Transition

Last Tuesday night I gave my final presentation for my project. I met with the boards of each organization for an evening meeting at a country club. We met for two hours starting at 6pm and then had dinner. That’s right – I had to give my unfortunately long PowerPoint presentation to people who couldn’t wait for me to stop talking so they could finally have some dinner. Needless to say the meeting wasn’t as participatory as I had hoped, but I survived it.

After the meeting at dinner, I slowly began to relax from all the tension of putting on a final meeting and smile. Then I giggled. Then I giggled some more. And then I giggled in the car. And then I struggled to stay awake, I was so exhausted.

Wednesday was a super important day – it marked the transition from project to honeymoon. Justin landed at 10pm that night. All day, I could barely contain myself. I had to sometimes get up and walk around, just to release some energy. I hugged my husband for the first time in over two months in the International flight waiting area at Cape Town airport that night and haven’t stopped hugging him since.

Johanna of WCCF and her husband Eugene – the same two people who met me at the airport – took me to retrieve Justin. To commemorate my arrival, Johanna and Eugene took us to the Wimpy on the N7 (the road into the Swartlands) to get Justin some coffee – and tell him all about how when they took me there, I cried when I couldn’t get black coffee. Justin managed not to cry.

After the Wimpy stop, we went to the guesthouse where we were staying. It was incredible. The next day we walked around the farm, amongst other fun activities.

Olive trees and the view from the farm

Bright and early the next morning, we met up with my coworkers from WCCF and headed into Cape Town for a day of fun. We had tickets for an open bus tour of the city. It was fun for everyone – even the people who have been to Cape Town a zillion times. And it was a delightful, tourist-y feeling thing to do.

Us on top of a bus

After everyone else went home, we stuck around and went to the aquarium. After two hours of fish, sharks and penguins, we met up with Jane and David, our hosts for the weekend. They took us on a scenic drive around the city before we all went for pizza. The next morning we got up super early to see their friend/our new friend Vuyo play rugby on his high school team. Then we went for a wine tasting at 10am. Best way to start your day, for sure.

Us at a fancy winery with the same initials as me - KC

Then we went around the cape to see penguins and Cape Point and what not. Our camera (of course) ran out of batteries, but Jane and David helped us out with their camera, so we should get pictures at some point.

This morning, we went for a walk around the area where we have been staying and to one of the lovely beaches where people surf. We chatted with one of the shark watchers (people whose job it is to watch out for sharks) who told us there hasn’t been a shark at that beach for two months. Good news, because David was going surfing later.

Us at the beach on a sunny, amazing morning

We spent much of the rest of the day walking around Kalk bay and then having some local beers. Right now, Justin is taking a nap while we have some down time before dinner.

Eventually, I will need to polish my final deliverable a little more and send it out to both directors (who are happy with the draft I submitted), but other than that, my transition from full-time public servant to newlywed is complete!

FIFA Fair Play

I have accomplished many things this summer. Last week, my greatest soccer accomplish to date was a tie between getting a yellow card once when I was 11 and finally understanding off-sides by the end of this World Cup. However, over the weekend I blew those out of the water when I helped put on a successful soccer tournament in a little town called Newerus. I was worried at first because no one said anything about what we would be doing at the tournament until we were there at the field – but one of my greatest South Africa accomplishments is learning to speak/lead with very little lead time or information about what I am actually supposed to be doing.

I am wearing a whistle not because I had to use it, but to feel important

After driving around the small town until we found the person with the keys, we headed out to the soccer fields. The playing surface was a sandy dirt covered in litter and stickers. Quick cultural note: when I told people there were stickers in the ground, they looked at me like I was nuts. Eventually, someone said “you mean thorns,” and I said “I guess; they stick you, so we can just call them stickers.”

The first day we had 25ish participants. We ended with 24 because one kid hurt his wrist and went to the hospital for an X-ray. In my non-professional opinion it was just a sprain, but they called the ambulance anyway. Immediately, my American brain started worrying about liability and whether or not the kids’ parents had signed waivers. When I asked about waivers and lawsuits, no one seemed concerned or particularly aware of what I meant. I got the usual reaction: “Kim, you think too much.”

