Garden Route Tour

Garden Route Tour

This was the most eventful weekend of my entire life.  Prepare to be amazed. 

It all began with a 6 hour drive from Grassy Park to Sedgefield, a city in Western Cape.  The following events are not fabricated.  Everything that is documented on this post did occur, as is proven in the photographical exhibits attached under each event. 

1)      Big 5 Safari

After being cooped up in a stuffy bus for six hours, we had the privilege of stretching our legs outside in a nature reserve.  While signing papers, waiving our rights if anything were to happen to us on the safari, we perused the gift shop, went to the toilet, and applied an ample amount of sunscreen.  Then, we congregated outside of our two open top jeeps and were finally off.  The safari itself was wonderful.  Our tour guide was a savvy environmentalist and gave us plenty of fun facts.  We saw everything from rhinos, to hippos, to zebras, to kudus, to giraffes, and so much more.  The expansive land was filled with plant life and sprinkled with groups of animals feeding, grazing, pooping, relaxing.  We stayed on the dirt road, but still we were able to get very close to some of the animals.  The rhinos especially weren’t phased by our presence. They remained adjacent to the road even as we pulled up and parked right next to them.  We weren’t able to get this close to the lions, but still our encounter with the lions were wonderful.  The lions are fenced off from the rest of the reserve.  They are fed dead animals, and do not hunt even when faced with animals that would be their prey out in the wild.  We saw one male lion, as majestic as he could possibly be, and two lionesses, cleaning themselves and basking in the sunlight.  They were all absolutely beautiful and lethal, if they chose to charge our jeep.  Overall, the safari was super fun and informative, and I had a wonderful time.

 

 

2)      Lion Walk

After the safari, we had a lunch break, and then set off to a new adventure: a walk with lions.  Again, we signed our lives away on waivers that said that we recognized the danger involved in the activity in which we were about to partake.  We congregated after signing the forms and were given wooden staffs we had to hold firmly throughout our walk.  The lions had been trained to respect those who have sticks.  I don’t want to know how they learned to fear people with staffs.  I worry they were beaten.  ANYWAY, the lions were paraded around to various photo-ops by the trainers.  We trailed behind, gripping our staffs.  I had mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.  The lions were practically slaves.  Then again, are we protecting them from the challenges they would have to face in the wild?  Who are we to make that choice for them?  ANYWAY, the experience made me think a lot, which is good.  And now I have some nice pictures of me with lions.  Go cats.  Meow.

 

 

3)      The Market

The next morning, we went to a wonderful market in Sedgefield.  It was the perfect way to start the day.  The market was separated into two sections: the food area and the craft area.  First, I ventured into the food side to grab some breakfast.  After checking out the bounty of options, I settled on a waffle topped off with chocolatey goodness as well as strawberries and cream with a refreshing glass of orange juice.   I ate with some of my companions as we contemplated whether or not we would partake in the bungee jumping that would be happening in the afternoon.  It began to drizzle.  As an avid lover of rain, I thoroughly enjoyed the ambiance.  I was very content with the waffle and the weather.  Once I finished eating, I ventured over to the craft side where I made a variety of purchases of souvenirs.  I bought a leopard necklace from a lovely couple, some knick-knacks from a Kenyan nomad who informed me that he enjoys marijuana, and a wooden lion from a very savvy South African salesman.  The market was a great opportunity to meet merchants and taste some awesome food.  I thoroughly enjoyed it.

4)      Elephant walk/ride

Next, we drove over to an elephant sanctuary where we were to walk with elephants, feed elephants, and finally ride elephants.  We hastily snatched some smelly communal ponchos as we were chilled to the bone in the damp weather, waiting for our guide to take us to our elephant pals. After having a mini fashion show, modelling our ponchos on an imaginary catwalk, we were greeted by our guide, a funny funny South African man.  He proceeded to play a prank on one of the glappers, saying her clothes were too neon for the elephants.  He was very convincing.  She was just about to head to the bus to change when he told us that he was lying.  Elephants can barely see color, so there is no way they would be angered by a neon jacket and some bright shoes.  We all laughed and were impressed by his acting skills. So we moved out into the sanctuary and thus began my torment.  The animals again were being paraded around, in an enclosure far too small for them.  They did not have the freedom to roam or feed whenever they may want to.  They worked long hours entertaining selfish and ignorant humans who want to say they encountered nature in its most primal form.  NO.  Still, I participated, like a coward.  We walked with the elephants, with them leading us, trunk in hand.  Then we watched them do what the trainers assured us were not tricks, but actions that the elephants would do in the wild.  There was kneeling and blowing and head shaking as we sat in audience formation, gawking at the poor gentle giants.  At least they were safe and fed snacks for their work.  To be fair to people in general, the elephants that were in the sanctuary were rescues, so they are better off in the sanctuary than they would be in their previous homes.  Next we fed them pumpkin and sweet potato bits, and finally we rode them around a track (3 people to one elephant; one trainer and 2 glappers).  Just like the excursion with the lions, I enjoyed the activity because it made me think and made a good story.

