Skip to content

By rbhargava

Continuing from my last post….after a full day and two nights at Port Shepstone, we drove 2 hours north to Durban in the morning. As typical of our entire trip thus far, the weather was cloudy and a bit chilly…so the beautiful beaches of Durban were a bit underwhelming. We spent the day walking up the main coastline in the city from our backpackers in the south of the city center to the Moses Mabida stadium (where several World Cup games were held) on the north side of the city center. Ever since seeing the stadium during World Cup games in 2010, I’ve always wanted to see the Mabida stadium up close…so I insisted we all take a tour of it in the afternoon. Following the tour we returned back to our backpackers, rested up for a bit, and then headed to a popular restaurant that served Durban’s most famous Indian dish – Bunny Chow…which is hollowed out bread filled with curry. I had been looking forward to eating Indian food in Durban since arriving in South Africa, but unfortunately the food was a disappointment. South Africa is said to have the largest diaspora of Indians in the world, and Durban is at the epicenter of that. More so than the Western Cape, Durban really represents South Africa’s reputation as the “rainbow nation.”

On our second day in Durban, we visited the famous Victoria Street Market. This indoor market caters specifically to tourists and reminded me much of what many markets I have seen in India look like. After wandering around the market for a bit, we drove to the King Shaka airport to return our two rental cars and drop of Jonas at the airport as he had a flight back to Stellenbosch (he still had exams to take!). When we returned to Durban the remaining five of us decided to take an city bus tour…which also was more of a disappointment than anything else. At the end of the day, Durban was a very interesting city that we all enjoyed…but I came to appreciate what everyone back in Stellenbosch kept telling me – besides beautiful beaches – there’s not much to do or see in Durban. As the next morning, our group was splitting for good…we enjoyed a nice homemade meal at our backpackers and reminisced about our great trip.

In the morning, Rita and I left Maren, Clara, and Daniela for a full day bus ride from Durban to Johannesburg…to meet up with two other friends – Hunter and Jannis. It was only fitting that it rained the entire day as I was quite sad that the first leg of my journey had come to an end. Not only that, although I was to see Maren and Jonas again in Stellenbosch before heading home…this was my final goodbye to Clara and Daniela! By far the most amazing part of my study abroad experience was the friends I was able to make, so I was very sad to say goodbye to two of my closest that morning. I’m keeping my fingers crossed I’ll be able to visit both of them in Germany soon though!

Luckily though, having learned from our mistake the first time, Rita and I booked a comfortable Greyhound bus for our journey to Joburg, and were able to relax before beginning another epic trip the next day.

When we arrived at our backpackers in Joburg, we were happily greeted by Jannis…who had been in Joburg for a few days waiting for our arrival. Having just said goodbye to two of my favorite Germans in the morning…it was great to be able to say hi to another after a long bus ride in the evening. As we shared our travel stories, we patiently waited for Hunter to arrive. He had been traveling with his parents and sister…but with no cell phone…we were worried we might never be able to find him. But no worries…he arrived later in the night and we all got ready to leave early in the morning the next day. Funny enough, this was the second of four times I would be in Joburg (although the other three were just in the airport) during my time abroad…but I would see none of the city…besides the drive back and forth from the bus terminal to our backpackers. Although I wish I had time to spend in the country’s largest city – since arriving in July I had been bombarded and brainwashed by students at Stellies about the fact that there was nothing to do there. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the city, but in the words of many of my South African friends…”Why would you ever want to go to Joburg? The only thing to do there is go to the mall. They have lots of malls.”

Anyway, our plans for the next few days would take us north to Polokwane, south to the beautiful Blyde River Canyon, back north to Polokwane again, further north into Zimbabwe, and then up to our final destination (or at least where Hunter and I would leave to return back to Stellies from) – the majestic Victoria Falls. We were in for quite an adventure!

By clairemac93

I woke up this morning in the bed of my best friend, in the city of Washington. I proceeded to lie there and stare at the wall, while slowly separating my eye lids which were stuck together because I had slept so hard that I basically fused my eyelashes together. “Where am I?” I wondered. “How did I get here?”

