There will be no new posts after this until, at the earliest, July 3. Tomorrow I leave for a week-long adventure in the land of sand and sun: Namibia! All that is planned is my bus ticket - a 20-hour ride between Cape Town and Windhoek via InterCape Bus. While a flight would be much faster, I'm looking forward to the long ride because I'll actually see the country. I'm hoping the ride is something similar to the 24-hour train ride the Simmons trip had. I'm also dreading that it's going to be like that.
I know that I'm going with M, one of the American University grad interns, and most likely four of her fellow AU students, including A, with whom I had brunch on Sunday. Their group is embarking on a three-week trip around southern Africa; the first stop is three days in and around Windhoek. They're scheduled to leave on Wednesday, leaving me on my own for two more days. I'm pretty sure we're staying at Chameleon Backpackers Lodge, which was suggested to me by a CSer who lives in Windhoek. I'm 92 percent committed to attempting to drive a car there so that I can visit a cheetah reserve, which is too far from the city to take a taxi. An American told me that Namibia is the place to learn how to drive on the left side of the road because the roads are flat and empty, so it doesn't matter if I stall.
I'm hoping to meet up with at least one CSer while I'm there, but there is nothing set right now. This trip will be another challenge for me being on my own, but I feel surprisingly calm while writing this, despite having little planned. I'm looking forward to the sun and warmth; seeing another African country; and a new stamp in my passport!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Recap
I haven't been good about writing this week because: a. I've been busy in the evening; b. I've been writing cover letters; and c. it's cold and I can only stand sitting at a computer typing for so long before getting in bed for warmth.
Here is the recap of the important events from the week:
Sunday - I had brunch at a cafe called Miss K with S, one of the American University grad interns, and her fellow AU student A. Brunch was delicious; it was my first really good meal here. I got the chilli eggs, which was two poached eggs served with arugula and shaved parmesan over a piece of rustic bread and small dollops of chilli relish on each egg.
I also enjoyed the Miss K breakfast smoothie, which had fresh fruit, greek yogurt, and granola.
The service was not stellar, but we didn't mind considering how beautiful the weather was and we were sitting outside.
After the meal we walked around the city a bit, ending up in the Company's Garden. It is next to Parliament and beautiful. Aside from the nature and statues around the garden, the distinguishing feature is the squirrels. They are crazy. They are so used to humans and being fed by them that they will take food right from your hand. I made the mistake of misleading a squirrel to think there was something in my hand for it; I ended up getting scratched by its tiny little thieving claws. I now have a fear of squirrels. In spite of my squirrelophobia, S, A, and I bought a bag of peanuts and went hunting for squirrels to feed. The craziest squirrel jumped onto S's knee when she squatted to feed it. I screamed and ran away from one squirrel who was a bit too aggressive for my taste. But when I wasn't acting like the squirrels were lions, I had a great time feeding them. Successfully tempting a squirrel to take a peanut from my palm brought a child-like sense of joy. But that feeling could also just be the rabies setting in...
Wednesday - After work on Wednesday, G, the organization's assistant coordinator, and I went to Rondebosch, which is between Kenilworth where I'm staying and City Centre, to watch the second half of the England-Slovenia game. Slovenia's loss means that I now only have one team left from the office pool in the World Cup: Paraguay. After finishing my beer, I left G and went around the corner to have dinner with CSer Adri at Maharajah. This restaurant is awesome. It offers entirely vegetarian Indian food, including some veggie-meat options. I had the veg chicken curry with roti, a potato samosa, and a mango lassi. I should not have eaten all of it, but I did. It's a new experience for me to eat Indian food with roti (though rice is also an option). I only just learned about roti in the last year and thought it was a uniquely West Indian dish. Adri explained that Indian food here is served with roti because the large Muslim population often eats food with its hands.
After dinner, we went to one of the two movie theaters in the Cavendish Mall and bought our tickets to see 'Sex and the City 2.' **Disclaimer: I did not pick the movie; I accepted the invitation entirely for the social interaction.** We had some time to kill and decided to have a drink before showtime. Adri is nice, but there is something about her that rubs me the wrong way. It's nothing so monumental that I won't hang out with her in the future; it's just enough that I don't think a friendship will really develop between us. The movie was complete crap, but I enjoyed myself. There were some funny lines and Liza Minnelli sang 'Single Ladies,' so I can't complain. Interesting note about South African movie theaters: some theaters, including the one where I went, have assigned seating.
Thursday - Thursday night was the perfect example of how much of an old person I am. D, the CSer who hosted me last time, invited me to a Scrabble party at her flatmate's sister's home. How could I, an old person trapped in a 24 year old's body, refuse? Turns out it was a SUPER Scrabble party, which means the board is larger. In the photo, you can see the lighter part of the board is the size of a standard Scrabble board. So much extra space! Prior to the game, we watched some soccer and ate some dinner. There were seven of us, so we played with three teams of two and one team of one. My teammate Mark and I did quite well. We didn't actually finish the game; turns out the extra space also means extra time to complete. Everyone called it quits around midnight. When I usually play Scrabble, I don't keep, or care about, score. I don't look for the triple word or double letter options. I just try and put down a word. Luckily of me, Mark was much more strategy oriented. The game was surprisingly emotional. As soon as our turn was over and we picked new letters from the bag, we started plotting our next word. Our first choice was usually ruined by someone else. I had the most amazing opportunity to use all of our letters - the word: tentacle - but my glory was stolen! After that I had something close to a momentary postpartum depression. My baby was gone and I had no idea what to do with myself or what the point of continuing was. It took Mark and me a bit to refocus ourselves, but when we did, we had our sweet revenge. Turns out, our letters could also be used to spell cleanse, a word that landed on TWO TRIPLE WORD squares. One word=90 points. It was epic. I love Scrabble and knowing that I have fellow old-people-trapped-in-young-bodies friends/acquaintances here.
I used restraint and purchased a bag of flax seeds, to add to my oatmeal in the morning; a bag of dried, pitted dates; a raw chocolate cup with brazil nuts and raisins; and a red velvet cupcake with lemon cream cheese frosting. NOM NOM!
Here is the recap of the important events from the week:
Sunday - I had brunch at a cafe called Miss K with S, one of the American University grad interns, and her fellow AU student A. Brunch was delicious; it was my first really good meal here. I got the chilli eggs, which was two poached eggs served with arugula and shaved parmesan over a piece of rustic bread and small dollops of chilli relish on each egg.
I also enjoyed the Miss K breakfast smoothie, which had fresh fruit, greek yogurt, and granola.
The service was not stellar, but we didn't mind considering how beautiful the weather was and we were sitting outside.
After the meal we walked around the city a bit, ending up in the Company's Garden. It is next to Parliament and beautiful. Aside from the nature and statues around the garden, the distinguishing feature is the squirrels. They are crazy. They are so used to humans and being fed by them that they will take food right from your hand. I made the mistake of misleading a squirrel to think there was something in my hand for it; I ended up getting scratched by its tiny little thieving claws. I now have a fear of squirrels. In spite of my squirrelophobia, S, A, and I bought a bag of peanuts and went hunting for squirrels to feed. The craziest squirrel jumped onto S's knee when she squatted to feed it. I screamed and ran away from one squirrel who was a bit too aggressive for my taste. But when I wasn't acting like the squirrels were lions, I had a great time feeding them. Successfully tempting a squirrel to take a peanut from my palm brought a child-like sense of joy. But that feeling could also just be the rabies setting in...
Wednesday - After work on Wednesday, G, the organization's assistant coordinator, and I went to Rondebosch, which is between Kenilworth where I'm staying and City Centre, to watch the second half of the England-Slovenia game. Slovenia's loss means that I now only have one team left from the office pool in the World Cup: Paraguay. After finishing my beer, I left G and went around the corner to have dinner with CSer Adri at Maharajah. This restaurant is awesome. It offers entirely vegetarian Indian food, including some veggie-meat options. I had the veg chicken curry with roti, a potato samosa, and a mango lassi. I should not have eaten all of it, but I did. It's a new experience for me to eat Indian food with roti (though rice is also an option). I only just learned about roti in the last year and thought it was a uniquely West Indian dish. Adri explained that Indian food here is served with roti because the large Muslim population often eats food with its hands.
After dinner, we went to one of the two movie theaters in the Cavendish Mall and bought our tickets to see 'Sex and the City 2.' **Disclaimer: I did not pick the movie; I accepted the invitation entirely for the social interaction.** We had some time to kill and decided to have a drink before showtime. Adri is nice, but there is something about her that rubs me the wrong way. It's nothing so monumental that I won't hang out with her in the future; it's just enough that I don't think a friendship will really develop between us. The movie was complete crap, but I enjoyed myself. There were some funny lines and Liza Minnelli sang 'Single Ladies,' so I can't complain. Interesting note about South African movie theaters: some theaters, including the one where I went, have assigned seating.
Thursday - Thursday night was the perfect example of how much of an old person I am. D, the CSer who hosted me last time, invited me to a Scrabble party at her flatmate's sister's home. How could I, an old person trapped in a 24 year old's body, refuse? Turns out it was a SUPER Scrabble party, which means the board is larger. In the photo, you can see the lighter part of the board is the size of a standard Scrabble board. So much extra space! Prior to the game, we watched some soccer and ate some dinner. There were seven of us, so we played with three teams of two and one team of one. My teammate Mark and I did quite well. We didn't actually finish the game; turns out the extra space also means extra time to complete. Everyone called it quits around midnight. When I usually play Scrabble, I don't keep, or care about, score. I don't look for the triple word or double letter options. I just try and put down a word. Luckily of me, Mark was much more strategy oriented. The game was surprisingly emotional. As soon as our turn was over and we picked new letters from the bag, we started plotting our next word. Our first choice was usually ruined by someone else. I had the most amazing opportunity to use all of our letters - the word: tentacle - but my glory was stolen! After that I had something close to a momentary postpartum depression. My baby was gone and I had no idea what to do with myself or what the point of continuing was. It took Mark and me a bit to refocus ourselves, but when we did, we had our sweet revenge. Turns out, our letters could also be used to spell cleanse, a word that landed on TWO TRIPLE WORD squares. One word=90 points. It was epic. I love Scrabble and knowing that I have fellow old-people-trapped-in-young-bodies friends/acquaintances here.