 

5)      Bungee Jump

What do I even say about this? 

Okay, Anna, calm down.  Let’s start at the beginning.

We departed the elephant sanctuary and set off for the highest bungee bridge in the world, towering at a resounding 216 meters.  The Bloukrans Bungee Bridge is a record setting adrenaline hotspot that sees thrill seekers each day.  On our way to the drop-off point, we actually drove across the bridge we were soon to be jumping off of.  That was a very exciting moment.  We got to the registration table where we waived our rights and had our jump number and weight scribbled onto our hands with marker.  Next, we got our harnesses on, and then we waited.  You don’t just line up on the bridge; it’s far more organized than that.  You receive a specific time in which you are supposed to meet at the top of the bridge.  When our time neared, we all congregated and made our way over to the bridge.  How many times have I said bridge?  As the jump actually got closer and closer, the more excited I became.  I wasn’t nervous at all.  The walk across the bridge was treacherous.  There is a pathway on the underside of the bridge made of a metal grate that you walk through in order to arrive at the plunge site.  It’s more of a cage than a pathway.  And since it is made of a metal grate, you can see right through the floor to the valley, a whopping 216 meters below.  Okay. I’m probably boring you with my meager effort to set the scene.  The air was tense yet freeing.  The view was stunning yet terrifying.  My friends were jittery yet pumped.  Let’s move to the actual plunge site (that’s a phrase I came up with myself, so don’t go thinking that “plunge site” is THE TERM for where you jump off a bridge; it’s not).  We were given a brief orientation on what you can and cannot do such as you can party like there is no tomorrow (because there might not be if you take the plunge and something erm goes wrong) and you cannot smoke.  Yay.  Rules.  Then it began.  One by one, my friends were strapped in, were lead to the edge of the bridge, and were brave enough to take the leap of faith.  Then they would be hoisted back up onto the platform we were on, and that’s when the screaming and celebration ensued.  The response from those who had just jumped was extremely reassuring to my already calm and confident outlook on the whole thing.  After cheering on quite a few of my friends, it was finally my turn.  My ankle thingies were Velcro-ed on and I was all hooked up.  I took one last second to show some love to my friend JC who was absolutely terrified of heights and wasn’t looking forward to facing her fears.  I grabbed her hand for a brief moment and then waddled up to the edge, not thinking about what I was about to do.  With my feet bound and my life on the line, the two workers began their countdown from 3, signaling it was just about time for me to jump.  And so I did.  Without thinking, I leapt out into the abyss, surrendering to gravity, Newton, and the world.  The fall was, how you say, not fun.  With bronchitis and the flu gripping my body, I almost blacked out.  But the rebound, the elastic motion, the bouncing until you settle, was spectacular.  You feel as if you’ve conquered the world.  The air whips past you and you are invincible.  I couldn’t help but yell out, cursing those who have wronged me, praising everyone else, loving this life.  And that was that.  A worker dangling from a line came down and hoisted me up.  I made small talk with him driven by pure euphoria.  Then, back on the bridge, I was greeted by my ecstatic and proud friends who huddled around me, asking me how it was and how I felt.  After everyone had jumped, we took the walk through the metal grate cage back to land, feeling like absolute champions.  I had a celebratory meal of chicken strips and fries, and thus was the end of my bungee adventure.

6)      Cango Caves

The next day, we were posed with a choice on what we wanted to do.  Option one was essentially a petting zoo with leopards and other “wild” animals and the other was the Cango Caves a UNESCO site with stunning natural rock formations.  There are plenty of reasons why I chose the caves over the petting zoo.  But, mainly it was because I had seen enough practically domesticated animals that should have been wild in the past few days, and, as an environmental science buff, caves are my ish, and I had never seen any of this magnitude before.  The majority of the glappers chose to go see the animals, but some of us did choose to go on what is called the “Adventure Tour” in the caves.  This means that after the standard tour, you are taken through 4 very cramped tunnels, climbs, whatever else, to reach a deeper point in the caves.  The tour guide was a fun little petite woman with a precious lisp.  She told us the story of the discovery of the caves in the 18^th century, and about the different types of formations found in the caves, and about concerts that were once held on the site (they were stopped shortly after people began abusing the privilege of being in the caves by vandalizing).   It was very informative and I loved hearing about how all of the natural beauty came to be.  Then it was time for the Adventure Tour.  We walked deeper and deeper into the caves guided by small lights lining the floor, then embarked on the coolest journey.  Jimmying through crevices, crawling under gigantic rocks, sliding down walls, the Adventure Tour was spectacular.  I felt like a real explorer, delving deeper into the stony mysteries that are the Cango Caves.  I bonked my head a couple of times, but the bumps, bruises, and scrapes were well worth it.  This was easily the highlight of my weekend—even better than bungee jumping.

