I was in Joburg for a wedding last weekend and I stayed with the family of a friend. She lives on a small holding outside Pretoria (lots of driving!) and we had a great time over long breakfasts and dinners, with her parents regaling us with stories.
Her parents moved here from Germany, and her dad told us about how as a young boy it was his duty to take care of the families cow. It was just his mom and him, about six years old or so, and maybe a younger sibling (I don't quite remember). So money was pretty tight for them and the cow was precious.
His duty was to take the cow to the common lot every day, the common area of field next to the river where animals could graze. So he would walk the cow to the lot, run home and change for school, and fetch the cow back in the afternoon after school. And the cow would spend the night in their shed.
Last week I was picking up a girl from the township near me, to help her out with a school science project. And we got talking about cows, because there are cows wandering all over the place there. I think I had to stop for a cow in the road. So I recounted to her the story of my friend's dad and the cow.
And she told me that that was her brother's job. Yes, they also have four cows and a few goats. And her brother's job is to take them to graze in the veld every morning and fetch them in the evening, to sleep in their yard.
It reminded me of the Biblical phrase, "what is common to man."
(The verse is found in 1 Corinthians 10:13, but its the phrase, rather than the meaning of the verse, that I was reminded of).
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The time of building.
"The struggle must go on - the struggle to make the opportunity for the building to begin. The struggle will go on. I speak humble and without levity when I say that, God giving me strength and courage enough, I shall die, if need be, for this cause. But I do not want to die until I have seen the building begun."
Albert Luthuli, closing the epilogue of his autobiography.
We live in a time that mean and women braver and more committed than us only dreamed of. And what responsibility comes with living in this time. To whom much has been given, much will be expected.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Spring
As I've said before, I live in Grahamstown. It's quaint and chilled out, it's a great place to live.
But one of the real drawbacks to Grahamstown is our water. A couple of years ago we had a real water scare, where thousands of baby trout died at the Rhodes fish farm and there was a lot of concern about dangerous levels of heavy metals in our water supply. Everyone was warned not to drink the tap water and we lived on bottled water for a week or two. Rhodes bought what must have literally been tons of bottled water for students and set up water tanks around campus. It turned out, after all of the drama, that the water was safe for humans. So no Erin Brockovich for Grahamstown!
But, to quote the Rhodes followup email from after the water scare, the water is "safe (if unpleasant) to drink." Oh dear, you must know, our water is unpleasant. I only really realised it when I'd been at home in East London for a while and when I came back to Grahamstown I found my tea had the most unpleasant taste. I tried to figure out what the problem was for ages - I thought it was the type of milk, or maybe onion in the fridge had made the milk tase odd. But I finally realised the issue was the water.
Yuck.
Our water goes through phases where its browny, brown, white, has floaty white bits or floaty black bits.
Yuck.
And it often tastes like dirt.
Yuck.
I asked a friend who works in water research what the issue is, and she tells me that the problem is really that Grahamstown's water pipes are very old. So they have cracks where soil gets into them. Which isn't dangerous, I'm told. It just makes the water taste like dirt.
Of course, because we have all watched Erin Brockovich we still harbour concerns about our fertility and future health and so forth. But wonderfully, there is a spring just on the outskirts of Grahamstown. And Grahamstown is small, so "on the outskirts of Grahamstown" is a 10 minute drive away from pretty much anywhere.
So over these past years, with the water concerning all of us, the spring has become a pretty busy place. Sometimes you go there and wait half an hour in a line to get water.
This is a typical queue at the spring, Sunday afternoon I think...
The spring is in a dip just just off the side of the road. You can see my car Chloe (blue midge!) on the road, and some other cars. There's usually at least one or two cars parked next to the spring, sometimes five or six or more.
This is a close up of the actual spring, and my water container being filled up. The whole area has been built up with steps from the road down to the spring, and the pipe and area to stand your containers on as they fill up.
I have no idea who first set it up, or who maintains it. There is a placard fixed to the fence behind the spring which labels it "God's property" and asks people to keep the area clean.
I quite enjoy going to the spring because it takes a while for water containers to fill up so you get to chat to the people in the line around you. And they are all sorts of people, all ages and walks of life, so its rather nice to chat to some different people.
And of course the blue skies above and the sound and smell of running water. Lovely.
But one of the real drawbacks to Grahamstown is our water. A couple of years ago we had a real water scare, where thousands of baby trout died at the Rhodes fish farm and there was a lot of concern about dangerous levels of heavy metals in our water supply. Everyone was warned not to drink the tap water and we lived on bottled water for a week or two. Rhodes bought what must have literally been tons of bottled water for students and set up water tanks around campus. It turned out, after all of the drama, that the water was safe for humans. So no Erin Brockovich for Grahamstown!
But, to quote the Rhodes followup email from after the water scare, the water is "safe (if unpleasant) to drink." Oh dear, you must know, our water is unpleasant. I only really realised it when I'd been at home in East London for a while and when I came back to Grahamstown I found my tea had the most unpleasant taste. I tried to figure out what the problem was for ages - I thought it was the type of milk, or maybe onion in the fridge had made the milk tase odd. But I finally realised the issue was the water.
