From the past - South Africa 3

I have once again returned to being a “productive” member of society. Since I’m sure all of you were sitting in your homes and offices thinking about how I’m loafing about Africa, I’m sure you’re relieved! J A bit of loafing has occurred, don’t get me wrong. After living the rural life for a weekend, our last week before work was spent going south, to Durban and the Indian Ocean. Durban is a very interesting city – the beaches and hotels there are touted as being very luxurious, but it didn’t look that nice to us. Perhaps elsewhere along the coast, the beaches are cleaner and nicer. However, I’m not going to complain when I’m near a nice warm ocean, so we did a bit of frolicking. The lighter skinned among us got positively crispy in just a few hours of African sun…it’s strong! Shaila, the other Indian girl in my house, and myself escaped from the beach to go and see what we could see about the Indian community in Durban. The Indian community there is probably one of the oldest Indian Diaspora communities in the world – long before England or America came into fashion, and possibly even before the emigration to East Africa.
We successfully found the Victoria Market, which is where many of the Indian shopkeepers are, where the largest mosque in the southern hemisphere is to be found, and where many of the buildings are named things like: Singh, Bannerjee, and Patel. It was pretty wild. However, once we got to talking to some of the shopkeepers, and just observing the area, we found that these people are clearly so many generations removed from India that they have scarcely any ties at all with their homeland. Aside from the prolific curry shops, we realized that this is probably our destiny in America in a generation. Many of the Indians came to South Africa in the late 1800’s, as slaves to work on the sugar cane plantations. Along with Malaysians, Sri Lankans, and blacks from Madagascar, they were isolated from their roots, and later classified under the apartheid government as either Indian or Colored depending on the whim of some government functionary. Due to the influence of Mahatma Gandhi, the Indian community became quite strong and spread out, and we even saw one of Gandhi’s homes in Durban, which also included a printing press where he printed the banned Zulu and Indian newspapers, and a sugarcane plantation. This home is now located deep in the heart of one of Durban’s townships (where all non-whites were sent so that city centers would belong to the white people), and during violence in the late 1980’s, was razed to the ground. It has since been rebuilt, and is in the process of being turned into a museum.
Aside from Indians and the beach, we also took a trip into Zulu country, into an area known as the Valley of a Thousand Hills. It is a beautiful area, where, interestingly enough, tin shacks have just as great of a view as the million rand homes perched on the cliff sides. However, much of the area is inaccessible to cars, and if you want to visit your friend in the shack down the valley, you first shout to them, and then start your trek, avoiding chickens, goats, and the occasional cow along the way. The local crafts are beautiful, and no one (read: my parents) should be surprised if I come home with a good collection!

Since then, I have found a place to work for the next year. It is an organization known as Ashoka, an international NGO, which has made it its mission to provide support and fellowships to exceptions ‘social entrepreneurs’ around the world. I will hopefully be supporting those fellows working in economic development and helping those who aren’t find ways to make their organizations more self sufficient. But that’s not the fun part. The fun part is the fact that my organization’s offices are located in what can only be described as a commune. There are 2 offices in this incredibly large mansion, complete with outbuildings. In addition to the two offices, there reside many people, and many more just come and go. Currently, there is a Canadian, a Brazilian, a Peruvian, a Dane, a few token South Africans, an artist, a writer, a masseuse, 3 dancers, 2 kids, 2 dogs and 3 cats. It’s pretty crazy. In addition, my daily adventures are seeming to continue, because getting there is no easy task. I have to take one taxi from near my house, and hope it drops me somewhere useful. I then have to walk 10 –12 blocks through the center of town (the center being the most crowded), and stand on another street corner, making the appropriate hand signal and waiting for a taxi to acknowledge it… this is because the ‘taxis’ are really minivans, which are supposed to seat 9, but which will not travel anywhere until they are filled with 15, often large, people. I’m telling you – the adventures don’t end. Yesterday, I had to walk for an hour and a half on my return trip, from my office to the point where I can take the taxi back to my home, because all of the taxi’s that passed by me were either full, or empty but cannot take passengers due to their union laws. And if you think the teamsters are bad, the Joburg taxi union has the harshest enforcement policies of any I’ve ever heard of. Should one of these empty taxis pick me up while they are going to their next destination, another driver may very well shoot them for picking up a passenger he wasn’t supposed to… all over about 50 cents.
I’ve rambled on enough. I hope all of you are doing well. Take care,

Nirali.