After 25 hours in transit, I had a right to be both physically and mentally confused of where in time and space I was. Yesterday, or rather two days ago, was my last day in Stellenbosch. With many of my friends and fellow students already well past finished with exams, I was one of few remaining to write for my departments. It meant a lot of scattered goodbyes, a quiet campus, and trying to process leaving while at the same time focusing on the (seemingly) 1 billion equations and graphs I needed to be memorizing for exams. I felt like I was running out of brain space for so many puzzling concepts. Having then only finished my semester on Wednesday evening, I spent my few free days afterwards sort of bumbling around town, unsure what act would solidify or best end my time there, while at the same time keeping in mind that after a year in a small town- it was more the people I would miss than things in the town itself. In the end, my last day was perfect in its simplicity. I went to breakfast with my best friend’s family, who have acted as a pseudo-host family all year and have given me a steady dose of Afrikaans language and culture since the beginning (perfectly summarized in their goodbye gifts which consisted of my own potjiekos pot and lifetime supply of rusk). I then spent the day at an organic farm exploring, in the striking heat that was hinting of summer being just around the corner.

Cue then to arriving in Washington. After making the pivotal mistake of admitting to having brought with me produce from the African continent, I lost what seemed like several years of my life to customs at Dulles airport. I started to envision that I would have a movie made after my experience called The Terminal 2. Once freed from the grasps of airport personnel, I finally took my first new steps into the United States. The sky looked exactly like what I remember a November sky looks like- bulbous and cloudy with every shade of gray included and a dull light seeping through. But aside from the sky, everything else in the city looked familiar in the most foreign way, as if I was visiting for the first time again. As if I didn’t identify with these streets anymore. As if the paths I had hammered into these sidewalks had slowly molded to someone else’s while I was away.

Spending the evening with close friends of mine, I realized that a lot of work will be involved to identify the spot where this “new me” fits back in here. Work at NGOs? Internships? Applications for scholarships? Homemade beer kits? Brunch? $20 for a meal at a burger joint? What are these things? What do I talk about? Where is the intersection between what I want to say and family and friends care to hear?

And so the process begins. I know people will tell me that I have done this before (Germany 2009-2010), and that I can do this again. And they’re right. However, it’s hard to accept that when looking at the daunting idea of condensing and packing away a year of your life into a digestible portion of your personality and then moving on from it. But I have to remember that this, this coming home deal, is also a part of my South African adventure as much as any other part. It is the part where I challenge what I truly learned there, what parts I want to keep and discard, what parts taught me lessons and which just happened and I’ll have to accept.

Updates to come later.

By clairemac93

In skyping with my parents tonight, I finally put to words something that has been building within me since I arrived in South Africa last January. It was under the context of, with less than two months to go here, what will potentially give me reverse culture shock when I return to the United States. Though there are expected potential culture shocks such as the proportion of black people to white, the presence of interracial couples, or lack of intimate daily contact with extreme poverty, the biggest issue I can see myself facing is the idea of consumption and the idea of deserved consumption.

I dealt with this in Germany to an extent too. You walk in a grocery store, and whereas in America there might be 20 cereal brands to choose from (this is a conservative guess) in Germany there would be 2-3. This was not thought of as abnormal, as “how complicated can cereal get?” Additionally, Germans just really like musli, so there’s that. Here in South Africa it is something similar. Though South Africa is certainly much more developed than I think the Western world gives them credit for, the average yearly income being $1,164 (as opposed to $60,526 in the States) does not inspire consumerism for the sake of consumerism. As such, at the grocery store there are a couple options for each item. Nothing deprivational, just food. You can find things in season, and you can suck it up when they aren’t. The most purchased good food-wise is a loaf of white bread, as for many that alone serves as nutrition for the coming day.