Today - My plan to hike Lion's Head was once again thwarted by the weather. Cape Town weather is so moody. I was supposed to hike with CSer Nancy and then go to Old Biscuit Mill for a late breakfast/early lunch, but heavy fog and clouds made the trail unsafe. Nancy suggested to go to a market in Tokai, which is about 20 minutes up the Main Rd from my flat. Since I'd never been, or even heard of it, I said yes. I am so glad I did. There are two markets in Tokai, but we went to the Porter Estate Food Market because Nancy knew where it was. The market was listed on the Cape Town Green Map, which highlights green, or eco-friendly, aspects of the city in terms of accommodation, restaurants, transportation, etc. There were vendors selling homemade soaps, hand-woven baskets, and second-hand vintage clothing. Most importantly, there was food: raw onion bread pizza slices, chili sauces and chutneys, fresh produce, felafel (their spelling, not mine), raw nuts and dried fruit, fresh squeezed juices, locally made French cheeses, and beautiful cupcakes.
I used restraint and purchased a bag of flax seeds, to add to my oatmeal in the morning; a bag of dried, pitted dates; a raw chocolate cup with brazil nuts and raisins; and a red velvet cupcake with lemon cream cheese frosting. NOM NOM!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Good day!
This is going to be short and sweet.
Today I received the confirmation that I needed from the boss to decide to stay at the organization for the rest of my time here. He is supportive, though apprehensive, about the policy memo project that another intern and I want to do. So here I come policy research!
And this evening I found two AMAZING job posts back in Boston, in addition to the four posts I found last week. I updated my resume tonight and drafted two cover letters. I'm so excited about these opportunities and feeling justified in all the off-the-beaten-path opportunities I've taken in the past because they make me qualified today. Now I just need to get the job... but for now I'm happy just having something amazing for which to apply.
For a visual aid to show you how happy I feel right now, see the picture, which was taken at the Company Gardens on Sunday, below. Good day and good night!
Today I received the confirmation that I needed from the boss to decide to stay at the organization for the rest of my time here. He is supportive, though apprehensive, about the policy memo project that another intern and I want to do. So here I come policy research!
And this evening I found two AMAZING job posts back in Boston, in addition to the four posts I found last week. I updated my resume tonight and drafted two cover letters. I'm so excited about these opportunities and feeling justified in all the off-the-beaten-path opportunities I've taken in the past because they make me qualified today. Now I just need to get the job... but for now I'm happy just having something amazing for which to apply.
For a visual aid to show you how happy I feel right now, see the picture, which was taken at the Company Gardens on Sunday, below. Good day and good night!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Into nature I go
The natural beauty of this place ceases to amaze me. It is hard to think of something to compare it to in the states. There are beautiful state parks, no doubt. There are beautiful views of the ocean and lakes and rivers. But this place is just constantly gorgeous. There are mountains and then vineyards and then more mountains and then the ocean. It's all lush and green and seems to go on forever. It is not hard to believe that people visit here and never leave. It looks like paradise.
I was invited to go hiking by D, one of the Couchsurfers who hosted me the last time I was here. Today is her birthday, so the hike yesterday was part of the festivities. We went to Jonkershoek in Stellenbosch, which is about an hour's drive from Cape Town. The drive there, not to sound like a broken record, was beautiful. I find myself smiling whenever I look out of the window of whatever vehicle I'm in because of how awesome the view is. Yesterday was no exception. I doubt the novelty of this place will ever wear off.
I rode in a car with three people I had not met previously, which meant I had to answer the obligatory "where are you from? what are you doing here? are you enjoying the world cup?" questions. I'm looking forward to being at the point with these new acquaintances when it's just conversation and not a continuous introduction. Though, I think I am getting pretty good at explaining the work I'm doing and discussing the issues related to non-nationals in South Africa. One of the people in the car, D's friend M, was super chatty and engaged in our conversation, which made the ride a bit less awkward. At the end of the day he mentioned that if he arranged for a group trip to the vineyards for wine tasting that he would make sure D invited me. It was a small bit of validation for my ability to interact with and make new friends. This trip has made me acutely aware of and resurrected my insecurities about my social skills. I haven't made new friends in what feels like years. Most of the new acquaintances I have are through current friends. I've gotten out of the practice of being the new kid, the alone kid. This adventure in South Africa, if it does nothing else, is reviving those skills of mine which have been dormant. While it's hard feeling alone when surrounded by people, this is a good thing for me.
While it's a positive thing that I'm forced to reach out and try to connect with new people here, I've also realized that I'm comfortable being alone. During the hike I went back and forth between talking to someone and walking by myself. I enjoy the by-myself opportunities, especially in a place as awe inspiring at Jonkershoek, because it gives me time to think and reflect in the seclusion and quiet of my own brain. Yesterday I thought quite a bit about the issues I have with Afrikaans culture, something about which I've spoken to some of my friends at home. I know this is wrong and I shouldn't think this way, but I have a serious problem and prejudice against Afrikaans culture, and by extension Afrikaaners. This is something I should probably keep as a secret, but the only way to work through it is to think and talk about it. (Comments welcome.)
I first realized that I have this problem last year when I Couchsurfed here for two weeks. One of the people with whom I arranged to stay had an Afrikaans sounding name and his CS profile said he spoke Afrikaans; I put two and two together and assumed he was Afrikaans. Prior to meeting him I tried to figure out my response plan should he say something racist, which I only assumed would happen because I assumed he was Afrikaans. I couldn't decide if it was better to challenge his racism and risk losing a place to stay or keep quiet and let my soul die a little. Luckily, and what shouldn't be surprisingly, I never had to deal with this hypothetical. My host, who is Afrikaans, and his Afrikaans roommate were delightful. They were my first live interaction with Afrikaans culture and they stood in contrast to all that I had expected. In my defense, and, I guess, in the defense of many who are prejudiced against people whom they've never met, I have read extensively about South African history and there are few to no positive references to Afrikaaners. Prior to my last trip to South Africa, I had no personal experiences to challenge these book-based assumptions. And when you read the books I've read, it's really hard to not blame all the badness of apartheid and the current issues faced in South Africa on Afrikaaners. My book knowledge tells me that Afrikaaners are horrible people. My human interactions tell me that Afrikaaners are people, like anyone else. I have no doubt that I might meet a racist Afrikaaner, but I haven't yet and this should, logically, cause my previous assumptions to come crashing down. Not so.
While hiking yesterday, I noticed the many cyclists out, both on the road to Jonkershoek and within the park. I assumed most, if not all, of them were Afrikaans. It's not a big stretch considering a) Stellenbosch has a large, if not majority, Afrikaaner population and b) Afrikaans culture places a strong emphasis on nature and physical activity. It's not surprising that so many people would take advantage of the beautiful surroundings on such a beautiful day. But then I started thinking that this land was, and is, not their's - Afrikaaners' - to enjoy. This land was someone else's and their ancestors took it. My gut feeling is that they have no right to be here. They have no right to enjoy this land.
But then these thoughts, as they always do, were extrapolated into being about my own position as an American - a descendant of immigrants who came to a colonized land. I think my issues with Afrikaans culture are tied, somewhat or somehow, to a sense of self loathing for my position within the American culture and structure. I think it's easier for me to project a sense of anger towards Afrikaans culture than really try to understand my role at home. It's another ongoing conversation in my brain.
So to some up: South Africa is gorgeous. I have a problem with Afrikaaners, which is really just a reflection of my issues with being an American.
I was invited to go hiking by D, one of the Couchsurfers who hosted me the last time I was here. Today is her birthday, so the hike yesterday was part of the festivities. We went to Jonkershoek in Stellenbosch, which is about an hour's drive from Cape Town. The drive there, not to sound like a broken record, was beautiful. I find myself smiling whenever I look out of the window of whatever vehicle I'm in because of how awesome the view is. Yesterday was no exception. I doubt the novelty of this place will ever wear off.
I rode in a car with three people I had not met previously, which meant I had to answer the obligatory "where are you from? what are you doing here? are you enjoying the world cup?" questions. I'm looking forward to being at the point with these new acquaintances when it's just conversation and not a continuous introduction. Though, I think I am getting pretty good at explaining the work I'm doing and discussing the issues related to non-nationals in South Africa. One of the people in the car, D's friend M, was super chatty and engaged in our conversation, which made the ride a bit less awkward. At the end of the day he mentioned that if he arranged for a group trip to the vineyards for wine tasting that he would make sure D invited me. It was a small bit of validation for my ability to interact with and make new friends. This trip has made me acutely aware of and resurrected my insecurities about my social skills. I haven't made new friends in what feels like years. Most of the new acquaintances I have are through current friends. I've gotten out of the practice of being the new kid, the alone kid. This adventure in South Africa, if it does nothing else, is reviving those skills of mine which have been dormant. While it's hard feeling alone when surrounded by people, this is a good thing for me.
While it's a positive thing that I'm forced to reach out and try to connect with new people here, I've also realized that I'm comfortable being alone. During the hike I went back and forth between talking to someone and walking by myself. I enjoy the by-myself opportunities, especially in a place as awe inspiring at Jonkershoek, because it gives me time to think and reflect in the seclusion and quiet of my own brain. Yesterday I thought quite a bit about the issues I have with Afrikaans culture, something about which I've spoken to some of my friends at home. I know this is wrong and I shouldn't think this way, but I have a serious problem and prejudice against Afrikaans culture, and by extension Afrikaaners. This is something I should probably keep as a secret, but the only way to work through it is to think and talk about it. (Comments welcome.)
I first realized that I have this problem last year when I Couchsurfed here for two weeks. One of the people with whom I arranged to stay had an Afrikaans sounding name and his CS profile said he spoke Afrikaans; I put two and two together and assumed he was Afrikaans. Prior to meeting him I tried to figure out my response plan should he say something racist, which I only assumed would happen because I assumed he was Afrikaans. I couldn't decide if it was better to challenge his racism and risk losing a place to stay or keep quiet and let my soul die a little. Luckily, and what shouldn't be surprisingly, I never had to deal with this hypothetical. My host, who is Afrikaans, and his Afrikaans roommate were delightful. They were my first live interaction with Afrikaans culture and they stood in contrast to all that I had expected. In my defense, and, I guess, in the defense of many who are prejudiced against people whom they've never met, I have read extensively about South African history and there are few to no positive references to Afrikaaners. Prior to my last trip to South Africa, I had no personal experiences to challenge these book-based assumptions. And when you read the books I've read, it's really hard to not blame all the badness of apartheid and the current issues faced in South Africa on Afrikaaners. My book knowledge tells me that Afrikaaners are horrible people. My human interactions tell me that Afrikaaners are people, like anyone else. I have no doubt that I might meet a racist Afrikaaner, but I haven't yet and this should, logically, cause my previous assumptions to come crashing down. Not so.