Housemates: At dinner for my birthday. Starting at the left and going around the table, we have Brandi from New York, Tizeta from California, Heidi from England, Eissa from California, Me, Shaila from South Carolina, Lauren – a new friend from Utah, Kelly from Maine, and Laura from Boston. Brandi and Laura have already been here for 6 months, and I just met Lauren that night, although she comes with good references!

Thousand Hills: A picture of the Valley of a Thousand Hills in Kwazulu-Natal. Note the fact that there is really only one tar road that descends this valley.

Exxon Camel: A picture of a partially shaved camel, found at one of the roadside rest stops on our way to Durban. This rest stop also had a peacock, a few ostriches, rabbits and some goats.

From the past - South Africa 2

Hi Friends,

You would think that after the adventure of the Rhino, it would be hard to top. And, granted, I have yet to be chased by any other wild animals. However, adventures come in all shapes and sizes, and, for me, languages.

After the rhinoceros adventure, me and the other new volunteers each spent a week in a homestay in Soweto. Soweto is the largest black township in South Africa, and was built during the 40+ years of apartheid rule, when black South Africans were not allowed to live in the city center, nor in any of the more desirable (read “with trees”) suburbs. It was the center of the resistance, and the site of famous student protests in 1976, which began the process of breaking the back of the apartheid government. Well, to say the least, there are still no people living in Soweto who aren’t black, so walking down the street, I got a lot of stares, and comments. Mainly, people would ask my host sister what I was doing with her, but they didn’t mind my presence. You can hear good ‘ole hip hop blazing everywhere, in addition to the local “kwaito” music. However, everyone in Soweto has a very neighborly attitude – they help each other out, share food, responsibilities for the children, without question – one of the major reasons that the more well off Sowetans don’t want to leave now, but would rather just expand their 4 room government issue houses into more comfortable and efficient homes.

The stay was capped by a braii (barbeque) at one of the homes, where all kinds of fools showed up – mainly to see the white folks, I think – and get their grub on. In fact, as the night went on, more and more people who at first were standing on the street watching, began to filter into the yard, and get jiggy. The beat was pumpin, and the highlight was a little 10 year old boy I’d like to call Mr. Bootie. This kid could shake what his momma gave him like no other (and it had to be his momma’s, cuz no 10 year old should have a bootie that big!). I have something to aspire towards, during my stay here.

We’ve had a week of zulu lessons, seen some local non-profits, including one based in a shantytown on the outskirts of Soweto, and then decided to go on yet another adventure. This time it was into the bush…seriously into the most rural of rural areas. (Note to family: I haven’t seen Vidisha, but the home, and village where I stayed are what I would picture Vidisha to look like.) We pumped water from a borehole, food is made over an open fire, all bathing and washing is done in tin tubs of various sizes, and to get anywhere, you walk down the dirt road. For dinner, we grabbed (the momma of the house, that is) one of the chickens which were in the yard, and, well, plucked and gutted it. Hey – it’s free range, all right. I don’t want to bore you, but I must tell one last story.

One of the neighboring homes had a TV, so we went there to watch a South Africa – Nigeria soccer match in the afternoon. Aside from the fact that all the little kids hid from me, and the (often drunk) old folks yelled at me in Afrikaans, this was the highlight. As we approached the doorway, I could see a framed picture of Jennifer Lopez in the room, and my host brother, Alex, was happy that I knew who she was. Then, from left to right in the room, we had framed pictures of The Cruxifiction, Jesus, 2 Pac, Ja Rule, J. Lo, Snoop Dogg (in a tribute to 2 Pac), and 50 Cent. Viva America.