Camera was dead.  I'm so sorry.

7)      Ostrich Farm

Finally!  This post is coming to a close.  This has taken me weeks to compile as I have become far busier since the switch of projects from building to human rights.  But alas, that sudden jump in busy-ness is for the next post.  Right now I need to focus on writing about the ostrich farm. So, my fellow cave explorers waited for the people who went to pet the animals for about an hour.  Although there were free refreshments at what was more like an ostrich country club than a farm, the wait in the lobby with all of the pretentious ostrich eaters did not give me the best first impression.  Often, first impressions are very telling of what is to come.  Once the rest of my group arrived, the tour began in a room filled with chairs set up in audience style.  A man came in and told us everything anybody could ever want to know about ostriches.  He even had visual aids like ostrich leather with the tiny pock marks for where the feathers poke out and an ostrich feather feather-duster.  So at this point, I was very content with the happenings of this tour. Next, we went into the incubation room where we were informed on the absolutely astounding strength of ostrich eggs (a decently sized human can stand on one without even cracking the shell) and on the incubation period of baby ostriches, which I have since forgotten.  Then we ventured out to see a miniature ostrich, which I fed.  Then we went over to a normal sized ostrich.  The tour guide made it spin around trying to get food, and showed off the flexibility of the neck (it can turn 360 degrees).  That particular ostrich can also give kisses.  You receive a kiss by putting some of the cylindrical food in between your lips, by making your presence known to the ostrich (ostriches are very dumb), and by waiting while the ostrich does the fastest lean-in you’ve ever seen.  When I went up for my kiss, the ostrich was so sloppy that my upper lip actually bled a little post-smooch.  Rookie mistake, ostrich, rookie mistake.  This next part is when it all went downhill.  It was time for a few “lucky” people to ride an ostrich.  I was expecting something actually humane, like, perhaps the ostriches wouldn’t mind a human on their rumps.  But that was not the case.  First of all, the way the ostrich was wrangled and taken to the mounting point was awful.  They used a stick with a metal loop at the end to capture the fleeing ostriches.  Their necks would be caught and they would lurch backwards.  It was terrible.  It only got worse from there.  The noises were heart-wrenching and the squirming was unforgettable.  They placed a bag on the head and led it over to the place where the human hops on.  It is not a pleasant stroll while on the back of an ostrich.  It is a frantic run, bucking, and twisting, trying to get the stupid human of its back.  I watched one ride, learned all this, and had to leave.  I left with my fellow animal lover, Mikaela.  We went to the gift shop and each bought a bracelet, symbolizing standing up for what you believe in.  Whenever I wear my bracelet, I think of those poor ostriches and how I was strong enough to leave the situation I was uncomfortable in despite whatever my peers thought.  And that was that.  Mik and I waited for a while for the others to finish watching the torture, and then we were on our way home.

 

 

 

W0Wow0WOW.  This post took me ages to complete.  I am sorry to those of you who have been waiting for an update on my life.  This weekend filled with adventures happens October 24-26, which is almost a month ago, soooooo whoops.  The posts will be far briefer from now on.  I just felt as if this one weekend needed to be in one ridiculously long post.  Coming up next, for those of you who are curious, will be some info on the new project I am in—Human Rights.  Expect that in the next couple of days.

 

I love you guys, and again thanks for reading!

Building Adventures

This post will have little impact if you have not read the post before this one.  In that post from 11/1 I talk about the building project in general, how it was introduced to me, the type of work we did, and how it affected me.  It was a lengthy post, and I didn’t want to bore you guys any longer, so I decided to save some building project stories for this post.  Again, it’s hard to convert these real, vivid experiences into words on a blog post, but I’ll do my best.  I have taken some pictures to help the cause and I’ll tack those on as we get on with the stories. 

 

Meditation

Before my journey, I had the privilege of going to yoga under the instruction of my seventh grade world history teacher Kathy Zetterberg.  Although I only attended three or four classes, I gained great tools on how to relax, center myself, and stay grounded, all tools that have been helping me immensely on my trip. 