So in evaluating what might shock me in coming home, I realized that pure consumption- much of it for consumptions sake- will be the hardest to witness coming home. The idea in the United States that every product must be exactly personalized to every preference and need- gluten free, low fat, low sugar, high fiber- is slightly ridiculous after spending time here. We have grown up to believe that these products which we like, these things that we regularly buy, are parts of our very character- as if without these items we, as a person, will cease to be 100% us. We tie our personality to our product choices, and feel deprived when those products are no longer offered. We import for year-round fruits and vegetables, as to prevent ever being “deprived” of these foods we love. We buy that new product simply because we’ve never seen it on the shelf before. We pack our kids lunches with the snacks that have been branded to them or serve them Spongebob Mac n’ Cheese because they believe it tastes better when its shaped like him—I myself am guilty of this specifically!

But the problem I have is not in our desire to consume, but in our feelings of deprivation. We, in reality, require very little to survive. We do not specifically need those avocados. If that store went out of business, I would find other clothes. If my favorite cereal went off the shelves, I will find something else to eat. However I know many who get truly upset at the thought of these products disappearing. We are taught to believe that lack of choice is against human expression, but much of the difference in products we consume are small and inconsequential- only to the benefit of the producer/marketer for the product.

In thinking of home I can already see the long lines of items on shelves at grocery stores, and I can feel a sense of confusion of why its all necessary. If more choices were the key to happiness or health, America would be the happiest healthiest place on earth. But it’s not. So why do we think all the hoopla is necessary? Is it a distraction? Are our lives, down to every product we eat, meant to be so personalized? And what does this constant personalization teach our citizens about what they deserve and what is necessary for living? Does it make any difference?

I don’t know. What I know is that in comparing myself to the average South African here I am happy to eat what is provided, and having not been exposed to the choices that are provided in the U.S., many here are happy with a smaller amount of choices and never stop to ask why there aren’t more. Though a couple of years ago there was a phenomenon of youth burning money and cars to show they “didn’t need it” as to indicate wealth, on the whole I find South Africans much less apt to shamelessly display wealth and much less apt to ask for more. This is humbling. However, my stepmom once asked me, “If America is perfectly capable of providing these products and importing goods in season, why shouldn’t they?” And aside from the environmental ramifications of the transportation of these goods, I still don’t have an answer. In this way, my culture shock will be more of confusion, than anything, about how I feel about the contrast between the two countries and how they define what they need.

 

 

 

By rbhargava

Continuing on from my last post… after a memorable night in Chintsa, the six of us left for Coffee Bay – much further up the East coast of the country. The several hour-long drive was possibly one of the most memorable as we left the “developed” part of South Africa and entered into the Transkei, which was a Xhosa homeland during the apartheid era – and thus was left out and neglected from the western development of much of the rest of the country. It was an interesting scene to cross from one side to the other – and we were pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the Transkei and the circular huts that were seen across the landscape as far as the eye could see. During our drive, we stopped in a town to eat lunch and buy groceries, and found ourselves the only non-black people in the entire town. It was an experience like no other – as for the first time – all of us really felt out of place and in the minority.

Moving on, after a flat tire in Qunu (Nelson Mandela’s hometown) and a mostly cloudy day on the road – we arrived in the evening in Coffee Bay at the Coffee Shack backpackers. The next day we went on a beautiful hike along the coast to the underwhelming “Hole in the Wall” – which is a small island just off the coast with a hole in it in which water crashes through. Although our 3 hour hike to the Hole in the Wall was not the most exhausting, we decided that the overcast weather was a little too much and we were able to ride on the back of a pick-up truck back to our backpackers. That evening was a full moon, and the backpackers arranged a nice little party for all the backpackers there. Talking to people at backpackers, one will find the most interesting people – and I was treated with great conversations with a French man traveling around the world for 2 years, a British consultant working in Joburg, Danish high school graduates traveling before university, and many more people.

After Coffee Bay, we drove almost all day to get to Port Shepstone, a town 2 hours south of Durban. Here, we stayed a the Spot Backpackers where the Britisch couple managing the hostel told us about how they traveled across the world on motorcycle. Starting in the UK, they had motorbiked all the way down to South Africa, shipped their bikes to Southeast Asia, biked there, then did the same in Australia and South America. Fascinating!