While hiking yesterday, I noticed the many cyclists out, both on the road to Jonkershoek and within the park. I assumed most, if not all, of them were Afrikaans. It's not a big stretch considering a) Stellenbosch has a large, if not majority, Afrikaaner population and b) Afrikaans culture places a strong emphasis on nature and physical activity. It's not surprising that so many people would take advantage of the beautiful surroundings on such a beautiful day. But then I started thinking that this land was, and is, not their's - Afrikaaners' - to enjoy. This land was someone else's and their ancestors took it. My gut feeling is that they have no right to be here. They have no right to enjoy this land.
But then these thoughts, as they always do, were extrapolated into being about my own position as an American - a descendant of immigrants who came to a colonized land. I think my issues with Afrikaans culture are tied, somewhat or somehow, to a sense of self loathing for my position within the American culture and structure. I think it's easier for me to project a sense of anger towards Afrikaans culture than really try to understand my role at home. It's another ongoing conversation in my brain.
So to some up: South Africa is gorgeous. I have a problem with Afrikaaners, which is really just a reflection of my issues with being an American.
Friday, June 18, 2010
What a difference a day makes
It's pretty amazing how different I feel about work each day. It's also frustrating, because I would prefer more consistency. After feeling so down about work and the organization with which I'm volunteering on Tuesday and Wednesday, I am now back in the saddle feeling confident and content.
Today (Friday), the boss and three interns went back to De Doorns to deliver some more maize meal to the men and women in the camp. This left only two other interns and me in the office. We were so productive having the office to ourselves. We brainstormed and discussed fundraising ideas. We made a plan. We got to work. We each have a target audience of people to whom we're going to reach out. I'm focusing on coffee shops and restaurants to see if they would be willing to have a day when a portion of their profits go to the organization or when a set amount is added to every patron's bill (with the option of opting out). Other target audiences are grocery stores, former interns and volunteers, and wealthy Zimbabweans living in the diaspora. I'm not sure if these people will get us the money we need, but it seems to be a good plan for reaching out to those who really care about the organization and the people it helps. We're also going to work on reaching out to local churches, synagogues, and mosques. The two men with whom I'm working both mentioned talking to their pastors/priests about possibly asking for donations from their congregations. I plan on calling some local synagogues and asking if they every collect tzedakah for specific organizations.
I also spoke with one of the guys with whom I worked today, I'll call him L, about our mutual interest in policy research. We discussed the fact that writing policy memos and having them available both to people working within the organization and politicians outside of it would be useful. Right now little is written down and our “policy recommendations” are made up as the boss talks. This would be a more accesible and, I think, respectable way to present our case. I sent an email to the boss, with L cc'ed, saying that we've decided to research and write three policy memos after we're done with the fundraising campaign. The boss complains that he has to initiate everything and wishes other people would be proactive. So I am being proactive. I'm also trying to guarantee I get the experience I want while I'm here. I'll see what he says in response to the email on Monday. Fingers crossed it's positive!
Today (Friday), the boss and three interns went back to De Doorns to deliver some more maize meal to the men and women in the camp. This left only two other interns and me in the office. We were so productive having the office to ourselves. We brainstormed and discussed fundraising ideas. We made a plan. We got to work. We each have a target audience of people to whom we're going to reach out. I'm focusing on coffee shops and restaurants to see if they would be willing to have a day when a portion of their profits go to the organization or when a set amount is added to every patron's bill (with the option of opting out). Other target audiences are grocery stores, former interns and volunteers, and wealthy Zimbabweans living in the diaspora. I'm not sure if these people will get us the money we need, but it seems to be a good plan for reaching out to those who really care about the organization and the people it helps. We're also going to work on reaching out to local churches, synagogues, and mosques. The two men with whom I'm working both mentioned talking to their pastors/priests about possibly asking for donations from their congregations. I plan on calling some local synagogues and asking if they every collect tzedakah for specific organizations.
I also spoke with one of the guys with whom I worked today, I'll call him L, about our mutual interest in policy research. We discussed the fact that writing policy memos and having them available both to people working within the organization and politicians outside of it would be useful. Right now little is written down and our “policy recommendations” are made up as the boss talks. This would be a more accesible and, I think, respectable way to present our case. I sent an email to the boss, with L cc'ed, saying that we've decided to research and write three policy memos after we're done with the fundraising campaign. The boss complains that he has to initiate everything and wishes other people would be proactive. So I am being proactive. I'm also trying to guarantee I get the experience I want while I'm here. I'll see what he says in response to the email on Monday. Fingers crossed it's positive!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The need to be flexible
Before writing anything else, I must comment on Banana Jam. I failed to review the awesomely named restaurant, which a friend pointed out to me. So my review is as follows: it was neither bananas nor was it my jam, but I'd go back if someone invited me. I hope that was all you ever hoped it would be.
I knew this experience would push me outside of my comfort zone and one of my hopes for the trip is to spark personal growth. I was comfortable in Boston, which wasn't a bad thing, but I don't ever want to be so comfortable that I become stagnant. Now I'm here and waiting for evolution to kick in. I'm in a different country on a different continent. I'm living by myself. I'm working in a new office. I'm far away from my friends and family. Being here, in most aspects, is different than home, if for no other reason than I'm alone. And while adapting, I find that flexibility, which is not my strong suit, is the most useful trait. I like structure, planning, and control. And I have very little of any of those here. This will be, and has been, good for me. I just float along and adjust as needed, because I have no other option.
For example, last night I planned on going to the Old Biscuit Mill neighborhood night market by minibus and meet up with a CSer named Adri. In the end, I ended up getting a ride with a CSer named Nancy and never heard a peep from Adri. This wasn't a huge change, but it was different than planned. This morning, I was supposed to hike Lion's Head with several CSers, one of whom was going to pick me up on his way into the city. I planned on staying in the city after the hike and seeing if either the CSers or some of my coworkers wanted to have lunch. The hike ended up being canceled because of rain, making the trail unsafe. [I was actually thankful for that because it was hard getting up at 6:50 a.m.] With my plan for the day shot, I decided to text random CSers to see if anyone wanted to get coffee with me. Adri responded and I ended up going to her flat for tea and then she invited me to a friend's house to watch the Spain-Switzerland game. In light of having no other plans, I said yes. And it was delightful! It ended up being just one friend, so a small group, but there was some good food and conversation. And I got a ride home, which was awesome. Adri is definitely someone I will be hitting up in the future to hang out.
And yesterday, work threw me for a total loop. First, the boss made a really sweet, quiet woman in the office cry by berating her in front of everyone. I was pissed and ready to quit (if volunteers can really quit); this is just another example of the volatile environment that is my work. I took a long lunch with two interns, where we talked through the morning's events. Upon returning to the office, I was still pissed and ready to give the boss a piece of my mind. But then he called me into a meeting and tells me that he is ready to give up and the office is on the brink of bankruptcy and collapse. He asks me if I would be willing to be in charge of fundraising and says that if we don't reach our goal by the end of the month, the organization is done. During this conversation, I mentioned to the boss that I would be willing to do this, but also hoped that I would then be given the opportunity to do policy research with the idea that this is a mutually beneficial work relationship; he said he can't think that far in advance because we might not exist. So now I'm in charge of fundraising and keeping the office afloat. Definitely not what I planned on doing this summer.
This not only redirects my work efforts, but it also has me thinking more generally about my work experience and opportunities here. I'm not sure, even if I'm successful in reaching the fundraising goal, if I will stay with this organization for my remaining two months. While being flexible is a good thing, I'm not sure I can work in an environment that is this loose. But this place has such potential and such passion driving it, I also don't know if I'll find a better place to work. This will be an ongoing internal conversation in the near future.
One thing that's come out of yesterday work hurricane - or workicane, if you will - is that it got me thinking about my other options here, specifically freelancing. So I sent some story ideas to the editors I know at a couple publications. No responses yet, but hopefully someone will bite. I have to have something to show for my time here, be it at the office or on my own. I have to do something this summer (or winter, depending on where you are).
I knew this experience would push me outside of my comfort zone and one of my hopes for the trip is to spark personal growth. I was comfortable in Boston, which wasn't a bad thing, but I don't ever want to be so comfortable that I become stagnant. Now I'm here and waiting for evolution to kick in. I'm in a different country on a different continent. I'm living by myself. I'm working in a new office. I'm far away from my friends and family. Being here, in most aspects, is different than home, if for no other reason than I'm alone. And while adapting, I find that flexibility, which is not my strong suit, is the most useful trait. I like structure, planning, and control. And I have very little of any of those here. This will be, and has been, good for me. I just float along and adjust as needed, because I have no other option.
For example, last night I planned on going to the Old Biscuit Mill neighborhood night market by minibus and meet up with a CSer named Adri. In the end, I ended up getting a ride with a CSer named Nancy and never heard a peep from Adri. This wasn't a huge change, but it was different than planned. This morning, I was supposed to hike Lion's Head with several CSers, one of whom was going to pick me up on his way into the city. I planned on staying in the city after the hike and seeing if either the CSers or some of my coworkers wanted to have lunch. The hike ended up being canceled because of rain, making the trail unsafe. [I was actually thankful for that because it was hard getting up at 6:50 a.m.] With my plan for the day shot, I decided to text random CSers to see if anyone wanted to get coffee with me. Adri responded and I ended up going to her flat for tea and then she invited me to a friend's house to watch the Spain-Switzerland game. In light of having no other plans, I said yes. And it was delightful! It ended up being just one friend, so a small group, but there was some good food and conversation. And I got a ride home, which was awesome. Adri is definitely someone I will be hitting up in the future to hang out.
And yesterday, work threw me for a total loop. First, the boss made a really sweet, quiet woman in the office cry by berating her in front of everyone. I was pissed and ready to quit (if volunteers can really quit); this is just another example of the volatile environment that is my work. I took a long lunch with two interns, where we talked through the morning's events. Upon returning to the office, I was still pissed and ready to give the boss a piece of my mind. But then he called me into a meeting and tells me that he is ready to give up and the office is on the brink of bankruptcy and collapse. He asks me if I would be willing to be in charge of fundraising and says that if we don't reach our goal by the end of the month, the organization is done. During this conversation, I mentioned to the boss that I would be willing to do this, but also hoped that I would then be given the opportunity to do policy research with the idea that this is a mutually beneficial work relationship; he said he can't think that far in advance because we might not exist. So now I'm in charge of fundraising and keeping the office afloat. Definitely not what I planned on doing this summer.