As Deen, our Hindu building manager, is no foreigner to meditation and its wonderful effects for the body, mind, and soul, we asked us how we would feel about daily meditation before we began working at the site.  We all were very excited at this idea and eagerly awaited our first building meditation experience.  So the day came, and Deen’s son, Cash (our volunteer coordinator), lead us.  He told us to imagine ourselves as ships being pushed and pulled by the winds of all external forces in our lives.  He told us there is a social wind and your familial wind and your friends’ winds, etc.  He then said it’s not the wind that commands where your ship will go, it’s how you set the sails.  In other words, you control how external forces impact you.  That summed up our first round of mediation and we set off to work.

The next morning, Deen turned to us for mediation.  He called on one of the glappers who had obviously never had experience with meditation or yoga.  So jokingly he said “Everyone close their eyes and go ‘ommm’”, and everyone laughed.  Still, Deen wanted one of us to lead meditation, so I stepped up to the plate.  What happened next, I can barely explain.

It’s all a blur now, but I apparently told everyone I would be leading them in some meditation based off of techniques I had learned in yoga from Ms.Zetterberg’s class.  I then instructed everyone to close their eyes and to listen to the sound of my voice.  I asked them to place their arms at their side and gently rock from the balls of their feet to their heels while allowing their arms to move forwar and back in sync with the movement of their feet.  I told them to silently reflect on how it felt to be in the township, how it felt to be in another culture, and on how they all uniquely fit in to this township, this culture, this world.  I asked them to set an intention for themselves, meaning I wanted them to identify a goal, to think of something they could strive to achieve in the day, whether it be to fill 20 sandbags or something more spiritual like to learn how to work with others or try to really see and understand the others or to figure out how to see how they felt working in the township.  We then stood in silence, reflecting on what our intention for the day would be.  After I had given my fellow volunteers ample time to set an intention, I ended the mediation with a few words on grounding oneself in this foreign situation and on staying centered, at peace with oneself.

The response I got from those who participated was astounding.  Vash (the volunteer coordinator who gave us the ship metaphor the day before) called my yoga teaching “epic”, and many other people thanked me throughout the day.  It was an incredible feeling knowing my peers and supervisors appreciated what I had said and that it had positively affected them.

Deen spoke with me about making my meditation a regular thing every morning.  I was surprised that people had actually enjoyed my meditation enough to want more of it.  So it became part of the routine,  Deen would talk to us about what we were to do at the site and what happened in the township the night before, and then I would swoop in with my relaxation exercises and my speeches on staying aware in the moment and keeping your happiness first.

It has been wonderful being able to bring the group closer together through my morning yoga/meditation thing.  I hope to continue this practice in the next project, as Deen told me to do so. 

 

 

Kittens

 One of the days at the building site, I saw a cat with one eye.  Naturally, as a feline fanatic, I went to approach the cat and give it some of my love.  But, the cat fled for fear that I was coming over to hurt it. 

The next day at the site, one of my fellow global gappers, Matt, discovered 4 brand new kittens in the corner of a room we call the cool room.  He immediately reported this to Deen and soon we were all having a look at these incredibly adorable infants. 

I am sorry to tell you I was so wrapped up in the following turn of events that I was unable to snap pictures of these kittens. 

Deen was not nearly as excited as we were to have these new additions to our building site.  He was actually distraught and upset that these kittens had been born here.  He explained to us that the township is no place for animals and that the stray dogs and cats we see are being treated very poorly in the township.  I then explained to him that I had seen a cat with one eye the day before with markings similar to those of the kittens.   I told him that I thought that cat was the mother and that she had given birth this morning.  He then retorted that we needed to catch this cat and retrieve her kittens and give them to the SPCA.  This was hard for us to hear as we could all safely assume that this would result in the cats having to be put down.  Deen said that the township would give them lives full of pain and suffering and that perhaps the SPCA would be able to foster them and give them better lives.  We had to accept that the kittens needed to be taken out of the township even if that meant cutting their innocent lives short. Anything would be better than a kitten’s life in a township because of the lack of food, the dogs, and the malicious people.

So Deen took me and three other glappers to the SPCA to give up the kittens.  We had intended on also giving them the momma cat, but we could not find and capture her in time.  We had put the kittens in a lidless box with a blanket for them to rest on that we could also cover them with.  We entered the hospital wing of the SPCA and talked to the woman at the front desk.  She told us exactly what we didn’t want to hear.  As newborn kittens need to be fed every hour, the SPCA does not have the kind of man-power required to keep the kittens healthy.  She explained that the vet had the final say on whether or not the cats would live past that day.  The way she was speaking made it sound like there was no chance for these innocent kittens. 