The next day we all woke up for the sunrise at 5am – but were greeted with a cloudy horizon on the beach. Nonetheless, the sunrise was beautiful and it was quite the treat to be able to walk out of our backpackers directly onto the beach to watch it. Later on we went to the nearby Oribi gorge where three of us went zip-lining across the gorge on 15 or so different lines. It was quite the experience and we were lucky enough that the weather kept sunny the whole day. In the afternoon we enjoyed the beach and went kayaking up a stream near the beach. As another fun day came to an end, we prepared to head to Durban the next day – our last stop on the trip before all of us would go on our different ways.

By rbhargava

This past Friday, Nov 21st, I arrived back home to New Jersey after my 17 day  trip backpacking through South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. As you may of noticed, I was not able to post anything during the trip due to a complete lack of access to computers! So through this post and the next few I hope to share some of my memories during a very enjoyable trip traveling through southern Africa with some amazing friends.

On the evening Nov 2nd, 6 of us left Stellenbosch by bus to travel to Port Elizabeth. Although only six of us were leaving, a group of 10-16 people came to send us off at the bus stop - as some close friends wanted to give us one last goodbye! Our group was composed of 4 Germans, one girl from Hong Kong, and of course me. The overnight bus to PE was quite the experience, as we later found out we had taken the cheapest "budget" option bus available. Sitting next to my friend Maren, we tried to keep ourselves entertained while cockroaches  crawled up and down the window and South African Christian gospel music played overhead the entire night. We survived the journey though - and arrived in Port Elizabeth around 5am in the morning.

On our first day of the trip, we rented two tiny Polo cars to drive all the way up to coast to Durban with over the next several days. We went to the beautiful Sardinia Bay just outside PE before relaxing a bit at our cozy backpackers - Lungile Backpackers. In the evening we met a friend of a friend in downtown PE, who gave us a nice walking tour of the city as well as the Casino and joined us for dinner on the beachfront.

The second day of our trip was an obvious highlight for all of us as we took our two Polos to the famous Addo Elephant Park and were treated close encounters with countless elephants as well as buffalo, warthogs, eland, kudu, and several other animals. At more times than we would have liked we found ourselves stuck with elephants blocking the road. There was once when a very territorial elephant event drew a line in the road with his front foot, placed a large stick along the line, and waved its ears at us - clearly indicating that we should not come any closer. Driving through the park and encountering wild animals the entire day was a true joy, and we all enjoyed some adrenaline pumping moments.

On the 3rd day we left Port Elizabeth for Chintsa - a small town on the Wild Coast. Stopping in Port Alfred and East London, we spent the majority of the day on the road. Unfortunately the weather was overcast and rainy - something that would define the majority of our rip along the coastline that is world famous for beautiful sunny days year round. At Chintsa we stayed at the gorgeous Buccaneers Backpackers where we were treated with a well deserved homemade meal by the kitchen staff there. In the evening one of the managers of the backpackers took some of us to a dam to enjoy the sounds of wildlife in the approaching full moon night. Sitting along the dam with a small group of backpackers from all around the world and listening to the sounds of frogs burping in the middle of the forest was an experience I won't forget. Just like many moments during my Spring Break, I felt quite apart from the rest of the world and thoroughly enjoyed the company of the random other backpackers who were with us. And with that, I knew my trip was off to a success!

By clairemac93

The title seems broad, but months pondering this subject and I’m yet to come up with a better summarization of my feelings. White people here, are indeed, afraid of everything and everyone…it seems at least.

Stellenbosch is located in the Western Cape. It is 17% white, 49% coloured, and 33% black African. But I’m going to be perfectly honest. Despite my returning to the United States and everyone imagining that I spent my days surrounded by “black Africans”, I spend my days in Stellenbosch almost entirely interacting with whites and maybe, coloured people. Stellenbosch is an Afrikaans university, which is why it attracts that demographic. In fact, despite the Western Cape being 17% white, the most of any region in South Africa, Stellenbosch University is 68.5% white.

