The Other Side

I decided it was time to share another side of South Africa. Till now, most of my stories have been of my enjoyable, optimistic experiences. I often see sadness and desperation, but then find it hard to recount it through writing. However this is the bigger part of life for many people here. So I believe it’s important to share it.

Background: The Townships
(as a disclaimer, I just want to say I really don’t know a lot about the History of SA. This is what I’ve gathered through conversation and a lot may be fairly subjective. Please feel free to comment or correct me if you see obvious errors! )

I suppose I really should explain what the townships are like. In other countries, like Zambia, they are called “compounds”. Here they are the areas where either the ‘blacks’ or the ‘coloureds’ live rather exclusively. Please not that the term ‘coloured’ is not offensive in SA and refers to either a lighter-skinned black person or a person of mixed ethnicity. During Apartheid (60’s and 70’s up until a mere 15 years ago), those residing in the townships could not leave without a pass. A pass was given for work which for men usually meant mining, for women, housekeeping. Work within the townships was possible, for example as a street vendor, but there wasn’t much option (still isn’t - unemployment in townships generally stands around 65-75%). Once the “walls of apartheid” came down” inhabitants could leave the townships freely but there was no proper transition for these millions of people into the change that had occured in the cities during all those years of segregation. Is it any wonder they couldn’t didn’t have the skills or the knowledge to that would lead to success in this new world?

Let me take a step back and describe the living conditions in a township. It consists of thousands of houses packed into incredibly close proximity. The houses are usually either tiny concrete buildings or “shacks”: houses with walls of scrap metal, wood or poster board and usually a roof of sheet metal on top. Some have running water, some use the communal toilets and taps scattered every so often within their section. There are often intricate systems of spliced wiring in place; electric cables of multiple colours sweeping overhead on different streets like a ticker tape parade. The wires are kept high by long tree branches. I asked a co-worker if the government has come along and tried to take it down. He said they don’t bother because they know “one day they take down the wires, the next day, they will be up again.”

If you drive out of Cape Town, the townships begin just outside what I suppose are the city limits; like a desolate suburbia that stretches on for miles. Children play soccer on every inch of space available. Up close, it looks like a happy, though impoverished, place. People laughing, dancing and hugging, goats wandering through the streets, music blaring from God knows where. But when you take a step back and look at the enormity of this third world, it can become overwhelming, depressing, infuriating, incapacitating… and ultimately, completely embarrassing that we as humans have allowed this to happen.

The Townships and me.
As you probably know, I’ve been the only intern in Cape Town up until recently. I never had the comfort of being in a group. This site also lacks much of the infrastructure the other sites already have.

Like a car.

This means I usually can’t be in the townships to ensure the program that is already in place, is being carried out correctly or at all. I should be in the townships of Khayelitsha and Philippi often, meeting at least once a week with our trainers, going to the schools to observe what is happening, looking for new schools to run our program in the new school year and figuring out the logistics of setting up a street league. (This is the bulk of the job for the interns in the other South African sites). Even with a car, this would all take place with the accompaniment of my trainers who live in Khayelitsha.

My First Trip
Back in October, I was completely frustrated at working in the office and I decided I would take a chance and get myself out to Khayelitsha with my co-worker, Lubabalo (Babs). We had scheduled a meeting with our trainers (some of whom I hadn’t even had the chance to meet). We went to the main station in Cape Town, got into a minibus and started off along the highway, to his home.

We chatted through most of the trip (about 30 mins when the traffic is good) but were interrupted about halfway along when we saw a fire blazing out of control along the other side of the highway. Two shacks were burning wildly and I could see the residents huddled up on a hill, watching everything they had in the world, disappear. I thought about this situation in North America: a fire devastates a family which loses a lifetime of photos, souvenirs amongst other things. But they have insurance, savings, and family or friends who can actually afford to help us out a little when disaster strikes. I asked Babs what would happen to the family we were looking at on the hill. He told me they would live with friends and neighbours and a meal for one would become a meal for two until they got back on their feet. “They will probably stay with relatives – that’s what I did.”

I furrowed my brow as I imagine I often do – it’s hard to understand the quick, muffled English of a Xhosa speaker. It was true – Babs’ own shack had burned down in June 2006. He was still living on his sister’s property.

