frozen fingers fast enough to unlock his phone. He's useless, so I ask the guy what the numbers are for. Turns out they're for the code to the men's toilet. So, I walk there (slowly due to the gale force winds) and put the code into the lock and open the door. A rush of warm air overcomes us. Now the man is giving me a code to the cupboard in the room. I open the closet and there are blankets, a kettle, and supplies to make coffee! Score! I tell him thank you and he says:
"Ok, the first cablecar will be down in the morning, and we'll see you then."
"Are you kidding?!"
"Nope. Can I get your names?"
At this point, the phone cuts out. Elliot and I laugh and begin to prepare for a night in the mens toilet. Supplies: eight blankets, four small and four large, plenty of coffee, two bags of almonds, four Energades, and one bag of dried mangoes. We are now regretting the choice to leave Newsweek in the car. Activities: 20 questions, which I actually hate due to long car rides with my family in which my six-year-old brother would insist on playing unlimited questions. Seriously. Apparently, I'm also not that good at choosing 20 questions, nor guessing. Whatever. Discussing our theses. Planning our lives for the next year. Freezing.
Remember how I said it was warm earlier? Apparently that was just because we were so cold. Those of you who know me well, also know that I am extremely cold natured. So being that cold is BAD in my book. The only time that I'm warm the entire night is when Elliot is sleeping with his head on my feet. That's also almost the only time that I can sleep. We don't sleep much. I think that goes without saying. An important detail in the coldness factor is that Elliot is convinced that at some point during the night it will clear and we will be able to go outside and see the sunset, the stars, or the sunrise as the only people on Table Mountain. I am not so hopeful. But because of his hopes, Elliot is led to open the door, letting in a rush of cold air, every hour on the hour. This is closely followed by his quick retreat back to the "comforts" of the mens toilet and the bubbling of the kettle to make more warm drinks. He's a silly kid.
We do finally get a little sleep from 5-7am. When we awaken at 7, Elliot emerges from the restroom to see if he can get cell phone reception and to check out the cableway station. Sure enough, the top of the mountain is still abandoned. Elliot does get reception, though, and calls back the mountain rescue guy. He cheerfully responds and Elliot asks if he should be concerned that the first cablecar is posted to leave at 7am and it is now 7:30 and still deserted. Mountain rescue guy promises to call back momentarily with an answer to that query.
He calls back directly to inform Elliot that there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that the cablecar isn't running because the wind is still too high. The good news is that they think they can run it for a rescue mission! He instructs us to remain in the restroom and someone will be up to get us shortly. We procede to have a breakfast of almonds and mango slices and not twenty minutes later, we hear a lovely sound: a knock on the door of the toilet! Our saviors, two mountain rescue guys in the flesh, are here to ferry us down the mountain to warmth! And so while they regale us with stories of daring, dashing mountain rescues, I strain to see the view, and Elliot calls Emily to request a pick-up, we descend on the cableway, free of charge!
When we finally reach the ground, it is as if our experience on the top of the mountain was a dream. It is a warm, sunny day in Cape Town. Emily later tells us that it has been the entire time we were on the mountain, though it was quite windy during the night. And once we returned to the flat, had showers, and a bit of a nap, it began to seem more and more like a dream. Thank goodness!
Total time spent in the men's toilet on the top of Table Mountain: 14 hours.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Winding Down
Well, I suppose many of you know that my academic career in South Africa has come to a close. I have finished my final project, handed it in, defended it, and now I'm done! I will leave my res on Wednesday (they kick you out here immediately when exams end) and move in for a while with Lynne and Peter. I'm trying to wrap up the final things I need to accomplish in Jo'burg and then I'll head out on the 3rd for a trip to Cape Town. You should see me back home around the 12th of December!
So, I'm debating what to write to you about right now. I'm going to try to write something once per day until I leave for Cape Town so that I can process what I'm feeling and you can know some of what's going on with me. In the meantime, here are some pictures which I have been remiss in posting until now.
Can't wait to see you all in person!
From my weekend getaway with Lynne, Peter and Tamlynn at Lynne and Peter's and then on a lunch cruis on the Vaal River:
So, I'm debating what to write to you about right now. I'm going to try to write something once per day until I leave for Cape Town so that I can process what I'm feeling and you can know some of what's going on with me. In the meantime, here are some pictures which I have been remiss in posting until now.
Can't wait to see you all in person!