We were all visibly upset, so Deen took the liberty to give us a powerful talk on life, death, and how everything happens for a reason.  He reassured us that we were doing the right thing by bringing the kittens in because their lives in the township would have been full of suffering.  As a devout Hindu, he spoke to us about karma and reincarnation and generally just made us feel better about what was about to happen.  Deen has a big soft spot for animals and an even bigger heart, so he knew exactly what to say in order to help us.  I am so thankful for him and his wise words.

After the talk, we spent some time snuggling the kittens.  Each of us, excluding Deen, took to a kitten, cuddling it, giving it the love and attention it deserved.  After ten minutes dedicated solely to holding the kittens closely in our arms, warming them, kissing them, we put our kittens down next to each other, creating a cuddle puddle of furry friendship and family.  Then, the SPCA people took them away and that was goodbye. 

I was left with an empty box, fur on my shirt, and tears in my eyes.  Deena, the three other volunteers, and I all came together for a hug in the parking lot, silently showing our support for one another in this sad situation.  The car ride home was quiet and full of reflection.

Those kittens didn’t deserve to die, but that is what needed to happen.  With the dogs, the merciless people, and the lack of sustaining food, the kittens would have had it too rough.  They are better off being put down.  This fact is hard to accept, as we are ignorant as to what happens post-life, but we can know that life isn’t fair.  Some beings are subject to worse conditions than others, and some would be better off dead, like those kittens.  Again, it’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s the truth.  I hope those kittens felt that they were genuinely loved by my fellow volunteers and me.  My thoughts also lie with the mother cat who will go into the cool room and find her babies missing, not knowing that they have already crossed over, passed away.  The mother cat has a better chance of survival, although she has already faced enough trials and tribulations to have lost an eye and to fear people.  She knows how to survive in a township, but would not have been able to provide for her unnaturally small litter. 

This experience has reinforced the ideas that life isn’t fair and sometimes tough choices need to be made out of consideration for what is better for others, not for yourself.  It has showed me that sometimes the sweet release of death can pose better opportunities than life.  This is rare in people, as we have the power to change our fate, unlike animals.  Moreover, it has demonstrated that you gotta do what you gotta do, even if it saddens you, even if it is upsetting. 

I hope I didn’t bum you out with that story, but that is life in a township.

 

 

 

Puppies

 There is a dog called Macy that lives in the compound which holds the community center for the kids we have been working in.  She gave birth to nine puppies, two of which were still-born, a couple days before we began work in Lavender Hill.  When we arrived, we met Macy and her brand new seven pups who still had their eyes closed.  A glapper named Marissa named all seven puppies and thus began our development of very close relationships with each and every one of these pups.

Life in a township is hard for animals from the lack of food to the malicious behavior of some of the people there.  Still, Macy has it way better off than most other mother dogs in a township.  She has people who care for her and try to keep her safe.  She has a steady flow of food from Deen, who everyday gives part of his lunch to the hungry dog.  But, a tiny bit of food once a day is not enough for her to be able to produce milk rich in the nutrients her pups need.  She will sit by her pups allowing them to breast-feed, but they don’t get what they need from the milk.  Deen says the puppies are half dead.  They don’t move around and squirm the way normal, well-fed puppies do. 

We have all formed our own special bond with these puppies and want them to live happy and healthy lives.  To help guarantee them this idyllic life, we all pitched in for a giant bag of dog food for Macy and puppy food for the puppies.  It took Macy a little while, but she finally got used to the food and began eating it out of our hands.  The puppies are too young to eat their food, but we know they are benefitting from the food we bought for Macy via her milk. 

As you will see in the next blurb I have written for you guys, a township is no place for animals, especially babies that can’t take care of themselves yet.  Deen explained to us that the only reason he has not relocated the pups is that Edward, who lives in the township and works at the community center, is planning on giving the precious dogs to his friends once they are old enough.  Deen said that some of these friends are gangsters and that he does not want to get in the middle of anything with them.  The dogs will just have to try and survive. 

The encounters we have had with the pups have been so precious.  We see the innocence and purity being bred out of such harsh conditions.  They represent a wonderful metaphor for life, and that is that even the darkest places can be brightened by the smallest source of light.  We can always find the light in the dark, find happiness when it may seem that the world is against you.  Those puppies may have it hard, but they are brightening our days.

 

Dead Dog

 Digging for sand one day in order to mix some cement, I found a dog’s skeleton buried in a shallow grave.  It was all there.  The jaw, the skull, the spine, the hips, the legs, even the tail.  Upon making this discovery, I immediately reported it to Deen to see what he had to say.

