First Day - May be offensive to those who are comfortable with their lives

The first place we stopped at was the Imizamo Yethu Township.  Kevin has often asked what “Imizamo Yethu” means but said he’s gotten about six different answers.   The way to the township is what I would describe as the best contrast between South Africa’s rich and poor.  The difference can be seen literally across the street.  On one side of the road were modern homes with lots of glass, Mercedes, Audis, BMWs, stables to take horses on the beach and lots of concrete complete with state-of-the art security and ADT Armed Response stickers posted next to every gate and window.  Every time I come back to my flat I have to unlock 5 different locks at three different locations.  On the other side of the road was a high chain link fence (the area used to house wildlife, something I found highly ironic) behind which there were steel shipping crates, crudely erected structures of tin, dirt and mud, and people just standing around on the street doing nothing.  First punch in the stomach?  Check.  I hadn’t even gotten out of the bakkie yet.

Kevin gave me a quick tour of the township, taking me to some pretty bad parts.  We did not go to what he described as the worst part although I am not sure why.  I figured maybe because the “road” looked to be pretty much decayed or because it wasn’t safe for us, more specifically me, as Kevin is treated like a movie star everywhere he goes.  We went to the Oraanjekloof Primary School, which is exclusively all black just like the townships.  Only students who live in the townships go there.  The schools are not segregated like it was during apartheid but far too many things are the same.  Whites all live in areas ranging from modest to stinking rich.  Obviously the better neighborhoods have better schools.  All of the townships have exclusively black faces.  Of course the schools suffer for it because the income is less and consequently the kids suffer for a quality education as well.  I believe that to go on to high school it costs money to go if you do not live inside certain areas, which ultimately means the poor black kids don’t get to go to school unless they pay something ridiculous like 16,000+ R.  Not including school materials, meals and uniforms.  Fortunately the group I’m working with has had some wealthy volunteers from Europe who have become beneficiaries to some township students who have shown rare promise. 

While in the townships or school I did not meet a white face all day.  The Oraanjekloof “school” is a group of no more than 10 one-story buildings that have no heat or air.  Some buildings are the size of an average classroom, some are two or three times that size with the corresponding amount of classrooms.  I arrived there as some students were getting lunch.  There was one line, with one teacher multi-tasking as lunch-lady, with one ladle, serving one student at a time who had one plastic spoon and one plastic bowl.  Lunch was beans.  Just one serving of one plastic bowl.  I’ll save you the details but let’s say I’m very glad that I did not eat lunch with them.  I remember when I complained in high school that a Bosco cheese stick and sauce was the main protein for one lunch.  Second punch in the stomach?  Check.  I hadn’t even spoken to anyone yet. 

Every single student, and South African I saw my first day for that matter, was wearing an overcoat.  If you read the first post you know I don’t have mine.  Other than being the only one in short sleeves I did not get many stares that day and think I blended in pretty well.  I might have passed as a white South African to some, but anyway back to my day.

Apparently some time ago Nelson Mandela came to the school and helped open up another building that is two stories high, but Kevin and one of the main schoolteachers were conversing about how that the process has now become corrupt and that it isn’t going to be used the way that Mandela intended.  If Kevin says it’s corrupt then it is corrupt.  Other than an 80 something year old lady who runs a mission in Arlington, TX, I have never met another person so invested in the lives of the less unfortunate.  He knows the system and how it works.  Unfortunately, there isn’t much he can do about it.

“We have to focus on only the students that can make it,” he told me.  “Most of these kids want to be pilots or lawyers when they grow up but the reality of it is that they are all going to be laborers for the rest of their life.  The women will be maids or waitresses.”  How sad.  I’m getting to live out part of my dream right now.  Of course they don’t know that and their faces light up with smiles thinking of the future and then it breaks your heart to know that there is a 99% chance they will never get to experience their dream. 

This one stumped me for a long time.  What would I do if I lived here or taught these kids? 1.) Do you work up the guts to flat out lie to their faces and tell them that they can do anything they want so that they encouraged to keep working hard?  But if you help them build up their expectations and then they fail then it hurts even worse and then you are part of that feeling.  I can’t help but think that when you go around the room in kindergarten and the teacher asks you what you want to be when you grow up and you reply astronaut, or policeman, or whatever it is that although you probably will be something else there is no reason you do not have a legitimate shot to make it.  In America will not only believe but teach that with enough hard work, skill and determination that we can do anything that we want.  In South Africa this is not the case, as many times the only students who are given extra attention are the ones who will have a chance to go to a university.  2.) Or is it better to hit them with real life so they can start preparing for a life of poverty in the hopes that maybe something will spring forth that promises a better life than the one they were given and the one their parents live?

