First Two Weeks

It has been cloudy over the last couple of days here in Cape Town and it has given me some time to think and reflect on my first two weeks here in South Africa. It feels like I have been here for such a short time. I find myself in that gap time of being here, knowing that I am living here, going to school here, finding a church here, making friends here, but not yet really having a life here. It is strange and I'm unable to really express how I feel about it. Almost apathetic, but excited? But perhaps that is just because of the weather and the fact I haven't had classes yet.

To be honest, I'm not used to being some place where I don't know someone who has a life there already. Yes I've traveled to a lot of places, but when I arrive there is already a way for me to kind of plug in. But here, what do I plug into? Do I plug into my neighborhood? I could, but I can only be "plugged-in" for a certain amount of time before it's too dangerous for me to be plugged-in (around 7pm). Do I plug into my school? I could, but it is an hour away and I'm kind of pissed at it because of the heinous amount of time I spent there trying to figure out their registration system (ummm...ya...about 1.5 weeks and many many hours in line later). Do I plug-in with other ex-pats living here? I could, but that seems a bit too easy, doesn't it? So basically I'm a little lost and a little confused but, amazingly, still loving it! Perhaps, I know it will get better and it just needs time...

There is something about this place that is infectious though. Anyone who's been here probably knows what I'm talking about. Have they got all of their stuff together? Not exactly (but who does these days?). Are they forging their own path to democracy? HECK YES! And it is quite the path, if I do say. On Tuesday of last week I attended the pancake dinner at St. George's Cathedral (the main Anglican church in Cape Town) and at the end the hysterical entertainer, Alvan, sang a song dedicated to South Africa and immediately the smiles and laughter turned into tears and a sense of deep love and commitment. "Hmmmm.." I wondered. It began to hit me that freedom and democracy that is taken, fought for, acquired on one's own is far more fitting and far more meaningful then one that is given or imposed. South Africa is creating herself out of a painful past...she and her people are choosing their destiny and their means of achievement. Friday was then the opening of Parliament with SO much to be discussed (just read up on some current issues in SA...it is INTENSE): HIV/AIDs, power shortages, ANC leadership rifts, land reform, immigration (with 25% of Zimbabweans now living in SA), the economy, etc, etc. But as the camera broke away from the sweating and flustered President Mbeki, the room was filled with MPs listening intently. There was white and black, male and female, urban and rural...all represented, all looking to move this country forward (at least for the most part). And they celebrated their differences! Embraced them! Women MPs embracing their femininity by wearing dresses, hats, and traditional dress instead of masculinized Western dress suits. Mrs. Mbeki was even wearing an Indian sari, so as to include the Indians of the country. There is just a sense here that everyone belongs, everyone has a voice, everyone's concern is legitimate and worth listening to.

Okay, so I know that seems a bit romanticized and perhaps it is. Is everyone jumping for joy in the streets? No. Ask those who are infected with HIV (the most infections of any country in the world) who lack access to ARVs or even simply adequate nutrition. Did they feel the same emotions or have the same thought processes as I? Maybe, maybe not. But I can tell you that this country is theirs just as much as anyone else...and they are fighting for it. It is the overall sense of hope, a hope that leads to results and reform (however so slowly). A hope that puts Jewish, Catholic and Moslem school children in the same classrooms and teaches them to pray and fast with the other. Maybe it is that stirring hope that gives me the patience to wait for the good, for a full life here even though it seems too much right now. But I still have to remember that it is now my turn to sit, to listen, and to learn. South Africa belongs to her people, the whole lot of them, and like so many countries around the world it has had its full share of American and Western opinions and analysis. So with wine, cheese and bread, I sit here to let South Africa quiet me, stir me, and prepare me for what lies ahead in the next 5 months.