So great, we’ve established there isn’t much diversity here. But that’s not really my issue, as whether I’m here or at a small liberal arts college in the United States, I will probably find myself disappointed by the sea of white privilege—myself being a part of that. What I’m disappointed about is the connection it has taught me here between race, income and safety.

Last semester we experienced two girls, on their own during dark hours, individually get kidnapped on campus. It shook the campus. Suddenly students were saying there was a “crime spike”. Every kid who had his wallet stolen or was approached by someone weird contributed to this theory. Emails were sent out explaining the situation to parents, and to avoid another “incident”, evening exams offered bus trips for kids to and from the exam venue. I later received an email from the University president that “crime had been pushed to perimeters of campus”.

And I stood there, and I wondered what that meant. Crime had been “pushed” off campus? There was always crime in Stellenbosch. The kidnappings had just made people more aware of it. And there are reasons for that. Despite the university being, predominantly wealthy and white, the town of Stellenbosch itself is not. In fact, Stellenbosch is actually vastly majority coloured and there is a huge township, Kayamandi, viewable from basically every window at this university. Within a 5 minute walk from campus, you can find yourself in a very different world. Forget the tree lined streets and cute cafes, bring in the discounted expired-goods grocery stores and beggars on the streets.

As such, its not so surprising to me that Stellenbosch University would be a target for crime. Kids here have grown up in literal bubbles of gated communities which within themselves have 8 foot walls and security systems. They went to private all-boys and all-girls schools where they receive a world class education while other students in their country can’t afford books or even a school lunch. They walk around campus with I-Phones in hand and newly bought clothes. This is all not so different from my university at home. But what I’m saying is that the blatant display of class difference here would piss me off as someone not part of that social class, too. Though kidnapping is certainly extreme, for a large amount of robberies or theft to go on here is unsurprising to me, as from the outside it looks like these kids have everything- and could certainly live past losing a laptop or a sandwich.

It is also shocking to me that the university would promote its students to stay indoors during evening hours, to bus to and from exams, and to never walk alone. Perhaps living in DC has given me a thick skin, in which they text us to tell us of crime but don’t necessary guide us of what to do- instead assuming us mature enough to react on our own. I feel like promoting these things only keeps these already naive students in their bubble. Hiding from crime does not make it go away and these same students will one day be entering into the real world where crime still happens, and be equally as uneducated of how to handle it.

But that is one more caveat. I totally understand why the kidnappings shook this campus. That just doesn’t happen here and is incredibly unfortunate. However, aside from that students are convinced that Stellenbosch is incredibly dangerous. As they spread this message, as do professors and university officials, a general fear becomes ingrained in students. For example, I had a study partner tell me that she previously lived on another side of Stellenbosch and moved because she felt “unsafe”. I asked her why and what had happened. She told me that nothing ever happened, she just felt it. I asked her if there were more black people around her previous residence, and she explained yes. I’m not sure she caught my connection between the two. Students come to fear the outside world as if its going to eat them alive. It also creates an unnecessary fear of anyone who’s not a clean-cut kid. I was walking with a friend once who saw a black man carrying a chair down the road ahead of us. She instantly grabbed my arm and told me that we should stay away from him because he “looked dangerous”. I, naturally, laughed and asked how carrying a chair makes someone scary. I then explained that if it was a white person carrying that chair, they would assume it was just a student moving or doing something stupid. Suddenly it’s a black guy and you are in danger of the man-with-chair. It’s actually ridiculous.

I am yet to feel unsafe at all in Stellenbosch, any more than I am in DC. I feel that if you look like you know where you are going, what you are doing, and look people in the eyes you are doing yourself the largest favor. I’ve walked at all times of day and night, alone, and have rarely been approached. When I have, I have acted calm and nothing has happened to me. I think that by the time you are in college you should not be hand-holded of how to function day-to-day and unfortunately dealing with crime is part of that here. And even if crime, predominantly theft, does happen, can you really blame them?