The first thing he said to me was a bit of a wakeup call “Are you sure it’s a dog?” meaning he was concerned that perhaps it was human remains I had found.  I assured him as I had seen the whole skeleton myself.  Once that was out of the way, he told me to put everything back in the sand in a deeper grave.  He explained that we were disturbing the soul of the dog.  The dog had not lived a happy life and had clearly been killed and buried by an unkind person.  Although I could not find any source of blunt trauma on the remains, Deen felt it was safe to assume that the dog had lived an unpleasant life and died an unpleasant death.

So, we re-buried the poor dog and went on building.  Such is life in a township.  Mistreatment of animals can be considered a norm in the South African slums.  With the abundance of gangs in the townships, one can easily understand why we are so worried about the animals.  If someone is totally okay with murdering a person, they probably won’t be able to empathize with a dog either.  One bark at the wrong time, and boom, done, life over.

I’m happy that this dog does not have to suffer any more, but still I am shaken and disturbed at my own imagination, at what this dog must have lived through.  Rest in peace, mystery dog, rest in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shootings

 In two weeks of working at the building project, we have heard of two different shootings happening near the site. When this happens, the protocol is, for regular volunteers (ones that will be at the project for months), to not go to work the morning after because the situation is too sensitive and the risk is not worth it.  But since the global gaps and I are only going to be on the site for two weeks, we still go to work, but only for half the day.  This may seem silly and dangerous, but the work we are doing is important and needs to get done.  We can’t sit idly by, wasting what little time we have in the township.

The first shooting was just your average gang violence.  This is not foreign to the people of the townships.  The violence is almost seen as business as usual, but for us, we were taken aback by the intensity of the situation.  A few days later, another shooting occurred at night.  Some gangsters were targeting a couple of Somalian refugees, killing one and seriously wounding the other.  Again this shocked and saddened my fellow volunteers and me, but Deen assured us that everything was okay and that we can do nothing but expect this. 

He is desensitized to the horrors of the townships as he has spent so much time in Lavender Hill.  To me though, it all just seems so unfortunate.  It’s unfair that I have so much and the people of the townships have so little.  Then again, I see the children playing happily and I wonder who am I to feel bad for these people?  They seem happy.  They have accepted the way they live and since they have done that, they are able to move forward happily. 

I’ve thought a lot about the differences between pity and empathy on this trip.  And the difference is that with empathy, you are able to put yourself in the other person’s shoes.  With pity, you are looking down upon that other person.  If you are able to understand, you are able to empathize.  And if you are incapable of mentally placing yourself on the same level as the person you are thinking of, you are pitying and you are in the wrong.

People are able to thrive in any situation, no matter how grim.  Everyone has their load to bear, their battles to fight, their lives to live, and everyone is capable of conquering the obstacles that face them.   Pity is never necessary.  When you are thinking of people other than yourself, always put yourself in their situation and then reflect.  Never look down on them because they are people too. 

The shootings are probably something I will never get used to, but I’ve come to terms with them.  I understand and I hope you do too. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are some pictures from the project

 

 Demolishing some steps in order to install the gutter to drain the water from the compound.

 

 Refilling up the hole we dug for the drain

 

  

My little friend Wayden playing on the playground.

South Africa

I’ve come to realize that red-eye flights are the way to go.  After two flights and a total of 8 hours in the air, we arrived in Cape Town, South Africa in the early afternoon.  The plane rides were fun as well as the 4 hour layover as we had each other to keep ourselves occupied.  During the layover, we stuffed our faces with delicious airport food and bought some precious cargo for the next leg of our trip.  I purchased a journal and a converter so I would be able to charge my electronics in South Africa.  We used the plane rides to get some rest, so, when we landed, I felt completely refreshed and ready for the new adventure to come.

We met up with a Projects Abroad representative and rode with her by minibus to our new home.  Our home is incredible.  The 16 of us (one more added on here in South Africa after missing Ghana) occupy 7 bedrooms and enjoy the ample amount of showers and sinks with flowing hot water.  Not only do we have running hot water, but we also have the luxury of a washing machine. And a hang out room.  And pets.  And a guitar.  And wifi.  Oh. I didn’t mention to best part:  the cooking.  We are staying in the home of a former caterer named Faye and her husband Aslam.  Faye can cook like no other.  And, she is the happiest woman I have ever met; her personality is electric and welcoming and we all appreciate her love and warmth so much.  Aslam is a jokester.  You ask him any question and he will come up with the most ridiculous answer imaginable and will utter it with a straight face.  He cracks a sly smile every now and then, but mostly he is stone, but a loving stone at that.  They are an amazing couple of people.  They have been receiving and housing volunteers from Projects Abroad for 15 years now.  And although the work must be exhausting, they continue to be the absolute best host and hostess.  They make this house a home for us and we couldn’t be more thankful.