This not only redirects my work efforts, but it also has me thinking more generally about my work experience and opportunities here. I'm not sure, even if I'm successful in reaching the fundraising goal, if I will stay with this organization for my remaining two months. While being flexible is a good thing, I'm not sure I can work in an environment that is this loose. But this place has such potential and such passion driving it, I also don't know if I'll find a better place to work. This will be an ongoing internal conversation in the near future.
One thing that's come out of yesterday work hurricane - or workicane, if you will - is that it got me thinking about my other options here, specifically freelancing. So I sent some story ideas to the editors I know at a couple publications. No responses yet, but hopefully someone will bite. I have to have something to show for my time here, be it at the office or on my own. I have to do something this summer (or winter, depending on where you are).
Monday, June 14, 2010
CouchSurfing and cooking - part 2
Just back from the game - it was a good one! I wish Paraguay had finished with 1-0, but a draw with the last World Cup's champions is not a bad way to start the tournament. I went with my coworker, Colleen, her partner, and a couple with whom they are friends. It was a good group; I knew we were going to get on just fine when two of them ordered hot chocolates with amarula shots, which I also ordered. After spending a couple of hours with Colleen outside of the office, I realized that maybe my assumption about not making any friends was a bit premature. She has a really good vibe about her - we talked about yoga and biking and she explained how she and her partner, Paul, brew their own beer. And, while I need more details, she worked for an organization that provided legal assistance and representation for people seeking asylum and refugee status in the Chicago area; the most interesting part of this is that she doesn't have a law degree, which gives me hope that I might be able to assist the refugee/asylee population without a mountain of debt attached to it. I really hope that she and Paul invite me out again.
The match tonight had more importance to me than the others I've watched so far because Paraguay is one of my countries from the office pool. It's funny how easily I attach myself to a team, and how distant I was from the entire World Cup before arriving. But I'm here and now I am a strong supporter of my teams, even though none of them are expected to go far.
So to continue on my previous post... CouchSurfing is awesome. In addition to the near-term plans I have because of it, it looks like I now have partners for my journey to Namibia at the end of the month! I posted to the Cape Town group message board asking if anyone was interested in going to Windhoek and got a response from a Canadian chap. Turns out, he and his friend are traveling around South Africa for World Cup matches and will be in Cape Town for a match on June 29. From here, they plan on going to Namibia. I need to meet them and get a better idea about what they plan on doing in Namibia - he mentioned hiking Fish River Canyon, which is supposed to be comparable to the Grand Canyon - but I at least have people to ride the bus with going there. Now I need to start putting feelers out in the Durban area to see if anyone wants to go to Mozambique with me...
And as for the cooking part of the title, it's been a bit challenging to cook here. I have one pot, one pan, a stove, a microwave, and no oven. This means a lot of sautéing vegetables and putting them over either rice or pasta. Also, quite a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But as I'm settling in (I wonder when I'll stop settling and be settled here), I'm trying to think more creatively about what to eat and how to make it. A new thing I made tonight and will eat tomorrow for breakfast is a non-baked oatmeal raisin cookie. I found the recipe on a fellow Simmons alum's food blog. It's oats, nut butter, a bit of sweetener, some raisins, and milk; you mix it all up, spread it on a plate so that it's evenly thick, and then refrigerate over night. It looks good, but I'll have an official verdict tomorrow after I eat it.
Sautéed green beans and/or brussel sprouts with garlic over rice is good, but it's going to get old. And I found out that all tofu is not created equal, which means needing more creative protein sources. If anyone has vegetarian recipe ideas for my limited kitchen or can recommend a website or blog, PLEASE POST AS A COMMENT OR EMAIL ME!
And on a final, random note: The light in my bathroom is finally fixed! I survived without it, but it's nice to have it back on.
The match tonight had more importance to me than the others I've watched so far because Paraguay is one of my countries from the office pool. It's funny how easily I attach myself to a team, and how distant I was from the entire World Cup before arriving. But I'm here and now I am a strong supporter of my teams, even though none of them are expected to go far.
So to continue on my previous post... CouchSurfing is awesome. In addition to the near-term plans I have because of it, it looks like I now have partners for my journey to Namibia at the end of the month! I posted to the Cape Town group message board asking if anyone was interested in going to Windhoek and got a response from a Canadian chap. Turns out, he and his friend are traveling around South Africa for World Cup matches and will be in Cape Town for a match on June 29. From here, they plan on going to Namibia. I need to meet them and get a better idea about what they plan on doing in Namibia - he mentioned hiking Fish River Canyon, which is supposed to be comparable to the Grand Canyon - but I at least have people to ride the bus with going there. Now I need to start putting feelers out in the Durban area to see if anyone wants to go to Mozambique with me...
And as for the cooking part of the title, it's been a bit challenging to cook here. I have one pot, one pan, a stove, a microwave, and no oven. This means a lot of sautéing vegetables and putting them over either rice or pasta. Also, quite a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But as I'm settling in (I wonder when I'll stop settling and be settled here), I'm trying to think more creatively about what to eat and how to make it. A new thing I made tonight and will eat tomorrow for breakfast is a non-baked oatmeal raisin cookie. I found the recipe on a fellow Simmons alum's food blog. It's oats, nut butter, a bit of sweetener, some raisins, and milk; you mix it all up, spread it on a plate so that it's evenly thick, and then refrigerate over night. It looks good, but I'll have an official verdict tomorrow after I eat it.
Sautéed green beans and/or brussel sprouts with garlic over rice is good, but it's going to get old. And I found out that all tofu is not created equal, which means needing more creative protein sources. If anyone has vegetarian recipe ideas for my limited kitchen or can recommend a website or blog, PLEASE POST AS A COMMENT OR EMAIL ME!
And on a final, random note: The light in my bathroom is finally fixed! I survived without it, but it's nice to have it back on.
CouchSurfing and cooking - part 1
Despite sitting here grasping at a mug filled with hot water to warm my hands between typing and having a semi-stressful day at work, I'm feeling quite content right now. I've been reaching out to people on CouchSurfing.org and received some good feedback so far. I might be hiking Lion's Head, one of the three big mountains surrounding the city, on Wednesday morning with a couple CSers. I might be going to the special Old Biscuit Mill night party - the open-air market held every Saturday, which serves as a beacon to hipsters, yuppies, and American students - on Tuesday with a CSer. I might be having a late lunch with a CSer on Saturday at a place called Banana Jam; I hope the place is as awesome as the name makes it sound. And there are a couple other people who I've been messaging back and forth with about trying to meet up, but no plans yet.
I've realized that during my time here, it is unlikely I'll make friends. It is much more likely I'll make a lot of acquaintances, some better than others. And I'm okay with that. It seems my closest network will be my coworkers, especially the women who are there close to full time with me. They are incredibly sympathetic to my living situation and can relate to the work triumphs and frustrations.
And on top of that Skype is the best invention ever. I do not think I would be anywhere near as settled, confident, and comfortable as I am if it weren't for the almost daily time I spend on Skype with my family. Being able to see and hear them is incredibly reassuring.
This is being cut short because a coworker is picking me up to go watch the Italy-Paraguay game at ... BANANA JAM! So in part two of this entry, I'll report back on whether the place lives up to the name.
I've realized that during my time here, it is unlikely I'll make friends. It is much more likely I'll make a lot of acquaintances, some better than others. And I'm okay with that. It seems my closest network will be my coworkers, especially the women who are there close to full time with me. They are incredibly sympathetic to my living situation and can relate to the work triumphs and frustrations.
And on top of that Skype is the best invention ever. I do not think I would be anywhere near as settled, confident, and comfortable as I am if it weren't for the almost daily time I spend on Skype with my family. Being able to see and hear them is incredibly reassuring.
This is being cut short because a coworker is picking me up to go watch the Italy-Paraguay game at ... BANANA JAM! So in part two of this entry, I'll report back on whether the place lives up to the name.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Starvation Alleviation Campaign: De Doorns, South Africa 2010
The organization, in collaboration with the South African National Civic Organization (SANCO), distributed maize meal, beans, oil, and salt to the most vulnerable Zimbabweans living in the De Doorns refugee camp and South Africans in the neighboring township. This is the first installment of what the organization hopes to be an ongoing project to fill the humanitarian need left by the government's inaction.
Background on the De Doorns refugee camp: In November 2009, more than 3,000 Zimbabweans were displaced from their homes in De Doorns by xenophobic violence. A safety site was set up on the local rugby field. Today, there are still more than 400 Zimbabweans living in the camp. The camp remains open because of the government's failure to fulfill its legal obligation to engage with the camp's elected representative committee about what the residents need in order to move out and on with their lives.
VIVA BAFANA BAFANA!
I take back everything I ever said about: not wanting to be here for the World Cup; planning on not watching or paying attention to any matches; and wishing I had picked flights for post-World Cup dates.
The ride into Cape Town yesterday for opening match festivities was euphoric. South Africa made its excitement known with constant vuvuzela blasts, bright gold and green jerseys, flags painted on cheeks and entire faces, and multi-colored afro wigs. People were dancing in intersections during red lights. My minibus driver had his vuvuzela out the window for almost the entire drive into the city, tooting at neighboring cars and people on the sidewalks. Almost every car on the road had either a South Africa flag whipping in the wind or side-view mirrors wrapped in a South African flag cover (the mirror part wasn't covered; it was like a beanie for the mirror).
I walked around the Fan Fest area with a coworker for a bit before meeting up with her some of her friends and settling in at a bar/restaurant to drink some beer, eat some food, and cheer for BAFANA BAFANA! It was an exciting match and the crowd at the bar with whom I watched was a lot of fun. While the final score of 1-1 wasn't awful, it would have been nice to start with a South African upset of the better-ranked Mexico. Next time...
It was a lot of fun and definitely something I would not do at home in Boston. I usually stay away from major sporting events, especially in Boston considering the fans' history of flipping over cars regardless of whether the team won or lost. I'm really glad I went and am trying to figure out the plan for watching the US-England game tonight. I don't think this will last the entirety of the World Cup, if for nothing else it's expensive to ride in and out of the city and buy beers and food wherever I'm watching the match. But it's at least fun for the opening weekend.
Below are some photos from yesterday riding into the city and while watching the match. I also took some video and am going to try and put together a short clip of the footage and photos.
VIVA BAFANA BAFANA! VIVAAAAAAAAA!
The ride into Cape Town yesterday for opening match festivities was euphoric. South Africa made its excitement known with constant vuvuzela blasts, bright gold and green jerseys, flags painted on cheeks and entire faces, and multi-colored afro wigs. People were dancing in intersections during red lights. My minibus driver had his vuvuzela out the window for almost the entire drive into the city, tooting at neighboring cars and people on the sidewalks. Almost every car on the road had either a South Africa flag whipping in the wind or side-view mirrors wrapped in a South African flag cover (the mirror part wasn't covered; it was like a beanie for the mirror).