The tournament was set up like the World Cup. The teams were divided into the same groups as the World Cup, meaning the first game played was South Africa versus Mexico. This time, Mexico won. Actually, Mexico won the whole first day, so congrats to the pretend Mexicans.

Viva Mexico!

Our fearless leader on this soccer adventure was Stephen, a German guy working for an international NGO that runs the Wizz Kids soccer program. They partner with WCCF to find people to administer the program in the field then send in staff to help with big events like the tournament. This was a graduation celebration for kids who had completed the Wizz Kids program, a soccer-meets-life skills multi-month training.

Stephen actually got to blow his whistle

The second day we had two tournaments going simultaneously for 8 to 12-year olds and 13 to 14-year olds. I was a field manager for one group of the older kids. Being a field manager means that you watch the game and keep score, but you aren’t a referee. The kids are supposed to use FIFA Fair Play to guide their games – meaning they have to determine collectively what is a foul or when a goal has been scored, etc. The field manager only mediates when the players can’t come to consensus without them. Some teams understood this better than others, meaning I spent quite a bit of time trying to explain to a mostly Afrikaans crowd that I couldn’t possibly be a bad referee because I wasn’t a referee at all.

Fun on the field

The day started out super cold and foggy. Then the sun burned through the mist and suddenly it was t-shirt weather. The kids were generally pretty tough, though many of the girls didn’t wear appropriate shoes to play soccer. I was having a feminist crisis as I finally walked on to the field and told a particularly unparticipatory girl on Team USA that she should just focus on putting her body between the ball and the goal.

These kiddos weren't on my field, but they were adorable!

In the end, two teams from my field played in the final and Algeria won the whole thing. This team drove me a little nuts, but what can you do. Notice that they had ditched all of the girls on the team at that point.

Note that some of the Algerians were Mexicans the day prior...

I don’t know what country won for the younger kids, but I do know that I wanted to steal the goalie (kid in the hat) because he was too cute.

So freakin' cute

When I wasn’t watching games, I was telling kids to tie their shoes and pick up their trash. Apparently, I am well on my way to becoming my mother.

Everybody got a medal - but that doesn't make them any less special

It was a great weekend of hands-on service – the kind of stuff that connects you to communities and reminds you why it matters that you do all that work in an office. If WCCF and CDF Western Cape decide to jointly implement more of these Wizz Kids program, then my work will have led to more smiling, happy, skilled kids in the Western Cape. WOOHOO!

Soccer Madness complete!

I Turn my Camera On

During my time in Cape Town, I had the opportunity to interview a number of young people about their experience attending Photo Speak. One of the major programs delivered by the Community Development Foundation Western Cape (CDF), Photo Speak was adapted from a program in Arizona to fit the needs of youth in South Africa. It’s brilliant.

Photo Speak is a program that combines learning a skill, learning new concepts, and learning about community. Youth are simultaneously being trained to use a camera and understand their basic rights as a citizen of South Africa. Once they are prepared, they are taken out into the community to take pictures that they believe capture the stories of how those rights play out in the real world. They focus on rights like the right to housing, culture, religion, work, etc. Then the best photos are printed on giant displays and shown around Cape Town.

The concept of the program is incredible, but not nearly as inspiring as what the young people had to say about their experience. They talked a lot about self esteem and confidence and empathy; but what resonated most with me was how they talked about the community. I asked how they saw their community differently, and below is the paraphrased response I got from one girl:

Everything was different after this. Before, when I would walk around my community, I wouldn’t see anything. But once I had to start looking through a camera lens, I noticed what I had never seen before. I saw the people and I saw the problems. I saw my community.

This was really powerful. The girl lives in a neighborhood that is so dangerous, the GPS system one foundation uses to get around gives a crime warning as soon as you drive into the area. There are constantly warring gangs that make life too uncertain to go for a walk. The same girl talked about how special it was to walk around and take pictures somewhere that felt safe.