When we arrived I saw that Babs (or someone) had constructed a meagre dwelling out of mostly scrap metal. He had water and electricity and it was even divided into 2 rooms, a bedroom and a kitchen/everything else room. His sister had a concrete home next door. Babs said after his home burned down he only had the clothes on his back. The non-profit organization he had been working for 2-3 years, could only give him 150 rand (about $20) and a couple of t-shirts. He stayed with his girlfriend and I could see now that he’s nearing 30, he wishes he had more to give her… and more to show for himself.

Khayelitsha
Obviously Babs’ house didn’t provide a formal setting for our meeting (we sat on milk crates in a small room that doubled as a kitchen and living room) but it was productive nonetheless. It was great to finally see all of the trainers together! The usually couldn’t afford the $.75 ride into the city). They were all happy that I had successfully made it with no incidents!

Afterward Babs escorted me to the minibus stop. He actually came with me all the way through my transfer to ensure I got on the correct bus safely. Babs informed me that the bus ‘station’ (really just a mess of busses surrounded by food stalls) was the most dangerous place in Khayelitsha. It was still light and to be honest I didn’t feel that uncomfortable. Although I must say, Babs was constantly looking around and seemed pretty nervous.

Anyway, on that day, if you look at “the facts”, nothing happened. I didn’t even feel that scared. But, as many people have confirmed for me, there is always someone watching your every move, wondering what you’re carrying in your bag or what’s in your pocket. If there is an ‘incident’ it is usually opportunistic crime. Meaning, the perpetrator isn’t our usual definition of a ‘bad’ person waiting on the street corner looking for someone to score from. It may be their first crime. Desperation can make people do impulsive things.

Why I went back to this story …
I originally wrote this entry shortly after that trip and always meant to go back, read it with fresh eyes and ensure I was painting the proper picture. I got busy, had more exciting and positive experiences to log in, and so I basically let it sit. Recently, I was mugged for first time outside our offices downtown. The guy only got a phone I had borrowed from Ryan and I wasn’t hurt. But it shook me up a lot. Suffice it to say that the incident has changed me and certainly changed the feel of my experience here. Crime is a part of life in South Africa. One I was really hoping I wouldn’t be involved in, but just like HIV, when it affects one it affects us all. I’m hoping to use this as a chance to renew my faith in the work I’m doing, turn a negative situation into something positive. But it’s hard and until I really figure out how I feel, writing is the best I can do.

The one thing I ask is that you take a minute to be grateful for something those of you in North America probably have more of than you realize: safety and security. It’s certainly something I didn’t give too much thought too previously, but something I hope never to take for granted again.

Back from Zambia

G'day

just got back from Zambia - what an amazing experience. I must say, it wasn't all roses. For starters, my living situation was pretty scummy at best. Filthy would be an appropriate word. And I don't know if any of you have heard but there's a major energy crisis is Southern Africa at the mo, which meant large chunks of time with no power. Taking a cold shower is not fun at the best of times, let alone in the dark.

But aside from having an amazing time visiting interns and getting to see Victoria Falls (pictures to come!) I was thoroughly impressed with our training course. "Master Trainers" training course to be exact. Yes, I am now a certified "Master Trainer." I will explain more of that when I really get to know what it means :) We went back and forth between improving the Grassroot Soccer curriculum, team building and exercises in "thinking outside the box", which I loved.

Just wanted to let everyone know that I made it back safe and sound! and here's a little side "small world" story that rivals the one of seeing my ex-Mcgill teamate in the middle of a lake in Taiwan:

I went to see Zambia get annialated 5-1 (vs Cote D'Ivoire I think) last week at a bar in Lusaka. I was sitting next to a friend when I overheard "Canadian" and turned to see her about to intro me to another ex-pat in the crowd. He said "what part of Canada?" to me and I said Halifax. I got a raised eyebrow to the extent that I thought he was one of those snobby Toronto types that forgot Canada had an East Coast but then he said "where'd you go to High School?" I said QE and it turned out he went to St Pats (across the street from QE). I didn't recognize him so I said, " Well I live down the Purcells's Cove Road so I wasn't even supposed to go there". I got 2 raised eyebrows this time and he said he lived on Parkhill Drive (about a 10 minutes walk from where I grew up).

To make a long story short- this guys' name is Nico, he went to school with my brothers and I went to school with his sister Rachel. He's been to my house, met my mom, and I'm pretty sure I can remember him as a little kid. SO BIZARRE. In the middle of Zambia, I meet someone from home. We probably know about 200 people in common.

I'll get those pictures rollin in. Till then ...

