Orientation

09/19/11 7:24 p.m. (Cape Town time)

                Over the past few days we’ve been taking in so much information it almost feels like drinking from a power hose. I arrived at the Cross-Cultural Solutions (CCS) “home base” Saturday morning with two other volunteers who were on the same Cape Town flight and we got the chance to explore the place before the other five volunteers arrived. We live in the suburban area of Rondebosch and it has the college town vibe because of our proximity to the University of Cape Town. This house is over 170 years and creaky, but it’s a quirky rabbit warren with a lot of hallways and the friendliest staff I’ve ever met. We were all here by Saturday night, and I can tell it’s going to be a really close-knit group. For the first time in CCS-South Africa’s 5-year history (it’s the newest site, India is the oldest at 15 years) there were no veteran volunteers here when we arrived, which means that they were able to do renovations while the house was empty, but we also will have to figure out everything for ourselves and rely on each other. Plus, in a house that holds 35 volunteers, we’re a pretty small group and many are staying for long periods of time. I’m really excited about the connections I’ll make with the local people, but I also know I’ll be bringing home some pretty meaningful friendships with the other volunteers.

                Yesterday, after an orientation on expectations and South African history all morning, we saw Cape Town in all its ritzy, beach-town splendor. Table Mountain looms over us and is brilliantly verdant in the sunshine, but looks like something out of a nightmare when the sky is dark and churning, like it was yesterday with the intermittent rain we had. “Night on Bald Mountain” wouldn’t stop playing in my head. We took a driving tour and got out every so often to take pictures of the glittering beaches with their cerulean waves. For dinner, we moseyed over to the V&A Waterfront, which seemed like a combination of the Santa Monica pier and Redondo Beach. I find it worthwhile to mention that I ordered prawns, and no, they weren’t 8-foot-tall aliens. Sorry if your proverbial bubble is burst.

                Today we turned Cape Town over and saw the darker underbelly. This year South Africa beat Brazil as the country with the most disparity between its rich and poor, and I believe it. We first went to District 6, which was established in the 1860s and was actually a multiracial community until the government decided they were going to have none of that in the early 1900s and forcibly relocated the black residents to the townships by demolishing their houses. Now only gutted foundations are left in a forlorn-looking green field. We then went out to the townships of Athlone, Guguleto, and Langa, which are shantytowns, or “shacklands.” What is politely called “informal housing” is in reality propped-up sheet metal with corrugated tin roofs patched up with cloth. Clotheslines bounce in the breeze. Children who probably should be in school play with boxes and empty bottles. Unemployed adults mingle or sit contemplatively. Coca-Cola advertisements seem to be ubiquitous here. (Apparently, Pepsi pulled out during apartheid due to sanctions and Coke stuck it out. Good one, guys.) We got the chance to get out in Langa and see the inside of one of the “new” hostels, meaning that it went up in the 1940s. They used to be occupied by male migrant workers who were from rural areas and would need to acquire permits to work in the city, and over 60 men would live in the 16 rooms. Now families live in them, with three in a room, each with one bed. What strikes me is that despite all the destitution in these areas, there seems to be more vibrancy and community here than in the more affluent sections of the Mother City. There is dignity here, from the man who kisses his three-legged dog Lucy to the serious little boy in Langa who smiles shyly when shown his picture on my friend’s camera.

                Seeing children today on our township tour was such a teaser for tomorrow. I absolutely cannot wait to start working in Home from Home’s Lizo Nobanda daycare. Home from Home keeps orphaned or abandoned kids in foster homes in small groups in their own communities, so it feels like a family. They work to either reconnect them with their real families or find adoptive parents. Young children from each of the six Home from Home houses go to this daycare, as well as other kids from the area—also in an effort to reabsorb them into their own community. They will all be under six years old and in need of attention and affection. I have the longest commute out to the Khayelitsha township, but it will be more than worth it when I finally arrive there after traversing continents and oceans.