From my weekend getaway with Lynne, Peter and Tamlynn at Lynne and Peter's and then on a lunch cruis on the Vaal River:
A real Southern breakfast! They loved the grits and hash browns!
A friend of his, for my mom
Lunch on the boat
The Vaal River and the South African flag
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Long Time Gone
The Dixie Chicks song doesn't really do justice to the content of this post, but I like it and I have been gone a long time, let's be honest.
So, I thought I'd catch you up a little. First, I will do a post about my recent trip to Lesotho because I know that's what you're all interested in. Later this week, I'll do a good catch-up blog so that we can be up to date. Quickly, though, let me fill you in on the relevant details: I have finished all of my academic responsibilities, so I am officially FINISHED! So, I will be updating this a few extra times in the next few weeks and then taking a bit of a holiday before coming home...
Now, LESOTHO!
My friend Ursula and I decided to spend a weekend with some friends who live in the Kingdom of Lesotho in order to see the country a bit. Lesotho is about a 4 hour drive from Jo'burg through the Free State province and it is beautiful! Sadly, Ursula and I saw very little of the beauty on the way down because of the incessant rain. Nonetheless, we made it and then proceeded to stay up half of the night with Jeff and Anu. Jeff and Anu are pediatricians at the Baylor School of Medicine Pediatric AIDS Unit in Maseru, the country's capital. Yes, that's Baylor Med from Texas. The unit provides pediatricians for the country of 2.3 million. Without the Baylor docs, there is only 1 pediatrician in the entire country. As a country with an extremely high HIV/AIDS prevalence, this is extremely concerning!
In case you're wondering which country is Lesotho, it's the one that's the little land-locked hole in the eastern side of South Africa. Yes, it's a kingdom, but it has a Constitution and Parliament. Regardless, the king is beloved, King Moshoeshoe II (pronounced mo-shway-shway). People in Lesotho speak SeSotho (remember, I studied SeSotho for a few months) and are called Basotho. They are known in SA by the blankets which they wear around their shoulders in the winter. We saw a few while we were there. Here's a picture, if you're interested. Funny story about how these blankets became popular: Apparently, one of the members of the British royal family was visiting Basotholand (the name of Lesotho before it became an independent country) and brought a blanket for King Moshoeshoe I. King Moshoeshoe I loved the blanket and wore it around his shoulders like a cape. Since then, everyone has worn the blankets in this fashion. This goes to show you the devotion to the king--and keep in mind that the reign of King Moshoeshoe I wasn't that long ago. We're only on King Moshoeshoe II now. Of course, all I could think of was that the British royal family sent A BLANKET to the KING of Basotholand--how arrogant!
Ok, next story. In addition to the blankets, the Basotho are famous for their Basotho hats. Not surprisingly, this fashion statement was the result of a king, as well. One of the older kings was being pursued by a rival tribe and took cover under a mountain that looked like a pointy hat (think of the traditional chinese hats for rice harvesters). In order to commemorate his escape, the Basotho began to wear these hats--click to see a picture of the mountain. Now click to see a picture of the hat. Funny, right?! The hat is even central on the nation's flag and car licence plates!
Maseru was a very interesting place to visit. It's really not a remarkable city in much of any way except its unremarkableness. The doctors drive across the border to Ladybrand, SA, in order to go out at all except for one good club in Maseru. And by go out, I mean eat out or see a movie. We're talking little here, folks. I was struck by the poverty all around. It's different than here in South Africa. People aren't so much living in huts. They're typically living in round mud houses with thatched roofs (the Afrikans word which has become the common name for these dwellings is rondavel). Instead, there was just a feeling of poverty that loomed large over the city. Regardless of the day or time when we were driving around, we saw hundreds of working-aged people walking around the streets. As in South Africa, joblessness is a huge problem. To me, there was a very hopeless feeling about Maseru. A palpable hopelessness that I don't feel as often now in Johannesburg. One I can't really explain. It reminded me a good deal of my time spent in Walker, KY.
Anyway, what you really want to know about, as Allison will remind me, is what I did in Lesotho. Sooo, here goes. We did a lot of hiking in Lesotho. Everywhere in Lesotho is considered walkable land--you can hike anywhere you please. So, we took advantage and found some interesting areas and decided to explore. We were quite fortunate and found a 15-year-old BaSotho boy who showed us around his little village and the mountain nearby, taught us the word for dassie in SeSotho (pila) and showed the ruins of an old house which he used to play in. We really enjoyed it. The mountains in that area are marbled red, pink, orange, and white and have little vegetation. It's actually quite beautiful.