 Our lovely dining room fit with scrumptious food

 

 My bedroom. I have one roommate

 

 

 Our bathroom fitted with running hot water

 

 The house is a bunch of individual compounds connected under a roof. This is where we hang up our clothes.

 

One of the 3, soon to be 4, dogs that live here.  This one is called Lady and is very old.  The other 2 are puppies called Blackie and Rusty.

 

I get to stay in this place for 2 months.  We are in an area called Grassy Park, in a neighborhood that is mostly Muslim.  Grassy Park is not the nicest area.  It consists of many townships, which are essentially slums containing houses made of metal and wood and other scrap materials.  They are built by the people who plan on inhabiting them, so they are made out of whatever the people can get their hands on.  In the township we work in (Lavender Hill), there is a 70% unemployment rate.  If you live in an area filled with townships, you are not in the safest place.  We will go out into town and people will ask what area we are from, and when we respond “Grassy Park”, they look shocked, concerned.  And when we say we work in Lavender Hill, they are even more surprised.  Still, we are safe inside our lot.  I feel at home here.

 

 

South Africa is a very interesting place.  The poverty mixes in seamlessly with the type of living we are used to back at home.  One minute you’ll be driving down a paved road with decently nice houses lined up, and the next you’ll be on the dirt roads of a township.  Homeless people are scattered around the more metropolitan areas and beggars have taken to the streets, asking drivers for some extra Rand (the South African currency) in order to sustain their lives.  You’ll find strange people hanging out in the more suburban areas as well as in the city.  It’s a unique dynamic Western Cape has with the intense social stratification and income gap.  I’m eager to learn more about this area and see what there is to see.

 

 

 

I’ve been putting off writing this next part.  I find it hard to articulate how incredible my experiences in the township have been.  I need to find a place to start so I can share what I’ve seen, done, endured in Lavender Hill.  Okay. I’m just going to see where this goes.

After a day dedicated to inductions in the Projects Abroad office that introduced what we would be doing for the next two months in South Africa, we were ready to actually head to the building site the next morning.  So we embarked by minibus to a place avoided by many, by most South Africans.  There we met Deen Singh, one of the most inspirational people I have ever had the joy to meet.  He would be our Building Manager at the project, our father for the next 2 weeks.  He took us through the building site and showed us around, stopping at the room for the kids, the library for the kids, the playground for the kids, and lead us to the area outside of the premise including the sandlot, the mounds of litter, and the rest of the nature reserve.  Deen told us the story of the township as we walked and led us outside the fences to the piles of garbage.  He explained the origins of the township and how people squatted on open land without any consent from the government, building clusters of highly flammable, unstable houses that spread and spread until they formed townships.  He told us about the gang violence and the shocking 70% unemployment rate and the appalling amount of water sources (a solitary spicket for 14-15 families).  The conditions are brutal from the violence to the lack of resources.  And there are a ton of children there.  We are building is a sort of sanctuary/day care for around 20 children from ages 1-5 that live in the township.  Some live with their parents, but others were abandoned or had lousy parents so they live with other family or with generous adults they aren’t related to.  Still, the kids are full of life.  They run and play and shout and love to cuddle!  Many of the kids don’t receive the love and adoration they deserve, so we do what we can to give them attention.  Although the township is not the best living arrangement with its dangerous conditions and cramped, claustrophobic feel, the people inhabiting them live their lives freely and happily.  After all, they have roofs over their heads and lives to live. 

 My goodbye picture with Deen, our building manager

 

 The litter and junk outside of the fences of the building site. People scavenge and burn their garbage out here.

 

  This picture shows the proximity of the playground to the mess outside of the site.

 

  The garden at the building site.

 The library for the kids

 The school room, which is also used for playing and eating.  The kids get fed leftover porridge from a nearby prison most days.  For some, it is the only meal they get.

 

 The inside of the school room, filled with the children

 The door into the restroom installed by Deen and some volunteers.  It reads "Projects Abroad (Associated Partner)".

 

So that was a high school graduate’s attempt at setting the exposition of a township.  Now it’s time to talk about the work we have been doing at the building site, which is located in a day care for the children aforementioned.  Under the loving instruction of Deen, we have been working on installing a gutter, and building and plastering some walls.  It’s a lot of manual labor, but seeing your work grow and grow as you build is such a remarkable feeling.  We have been working on the walls using sandbags and concrete and also on a drain that leads from the day care’s central compound out through the garden.  If you don’t want to hear about how we worked on the walls and the storm gutter, then skip the next paragraph.