I walked around the Fan Fest area with a coworker for a bit before meeting up with her some of her friends and settling in at a bar/restaurant to drink some beer, eat some food, and cheer for BAFANA BAFANA! It was an exciting match and the crowd at the bar with whom I watched was a lot of fun. While the final score of 1-1 wasn't awful, it would have been nice to start with a South African upset of the better-ranked Mexico. Next time...
It was a lot of fun and definitely something I would not do at home in Boston. I usually stay away from major sporting events, especially in Boston considering the fans' history of flipping over cars regardless of whether the team won or lost. I'm really glad I went and am trying to figure out the plan for watching the US-England game tonight. I don't think this will last the entirety of the World Cup, if for nothing else it's expensive to ride in and out of the city and buy beers and food wherever I'm watching the match. But it's at least fun for the opening weekend.
Below are some photos from yesterday riding into the city and while watching the match. I also took some video and am going to try and put together a short clip of the footage and photos.
VIVA BAFANA BAFANA! VIVAAAAAAAAA!
Friday, June 11, 2010
The hills are alive with the sound of VUVUZELAS
I officially have an interest in the outcome of the World Cup. We have an office pool where everyone pulled three names out of a bag and whoever has the winning team in the end gets some currently unknown prize. I am (and expect you to, too) supporting:
Sidenote: A vuvuzela is a trumpet-horn-shofar-type instrument that South African fans toot. Loudly. They started at 6 a.m. today in anticipation of the World Cup. It's like a sweet song of a dying cow. What a wonderful way to wake up.
- Denmark
- Slovenia
- Paraguay
Sidenote: A vuvuzela is a trumpet-horn-shofar-type instrument that South African fans toot. Loudly. They started at 6 a.m. today in anticipation of the World Cup. It's like a sweet song of a dying cow. What a wonderful way to wake up.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
It's the (South) African way
The entry title is a K'naan reference for those of you who aren't cool enough to know about him. You're welcome.
There are two things about the flat (Yes, I said flat. I'm trying to adapt to the SA lingo. And it's annoying to say guesthouse.) in which I'm living that seem to be iconic of the White South African experience. One, the flat and attached house sit within an high electrified concrete wall. Second, I have a domestic worker.
The concrete wall is around ten feet high. And sitting on top of the wall are three electric wires running parallel to each other around the entire perimeter. The gate to the driveway, and house in general, has tiny spears shooting out of it, with the electrified wires intertwining between them. There are also three dogs, Sandy, Umpalumpa, and Teeny (terrifying names, I know), who bark loudly at the slightest sound. Despite the neighborhood of Kenilworth being quiet (I have no doubts about my safety when walking alone along the main road during the day), it's hard to feel secure at night when I'm by myself in the flat, trying to fall asleep. It's hard to not feel under siege when living inside of a fortress.
Addendum: this is not iconic of the White South African experience. It is iconic of the wealthy South African experience. In reflecting on my last trip here, everyone with whom I stayed (except JonJon who lived in a high rise) lived inside of a gated community. I see these gates as a physical expression of the economic disparity between the rich and poor here. It doesn't send a good sign about the wealthy's concern for the economically disadvantaged.
The domestic worker, however, is iconic by-and-large of the White experience and something with which I am incredibly uncomfortable. The woman who cleans the house and my flat three times a week is named Nancy. She lives in site B of Khayelitsha, the largest township outside of Cape Town. She is the mother of three, two teenage sons and one six-year-old daughter. She is a widow; he husband was killed by a train in 2000. Her first language is Xhosa, one of South Africa's 11 official languages, and her English is not great, making conversation simple and light.
Nancy is Black. The family for which she works is White. This is an image from an era that is supposed to be 16 years behind South Africa. It is a remnant of the apartheid structure - Black women being readily available from the township for the White families in need of someone to cook, clean, wash, and then disappear back into the shadows of the shacks they call home. I know it is unreasonable for me to think that this would disappear along with apartheid; these women from the townships still need to work and apartheid created a situation where they are able to do little else. So it continues. But it's still weird.
When the flat was described to me back in April, I was told that one of the amenities included in the rent was that a woman would clean the space. The idea made me uncomfortable, mainly because I assumed that woman would be Black and in turn I would be part of a centuries-long race-based interpersonal dynamic. But since living here, Nancy has come into my flat to straighten the bed linens, rinse out some bowls I leave in the sink, and I'm not sure what else on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And starting tomorrow, I will also give her some laundry to wash. This next step of actively taking part in this process makes me very uncomfortable. I hesitantly move forward and am doing it mainly because Nancy asked me to.
My mindset, however, has changed slightly since Monday when I learned that I am responsible for paying Nancy and that it is not included in my rent. Based on what my landlord said, it really isn't an option to decline the service, because it would mean cutting Nancy's salary, which, I'm assuming based on the fact that she is a single mother living in a township, is much needed. The other option I considered was declining the service, but still paying her. But this would make her a charity case. This would create a patronizing relationship in which I, the wealthy White woman, would be taking pity on her, the poor Black woman. And that is not a role I want to fill. So my plan moving forward is to keep my space as clean as possible and hope to make Nancy's job as easy as possible. I'm hoping to be a good employer, which seems to be the best role to play. This is definitely something that is pushing me outside of my comfort zone (if you couldn't tell by the bazillion times I used the word 'uncomfortable') and will be an ongoing conversation in my head.
Sidenote: World Cup kicks off tomorrow. I'll be going into the city for some of the festivities at the Fan Fest, including watching the US-UK game on Saturday. I'm hoping to have some photos to post after the weekend. GO BAFANA BAFANA!
There are two things about the flat (Yes, I said flat. I'm trying to adapt to the SA lingo. And it's annoying to say guesthouse.) in which I'm living that seem to be iconic of the White South African experience. One, the flat and attached house sit within an high electrified concrete wall. Second, I have a domestic worker.
The concrete wall is around ten feet high. And sitting on top of the wall are three electric wires running parallel to each other around the entire perimeter. The gate to the driveway, and house in general, has tiny spears shooting out of it, with the electrified wires intertwining between them. There are also three dogs, Sandy, Umpalumpa, and Teeny (terrifying names, I know), who bark loudly at the slightest sound. Despite the neighborhood of Kenilworth being quiet (I have no doubts about my safety when walking alone along the main road during the day), it's hard to feel secure at night when I'm by myself in the flat, trying to fall asleep. It's hard to not feel under siege when living inside of a fortress.
Addendum: this is not iconic of the White South African experience. It is iconic of the wealthy South African experience. In reflecting on my last trip here, everyone with whom I stayed (except JonJon who lived in a high rise) lived inside of a gated community. I see these gates as a physical expression of the economic disparity between the rich and poor here. It doesn't send a good sign about the wealthy's concern for the economically disadvantaged.
The domestic worker, however, is iconic by-and-large of the White experience and something with which I am incredibly uncomfortable. The woman who cleans the house and my flat three times a week is named Nancy. She lives in site B of Khayelitsha, the largest township outside of Cape Town. She is the mother of three, two teenage sons and one six-year-old daughter. She is a widow; he husband was killed by a train in 2000. Her first language is Xhosa, one of South Africa's 11 official languages, and her English is not great, making conversation simple and light.
Nancy is Black. The family for which she works is White. This is an image from an era that is supposed to be 16 years behind South Africa. It is a remnant of the apartheid structure - Black women being readily available from the township for the White families in need of someone to cook, clean, wash, and then disappear back into the shadows of the shacks they call home. I know it is unreasonable for me to think that this would disappear along with apartheid; these women from the townships still need to work and apartheid created a situation where they are able to do little else. So it continues. But it's still weird.
When the flat was described to me back in April, I was told that one of the amenities included in the rent was that a woman would clean the space. The idea made me uncomfortable, mainly because I assumed that woman would be Black and in turn I would be part of a centuries-long race-based interpersonal dynamic. But since living here, Nancy has come into my flat to straighten the bed linens, rinse out some bowls I leave in the sink, and I'm not sure what else on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And starting tomorrow, I will also give her some laundry to wash. This next step of actively taking part in this process makes me very uncomfortable. I hesitantly move forward and am doing it mainly because Nancy asked me to.
My mindset, however, has changed slightly since Monday when I learned that I am responsible for paying Nancy and that it is not included in my rent. Based on what my landlord said, it really isn't an option to decline the service, because it would mean cutting Nancy's salary, which, I'm assuming based on the fact that she is a single mother living in a township, is much needed. The other option I considered was declining the service, but still paying her. But this would make her a charity case. This would create a patronizing relationship in which I, the wealthy White woman, would be taking pity on her, the poor Black woman. And that is not a role I want to fill. So my plan moving forward is to keep my space as clean as possible and hope to make Nancy's job as easy as possible. I'm hoping to be a good employer, which seems to be the best role to play. This is definitely something that is pushing me outside of my comfort zone (if you couldn't tell by the bazillion times I used the word 'uncomfortable') and will be an ongoing conversation in my head.
Sidenote: World Cup kicks off tomorrow. I'll be going into the city for some of the festivities at the Fan Fest, including watching the US-UK game on Saturday. I'm hoping to have some photos to post after the weekend. GO BAFANA BAFANA!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Each hour is like a box of chocolates
This past weekend was like a sandwich made with heavenly bread - the kind with a soft, dense center, perfectly crisped crust, a hint of honey, and some whole grains thrown in - and rotten meat.
I started the weekend feeling content and prepared to go out and explore the city with friends. Friday was a satisfying day at work. Six of us from the office delivered food to Zimbabwean women living in the De Doorns refugee camp and the most vulnerable South Africans in the neighboring township. We weren't allowed in the camp, so we set up shop on the road just outside of it. It was a surprisingly calm process in light of the fact that these women are unemployed because the farming season is on hold for the winter and therefore have little to no means of supporting themselves and their families. We were told that last year Zimbabweans went to the nearby landfill to find fresh scraps to eat. The food - maize meal, oil, beans, and salt - is desperately needed. Since we were denied entry into the camp - only government officials, security personnel, and the residents are allowed in - a member of the camp's elected representative committee went in and told the women that there was a food distribution. Grown women came streaming out of the camp, running down the hill to the entrance like teenie boppers chasing Justin Bieber through a mall. There was a moment when we thought they were going to just flood the trailer holding all the food and strip it bare. But they lined up and sat patiently on the sidewalk. It was incredible to see that much restraint from people who are teetering on the edge of potential starvation. It was hard to process those initial ten minutes at the camp.