The next day, we set off to an area in the mountains called Oxbow. Oxbow is about 2 hours drive from Maseru up roads which rival those of Walker, KY! It is quite mountainous, and quite beautiful. We really didn't hike much on that day, but here is what we saw:
So, that's Lesotho. I promise to have some more updates soon. Hope you enjoyed this one!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Go Bokke!
For any one of you who has ever told your mother or spouse or sister that nagging does not work, here is proof that it does. The nagger in this case will remain nameless--we'll just say that she's perfected the art over the last 23 1/2 years. And I can hear her voice in my mind now, so I'll get on with it, as she'd surely be telling me to do. (Anyone who hadn't caught on before will realise that sarcasm goes a long way in my family.)
So what have I been up to in the last almost three weeks since I last posted, you ask? Nothing exciting. I have written three papers, done two interviews, made six lesson plans, and studied non-stop. Right now, I'm working on my thesis--rough draft due Monday. I have 26 of 30 pages, but some serious editing and reworking to do. C'est la vie. I'm sure merely the mention of a thesis bores you, but for those of you who are not yet asleep, the title is "Human Rights Education in Post-Apartheid South Africa: History, Ideology, and Applicability within the United States of America." If you're interested, you may read it, though I may need an American version in order for you to understand all of the apartheid references.
But the really important part of this post comes now: the South Africa Springboks are competing in the Rugby World Cup finals tonight against England! The whole country has been abuzz with patriotism and excitement. Yesterday and today (and hopefully tomorrow, as well) everyone in the country has been asked to wear green, and I would venture to guess that nearly 1/3 of the country actually did wear green yesterday! I wore a new green shirt and giant green hoop earrings to school yesterday (lots of complements from the eighth graders) but was outdone by the other teachers wearing entirely green outfits! Rugby is a serious venture here. I even saw someone on the way to work yesterday with a stuffed springbok (of the formerly live variety) mounted on the grill of their car! Now, that might be going to far, but I'll refrain from judgment for now.
Now, I'm not much for rugby. I often feel as if I might see someone actually die on the field! But it has been absolutely amazing to see the country come together in this way. South Africa is definitely a country divided: along racial lines, along class lines, along crime, etc., etc., etc. But this weekend everyone seems to be cheering for one thing. Even Madiba (Nelson, that is) has sent a good-luck message to the team. Everyone is so proud of the Boks (in Afrikaans, Bokke), and--the newspaper guys even had special "Go Bokke, Go Bokke!" shirts in which to sell their papers today (papers which have the title in green and gold with a springbok leaping through!). So, if you're in the mood at 2:30 Central time, put on a green shirt, find ESPN, and watch the rugby! If you're really dedicated, you could find a recording of Shosholoza, the team's themesong, online. Shosholoza, meaning "the spirit of working together" has become South Africa's clarion call in recent years. Think of me, in a sports bar with all of very intoxicated South Africa having a great time and not writing a thesis for a little while, and throw up a prayer that we might pull it off!
Go Bokke!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tradition!
As I was working in my room this gloomy Wednesday morning trying to keep my mind off the rain outside (though we need it, I never welcome cold rain), I was listening to my iTunes. "Tradition" From Fiddler on the Roof came on, and I noticed a verse to which I had never really paid attention before. The lyrics say, "Here in Anatevka, you might say that all of us are like a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask, 'why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' We stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That, I can tell you in one word: tradition!"
How true that is of South Africa. If I haven't portrayed it accurately in my former blog posts, let me be blunt about the history and current affairs in SA: this country has been in the spasms of death and rebirth, almost simultaneously. After fifty years of harsh, state-mandated oppression, the nation finally emerged from this sad state of affairs in 1994 with the first fully democratic election in which Nelson Mandela was elected the President of the Republic of South Africa.
The storyline in Fiddler on the Roof is very similar. The little town of Anatevka is within the Russian empire during the 1910s and is being beseiged by the rule of the Czar. (Sideline--my favorite line in the entire play is the line where the rabbi is asked if there is a special blessing for the Czar. He responds, "May God bless and keep the Czar--far away from us!") The small Jewish community is fighting the rapid urbanisation and modernisation of the area and trying to keep their way of life as intact as is possible. As a result, as Tevyeh suggests within the opening tune, traditions gain importance within the society, often paramount to all reason, as the show goes on to examine.