Yuck.
Our water goes through phases where its browny, brown, white, has floaty white bits or floaty black bits.
Yuck.
And it often tastes like dirt.
Yuck.
I asked a friend who works in water research what the issue is, and she tells me that the problem is really that Grahamstown's water pipes are very old. So they have cracks where soil gets into them. Which isn't dangerous, I'm told. It just makes the water taste like dirt.
Of course, because we have all watched Erin Brockovich we still harbour concerns about our fertility and future health and so forth. But wonderfully, there is a spring just on the outskirts of Grahamstown. And Grahamstown is small, so "on the outskirts of Grahamstown" is a 10 minute drive away from pretty much anywhere.
So over these past years, with the water concerning all of us, the spring has become a pretty busy place. Sometimes you go there and wait half an hour in a line to get water.
This is a typical queue at the spring, Sunday afternoon I think...
The spring is in a dip just just off the side of the road. You can see my car Chloe (blue midge!) on the road, and some other cars. There's usually at least one or two cars parked next to the spring, sometimes five or six or more.
This is a close up of the actual spring, and my water container being filled up. The whole area has been built up with steps from the road down to the spring, and the pipe and area to stand your containers on as they fill up.
I have no idea who first set it up, or who maintains it. There is a placard fixed to the fence behind the spring which labels it "God's property" and asks people to keep the area clean.
I quite enjoy going to the spring because it takes a while for water containers to fill up so you get to chat to the people in the line around you. And they are all sorts of people, all ages and walks of life, so its rather nice to chat to some different people.
And of course the blue skies above and the sound and smell of running water. Lovely.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
For shame
In the mail. A Truworths account card. That I never applied for. Just for just, a sparkling new opportunity to get into debt. I got a Woolworths account card in the same way. And I get periodic letters from Nedbank offering me personal loans. And SMS's offering me loans. Last year before the new credit act was passed I got several phone calls offering Kulula.com credit cards and other such fanciful things. Kulula credit cards!!!
SHAME ON YOU Truworths, Woolworths, Nedbank, Kulula and many others who try to lure South African's into unnecessary debt! We have enough financial concerns without this added temptation.
For shame.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Unfearing yourself
As a followup from my previous post!
Most white south African's are, I expect, pretty afraid of being in townships. Or maybe it was just me. But I think its a pretty common fear. Its not even a well defined fear - like a fear of being mugged or stabbed or a fear of death. Fears like that are not great, but they are understandable and justifiable. No one wants to be mugged! No, this fear is a sort of fear of general badness and the unknown. But that was particularly ineloquent, I know, perhaps someone else will be able to express it better.
Anyway, the first time a friend dropped me in the township near us to do extra math with some matric students I said I would be fine... "ja ja I'll be fine, see you later." But on the inside there was a terrified "AAAAARG!!!"
Especially when we realised the school I was dropped at (my lift having left) was closed, so we had to walk to a nearby library.
It was pretty ridiculous, in retrospect, but I was pretty scared.
Anyway, I've got over that fear now. This is roughly my technique for dealing with this kind of fear:
1) Evaluate, as best you can, if the danger is real.
If the danger is real, then leave!!
This is often a difficult thing to evaluate though, because when you are nervous and in a place you aren't used to, and feeling very conspicuous, and very aware of the newspaper article you read last week about someone being beaten to death with a spade... well, its sometimes hard to be objective.
Also sometimes you just don't have the information you need to make an informed decision - sometimes I really just don't know if an area is safe or not. And its easy to give in to prejudices (for example, that poorer areas are automatically unsafe. Which is not necessarily the case).
So it might be a good idea to ask people who are more in the know than you.
2) If you decide that the danger is not real, teach yourself not to be afraid.
So in my case, having decided that hanging around the front of a high school in the township waiting for kids to arrive for extra math is not dangerous, what then? Even if I objectively decide its not dangerous, what if I still get a fright every time someone walks past, heart beating fast, thinking people are looking at me and so on?
Well, then you train yourself to not be scared.
So for me, this means parking my car and resisting the urge to keep it locked and wait for the kids inside my locked car. It means unlocking the door, opening it and sitting on the pavement. It means greeting people.
And after a while your brain will realise that the impending danger is not so impending.
Ah!! But what about desensitising yourself to dangerous situations? Couldn't that happen if you act like this?
And that is a hazard. Which is why you do need to assess situations for danger. And be careful, be alert, don't be in lonely places on your own and so forth. You don't even need to be afraid to be alert and careful.
And as you realise you don't always have to be afraid, your world will get bigger.
My brother and I used to play a computer game called Civilization, where you explored an unknown land and settled and built up a nation. The game was played on a map (sometimes of the Earth, but you could play in a fantasy world too), which showed the landscape and your cities and people and your opponent's cities and people. But the places you had never travelled to with any of your men were dark, just blanked out on the map. You didn't know what was happening there, if any opponents had settled there, or even what the landscape there was like if it was a fantasy map.