In Like a Lamb

Happy New Year!

just in case anyone out there is still reading this :)

I promise to get on the ball soon, however, today won't be the day. Things are slow for the moment in Cape Town. Basically everything shuts down in South Africa from December 15th - Jan 15th as half the population makes a long trek home (usually Western Cape province to Eastern Cape province) to see family. The schools don't get going till next week and even then a lot of kids aren't back yet. The kids who are here aren't settled enough for programs to start.

So that means we get going slowly as well. Grassroot Soccer took advantage of this lull (as it's similar around most of southern africa at least) to hold our Master Training of Trainers course in Zambia. That's where I am headed tomorrow! Some of you may remember me saying I was going to Zam originally and you would be correct. I was only placed in Cape Town in June. So I finally get to see where I would have been - a place that's a little more, well, African.

I probably won't have internet, or if I do it will be reminicent of the days of dial up. In fact, it probably is dial up. So I'll be back on my blog in Feb. No doubt with lots of pretty pictures. I'll try to throw something in here just to make this a little more interesting. Hope everyone's year is off to a great start, more to come soon!

2 of our 4 trainers in Western Cape, Wewe and Lele

taken the same day at a tournament in Cape Flats

Shangri-La

I love a good road trip.

That's why when GRS asked me to drive 10 hours to our central city location of Bloemfontein to deliver some supplies to our program I jumped on it. The other benefit of this little task was that the following day I would get to join the 3 interns in Bloem on a trip to Lesotho – a tiny little country entirely surrounded by South Africa, high in the mountains (the ‘low-lands’ are still 1000m above sea level).

With only 2 days notice, I packed a rental car full of soccer balls and jerseys for the trainers and set off from Cape Town. The drive was spectacular and I wasn’t bored for a minute, thanks to a random assortment of South Africa CD’s and Ryan’s audio book J Even without those I would have been fine as the scenery was unbelievable. Let me recount a few memories:

-some kind of large baboon-like monkey crossing my path then perching on the side of the road overlooking some mountains (wish I could’ve stopped for a picture!)
-road kill was not the usual porcupine or skunk but a massive 3ft lizard
-beautiful weather the entire day with only an hour’s interruption for a massively entertaining lightning storm
-the first Hobo I ever saw; not a hitchhiker - this guy was scraggly and just walking in the middle of nowhere… as I recently learned Hobo stands for “homeward bound” and I can say with great certainty that this guy was IT.
-missing by about 20 mins some kind of explosion of container trucks – I saw the skeletons of 2 Macks on the side of the road, possibly hit by lightning

Ok so the last one was a bit freaky, but as you can see, it wasn’t your usual Sunday drive.

I arrived in Bloem at 7:30 pm and was immediately off to a soccer game. 10 000 people in the stadium for a local Pro team – Celtics vs Sundowns.

The fans were manic. The quality of soccer…meh, not so good. But so enjoyable anyway. A little hectic in the crowd, had to keep your wits about you with so many people. Usually they play in the township and that's even more unruly but regardless we left a bit early to ensure safe passage out.

LESOTHO ("Le-soo-too")
The next morning we set off the Lesotho which was all the more incredible. As soon as we passed over the border from SA, we could immediately tell we were in another country. The landscape, the people, the clothes - all had their own flair. All along the country side shepherds tended sheep and there was an immediate sense of calm and well being. As though the word ‘war’ had never been uttered in this place, and the concept of hate would simply not be understood. Just as another gorgeous day was coming to a close, we were greeted with another storm; this time huge pellets of hail. It was practically a whiteout!

The people in our car to Lesotho were each from a different country!

This pic is from the border crossing.
Passports from the USA, France, Canada, SA and Botswana.

We soon arrived at the field for the tournament and helped set up tents for the next day. The tournament was soccer based but the main purpose was really to promote testing of HIV status. We had 14 tents for counselors to test individuals between soccer games. Seems very unorthodox to those of us from North America, but events like this work wonders for a community where HIV is found in every third person and there can be serious consequences to openly living with HIV.

The next day took off in a fury of kids arriving in 15 seat mini-buses, blaring music and ready for action! School teams (just a random assortment of students really) had a packed day of playing soccer and participating in GRS games which taught them about HIV. The thought of living with a disease as detrimental as AIDS is enough to overwhelm even the most grounded of people. Imagine throwing it into a family where a) sex is simply not discussed, b) promiscuity, though common, is absolutely abhorred and c) because of poor knowledge, an HIV positive status causes most people to assume you engage frequently in drugs, alcohol and sex with the wrong people. These factors bring a shame to your family unlike anything we could appreciate in western society. Living communally, as the great majority of people do in Sub-Saharan Africa, means you can be shunned from everyone in your life, left to deal with inevitably failing health on your own.