By clairemac93

This is the second time this has happened to me abroad, or rather, the second time it’s been this intense of a feeling. It is always towards the end of my stay in another country. You have built up your friend group, a community, your favorite places and foods, and at this point, can fully function in another language. As amazing as it is, midway through your stay your eyes blur slightly in that you don’t see the “specialness” of things anymore. You no longer consider even a trip to the grocery store a “cultural experience” and in fact standing this weekend at a baptism for a mutual friend, I found myself thinking it was just an ordinary day baptizing someone in the ocean. You stop remembering how amazing this is and that other people won’t ever get to witness the things you did. You simply stop thinking, which is part of the experience too.

And that’s where this moment comes in. There is a moment where I am suddenly hit with how absolutely extraordinary my experience is. How thankful I should be for not only every minute, but every second that I am granted here. Perhaps it’s that strategic time before I leave- where I can feel the end coming but have just enough time to savor the flavor of this country.

My moment came about while staying the weekend in a neighboring town called Somerset West with my best friend Helen. It’s the fourth time I’ve stayed with her family for the weekend, and every time I feel closer with each family member. Every time the greetings are more personal, it’s easier to have one-on-one conversations, I know my way around the kitchen better, and I feel more at home. Even the dogs seem to remember me by now. I was sitting around the farm-table with home cooked food made by all 11 of us, telling stories of our midadventures, laughing and poking fun as both family and friends late into the night. I found myself realizing how my year had worked up to that moment where there are no invisible walls, no awkwardness, no foreignness. This felt like home and family. And in a large way they are in my life here. It was the moment you take a mental step back to see the wonderful life you built somewhere and you wish that you could remember every detail of this picture in your mind so that you can savor it forever. I want to remember the grooves in this table from how many years its been used and how many generations have sat here. I want to remember the warmth of this kitchen, and the smell of the fire burning. I want to visualize Helen’s mom smiling, as she does so sparingly. But you know that is impossible, so instead you sit back and enjoy and let it sink in the best you can. If my memory serves me correct, moments like those- even if the details are lost- will stick with you for the long run if not just in a general feeling it gives you when you think back on it.

I’m confident that I won’t leave without having more moments like this, though that one will particularly stick out. I think that it’s a nice reminder, that in those moments of the day that from an outsider perspective may seem boring or mundane- to find that light to realize that the company of the ones you love is such a gift. As corny as it is, with my leaving this country within the month, I can’t help but have a feeling of nostalgia of all I’ve experienced here. It’s hard to admit that it’s ending and it’s hard to know I won’t be able to remember all of it.

By rbhargava

I've got about 10 minutes left in Stellenbosch before I head out on a 19 day trip through South Africa and Zimbabwe, ending at Victoria Falls on the border of Zimbabwe and Zambia. The past few days have been extremely hectic between saying bye to friends, planning my trip, packing, and trying to fit in last minute hikes/trips/activities that I haven't had the chance to do before. Even though I've been done with all my classes for over a week now, I've probably felt busier the past few days than ever before. In a few minutes I'll be taking an overnight bus to Port Elizabeth, from where I'll be traveling with various groups of friends through the Wild Coast to Durban. From Durban I'll be taking a bus to Joburg and meeting with another group of friends. From Joburg, I'll be taking a stop in Polokwane in the northeastern part of South Africa before quickly traveling through Zimbabwe, crossing over the border into Zambia and then flying back to Cape Town for one final night at Stellenbosch. On the 20th I'll finally be heading back home. Quite the itinerary!! I'm not sure how much internet connect I'll have, and more importantly computer access (I'm not bringing my laptop), but I hope to have at least one blog post along the way. Looking forward to sharing some absolutely amazing stories in my next blog! Until then, although it is extremely bittersweet to be leaving Stellenbosch, I'm excited for the last leg of my memorable time studying abroad!

By clairemac93

It’s one of those things you see on CNN, or in movies, or you read about. The trash- laying on street corners or buried under dirt after long months of no attention. The animals- feral dogs with mange and bad tempers, no collars or owners in sight. The homes- tin roofed, brightly colored, but ultimately threadbare.

