From the past - South Africa

As I sit in my new office (we moved...or rather, I moved, with the help of a hired truck owned by Jesus. Who knew that being a volunteer required so much manual labor. At least I can tell you first hand that Jesus came to the rescue. :) ) in the Indian part of town, where you can buy a samosa on every street corner, and there are too many different kinds of curries that purport to be from the motherland, I realize that I have less than 1 month left to enjoy the South African summer before my visa expires, and I have to declare political asylum in a third world country for fear of returning home. (that's the politicized part of my subject...) Political leanings aside, I'm sure all of you will be embarrassed to know what is being said here about the result of our illustrious elections. In the cities, the newspaper headlines are posted on street poles to entice people to buy the paper. On Nov. 4, 2 prominent headlines read as follows: "Bush Wins - Guns, Gays and God Swung It" "US Gives World Finger" I have been having a fabulous time travelling lately.

For 3 weeks inAugust and September, I travelled to rural Mozambique (wheremosquitoes outnumber people, deadly snakes abound, and I was given atent to sleep in), the most popular holiday town in South Africa along the Indian Ocean coast, and Cape Town, for work. I have been interviewing our fellows, people who have innovative and highly impactful social development projects, to assess the possibility of partnerships with the private sector to benefit the poorest of the poor. And, I got to go to some pretty cool places to do it!

And then, Mom and Dad Shah came to visit, and in less than two weeks,we managed to visit relatives, lions, baboons, whales, penguins,dolphins, Nelson Mandela's prison cell, the Indian and Atlantic Oceans and, because for some unfortunate reason I felt this was important, various social projects around the country, the grime and dirt of Johannesburg's inner city, a single parent with HIV, and the ritziest shopping complex in South Africa. After nearly 30 years of marriage, at least I know they will have something to talk about. :)

As a last hurrah for my roommates and I who have been living together since January, we took a weekend trip to the Kingdom of Swaziland, hoping to meet the king and his 17 wives. Instead, we amused ourselves at a "foam party" held at 1 of 2 clubs in Swaziland (which, incidently, is one of the best venues I have ever been to... go figure) and had a run in with a busload of french tourists who insisted that the Swazi craft vendors speak to them in french. The obvious language for a rural swazi woman to know. The upside to that was that when I negotiated with them in Zulu (very similar to siSwati, their language), they were so excited that I got some real bargains! Luckily for us, with 5 people in a Toyota Tazz (about the size of the old hatchbacks), there wasn't enough space to take stuff home.

Otherwise, I have been applying to graduate schools for next year, planning a trip to and around India this winter with some friends,and generally running amuck.

For those who celebrated this past weekend, Happy Diwali, Sal Mubarakand Eid Mubarak. Enjoy the winter. Don't worry, although it is summer here, it is ridiculously hot most days, with no air conditioning, fans, and cold water that never quite gets cold enough.

From the past - South Africa and the Police

[Letter sent to the editor of The Monitor newspaper in Johannesburg]

On Saturday evening, I was informed by a squadron of 15 police officers from 4 different units that it is a crime to be clever. In fact, my inquisitive demeanor regarding the nature of my alleged crime prompted these officers of the law to verbally threaten me, threaten to break down the gate to the house, and, once I unlocked the gate, roughly handcuff me behind my back and instruct me to climb into the back of the police van. The initial reason for their arrival was due to supposed excessive noise, as a small party was underway, thrown by my housemates and myself, all of us volunteers for South African non profit organizations. Although all music was turned off after the police informed me of the reason for their visit, this did not satisfy them, and they demanded that I open the gate. I asked them what the reason was, and was informed that merely wishing to understand their rationale constituted obstruction of justice. We suspected that they wished to confiscate the music system, something we did not want to occur since it had been borrowed from a friend. As I continued to ask them what reason they had for wanting entry to a private home when the reason for their presence had been dealt with, they became increasingly belligerent, threatening to break down the gate, and calling for backup.

What transpired was a quiet street in Melville, filled with police cars from Brixton Murder and Robbery, Hillbrow, the Flying Squad and the Dog Squad standing down a woman who merely wanted to make sure her rights were not being violated. As they began to take a crowbar to the gate, I realized that as unpaid volunteers, the last thing we would be able to do is pay for a new metal pedestrian gate. My roommates and I made the decision to allow the police in, but only after we would record their names, units and badge numbers.

Alas, this proved to be another bit of cleverness that went unappreciated. I was told, “You watch too much TV. This isn’t New York. We don’t have badge numbers.” As I was unsure if this was true or not, I proceeded to ask for their names and units. Only after a further several minutes of wrangling, with more threatening comments from the officer (who turned out to be from the dog squad) displaying his prowess in front of our party guests, many of whom work at other local non profit organizations such as Lawyers for Human Rights, IDASA and even a guest from the SAPS, were 2 of 15 names given.

Unfortunately, this introduction into local law enforcement did not end once they saw that all music equipment was disconnected, the guests numbered no more than 20 adults, and no illegal activity was occurring on the premises. Many of the officers loitered in the house for a further 30 minutes, while I was arrested for “having attitude” and waited at the station, handcuffed, trying to understand the nature of the crime I had committed and the procedures which would follow. These entailed 4 separate officers continuing to threaten me and tell me I was too clever, and that this would show me that the police in SA had power. I was told that even though I was educated, the officer was the one with the gun and the one in control. My compliant actions and genuine questions meant that I didn’t respect the law, and now that he would show me his power, threatening to lock me up for the night, I would respect him. I was also told that this wasn’t 10 years ago as I would be in much worse shape, and that I was keeping them away from people who really needed help. I do not recall in any way, seeing the need for officers from 4 different units, including Hillbrow, where surely a Saturday night would not be dull, to descend on my house. While I was being held at the Brixton station, a man walked in, bleeding profusely, seeking help. He was told that he must return when he is sober. There were at least 8 officers in the station chatting. Surely, one of them could have taken the time to speak with him or even give medical attention.

There is no doubt in my mind that my rights were violated. The police took advantage of individuals who were not aware of all of their rights, and, through an intimidating show of force, gained entry into a private home without a reason or a warrant. The verbal abuse liberally dished out as I asked polite, simple questions such as their names and units, or the reason for why they might break down a gate was not only uncalled for, it will prove to permanently impede my ability to respect the officers of the South African Police. Perhaps after sensitivity training to deal with xenophobia, the police must be taught that respect cannot be demanded, but must rather be earned.