I have made a lot of observations about South Africa since I’ve been here. There are three that stick out in my mind. First is how close wealth and poverty are to each other. I’ve told some people about my first Saturday here when in one view, I could see a Mercedes Benz dealership and an informal settlement; a staggering juxtaposition. Not only are the wealth and poverty close, but they are completely visible. No one is even trying to pretend things are different from how they really are.

The second observation is how people separate themselves here. Visually, you see the gated homes and the bars on windows and doors. I have seen more barbed wire here in one neighborhood than in all of my time in West Texas. There is also the constant separations of race, religion and class. People spend most of their lives living with and dealing with people reasonably like themselves. Apartheid is only 16 years in the past, so it’s not shocking; it’s just palpable.

Finally, I have seen how despite these conditions, people here are genuinely friendly and caring. They will take you into their home, feed you, do everything they can to make you comfortable, then insist that you come back. People will be candid with you in no time – which often has interesting results.

Being in a new place, I was looking to see what was the same and what was different so that I could acclimate to my surroundings. These are the things that I couldn’t miss; that I couldn’t look past. But are they really different from home, or have I just not seen them before?

So that is my question: When I get back to the US, how will I see my community?

67 Minutes

Nelson Mandela is one of those epic people who I know something about, but not as much as I feel like I should. Take Gandhi; I knew embarrassingly little about Gandhi’s actual work to empower the Indian people before I came to the Clinton School. Now, thanks to Dr. Singhal and others, I feel better about my level of Gandhi-savvy. I still have more work to do, but I’m getting there.

In honor of his 92^nd birthday, Mandela asked all South Africans to spend 67 minutes doing something to better the world yesterday. The campaign was a big deal. There were ads all over the TV and the newspapers, radio stations did live promotions from sites where people could volunteer – you could ask anyone what they were doing for their 67 minutes, and even if they weren’t planning to do anything, they at least knew what you were talking about. I compare this to the movement in the US to have MLK day be a day of service, but way more in people’s faces.

I am sticking out the rest of my time on the project with WCCF in Malmesbury, so I joined them in their efforts to celebrate Mandela’s birthday yesterday. The foundation purchased bath and face towels to give all the girls and boys living in children’s homes in the West Coast region. The work really started on Friday, when we got the towels and started to package them. First we rolled up the big towel, then wrapped the face towel around the outer layer, then tied a bow around the whole thing. It reminded me of a cloth croissant.

Angelina working at the towel station.

To supplement this work, I also did some research on the Internets to learn more about what Nelson Mandela had done with his life besides go to prison, act as president, and set an amazing example for the country to move forward. See, the 67 minutes of service was in honor of the 67 years Mandela has spent fighting for equality – and I could only account for what happened in the last 20 of those.

So like any American 20-something who wanted information quick but didn’t have to cite any sources, I went to Wikipedia and started reading. It was incredibly interesting. Some of the stuff I knew; like how he is also called Madiba, a title given by his tribe. But most of the stuff was embarrassingly new to me. I read about his family lineage, his flight to Johannesburg to escape an arranged marriage, his law practice, and his work with the militant wing of the ANC.

Like with Gandhi, I felt better about myself having taken a crash course in Madiba’s life, but I still have more to learn. I plan to start borrowing books from people as soon as I can identify sources.

Liza preparing to distribute towels.

Cut to Sunday – it’s a gorgeous, warm, sunny day, and we have the privilege of delivering towels to 50 kids staying just around the corner from me in Moorreesburg. The kids were awesome! They all knew about Mandela and his birthday and that people all throughout the country were doing good things to celebrate. At least this is what I hear; everyone spoke in Afrikaans. We visited the four different houses on the grounds and at each house met a smiling, energetic, appreciative group of kids.

The first group of girls we visited and their new pink towels!

I couldn’t add much to the conversation, so I just did a lot of smiling. I am concerned that I don’t smile enough here, because by the end of the hour, my face was sore from smiling so hard. Clearly, I am out of smiling shape. Which is weird, because I thought I was smiling a lot – maybe I was just smiling EXTRA big.