I’m speaking of the townships.

South Africa is probably one of three countries I would associate with the word “township”- the other two being Brazil and India. However, countries everywhere from Pakistan (largest township in the world) to Jamaica and Bangladesh consider townships inevitable parts of society. Not surprisingly, the countries containing townships- most of them considered middle income countries, also have very high Gini coefficients [Gini Coefficient=mathematical measurement of inequality in society], with South Africa in fact having the highest measure of inequality in the world.

On the one hand, movies like Slumdog Millionaire and events such as the World Cup have made the general public more aware of the existence of townships/shantytowns/favelas and have put a face to those who live there. On the other hand, flying into Cape Town in January I was still mentally unprepared to see these townships stretch for miles, with planes landing only yards from shacks outside the airport gates. On my initial ride through the city, where major monuments and parts of the city were pointed out to me, it was not lost on me that not a word was spoken about the miles of townships we were passing. Perhaps our tour guide thought they spoke for themselves.

Townships are a lot more nuanced than a quick overlook might make them out to be. Densely populated and located in many different areas of cities or the country, townships hold far from homogenous groups of people. Everything from income level, to language, to religion, to employment status is different from area to area and home to home. Walking down the street you may find a shack that is hardly standing, with a cardboard roof and no running water, next to a house which rivals many comfortable single-story homes in the United States.

I stayed in a home in Gugulethu, a township about 15km outside of Cape Town. The township’s name means “our pride”, a very robust name considering its founding was due to Apartheid’s removal of blacks from Cape Town- thereby moving them to areas like Gugulethu. My host family consisted of my host father, Zukile, the right-hand man to the priest at the local church and his wife, Loretta, who works at the Department of Home Affairs. Because of the fact that both of them are employed, something perhaps not associated with those living in the Townships, their house is nicely furnished, with two bedrooms, and all the amenities of a normal South African home.

Besides the fact we were in a township, my time staying with their family gave me a very different cultural experience than what I would get in a place like Stellenbosch. The family was black and Xhosa-speaking, very spiritual, and focused on their extended and spiritual family. We went to church together on Sunday morning, and I got the chance to try what I would consider real South African home-cooked food. Never in my life have I eaten so much meat. My host family was full of warm hugs and curious questions, and I found myself envisioning what my year would be like if they were my full-time host family here in South Africa. Despite this, it was impossible to ignore some of the realities of living in the area. True to what I’d read, trash collection was not as efficient as other places and many families share latrines outside the home, which many times go uncared for and overflow. Alcoholism is a large issue, true in any disadvantaged community, as is HIV.

Going to church was my favourite part of the weekend. Acting as the social and cultural center of the township, the church itself can fit hundreds of believers and reverberates the sounds of worshipers singing for hours on end. From old ladies to little toddlers who can already pop-and-lock, there is rarely a moment when the room isn’t full of song and dance. The old ladies particularly liked to dance a move I called the “chugga chugga choo choo” which involved swinging their arms in a circular motion next to their hips. Though the service was conducted in isiXhosa and I myself am not believing, I couldn’t help but be spellbound by the joy emanating from those around me, and to see and feel how thankful they were for all that they did have in a world where many people can only think about what they don’t. The church itself has gotten a lot of praise as well as criticism for its acceptance of HIV/AIDS positive members and its promotion of inclusion of HIV positive residents. The HIV/AIDS awareness ribbon hangs proudly on the front podium of the church. After church, most of the youth head to a place called Mzoli’s- a place I would recommend any visitor to Cape Town go, especially on a Sunday. With large platters of meat and no shortage of music, Mzoli’s acts as a nice mix of locals and foreigners gathering in one big outdoor day-party in the middle of the township.