This is why we do what we do. We carry messages like ‘With help, you can live a long and healthy life with HIV!” and “We must support our loved ones through no matter what”. We break down misconceptions about how HIV is transmitted, and let people know that those who are positive are not ‘bad’ people. The games we played at the tournament explained concepts like the Immune System and how treatment medication (ARVs) work. Find the Ball explained that you can only know your status by having a blood test (readily available on that day!) and also let the children know where else they can be tested and receive counseling.

We Were Treated Like Royalty… Till Royalty Showed Up.

Between playing soccer, our activities and just getting together with other schools (events like this rarely happen) the kids had an amazing time. I can personally attest for this as I ran the feedback sessions at the end of the day :) All the students thanked us (the facilitators) and fought again and again for pictures of everyone to be taken together. Then, a special surprise came when a helicopter suddenly swept across the open valley, circled a few times and landed a few hundred meters away. The King of Lesotho? Well, I heard Lesotho’s Prince was there I am slightly embarrassed to say I remain unsure if he was or not. It was all drowned out when England’s Prince Harry approached the field. Some of you may know he spent some time as a volunteer in Lesotho himself and his charity had links to the event. Nice of him to drop by J

There is so much more to say as the weekend didn’t end there. In fact, that was only Friday! The other interns and I backpacked toward the center of Lesotho and stayed in mud-huts for 2 nights. Hiked to waterfalls, saw a local soccer match and generally had an amazing time! All to come soon… till then I hope this finds you all happy and healthy!

Hlala kakule – stay well (Xhosa)

What are you doing over there?

Beautiful isn't it?

This was taken from a township called Khayelitsha, about 30 mins from Cape Town.I suppose I really should explain what the townships are like. In other countries, like Zambia, they are sometimes called "compounds". They look like areas you see on TV when some B List celebrity shuffles through a community speaking about the Foster Parents Plan. In South Africa, historically they are the areas where either the 'blacks' or the 'coloureds'* were relegated to in the days of Apartheid (the '60's and '70's up until a mere 15 years ago). Khayelitsha is one of the more dangerous places in South Africa. Don't quite get that feeling from the picture though huh?
*(the term “coloured” is not offensive in SA and it refers to either a lighter-skinned black person or a person of other ethnicity such as Malaysian)

A book was recently published (by Penguin) called Khayelitsha - told by a white man who either lived there or spent a lot of time there. It would definitely be an interesting read for anyone wanting to know a real experience.

This is a good time to checkout my other blog at www.grassrootsoccer.org (see link in top right hand side of this page. I’ve just put in an entry with some good pictures and a pretty thorough explanation of what’s going on at this site.

Basically (as that blog says), things started off slow here with work. I did as much as I could, tried to think of jobs that would take us further, but with a lack of infrastructure, I kept hitting walls.

Saved
Thankfully though, and somewhat miraculously, Dr. Paul Roux found me and asked if I would be interested in working with him at the paediatric ward of the Groote Schuur public hospital in the city. Well, he ‘found me’ in his own house – I am staying with him and his family.

But the amazing thing is I was not meant to be living here in the first place. A series of fortunate events brought me here through other connections. It all worked out very well! I hadn’t even met him in my first weeks of staying here; he was away at a conference. On his first night back we spoke about our backgrounds and within minutes it was established that I would be perfect to help out at the hospital with a few projects.

My other job
Basically I go in with him a few days a week and work with either Ludwig – a German med student in his residency who is doing a retrospective study on HIV and tuberculosis or Kate, a former Math Professor at UCT who retired early to dedicate her life to public health. She runs a beadwork project called BeadsPositive which provides about 150 HIV+ mothers, who otherwise have no source of income, a chance to make enough to feed their children and pay for their medication.

Paul (Dr. Roux) is the co-founder of an amazing non-profit called KidzPositive which provides care for HIV Positive children and their families. He is also the co-founder of PATA – Paediatric AIDS Treatment for Africa – which brings together top researchers, physicians, counselors, nurses and pharmacists into a critical network.

Journalist extraordinaire
I have been invited to PATA's annual conference in Swaziland at the end of November, not only to observe, but to actually take part! I will summarize the proceedings of each day into a newspaper format to be given to participants the following morning (I can see a few late nights ahead…). Grassroot Soccer had already been asked to speak and we planned to send Tumie (our local co-coordinator from Port Elizabeth). Now that I am also going, Tumie and I may work together for a more interactive presentation!