All of us with the last group of boys.

Success and S’mores

Several weeks ago, I blogged about my plan to serve s’mores at my 4^th of July party. This did not happen.

Why you ask? Logistics.

Some of the logistical challenges I anticipated. For example, the fact that there is no such thing as a graham cracker here; I saw that one coming. Fortunately, there is no shortage of sweet cracker-like substances, so I was able to find a reasonable substitute in the form of a coconut flavored biscuit.

Next is the issue of chocolate. People take chocolate seriously here – there are more bars of Cadbury and Nestle treats than I could describe – so they are all thick. There aren’t a lot of dinky, melty, Hershey’s-esque bars around.

Nor are there a lot of plain marshmallows. Mainly there are decorated, fancy ones. And none of those compare to the plain plumpness of the US marshmallows specifically designed for roasting.

The logistical issue I didn’t anticipate was fire. See, when people braai, there is a big fire that just calls for marshmallows to be roasted on them. But the whole purpose of that fire is to get small pieces of smoldering wood on which to cook your meal. So by the time you are ready for dessert, the fire is long gone.

Looking back, I should have thought about this long before I did. People suggested we make our s’mores in the microwave. There is a dish here in which people put a marshmallow on a biscuit into a microwave and melt chocolate on it (then add sprinkles), but that to me missed the point. S’mores aren’t just a dessert; they are an activity!

Cut to last week. It had been a long day of traveling to and from Cape Town to facilitate; when I got home from my afternoon walk, there was a man visiting who was starting a new nonprofit. Of course, I was expected to participate in the conversation and after 30 minutes of mainly listening to his views on the state of the world, I was pooped. Slightly distracted, I noticed that Danny was starting a fire to braai. This meant two things: we won’t be eating for hours, and it was my chance to make some s’mores.

As politely as possible, I explained that I needed to eat something then asked Liza if I could spoil her kids’ dinners. She agreed. I invited out guest to join, but he declined. So, me and my favorite South African kiddos made slightly off but delicious s’mores.

Step 1: roast marshmallows

Step 2: squish together sandwich

Step 3: enjoy!

Step 4: make more

Success!

Coming to Terms

Yesterday marked two weeks until I transition from IPSP to honeymoon. On Tuesday the 27^th, I will give a presentation to the boards of both foundations. Then on Wednesday the 28^th I will incorporate their feedback into my final deliverable (to be mostly written next week) and then try to contain myself until my darling, wonderful, brilliant husband lands around 10pm that night.

I get to see this guy. The one with the hat. That I married.

While in a meeting with the two CEOs, we discussed where things are now, where they are going to be in two weeks, and what will happen after I leave. This project was always going to be the first step in a longer process to build a partnership, so I knew I wasn’t going to be here to see the final product. I didn’t know, however, how hard it was going to be to walk away from the work. Yes, there have been moments of frustration and confusion, but there have been so many more of learning, creating and laughing. I am really proud of the work I have done, but even more proud that these two organizations trusted me to come in and help them shape the future of their work in the Western Cape.

I am coming to terms with where I will leave things and trying to design my final deliverable to be the most user-friendly document in history. If I can’t be here to ask people questions, I can make sure that there is a place for them to look for questions to ask at that point in the process. I have a meeting next week to talk about how another organization could provide support to keep the process moving forward, which is a super exciting notion – it will ensure that the work we did this summer/winter doesn’t get lost in the day-to-day priorities of two busy community foundations.

On that note, I thought I would give an update on some other things that I have come to terms with.