Back to South Africa. This country has emerged from a period in which traditions were considered acceptable only if they were of "European" or Afrikaans background, and generally Christian within that framework. More traditional African traditions were considered to be heathen or superstitious. Now that all citizens of South Africa are free to practice their traditions as they like, the various cultural and religous groupings within South Africa are quick to flaunt the value of their traditions.
The sudden ability to practice tradition without repercussion has led to many freedoms within South Africa, but I would also posit that it has led to a trend which anthropologists call "retraditionalisation." Put simply, many South Africans have been forced into a "European" way of life for so long that they are now reaching back to their "roots" in order to regain their own identity. The Xhosa student travels to the Eastern Cape province every December in order to engage in the initiation rituals for young men in the family. The Indian man looks for another Indian within his same cultural group in order to be married. The Zulu man released from prison slaughters a cow in order to appease the ancestors. These practices are generally beautiful celebrations of community within individual cultural groups. They do, however, provide many difficulties within the "New South Africa."
Within South Africa today, most people live in plaster houses much like you'd find in California or New Mexico. They're exactly what you'd expect someone in the US to live in. There are huge cities full of a variety of people. It isn't unusual that within your office, you might have a Tswana, a Zulu, an Afrikaaner, an Indian, and an English person all working together. So, as in any society, complications arise when dealing with issues that are traditionally dictated by culture. For example, a Xhosa woman and a Sotho man who work together decide to marry. Will this be okay with families? Is each person somehow less Xhosa or Sotho by not abiding by tradition? Right now in South Africa, the most common answer is yes.
I don't believe that this is because South African families are somehow less accepting or enlightened than families anywhere else in the world. I think that it is due to a need for identity within South Africans. Because identity was, for so long, taken away and dictated anew, South Africans are now in a phase of asserting their identities, which are drawn from their cultural backgrounds. Often, deviation from these traditions is seen as a blow to the individual culture and to the identity of the cultural group. This mirrors Tevyeh's comments at the end of "Tradition"--"Without our tradition, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!"
One can assume simply because Fiddler on the Roof was written thirty years before the South African situation came to be the way it is today that this condition is a human condition and not unique to South Africa; however, I believe that it has special repercussions for South Africa. It seems that few realise that this same kind of search for identity and tradition led to one of the most difficult regimes in the history of South Africa, Afrikaner nationalism. And so, we are again where we started, historically and culturally speaking. As a result of Afrikaner nationalism, apartheid was begun by the South African government. Now, with a renewed search for identity, I am afraid that South Africa may face many of its old trials anew. Without an honest acknowledgement of the similarities of the situation, I fear that history may repeat itself.
How true that is of South Africa. If I haven't portrayed it accurately in my former blog posts, let me be blunt about the history and current affairs in SA: this country has been in the spasms of death and rebirth, almost simultaneously. After fifty years of harsh, state-mandated oppression, the nation finally emerged from this sad state of affairs in 1994 with the first fully democratic election in which Nelson Mandela was elected the President of the Republic of South Africa.
The storyline in Fiddler on the Roof is very similar. The little town of Anatevka is within the Russian empire during the 1910s and is being beseiged by the rule of the Czar. (Sideline--my favorite line in the entire play is the line where the rabbi is asked if there is a special blessing for the Czar. He responds, "May God bless and keep the Czar--far away from us!") The small Jewish community is fighting the rapid urbanisation and modernisation of the area and trying to keep their way of life as intact as is possible. As a result, as Tevyeh suggests within the opening tune, traditions gain importance within the society, often paramount to all reason, as the show goes on to examine.
Back to South Africa. This country has emerged from a period in which traditions were considered acceptable only if they were of "European" or Afrikaans background, and generally Christian within that framework. More traditional African traditions were considered to be heathen or superstitious. Now that all citizens of South Africa are free to practice their traditions as they like, the various cultural and religous groupings within South Africa are quick to flaunt the value of their traditions.