To see the UNHCR tents just beyond a chain-link fence that was topped with barbed wire.
To see adults run for food as if they were children chasing the ice cream truck.
To see some without shoes.
To see some with infants strapped to their backs.
Their reality is one that should not exist. I complain because the guesthouse in which I'm staying has no heat; they don't even have a house. One of the things the organization is advocating for is that the government needs to engage with the camp's elected committee in a meaningful way so that the residents can receive what they need (and are due by court order) to move out and the government can close the camp. But that addresses only one issue. The reality is that once they leave the camp they will most likely move back to the township (or to another township) and build shacks built from scrap metal, cardboard, plastic bags, whatever materials are available. They will not move into houses or apartments or anything that resembles a livable structure to most of the U.S. They will move from poverty into poverty, back into a situation where they need scrounge for food during the off season and will either be cold under a blanket or risk burning down their home for the sake of keeping the oil fueled heater on a bit longer into the winter's cold, wet night.
After distributing the food to more than 100 women in the camp, we packed up and moved in the township and made three drops for the most vulnerable - mainly the elderly - South Africans. At each stop we were met with crowds of South Africans eying the food in the trailer; members of SANCO (South African National Civic Organization, with whom we partnered for the operation) forcefully told those who wanted but did not receive food the reasons for why some were chosen over others. It was all said in Xhosa, one of South Africa's 11 official languages, so I don't know the details, but I can tell you, based on the tone, volume, and body language, people were not happy. At each stop young children entertained the other interns and me with songs we didn't understand and hilarious dances. At the second stop, there was one little girl, who looked about three years old, that was quite the showman (well, showwoman). She sang one song with coordinated dance moves over and over and over again. It reminded me of a combination of 'this is the song that doesn't end' and 'david melech.' Some other children joined her in singing. At one point, a woman got them to see the South African national anthem; I wish I had my video camera out and recorded it. One of the interns commented that it is so amazing to see how children are able to persevere and find joy in seemingly hopeless situation. The showwoman wore no shoes, a tshirt, and sweatpants that were too short for her and had a hole in the back. Children should not be living in situations like this; children should not need to have the resiliency to persevere. This, again, is a reality that should not exist. It was hard to enjoy the singing and dancing with the other interns; it was hard to look at these children and not see the world they are growing up in.
[Sidenote: in writing this, I feel like a major douche. Here I am complaining about how hard it was see their poverty. I don't even have to live there. And I assume it is hard because of how it looks compared to my standard of living, not because of any experience I've had that is remotely comparable. In reality, when I say hard, I mean it makes me feel guilty for what I have and helpless for what I can't change.]
Despite the emotional challenges of Friday, I felt content riding back to Cape Town. It now seems weird that I felt that based on what I've just written, but it was a good feeling to know that I was part of a group that made the lives of those who are struggling a little better for a little bit of time. Maybe it's better to say fulfilled instead of content...
On Saturday, I embarked on my first trip on the train. I survived. It seems that most forms of transportation that are used by the public, i.e. everything except a personal car or metered cab, are deemed dangerous. And sure, bad things can and have happened, but mostly I think it is a fear of the wealthy of mixing with those who cannot afford the aforementioned options. So I took the train. It was a bit stressful because there are no announcements about which stop is next, but I managed to make it from the Kenilworth station to the Woodstock station on my first try.
Then the challenge of getting from the station to the Old Biscuit Mill. I assumed the OBM - a weekly open-air market held on Saturdays - was near the station. I was wrong. But there were four twenty-something-year-old white women dressed like hipsters who also got off the train at my stop and it turned out they were going to the OBM; so they led the way. To understand the importance of the hipster attire and white factor, just check out the website: http://www.theoldbiscuitmill.co.za/. This looks like something that belongs in the South End of Boston. And when I arrived, I found what I can only describe as a yuppie-hipster-student mecca. And since I am a yuppie, wannabe hipster, and former student (and white), I loved it. LOVED it. I am so thankful to Elle, a Simmons student who did the spring semester at the University of Cape Town (UCT), for inviting me to the market with her.
I missed breakfast because of sleeping in and not wanting to miss my train, so I was hungry upon arrival. Elle was a bit late and I was confused, so I walked through the copious food stands trying to see if there was another entrance at which she might be waiting for me. I was drooling within 30 seconds of entering the food tent. I wanted to eat everything; even the meat looked appetizing. After making a near complete ring around the venue and going back to see if Elle was at the gate yet, I decided to venture back into the nom-nom carnival and obtain some breakfast. I went with a pomegranate smoothie and a butternut squash-and-feta roll. I was quite pleased with my choices.
Elle and I finally found each other and started by walking through the permanent shops at the Old Biscuit Mill before heading into the foodfest. I had lunch with Elle once in the fall to talk to her about and offer as much advice as I could for her then upcoming trip to South Africa. It was great to see the before and after. And now, she's the one offering me advice. One of the best tidbits I learned from her was about the travel buses offered in SA; turns out I should be able to go to Namibia out of Cape Town fairly cheaply (less than airfare at least) and possibly to Mozambique out of Durban. My dreams of seeing some of south Africa's other countries on this adventure are revived!
And now back to the food. Elle and I maneuvered through the crowds in what I imagine could be the next dance craze - think robot meets zombie - to go all the way to the back so that she could get her made-to-order ostrich (don't worry, none of my family members) burger. It looked pretty delicious and the long line seemed to reinforce that view. Going back to the front we walked past stands that sold pastries, cupcakes, things that looked like super thin crust pizza, waffles, cheeses, breads, falafel, Thai noodle dishes, quiche, samosas, wine, smoked fish, olives, pestos, and a zillion other things I can't remember. Next time I go (which is tentatively planned for this Saturday), I plan on taking my camera and taking lots of pictures. For lunch I went with a tuna burger, which was actually just thin tuna steaks seared on a grill, on a whole wheat role with arugula and some sauce and a mango lassi. It was so filling that I couldn't even force myself to each a cupcake, which is saying something.
After lunch, Elle, some of her friends from UCT, and I walked from Woodstock through Observatory into Mowbray (two more suburbs). It was beautiful weather for a walk and nice meeting new people. One of them, Farley, had some more good advice about traveling outside of South Africa on the buses.
I bid Elle and her friends goodbye and headed back to the train. They suggested it might be easier to take a minibus back, but I wasn't quite ready to ride one by myself just yet. And I purchased a roundtrip train ticket. I made it back to the guesthouse in Kenilworth safely, ready to cool off (I was dressed for much colder temperatures) and putz around before Skyping with my parents. I chilled in the house for a bit and watched some rugby with the boss while my towels were in the dryer. [Sidenote: nothing dries here. The only way to get the towels I use for my morning shower to dry is to use the dryer. Simply hanging it up to dry does little to nothing.] Then I headed back to the guesthouse, signed into Skype, ready to talk.
This is where the first piece of delicious bread ends. Now enter the rotten meat.
I waited and waited and waited and no one called. In retrospect, it was silly of me to give a six-hour window of time for my parents to call because it meant I was glued to the computer for six hours. But as each minute and then hour passed, I realized more and more how alone I was. And then as night fell I realized I was not only alone but also trapped in the guesthouse because I have no economical ways of going outside after dark. So I sat in a puddle of self pity for about six hours, questioning why I came here and quit my job and left my home and friends and family. Oh, and the light in my bathroom is broken; I tried putting in a new bulb, but no juice. So I finally gave up on Skype and talking to my parents and curled up into bed with disk 1 of season 2 of The Office and fell asleep. The one good that came out of my loneliness was I went onto CouchSurfing.org and sent messages to connect with other CS'ers in the Cape Town area.
There was only a little bit of rotten meat, but that's all it takes to ruin a sandwich. Now back to the bread.
Sunday I woke up trying to feel more optimistic about my life choices. I practiced yoga. I took a shower. I made plans to go for a walk with Divya, who I couchsurfed with the last time I was here, at 3 p.m. And then I confronted my fears and rode a minibus. For those who haven't been to South Africa, it might be hard to understand why a minibus might be scary. I'll try to explain. The minibuses are, for the most part, white unmarked vans, but with windows. They are privately owned, but offer the cheapest and most efficient way to get around. There is no schedule. There are no set bus stops. You just stand on the street and wait to see a man leaning out the sliding door's window, screaming the van's destination with all the beauty a crow might be able muster. And when you get on the van, you just say where you want to be dropped off. Each van is supposed to hold only 14 people, but during rush hour that limit is pushed. In the past, people have been robbed and groped and even kidnapped on these minibuses. It's a challenge to see these minibuses as a smart way to travel and not your impending doom.
But with some change in my pocket and the advice of interns and Elle's friends - only get on minibuses that are crowded and that have women on them - in my head, I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a ride. A couple went by before I found one that met the safety criteria. And as soon as I got on, I was at my destination - the grocery store. I survived. And then as soon as I got to the grocery I was done and back on the sidewalk looking for my ride home. Again a couple came by before I found a minibus I liked. While the broader minibus system still confuses me and I have no idea how to find a transfer at the major depot in the city, I at least now know I can go grocery shopping on my own.
After unpacking my groceries, I went on my laptop and was delighted to find my dad on Skype. So we chatted for 20ish minutes. And then my mom signed in, so I got to talk and see her! I showed them around the guesthouse, i.e. walked a computer around and tried to point the camera at the relevant parts - kitchenette, desk, bed, bathroom, patio. I told them about work. It was really good to hear their voices and to know that they hadn't forgotten me, as silly and juvenile as that sounds. My chat with my mom was cut short because Divya got here a few minutes early for our walk.
Divya planned to take her friend Jaffar and me to Hout Bay for a walk, but the rain rerouted us to a beach (I think Elounda Beach). It was great to see the ocean and walk in the sand, even with a fine mist falling. While the beach looked nothing like those at home in Waterford, it reminded me of where I grew up. And the scenic drive back into the city reminded me of the road that mirrors the shoreline's curves from the Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH to Boston. It was bittersweet, enjoying the moment there with new friends and thinking of memories made with friends who are thousands of miles away.
The car ride back to the guesthouse ended with tentative plans to go to the Old Biscuit Mill on Saturday and invites to have homemade Indian food at Divya's for dinner one night and see a movie about the aboriginals at a theater called, no joke, The Labia. There is nothing else I can say that will top that.