• Riding in Cars: I am no longer terrified when riding on the left side of the road. Things feel a little off, but not so much that I ever get tense about it. Mainly I have moments of “oh right, it IS more difficult to turn right.”
• Afrikaans: I am still not so great with the guttural noises, but I understand more of what people are saying. I can also count to ten, explain that I am tired, hungry or sad, and ask someone if they would like coffee or tea.
• Waiting: I still struggle with this, but I’m better at it. A lot of (possibly most) things don’t happen at the time they are scheduled or the time that you show up, so you do a lot of waiting. At first this made me anxious about wasting time; now I just use the time to daydream or sing songs in my head. It’s hardest when it’s food related waiting, but snackies help with that.
• Freezing: OK – this one is the worst, but I have started wearing as many clothes as I can at once to cope. I wear tights under jeans, 3 to 4 shirts under my jacket, a scarf and gloves at work. I’ve started sleeping in two pairs of pants. I also stand unusually close to people to benefit from their warmth (people aren’t as obsessed with personal space here).

BRRRRRRR

I am constantly reminded that Africa will not adjust to me, I must adjust to Africa. So I’m adjusting; just in time to head home and readjust to American living.

Public Art

If you’ve been following my classmate Becca’s blog in Shanghai, you have seen some exciting art (and other types of views) from her neck of the woods. When I was in Cape Town, I too got to experience some public art – and shockingly, not all of it was World Cup related.

Zebras

First, you need to know that people here say “zebra” weird – like “zeh-bruh.” Like all weirdly pronounced words, it is both intruiging and kind of annoying. Now you need to know that there is a series of zebra statues in Cape Town. The first one I saw (but couldn’t get a picture of) was a zebra that was all black with red lights for eyes. Let me tell you – it was creepy. Here are some slightly less creepy zebras that I was able to capture.

Skeleton Zebra

Purple Zebra (who may havve constellations on her butt)

Dominatrix Fairy Zebra

Art Square

Along the fan walk in downtown Cape Town, there is a little space filled with some art that is a little more interactive. I am calling it the Art Square because I don’t know what it is really called. And it was filled with some fun stuff.

Rainbow Arch - symbolically appropriate for same sex marriage ceremonies

Funky tree made of art next to a real tree made of tree

An art version of the fighting robots toy

A tree made of tree covered in art made of lights

Soccer Art & Non-Art

Of course, there were always going to be soccer/World Cup related sights to see. Some of them were legit art.

An explosion of symbolism that you can unpack for yourself

Nelson Mandela's face in a soccer ball made of lights

And some stuff that isn’t so much art as it is fun things that I saw.

Me, Flat Stanley and the World Cup Mascot. It's AYOBA!

Awesome window display

Rachel and Dan – I hope that y’all are registered for the blender that has a vuvuzela on it. Because now that I’ve seen one, all other blenders seem sad and pointless.

Whatever, I Need a Penguin

I remember when I was first introduced to South African penguins. I was at the Memphis Zoo in the summer of 2003 with my taller sister, Kate, when we came across them. Unlike all of the penguins we had seen before, these penguins were not playing in behind glass in an icy environment – they were just hanging out on rocks and playing in water exposed to the heat. They were perfect: penguins that could live in the heat of Texas. We agreed that we needed some as pets, just like we needed some stingrays (they are like the adorable puppies of the sea, just mind the stingers).

Cut to Sunday, when I came face to face with penguins again, only this time they were just walking around, jumping off of rocks into the ocean, building and maintaining nests. Just hanging out the way penguins do.

Two penguins hanging out in their nest

They are really used to humans here, so we could get really close without scaring them away. I wanted to hug them, but knew that the penguins probably didn’t want to hug me. Justin had asked me to tell the penguins hello for him, which I did. I am pretty sure that one of them said ‘hi’ back to him. They are just cool like that.

"Hi Justin! We are penguins."

So penguins are clearly the best birds on earth. I have seen plenty of ostriches during my time here. Farmers keep them to scare off intruders from their herds. I believe it is common knowledge that you don’t want to upset an ostrich because they are mean, fast, biting, flapping jerks. I do not want to hug an ostrich at all. I wonder if they are so mean because they know that people love penguins so much more than them, thus creating a sadness in their souls that causes them to lash out at people…

"Sorry Ostriches! I am just a little fuzzy guy, I didn't mean to be so cute."

Anyway, the penguins do have some friends at their colony on the bay: the Rock Hyrax.