The sudden ability to practice tradition without repercussion has led to many freedoms within South Africa, but I would also posit that it has led to a trend which anthropologists call "retraditionalisation." Put simply, many South Africans have been forced into a "European" way of life for so long that they are now reaching back to their "roots" in order to regain their own identity. The Xhosa student travels to the Eastern Cape province every December in order to engage in the initiation rituals for young men in the family. The Indian man looks for another Indian within his same cultural group in order to be married. The Zulu man released from prison slaughters a cow in order to appease the ancestors. These practices are generally beautiful celebrations of community within individual cultural groups. They do, however, provide many difficulties within the "New South Africa."
Within South Africa today, most people live in plaster houses much like you'd find in California or New Mexico. They're exactly what you'd expect someone in the US to live in. There are huge cities full of a variety of people. It isn't unusual that within your office, you might have a Tswana, a Zulu, an Afrikaaner, an Indian, and an English person all working together. So, as in any society, complications arise when dealing with issues that are traditionally dictated by culture. For example, a Xhosa woman and a Sotho man who work together decide to marry. Will this be okay with families? Is each person somehow less Xhosa or Sotho by not abiding by tradition? Right now in South Africa, the most common answer is yes.
I don't believe that this is because South African families are somehow less accepting or enlightened than families anywhere else in the world. I think that it is due to a need for identity within South Africans. Because identity was, for so long, taken away and dictated anew, South Africans are now in a phase of asserting their identities, which are drawn from their cultural backgrounds. Often, deviation from these traditions is seen as a blow to the individual culture and to the identity of the cultural group. This mirrors Tevyeh's comments at the end of "Tradition"--"Without our tradition, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!"
One can assume simply because Fiddler on the Roof was written thirty years before the South African situation came to be the way it is today that this condition is a human condition and not unique to South Africa; however, I believe that it has special repercussions for South Africa. It seems that few realise that this same kind of search for identity and tradition led to one of the most difficult regimes in the history of South Africa, Afrikaner nationalism. And so, we are again where we started, historically and culturally speaking. As a result of Afrikaner nationalism, apartheid was begun by the South African government. Now, with a renewed search for identity, I am afraid that South Africa may face many of its old trials anew. Without an honest acknowledgement of the similarities of the situation, I fear that history may repeat itself.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Proudly South African
One of the major marketing campaigns in South Africa is the "Proudly South African" campaign. Like any newly democratic country (only a democracy since 1994), SA is in the process of major nationbuilding efforts. My toothpaste is stamped as "Proudly South African" as is my bank, etc., etc. So, in honour of this movement, I would like to share a few things which I feel are "Proudly South African" in my mind.
- Boys ages 5 and up playing soccer barefoot
- Pausing after each half to dance to the music on the radio (this is the grown boys, as well)
- Replying "sharp" or "sharp, sharp" (pronounced shop) after almost every conversation
- "YO, Yo, yo..." in response to anything surprising or concerning. For example, "And then he hit the car." "YO, Yo, yo..."
- Having someone assume, due to the way you look, that you not only are "one of the gang," but can speak their language fluently (there are 11 national languages in SA)
- Including emigration in family member losses
- When asked where you're going on holiday, replying that you're going to "Africa"
- A different sensational headline posted every 10 meters (that's 30 feet)
- Calling a buddy "bru"
- Referring to "sport," "the rugby," or "the cricket." I suppose it's a bit like saying "The WalMart" or adding an S to Kroger
- Not being able to sing at least 1/4 of the SA National Anthem
- Land Rovers and VW Golfs
- Minibus taxis
- Wearing sweaters until it's 30 degrees C (about 85 F)
- Answering the phone "Yebo" and hanging up by saying "Cheers, hey"
- Virgin anything--Richard Branson owns this place!
- Saying "sorry" instead of "oops"
- Referring to your teacher as "Miss" or "Ma'am" with no surname attached. That one gets me--because my teachers all yell "Miss!" in classic Mr. Cotter style
- Going to the "cinema"
- Driving down the "motorway"
- Durbs, CT, Jozi, PE, Alex, Bloem used as code for Durban, Cape Town, Johannesburg, Port Elizabeth, Alexandria, and Bloemfontein
- KFC a.k.a. Kentucky
- Dancing and singing for every occasion
- A Toast to South Africa at every Rotary function
- Braaing boerwors rolls at every opportunity
- Colourful clothing and headwear
- Kwaito
- Referring to oneself as "European" after never having actually lived in Europe and distinguishing others as "African" after having lived in Africa one's whole life
- Lekker=cool
- 11 official ways to say "God Bless South Africa" included in the Constitution
Hope you've enjoyed!
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