I started the weekend feeling content and prepared to go out and explore the city with friends. Friday was a satisfying day at work. Six of us from the office delivered food to Zimbabwean women living in the De Doorns refugee camp and the most vulnerable South Africans in the neighboring township. We weren't allowed in the camp, so we set up shop on the road just outside of it. It was a surprisingly calm process in light of the fact that these women are unemployed because the farming season is on hold for the winter and therefore have little to no means of supporting themselves and their families. We were told that last year Zimbabweans went to the nearby landfill to find fresh scraps to eat. The food - maize meal, oil, beans, and salt - is desperately needed. Since we were denied entry into the camp - only government officials, security personnel, and the residents are allowed in - a member of the camp's elected representative committee went in and told the women that there was a food distribution. Grown women came streaming out of the camp, running down the hill to the entrance like teenie boppers chasing Justin Bieber through a mall. There was a moment when we thought they were going to just flood the trailer holding all the food and strip it bare. But they lined up and sat patiently on the sidewalk. It was incredible to see that much restraint from people who are teetering on the edge of potential starvation. It was hard to process those initial ten minutes at the camp.
To see the UNHCR tents just beyond a chain-link fence that was topped with barbed wire.
To see adults run for food as if they were children chasing the ice cream truck.
To see some without shoes.
To see some with infants strapped to their backs.
Their reality is one that should not exist. I complain because the guesthouse in which I'm staying has no heat; they don't even have a house. One of the things the organization is advocating for is that the government needs to engage with the camp's elected committee in a meaningful way so that the residents can receive what they need (and are due by court order) to move out and the government can close the camp. But that addresses only one issue. The reality is that once they leave the camp they will most likely move back to the township (or to another township) and build shacks built from scrap metal, cardboard, plastic bags, whatever materials are available. They will not move into houses or apartments or anything that resembles a livable structure to most of the U.S. They will move from poverty into poverty, back into a situation where they need scrounge for food during the off season and will either be cold under a blanket or risk burning down their home for the sake of keeping the oil fueled heater on a bit longer into the winter's cold, wet night.
After distributing the food to more than 100 women in the camp, we packed up and moved in the township and made three drops for the most vulnerable - mainly the elderly - South Africans. At each stop we were met with crowds of South Africans eying the food in the trailer; members of SANCO (South African National Civic Organization, with whom we partnered for the operation) forcefully told those who wanted but did not receive food the reasons for why some were chosen over others. It was all said in Xhosa, one of South Africa's 11 official languages, so I don't know the details, but I can tell you, based on the tone, volume, and body language, people were not happy. At each stop young children entertained the other interns and me with songs we didn't understand and hilarious dances. At the second stop, there was one little girl, who looked about three years old, that was quite the showman (well, showwoman). She sang one song with coordinated dance moves over and over and over again. It reminded me of a combination of 'this is the song that doesn't end' and 'david melech.' Some other children joined her in singing. At one point, a woman got them to see the South African national anthem; I wish I had my video camera out and recorded it. One of the interns commented that it is so amazing to see how children are able to persevere and find joy in seemingly hopeless situation. The showwoman wore no shoes, a tshirt, and sweatpants that were too short for her and had a hole in the back. Children should not be living in situations like this; children should not need to have the resiliency to persevere. This, again, is a reality that should not exist. It was hard to enjoy the singing and dancing with the other interns; it was hard to look at these children and not see the world they are growing up in.
[Sidenote: in writing this, I feel like a major douche. Here I am complaining about how hard it was see their poverty. I don't even have to live there. And I assume it is hard because of how it looks compared to my standard of living, not because of any experience I've had that is remotely comparable. In reality, when I say hard, I mean it makes me feel guilty for what I have and helpless for what I can't change.]
Despite the emotional challenges of Friday, I felt content riding back to Cape Town. It now seems weird that I felt that based on what I've just written, but it was a good feeling to know that I was part of a group that made the lives of those who are struggling a little better for a little bit of time. Maybe it's better to say fulfilled instead of content...
On Saturday, I embarked on my first trip on the train. I survived. It seems that most forms of transportation that are used by the public, i.e. everything except a personal car or metered cab, are deemed dangerous. And sure, bad things can and have happened, but mostly I think it is a fear of the wealthy of mixing with those who cannot afford the aforementioned options. So I took the train. It was a bit stressful because there are no announcements about which stop is next, but I managed to make it from the Kenilworth station to the Woodstock station on my first try.
Then the challenge of getting from the station to the Old Biscuit Mill. I assumed the OBM - a weekly open-air market held on Saturdays - was near the station. I was wrong. But there were four twenty-something-year-old white women dressed like hipsters who also got off the train at my stop and it turned out they were going to the OBM; so they led the way. To understand the importance of the hipster attire and white factor, just check out the website: http://www.theoldbiscuitmill.co.za/. This looks like something that belongs in the South End of Boston. And when I arrived, I found what I can only describe as a yuppie-hipster-student mecca. And since I am a yuppie, wannabe hipster, and former student (and white), I loved it. LOVED it. I am so thankful to Elle, a Simmons student who did the spring semester at the University of Cape Town (UCT), for inviting me to the market with her.
I missed breakfast because of sleeping in and not wanting to miss my train, so I was hungry upon arrival. Elle was a bit late and I was confused, so I walked through the copious food stands trying to see if there was another entrance at which she might be waiting for me. I was drooling within 30 seconds of entering the food tent. I wanted to eat everything; even the meat looked appetizing. After making a near complete ring around the venue and going back to see if Elle was at the gate yet, I decided to venture back into the nom-nom carnival and obtain some breakfast. I went with a pomegranate smoothie and a butternut squash-and-feta roll. I was quite pleased with my choices.
Elle and I finally found each other and started by walking through the permanent shops at the Old Biscuit Mill before heading into the foodfest. I had lunch with Elle once in the fall to talk to her about and offer as much advice as I could for her then upcoming trip to South Africa. It was great to see the before and after. And now, she's the one offering me advice. One of the best tidbits I learned from her was about the travel buses offered in SA; turns out I should be able to go to Namibia out of Cape Town fairly cheaply (less than airfare at least) and possibly to Mozambique out of Durban. My dreams of seeing some of south Africa's other countries on this adventure are revived!
And now back to the food. Elle and I maneuvered through the crowds in what I imagine could be the next dance craze - think robot meets zombie - to go all the way to the back so that she could get her made-to-order ostrich (don't worry, none of my family members) burger. It looked pretty delicious and the long line seemed to reinforce that view. Going back to the front we walked past stands that sold pastries, cupcakes, things that looked like super thin crust pizza, waffles, cheeses, breads, falafel, Thai noodle dishes, quiche, samosas, wine, smoked fish, olives, pestos, and a zillion other things I can't remember. Next time I go (which is tentatively planned for this Saturday), I plan on taking my camera and taking lots of pictures. For lunch I went with a tuna burger, which was actually just thin tuna steaks seared on a grill, on a whole wheat role with arugula and some sauce and a mango lassi. It was so filling that I couldn't even force myself to each a cupcake, which is saying something.
After lunch, Elle, some of her friends from UCT, and I walked from Woodstock through Observatory into Mowbray (two more suburbs). It was beautiful weather for a walk and nice meeting new people. One of them, Farley, had some more good advice about traveling outside of South Africa on the buses.
I bid Elle and her friends goodbye and headed back to the train. They suggested it might be easier to take a minibus back, but I wasn't quite ready to ride one by myself just yet. And I purchased a roundtrip train ticket. I made it back to the guesthouse in Kenilworth safely, ready to cool off (I was dressed for much colder temperatures) and putz around before Skyping with my parents. I chilled in the house for a bit and watched some rugby with the boss while my towels were in the dryer. [Sidenote: nothing dries here. The only way to get the towels I use for my morning shower to dry is to use the dryer. Simply hanging it up to dry does little to nothing.] Then I headed back to the guesthouse, signed into Skype, ready to talk.
This is where the first piece of delicious bread ends. Now enter the rotten meat.
I waited and waited and waited and no one called. In retrospect, it was silly of me to give a six-hour window of time for my parents to call because it meant I was glued to the computer for six hours. But as each minute and then hour passed, I realized more and more how alone I was. And then as night fell I realized I was not only alone but also trapped in the guesthouse because I have no economical ways of going outside after dark. So I sat in a puddle of self pity for about six hours, questioning why I came here and quit my job and left my home and friends and family. Oh, and the light in my bathroom is broken; I tried putting in a new bulb, but no juice. So I finally gave up on Skype and talking to my parents and curled up into bed with disk 1 of season 2 of The Office and fell asleep. The one good that came out of my loneliness was I went onto CouchSurfing.org and sent messages to connect with other CS'ers in the Cape Town area.
There was only a little bit of rotten meat, but that's all it takes to ruin a sandwich. Now back to the bread.
Sunday I woke up trying to feel more optimistic about my life choices. I practiced yoga. I took a shower. I made plans to go for a walk with Divya, who I couchsurfed with the last time I was here, at 3 p.m. And then I confronted my fears and rode a minibus. For those who haven't been to South Africa, it might be hard to understand why a minibus might be scary. I'll try to explain. The minibuses are, for the most part, white unmarked vans, but with windows. They are privately owned, but offer the cheapest and most efficient way to get around. There is no schedule. There are no set bus stops. You just stand on the street and wait to see a man leaning out the sliding door's window, screaming the van's destination with all the beauty a crow might be able muster. And when you get on the van, you just say where you want to be dropped off. Each van is supposed to hold only 14 people, but during rush hour that limit is pushed. In the past, people have been robbed and groped and even kidnapped on these minibuses. It's a challenge to see these minibuses as a smart way to travel and not your impending doom.
But with some change in my pocket and the advice of interns and Elle's friends - only get on minibuses that are crowded and that have women on them - in my head, I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a ride. A couple went by before I found one that met the safety criteria. And as soon as I got on, I was at my destination - the grocery store. I survived. And then as soon as I got to the grocery I was done and back on the sidewalk looking for my ride home. Again a couple came by before I found a minibus I liked. While the broader minibus system still confuses me and I have no idea how to find a transfer at the major depot in the city, I at least now know I can go grocery shopping on my own.
After unpacking my groceries, I went on my laptop and was delighted to find my dad on Skype. So we chatted for 20ish minutes. And then my mom signed in, so I got to talk and see her! I showed them around the guesthouse, i.e. walked a computer around and tried to point the camera at the relevant parts - kitchenette, desk, bed, bathroom, patio. I told them about work. It was really good to hear their voices and to know that they hadn't forgotten me, as silly and juvenile as that sounds. My chat with my mom was cut short because Divya got here a few minutes early for our walk.