I still am heavily involved with GRS Cape Town (which is why you must read my other blog…!). Hopefully this gives you a better idea of how my life changes every day and why I can never seem to easily sum it up!

World Cup Champions: Amabokoboko!

St Denis, France was the site of the 2007 Rugby World Cup Finals this year but you would never know it wasn't Cape Town! Cars were tearing around the city with flags (and passengers!) hanging out the windows, blaring horns every moment between shifting gears.

It was another big moment for South African sport however nothing will ever top their crowning achievement in rugby - winning the World Cup in 1995 after recently being invited back into world competition upon ending years of Apartheid. That year South Africa hosted the World Cup, Nelson Mandela, newly freed, was in the crowd, and the Boks beat the always powerful All Blacks in the final minutes of the match. It was a momentous occasion for the "new South Africa".

It also fanned the fire of a bizarre debate. Since the walls of Apartheid came down in the beginning of the '90's, many parts of "old South Africa" were done away with: the portraits of apartheid-era leaders in the halls of Parliament were taken down, the African national anthem, "Nkosi Sikeleli' Afrika" ("God Save Africa"), was conjoined to the old national anthem "Die Stem" ("The Call") and all the other sports teams changed their Springbok mascot. However, as SA was going to be hosting the World Cup, they claimed they had already ordered so much paraphernalia emblazoned with boks for the games, they requested they be allowed to keep the name for the tournament. Of course when they won, they were ever more reluctant to part with the name when the crowd for weeks afterward would cheer "Amabokoboko!" (our boks) through the streets. But truly, the rugby players felt they had united a nation... anyway, how could a deer-like creature ever instill feelings of hatred?


It split the National Sports Council along racial lines. One group failed to see how it could be offensive and the other remembers that white politicians once said "no black would ever be a Springbok". Some even remember the doors of their houses being kicked in by infantrymen who had a springbok on their badges. Obviously something they'd rather forget.

Some saw keeping it as a conciliatory gesture to Afrikaners, a small token they could keep since the amount of Afrikaans spoken on television has been cut sharply and Afrikaans schools are under pressure to include more black students and instruction in English.

It's all a very similar argument to that of the American First Nation people and the Atlanta Braves. I guess it just comes down to how seriously you link sport and the symbols representing it. If you really wanted to properly illustrate rugby, something should be chosen that portrays the broken bones, blood and concussions rather than the grace of a gazelle bounding across the open plain.

Cold Canadian in Africa

It is spring and it is 8 degrees and windy in South Africa.

When I told people in the townships I was from Canada, they always replied: "Oooooo! So COLD there!" to which I replied "Not always, in fact, the weather is usually about the same temperature as it is here now". This nearly always yielded a response of astonishment of such utter disbelief I can only compare it to the scene in Borat when the American man in driving Borat says that women have the right to say no to sex and Borat says "WHHAAAAATT?!?!"

Suffice it to say, people think Canada is always cold.

Anywho, the low temp is not taking away from my enjoyment of this experience. Here are some random pictures and for some more substantial info on my job, please see my posting at www.grassrootsoccer.org

RANDOM PICTURES!!!

the countdown is on....

a mere 996 days till World Cup kickoff in South Africa.

Well that was the day I arrived so more like only 975 now!

These giant Dooms-Day-esque countdown devices can be seen at all airports in South Africa. I believe them to be slightly altered 1976 Microsoft throw-backs generously donated by the Gates Foundation.




Me with Ryan's little boy, Jamie, first thing in the morning, hanging out in the Janks' home.








This is ithe Seapoint/Clifton area of Cape Town where I go running.







Note: the wind is not blowing here. It is just usually so windy that the trees have given up all hope and simply grown sideways.

This is Siya (center), a head trainer in Port Elizabeth, facilitating an information session with our Trainers in Training

Here, our new Trainers are learning "Find the Ball." A Key Message of this game is that you cannot tell who has HIV/AIDS by a person's appearance, just as in the game you cannot tell by looking who has the ball.

Siya with the new trainers on the field outside the school in the township of Zwide (pronounced 'Zwee-day') our primary site.

Trainers playing "HIVAttacks!" where we explain how the immune works, how HIV compromises it and what role ARVs (anti-retroviral drugs) play in suppressing the virus.

2 Trainers: Mesta and 'Afro' (our poet) whom I wrote about in the 'Graduation' post

ark