The rock hyrax: not joking about the rock part

It’s called a dassie here, and it’s basically a giant rodent. That was my pet name for the ones that I saw, Giant Rats. They came out in mass because of the sun finally coming out. This was around 1pm on Sunday. The previous day, when we were supposed to have hours to spend wandering around the beach, it was cold and rainy. Thus, when we had only 20 minutes to see the wildlife, we were able to see a number of little guys because the weather was actually good.

Isn't the giant rat kind of cute?

I sometimes wonder whether South Africans would come to Austin and be like “Oh my gosh! I just saw a deer running around someone’s yard!” Or if they would see an opossum and grab for their camera the way I do with baboons. Would an armadillo cause them to feel special and American-y the way that springbok make me feel African-y?

I’ve mentioned before that people are very sensitive here about how we westerners think about them and animals. They assume we all think that lions run around their cities eating people on their way to work. I have tried to explain that anyone who THINKS about it for a second would know that there are no wild lions in Cape Town, but they don’t believe. I have realized, though, while there are little colonies of penguins and dassies and things like that, I don’t see squirrels or equivalent animals in neighborhoods on a regular basis. I just see lots of different birds. Huh.

Don't you want a penguin now too???

Bottom line is that I left the bay without steal a pair of penguins for three reasons:

1. I didn’t have a bag to sneak them away in.

2. I had no saltwater/fish source set up for them

3. I’m not a completely unbalanced, crazy, wildlife-stealing person. Yet.

World Cup-date

First and foremost, HUGE shout out to Mr. Cory Biggs, awesome classmate of mine, who predicted Spain and the Netherlands as the top two teams. I have no idea if he ripped that off of someone else, but I now believe him to be a soccer-predicting genius. Tip your hat or glass to Mr. Cory Goes Biggs or Goes Home – ‘cause he just went big.

I have gotten MUCH more into the games as the tournament has progressed, I imagine for several reasons. First, I know more of the teams and their players, so I feel more connected to what is happening on the field. For example, I want blonde Skeletor from the Netherlands to play a good game because, well, he is blonde Skeletor and without soccer, he doesn’t seem to have much going for him. And I think for this last game Ozil did something different with his hair, which seems random, but whatever. Also, when Ghana was in it, the player named Pantsil always made me giggle because his name was PANTSIL. Like pants on a window sill – why are you putting your pants there? It’s so silly!

The other reasons I care more are because there are fewer games to have to keep track of, allowing each one to get more attention, and the fact that each game means more and more towards the outcome of the tournament. This year will be historic for several reasons. I don’t know that I fully understand them all, but I will let the commentators (or Cory Biggs) explain them rather than trying to do it myself.

A quick note about the Spain v. Germany game – I was LOVING the creative metaphors from the announcer. Here are my paraphrased favorites:

“(With time running out and Germany already down by one goal) Right now, every second that passes is like a needle being stabbed into the hearts of the Germans. German fans around the world are having needles surgically inserted into their hearts as we speak.”

“Well, he went fishing for a penalty and he got the jackpot. (Pause, realization of mixed metaphor) He got the catch of the day.”

Also, I am already seeing some clues as to how South Africa will transition out of World Cup madness but try to keep some momentum. It’s the 1 Goal campaign to make education available to all children. Spokespeople include Matt Damon, Jessica Alba, and Jon Legend. There is already a commercial out that is associated with Funny or Die that stars these three – I wouldn’t really say it’s funny. It is trying a little too hard.

So yeah – this weekend we will all see which European team wins the first African World Cup.* And then maybe people will care more about my project…

*I have a theory on why a European team will finally win the World Cup outside of Europe – it’s because they didn’t really have to change time zones. Duh.

Along for the Ride

Johanna said to me on Sunday “Today is for you; tomorrow is for the Germans.” This wasn’t a reference to a secret German holiday or a song from Rent – but rather the visitors from a German foundation that were coming to visit WCCF on Monday. I had been hearing about this visit since I first got to the project; whatever happened, we needed to impress the Germans. I was even told to bring up their win over Argentina whenever it could possibly be brought up.