Divya planned to take her friend Jaffar and me to Hout Bay for a walk, but the rain rerouted us to a beach (I think Elounda Beach). It was great to see the ocean and walk in the sand, even with a fine mist falling. While the beach looked nothing like those at home in Waterford, it reminded me of where I grew up. And the scenic drive back into the city reminded me of the road that mirrors the shoreline's curves from the Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH to Boston. It was bittersweet, enjoying the moment there with new friends and thinking of memories made with friends who are thousands of miles away.
The car ride back to the guesthouse ended with tentative plans to go to the Old Biscuit Mill on Saturday and invites to have homemade Indian food at Divya's for dinner one night and see a movie about the aboriginals at a theater called, no joke, The Labia. There is nothing else I can say that will top that.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Operation NomNom
Okay, it was actually called the Starvation Alleviation Campaign, but I like my name, too.
The following are (low-res) photos of the Zimbabwean women who received food and blankets from today's humanitarian assistance drop at the refugee camp in De Doorns. They were incredibly patient as we set up our operation and slowly gave out salt, beans, maize meal, and cooking oil. In addition to those living in the camp, aid was also distributed to the most vulnerable South Africans living in the nearby township, Stoefland. The off season for farming means all low-wage laborers are at risk for the next three months.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I have tasted heaven
Dear South Africa,
Thank you for your delicious passion fruit yougurt.
Love,
The ostrich
Thank you for your delicious passion fruit yougurt.
Love,
The ostrich
Tweet tweet SQWAWK
I like tweeting. Especially when the organization for which I'm tweeting has a strong point of view. And I'm given the freedom to push that POV with few restrictions. It makes Twitter so much more fun when there aren't what feel like a million rules and regulations hanging over my head before typing each and every character. Goal for the next three months: increase the number of people following the organization to be more than the number of people the organization is following. Starting numbers: 18 following, 14 followers.
Today my big task was organizing a press conference on the state of affairs at the safety site/refugee camp for Zimbabweans displaced by xenophobic violence in November 2009. I wrote and distributed the press statement announcing the conference; did follow-up calls to encourage journalists to attend; and organized other interns and volunteers to film, photograph, and tweet during the conference. I was feeling pretty good with four hours to go before the event started.
Silly me to think that the preparation was done. Silly, silly me. An hour before the conference was set to start, the boss decided we needed to have a team meeting to delegate eight tasks that needed to be done in what ends up being 47 minutes after the meeting ends. I never thought I'd miss the rigidness of my previous office, but I did at that moment. The team rallied and got most of what was needed done. It was a good bonding experience to work under that kind of stress. For the people who have been here for a while, it seemed that this is how things work. Not my ideal work style, but it'll be good for me to learn to be more flexible. And it'll be a continuing education for me about what management styles I want to emulate and those I do not.
It was great to actually sit back and get to enjoy the conference once it started. Only two journalists came, and they were both from the same media outlet, but they came! The speakers were great. One of the interns posted a LOT of tweets with quotes. I'm not sure how the photos came out, but some were taken. And now I need to go through my notes and write something for the web. I think the team's strategy worked really well. Even if outside media do not want to cover the important issue of the displaced Zimbabweans' ability to survive in the deplorable conditions at the rugby-stadium-turned-IDP-camp, that doesn't mean we have to accept their silence. We will use all available tools to make this issue known.
Other news: I have plans to go to a wine tasting festival of some sort on Sunday with one of the American University grad interns and her fellow grad students. I'm excited about finally having concrete plans to go the Cape winelands!
Upcoming news: Most of the team is going to the safety site/refugee camp tomorrow to distribute humanitarian assistance - basic food stuffs and blankets. I feel bad saying I'm excited to go, but it will be good to finally replace all I've heard about it with actually seeing it. I'll take photos and maybe video to post tomorrow.
Today my big task was organizing a press conference on the state of affairs at the safety site/refugee camp for Zimbabweans displaced by xenophobic violence in November 2009. I wrote and distributed the press statement announcing the conference; did follow-up calls to encourage journalists to attend; and organized other interns and volunteers to film, photograph, and tweet during the conference. I was feeling pretty good with four hours to go before the event started.
Silly me to think that the preparation was done. Silly, silly me. An hour before the conference was set to start, the boss decided we needed to have a team meeting to delegate eight tasks that needed to be done in what ends up being 47 minutes after the meeting ends. I never thought I'd miss the rigidness of my previous office, but I did at that moment. The team rallied and got most of what was needed done. It was a good bonding experience to work under that kind of stress. For the people who have been here for a while, it seemed that this is how things work. Not my ideal work style, but it'll be good for me to learn to be more flexible. And it'll be a continuing education for me about what management styles I want to emulate and those I do not.
It was great to actually sit back and get to enjoy the conference once it started. Only two journalists came, and they were both from the same media outlet, but they came! The speakers were great. One of the interns posted a LOT of tweets with quotes. I'm not sure how the photos came out, but some were taken. And now I need to go through my notes and write something for the web. I think the team's strategy worked really well. Even if outside media do not want to cover the important issue of the displaced Zimbabweans' ability to survive in the deplorable conditions at the rugby-stadium-turned-IDP-camp, that doesn't mean we have to accept their silence. We will use all available tools to make this issue known.
Other news: I have plans to go to a wine tasting festival of some sort on Sunday with one of the American University grad interns and her fellow grad students. I'm excited about finally having concrete plans to go the Cape winelands!
Upcoming news: Most of the team is going to the safety site/refugee camp tomorrow to distribute humanitarian assistance - basic food stuffs and blankets. I feel bad saying I'm excited to go, but it will be good to finally replace all I've heard about it with actually seeing it. I'll take photos and maybe video to post tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Getting to work
I am volunteering full time with a refugee advocacy organization (a term I've said a bazillion times in the last month) that works to protect the rights of refugees, asylum seekers, and all documented and undocumented immigrants in South Africa. The organization is attempting to manage multiple projects right now, which include creating a post-World Cup xenophobia response plan and pressing the Western Cape provincial government to negotiate with the displaced Zimbabweans living at the De Doorns safety site over a relocation plan. The team is based around a small core staff and leans heavily on the volunteers and interns, which makes for a hectic and exciting work environment. The small size of the organization makes it attractive because it is nearly impossible to not be involved in, or at least know about, everything that is going on. I am building on my communications skills by working on the media part of the outreach strategy as well as writing press statements, managing the social networking sites, and overseeing a restructuring of the website. This makes sense considering my work and education background; however, I'm hoping to gain more experience with the policy side of the organization's work, specifically plans linked to the De Doorns safety site.
Making a nest
I'm not sure if an ostrich has a nest, but I'm assuming since it's a bird, it does.
I've been in Cape Town (well, the Cape Town area) since Sunday night and it's slowly setting in that I'm here. And that I'm here for three months. The people I've met through work are warm and welcoming, which makes the transition easier. Since leaving on Saturday afternoon, I keep asking myself 'what am I doing!?' and thinking about what I left behind. It, of course, did not help that it took me more than hour to find my ride after landing in Cape Town. There were more than a few moments when I thought I was going to stay in the airport for the night. That didn't happen. Now, after two and a half days of working in the office and making the guest house in which I'm staying feel homey, I feel better about my decision and more focused about what I want from my stay here.
I've been grocery shopping, which turned out being a surprisingly emotional trip; cooked a pretty delicious meal with my limited kitchen; started reading 'The Ascent of Money'; and practiced yoga. And now I'm blogging. My plans to keep me occupied while living alone are working. But it's only been three days, so this might not last.
I've been in contact with the Couchsurfing people with whom I stayed last summer and have tentative plans for getting coffee and drinks. I have plans to go to Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock (a train ride away) on Saturday with a Simmons student who did her spring semester at the University of Cape Town. I have lunch plans with two interns - Master's candidates at American University in the International Peace and Conflict Resolution program - tomorrow. And I have plans to play pub quiz (pub trivia for those not up on the South Africa lingo) next week with a coworker and some of her friends. My fear of not having or making any friends here is dissipating.
I'm not sure if I'll stay at the guest house the whole time I'm here. It seems to be rejecting me. I thought the toilet was broken, but later learned that you have to turn on a faucet every time you need to flush. After trying to use the space heater I found in a closet (there is no heat here), all the plugs stopped working; thankfully, this problem is fixed. The light bulb in the bathroom died. None of the windows close entirely. Wet towels refuse to dry. Maybe I need more time to adapt to my new space, but I don't think it likes me. But the main reason for seeking another place to live, aside from wanting roommates, is that I live next to the office (actually attached to it), which means the line between professional and personal time is blurred. I think I am going to need more space than the guest house provides.
While it's not home, I think life here will do as a makeshift replacement for three months.
I've been in Cape Town (well, the Cape Town area) since Sunday night and it's slowly setting in that I'm here. And that I'm here for three months. The people I've met through work are warm and welcoming, which makes the transition easier. Since leaving on Saturday afternoon, I keep asking myself 'what am I doing!?' and thinking about what I left behind. It, of course, did not help that it took me more than hour to find my ride after landing in Cape Town. There were more than a few moments when I thought I was going to stay in the airport for the night. That didn't happen. Now, after two and a half days of working in the office and making the guest house in which I'm staying feel homey, I feel better about my decision and more focused about what I want from my stay here.
I've been grocery shopping, which turned out being a surprisingly emotional trip; cooked a pretty delicious meal with my limited kitchen; started reading 'The Ascent of Money'; and practiced yoga. And now I'm blogging. My plans to keep me occupied while living alone are working. But it's only been three days, so this might not last.
I've been in contact with the Couchsurfing people with whom I stayed last summer and have tentative plans for getting coffee and drinks. I have plans to go to Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock (a train ride away) on Saturday with a Simmons student who did her spring semester at the University of Cape Town. I have lunch plans with two interns - Master's candidates at American University in the International Peace and Conflict Resolution program - tomorrow. And I have plans to play pub quiz (pub trivia for those not up on the South Africa lingo) next week with a coworker and some of her friends. My fear of not having or making any friends here is dissipating.
I'm not sure if I'll stay at the guest house the whole time I'm here. It seems to be rejecting me. I thought the toilet was broken, but later learned that you have to turn on a faucet every time you need to flush. After trying to use the space heater I found in a closet (there is no heat here), all the plugs stopped working; thankfully, this problem is fixed. The light bulb in the bathroom died. None of the windows close entirely. Wet towels refuse to dry. Maybe I need more time to adapt to my new space, but I don't think it likes me. But the main reason for seeking another place to live, aside from wanting roommates, is that I live next to the office (actually attached to it), which means the line between professional and personal time is blurred. I think I am going to need more space than the guest house provides.
While it's not home, I think life here will do as a makeshift replacement for three months.
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