Depressing to think about, isn’t it?  I try to keep to my word.  In the words of Dr. Suess, “I meant what I said and said what I meant.”  So lying to someone’s face doesn’t sound good.  But neither does telling someone they will fail in life.  I think what most of us would choose to do is neither.  Stay out of it and not get involved.  Then you don’t have to make a choice.  We, me included, live our lives as if none of this stuff is happening and figure that it is someone else’s problem.  I sat next to a black South African lawyer from Jo’burg on our way to Cape Town and bombarded him with questions the whole way.  He said something very interesting that hit home with me when we were discussing how he copes with idea that South Africa looks very much like it did during the days of apartheid and how one could hope for a better future for his country.  He reminded me of something either I think I had forgotten or just didn’t realize until I saw these kids.  On a very basic level we are all human beings.  None of us got to choose what life we were given.  The good Lord could just have easily given us the life of one of those kids.  So why are we living our life like places like Imizamo Yethu do not exist.  Neither you nor I did or can do anything in this life to earn what we have been given so why do we act like it?  We live extremely comfortable lives in America and check these problems off as someone else’s.  Well Zamile, the kid who lives with his aunt and uncle because both parents died of AIDS, is my brother and your brother too.  Think it’s not your problem?  He is 15 and can’t read yet.  You can’t tell me that he did anything to deserve that.  That said, I believe in hard work and not being lazy.  But I believe we have been given blessings so we can use them to bless others, not so we can keep them for ourselves.  Are you using what you’ve been given to bless your brothers and sisters across the world or are you going to pretend that it isn’t your problem and let someone else deal with it?  If you believe the latter I encourage you to check out Luke 16:19-31.  If any of this offends you, I apologize.  Not because it offends you, but because the only reason you could be offended at the thought of helping out another human being is because you are feeling guilty if you don’t.  I’m sorry you would rather feel guilty than help out someone who was given less than you when you were born, that saddens me.  There is a way to fix that, get involved.  Any way you can.

This is not the uplifting read that you thought it might be but I have to live out my convictions.  What kind of person could truly feel one way but live and speak another?  I am truly enjoying my time in Cape Town and there is much to love about this city.  A lot of good people live here and there is plenty of reason for optimism.  I will post some of that stuff later.

Now that I have stepped down from my soap box, I will finish what I originally had written about students and education. 

Just because a student is slow compared to his South African peers doesn’t mean that he isn’t helped along.  On Mondays and Fridays Kevin and who is volunteering at the time will go to the Oraanjekloof Township School tutor students falling behind in class.  Notice that most of the kids I saw in the Imizamo Yethu Township have to walk about 45 minutes to get to Oraanjekloof.  Just recently a teacher requested Kevin to help with 4 students: Anele, Zamile, and Zama.  I don’t know who the fourth child was; I only made it through three.  Apparently we’re only supposed to spend twenty minutes with these kids at a time and I was creeping towards 45.  Anele is 15 and I ended up spending probably 15 minutes trying to explain the difference between read and read.  We take it for granted but really think about it.  The English language is hard to teach to someone who is using it as a second, third or even fourth language!  Zama is a 14 year old girl who is naturally Zulu learning English from a woman who is naturally Xhousa.  It would be like me learning Russian from someone who is German. 

Kevin explained to me that in South Africa, the unions rule the roost.  If they don’t get their way, they strike and there is no one to replace them.  The labor is hard and the pay is awful, making the value awful for the employee.  No one is running across a border to get jobs in RSA.  Because the pay is terrible for the work done, many South Africans find a way to cheat the system and draw benefits from the government.  Why work really hard and not earn much more than you can get from the government by not working?  Either way you are still going to be below the poverty line so why not skip out on the work?  It’s slightly less money but in the long run maybe you will be able to live longer since your health was never endangered in the mines.  One of the most powerful unions is the teachers’.  The education system in South Africa is broken, so they have a lot of control.  If school is supposed to let out at two, the place is cleared out by twelve.  You say, why is the state (province actually but for Cape Town it is the Western Cape) or federal government not doing anything about it?  I’m not sure who exactly that responsibility falls to, probably the province but I imagine that rather than fix it they spend their time arguing about whose fault it is.  Anyway, what to do?  Fire the teachers?  Yeah right.  Cut funding?  What funding, have you seen the schools?  Now, that said, the teachers do not take total advantage of this and not care about the kids at all.  I mean teaching over here is not exactly riding the gravy train and it would take an extremely patient and talented person to teach through what I saw on Friday. 

As for the kids, they are loud and often misbehave.  Most have been abused and act out in a way that screams for attention.  Kevin told me that about half the kids in the room have a parent or are themselves infected with HIV/AIDS.  A greater number still has probably been sexually abused in the townships they live.  The school is slightly more organized than the townships.  In the townships people just stand in the street.  Occasionally you will drive past a shebeen where a lot of money is wasted on liquor.  

Again, this is not a feel good post (you’ll have to wait for those) but people need to hear this.  You might occasionally hear it on the news or even feel like you should do something to help but because it makes you feel uncomfortable you bury it away somewhere underneath all of your own problems.  I know, I’ve been there.  But please take the time to evaluate your life and where you stand.  That is all I’m asking.  I’m not suggesting everyone roll out and come pitch a tent in Cape Town (that would be awesome though!) but just ask yourself if you could be doing more.  That is all, just be honest with yourself and with God.  Then have the courage to do something about it.