Returning home to Stellenbosch, I found myself much more motivated by my time spent in the township to push myself to find new and unique experiences like what I’d just encountered. However, I was also quickly reminded of the divide when I raved to an Afrikaaner classmate of my homestay over the weekend, and she quickly wrote me off by saying that she grew up here and would never take a step into the township. Another student chimed in in agreement. She, and others here, are missing out on a lot of warmth, culture, and critical discussion. It’s a shame that many of my fellow students here have not so much as taken the train into Cape Town, let alone gone into a township. This being said, I can see myself or my fellow students in the United States saying similar things about certain parts of Philadelphia, DC, or Detroit- where poverty and crime are high and most of us would avoid so much as driving into. I hope to come to terms with the similarities between the racial and economic biases in all the countries I’ve lived in someday, and hopefully be able to explain them more eloquently.

By rbhargava

Last week was my last week of classes, and my last week of the semester. Normally I would be preparing for exams now, but my three courses had their final exams/final classes last week. The first round of exams goes on until November 19th, so I could have hypothetically been taking exams until then. I got lucky! Last Wednesday was my final exam for Transitional Justice as well as my last CIEE class, and last Friday was our “Celebration of Work” for the community engagement course I am in. At the celebration of work we presented a 20 minute documentary on our time as part of the LSCE course. Although I helped with the editing, I think the documentary is a complete exaggeration of the “transformation” that it advertises, and romanticizes the idea of working with “African” kids. Nonetheless, it offers a great taste of what part of my life has been like the past few months. If you have the free time here is the link to watch it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elqY94SLHIg

For the next week I’ll be hanging around Stellenbosch trying to fit in one last trip to my favorite restaurants and places, new trips to places I have yet to go to, and lots and lots of goodbyes to friends from around the world. Next Sunday I’ll begin a 3 week journey through parts of South Africa, Botswana, and Zambia and then head back home. Having finished all my classes last week, I’ve had some time to reflect and many of my activities nowadays are unfortunately labeled as the last time I’ll do XYX.

Last Thursday, CIEE organized a farewell dinner at Bistro13, a top restaurant in the area. Eating our last meal together as a group (the group is the program director Joe, our course convener Ruenda, and then the three students on the program), I realized how much time we had all spent together and the journey we went on. It is very strange to think the program is essentially over at this point and I won’t be seeing Joe and Ruenda regularly now. Over the past few months we have had countless meals and classes together, and at times felt more like a family than a program. We’ve spent time with the Joe and Ruenda’s spouses, traveled around the area with them, and even gone to a Heritage Dinner with them at one of their friends’ homes. Having only three people on the program has allowed for a very unique experience that I am extremely lucky to have been part of. I’ve referenced this many times before in this blog, and I’ll say it again – the experience that CIEE offers at Stellenbosch is like no other – because you quickly forget you are an exchange student and become deeply entrenched into regular day life here.

Speaking of regular day life, almost all of my weekends have been abnormal since I’ve tried to see and do as much as possible. But this past weekend was an exception as I stayed in the Stellenbosch area for both Saturday and Sunday for the first time in a long time. Both days I ended up going to the Jonkershoek Valley and spending time with two of my closest friends here. On Saturday I went with my friend Callee to the Jonkershoek Nature Valley with the intention of swimming in the dam, but that failed and turned into us walking through a stream in the valley and finding nice little pools along the way to relax in. The next morning I returned to the valley by bike with Nadine (a Dutch friend!) and we biked through the valley – stopping at a beautiful bikers cafe to enjoy the valley one last time. In total, I’ve now gone through the valley/hiked in the nature reserve 5 times. It’s returning to your favorite places again and again that make you really appreciate the place you are in, and I am definitely going to miss all the great memories I’ve made biking and hiking in Jonkershoek.

Just this evening a South African friend living in Metanoia – Natali – invited 6 of us internationals living in Metanoia to her house in Durbanville for a braai. It was a fantastic time eating some great food and meeting some of her family and friends. It was a fantastic way to end my last full weekend in Stellenbosch. Only after dinner when Natali was dropping us all off back at Metanoia did we realize we may leave Stellenbosch before she would come back for her exams. It was a sad wake-up call to the ever-nearing end of my time here! I think it might already be time to start planning another trip here.