Plastering a wall is a lot harder than you would think.  First thing you have to do is fetch sand--about 4 wheelbarrows full per bag of cement—and take it over to your mixing site.  For us, this involves going to the sandy area outside of the fences, digging a large and unstable hole going deep enough to find the “good sand” (sand that has no gunk or rocks in it and is fairly light in color), filling the wheelbarrow (we have just one because we don’t want any excess to be stolen), and then once you have enough sand, refilling the hole up with sand.  Next is the most strenuous part, mixing the sand, cement, and water to make a nice and strong plaster.  So you dump the sand and go get the ridiculously heavy cement bag and you struggle a ton while pouring it onto (or next to if you can’t extend the bag out far enough) the sand mountain.  Next is the ludicrous amount of water you need to convert the dry ingredients into a perfectly thick and moist mixture.  You pour and pour and stand there with a hose for probably 20 minutes while maybe 4 people with spades (flat shovels) mix it all up.  Boy is it heavy.  Not only are you at an awkward angle because you don’t want to stand in it, but the water makes the dry components weigh so much more than they did when they were dry.  The water gets absorbed into the sand and cement very quickly and it takes a ton of water, but after a little while, the job is done and you can finally get to plastering.  Plastering takes little skill and can be done by an absent-mind and a couple of hard-working hands.  There are a couple of methods, but the way I do it, I take a flat scraper tool, I put a little bit of plaster near the edge and smush it in a swift upward motion, scraping it against the wall, forcing it to adhere.  Then you do this over and over, building out the wall, making it stronger, making it smoother, making it straighter.  You do this process on a wall that has already been built, but now I am going to explain how we built those walls.  Well, we use sandbags and, you guessed it, plaster, to build up the walls.  It’s very simple.  You put a relatively thin layer of concrete down, stick some sandbags that we had previously filled on top, hammer them down to make them dense and flat, and put more concrete on top to begin the next layer.  Next you plaster the outside of bags creating the smooth face of the wall.  You have to fill all of the divots the layered sandbags create and thicken it up in some places to make the wall level.  Again, it is very mindless. The final task we were assigned to work on was the installation of a storm gutter.  We set off hacking up an aisle of concrete that has been laying there for who knows how long.  Then we dug up the sand that sat underneath the concrete and laid connecting pipes down at a slight incline into the hole.  We put two drains in and then carefully filled the aisle back up with sand and then covered it up with concrete (the same mixture that we use for the walls).  The drain leads from the center of the compound out into a garden, so as we were installing it, we had to be very mindful of the plants’ roots to not disturb the flora.  Sadly the two weeks we had in Lavender Hill weren’t enough to extend the pipe out all the way through the garden, out into the reserve.  The next batch of volunteers will have that job. 

The area in which we dig for sand to mix the cement and fill sandbags.  This is outside of the fence of the building site and is on the boundary of the township.

A wall we have been plastering as well as a bag of cement.

Sandbags we filled.  They will be used to build up a wall.

A wall with new plaster on it, some sandbags, and 5 spades (flatter shovels) are all pictured here.

This wall will eventually be a wall of a greenhouse.  We are building it higher using sandbags.  Sadly, we could not rescue the paintings of the animals.

A close-up of the top of the wall from the last picture.  You can see the sandbag is in the process of being covered with plaster.

We had to break these steps in order to insert the gutter.  We laid the concrete back down and re-formed the steps.  There is a drain under that wet concrete.

This is one of the drains that will lead water into the gutter, out through the garden, and outside of the site.

The work in the township, although strenuous and heart-wrenching at times, has been a wonderful experience.  With Deen as our father first and building manager second, and with the energetic and alive children running around playing, and with the team of volunteers joining together to work as a family, I have learned so much from the site.  I’ve learned about suffering, and being grateful for what you have, and about the harsh realities of life in a township and elsewhere.  I’ve seen children playing in garbage and I went to work even though there was a shooting near the site the night before (that happened twice in two weeks) and I’ve seen the malnourishment in the animals and the children.  You can’t do justice to experiences like these with words.  And I’m sorry about that. I wish I could express to you what working on this project has been like, what it has done for me and the rest of the global gappers. 

 

Selfie with Wayden, a very sweet boy who loves cuddling and pretending to be a lion.

 

I have so much more to say about the building project, so many more stories to tell, but I’ll save that for the next post.  For now, on the eve of the transition from the building project to the human rights project, I just wanted to say I’m excited to conquer the next challenge I will face, and although I’ll miss the building project, I’m sure the human rights project will create the same welcoming and fun work environment. 

I know I’m making change.

 

Thanks for reading.  Have a good one!