So all day, we referred to them as “the Germans,” as I will continue to do now. The group was about 15 adults ranging from thirties to middle aged, some of whom spoke more English than others. The language gap here was something else. Everyone was struggling to communicate as best they could in English. I was the only native English speaker in the place and there were often moments where I was CERTAIN people weren’t understanding each other, but because no one spoke up or asked for clarification, I just let it go.

The Germans came to us in a small, 22 person bus. Some of my classmates have blogged about their adventurous,  uncomfortable or kid-filled bus rides on their projects. Me, I  got to lead a small bus full of Germans in a rousing rendition of “The Wheels on the Bus,” and “Old MacDonald.”

The Germans on the bus

Seriously though, the group was here on a two-week tour to see the work being done in South Africa. They were all very depressed about the living conditions in the townships. Some of the group even elected not to come today because they didn’t want to see anymore; they just wanted to stay in the farm guesthouse they had rented. They talked a lot about misery.

One man finally asked me directly how I, as a young American, dealt with everything I was seeing. It was a hard question to answer, made harder by the fact that he was clearly not advanced in his English speaking. So I held out two hands and said something along the lines of the following:

“In my school, we learned to see two truths. They may be opposite, but they are both equally true. You see the sadness and the poverty (shake one hand), but you also see the community and the resources (shake the other hand). You can focus on what little people have (shake the first hand), or on what amazing things they are able to do with it (shake the second hand). I try to see both, but focus on what is working.”

This was my attempt to summarize Dr. Singhal’s book about dialectics and social change – and that whole course in general. I later tried to explain a few other things: that I wasn’t here for only two weeks and that I was having more time to adjust to my surroundings; that I am trying to respect rather than pity those living in poverty; that there are rich connections between people living in poverty that allow people to get through each day. Yes, there are lots of things wrong as well, and they need to be addressed. It just won’t help anything if you focus on them so much you lose sight of what is right.

We went out together – the Germans, the South Africans and the American – to see some of the projects that WCCF supports. We started at a farm that helped build the skills of young boys. The whole project started from nothing a few years ago and with support from WCCF and the City of Cape Town has just recently packaged and sold its’ first slaughtered pigs. I spoke with a young man who used to come to the farm every day, but now he works for a printing company that makes the labels for their meat and is starting his own security business.

Guy tending to the veggies

Guy tending to the pigs

Pigs who will eventually be someone's dinner

Later we went to a home for street children (the popular term for runaways) where they finish school and attempt some reconciliation with their families. While there, we heard from a program managing support groups for people with HIV/AIDS. There was one staff member, one intern and one board member. The board member shared with us that she is HIV positive and has been since 2005. She talked about living with the stigma as a mom and granny; she talked about how her family treats her because they are so afraid of her disease. She talked a lot about the need for education and awareness – not just to prevent the spread of the disease, but to help people understand how to interact with those whose status is positive.

The Presenters

Later we sat together at lunch and she told me her story. She told me about meeting her husband a week before her wedding and having their daughter three months early. She talked about his two-year battle with cancer and how after he passed, she had to give away his things because she couldn’t look at them anymore. She talked about falling in love and leaving her family to be with the man of her dreams, only for him to leave her once she learned of her HIV status. She talked about rebuilding her relationship with her family and how her grandbaby gives her a reason to keep going. She talked about someday moving to Germany to find her soulmate and leave all of this business behind.

The she tried to teach me some Xosa. She laughed as I tried to get the clicks. Later, she told me that my husband needs to take care of me or she will come to the states and give him hell.

I didn’t speak much during lunch. I mainly listened. She would tell me something and look at me expectantly, as if there were some response that I was supposed to offer, but I had nothing. Only the ability to look into her eyes and hope that what she was going to say next was happier. Even when it wasn’t happier, she still smiled with her eyes and let the silence happen. Sometimes I felt awkward, I REALLY wanted to know what to say. But I was there to be her audience. She talked about how telling her story made her feel more free and more connected to her own identity. I wasn’t there to do anything in particular; I was just along for the ride.