So as well as building up cities and so forth, a big part of the game was sending out your men to explore. And as you explored, as you went new places, you would see what was happening there. Other cities you could trade with (or destroy, it was quite a millitant game!), natural resources you could tap in to, good land to settle on.
And your map of the world became more and more open. And the blanked out sections became smaller and smaller.
And thats what letting go of fear can do for you. The blanked out sections of your world (geographic and otherwise) will become smaller and smaller.
Most white south African's are, I expect, pretty afraid of being in townships. Or maybe it was just me. But I think its a pretty common fear. Its not even a well defined fear - like a fear of being mugged or stabbed or a fear of death. Fears like that are not great, but they are understandable and justifiable. No one wants to be mugged! No, this fear is a sort of fear of general badness and the unknown. But that was particularly ineloquent, I know, perhaps someone else will be able to express it better.
Anyway, the first time a friend dropped me in the township near us to do extra math with some matric students I said I would be fine... "ja ja I'll be fine, see you later." But on the inside there was a terrified "AAAAARG!!!"
Especially when we realised the school I was dropped at (my lift having left) was closed, so we had to walk to a nearby library.
It was pretty ridiculous, in retrospect, but I was pretty scared.
Anyway, I've got over that fear now. This is roughly my technique for dealing with this kind of fear:
1) Evaluate, as best you can, if the danger is real.
If the danger is real, then leave!!
This is often a difficult thing to evaluate though, because when you are nervous and in a place you aren't used to, and feeling very conspicuous, and very aware of the newspaper article you read last week about someone being beaten to death with a spade... well, its sometimes hard to be objective.
Also sometimes you just don't have the information you need to make an informed decision - sometimes I really just don't know if an area is safe or not. And its easy to give in to prejudices (for example, that poorer areas are automatically unsafe. Which is not necessarily the case).
So it might be a good idea to ask people who are more in the know than you.
2) If you decide that the danger is not real, teach yourself not to be afraid.
So in my case, having decided that hanging around the front of a high school in the township waiting for kids to arrive for extra math is not dangerous, what then? Even if I objectively decide its not dangerous, what if I still get a fright every time someone walks past, heart beating fast, thinking people are looking at me and so on?
Well, then you train yourself to not be scared.
So for me, this means parking my car and resisting the urge to keep it locked and wait for the kids inside my locked car. It means unlocking the door, opening it and sitting on the pavement. It means greeting people.
And after a while your brain will realise that the impending danger is not so impending.
Ah!! But what about desensitising yourself to dangerous situations? Couldn't that happen if you act like this?
And that is a hazard. Which is why you do need to assess situations for danger. And be careful, be alert, don't be in lonely places on your own and so forth. You don't even need to be afraid to be alert and careful.
And as you realise you don't always have to be afraid, your world will get bigger.
My brother and I used to play a computer game called Civilization, where you explored an unknown land and settled and built up a nation. The game was played on a map (sometimes of the Earth, but you could play in a fantasy world too), which showed the landscape and your cities and people and your opponent's cities and people. But the places you had never travelled to with any of your men were dark, just blanked out on the map. You didn't know what was happening there, if any opponents had settled there, or even what the landscape there was like if it was a fantasy map.
So as well as building up cities and so forth, a big part of the game was sending out your men to explore. And as you explored, as you went new places, you would see what was happening there. Other cities you could trade with (or destroy, it was quite a millitant game!), natural resources you could tap in to, good land to settle on.
And your map of the world became more and more open. And the blanked out sections became smaller and smaller.
And thats what letting go of fear can do for you. The blanked out sections of your world (geographic and otherwise) will become smaller and smaller.
Youth Day thoughts on fear
I knew a man who lived in fear
it was huge it was angry
it was drawing near
Behind his house a secret place
was the shadow of the demon
he could never face.
This is the beginning of the song Weeping, by Bright Blue, 1987 (recently redone by Josh Groban).
Today is Youth Day in South Africa. It was one of the few things I blogged about last year. If you don't know what Youth Day is about you can go check out that post.
I'm trying to develop a habit of doing something to commemorate our public holidays. After all, most of these days are public holidays because they mark important events in our past. And remembering the past is important, and celebrating it or commemorating it, as is appropriate.
I hadn't planned anything for today because exams are ending here and I thought most people would be away today. So I thought I might write a blog entry on Youth Day, and leave it at that.
Then this morning a friend of mine messaged me to say he was going to an ANCYL (ANC Youth League) Youth Day rally today in the township near us, and would I like to come. And I thought that sounded like a great idea. I had some slight misgivings - I would probably be the only white face, and being a woman means safety is a bit of an issue. But I figured it would be fine if I went with someone I know. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after some discussion with various friends about potential safety issues, amongst other things, I decided not to go. Which was a bit sad but I didn't want to cause trouble, so I think it was best.
But the incident made me think about fear. I really really don't like my actions being dictated to by fear. I hate being afraid to walk at night, I hate being afraid to go certain places.
The lyrics at the top of this post are from a song about South Africa in the 80s.
"I knew a man who lived in fear," the lyrics go, "... He built a wall of steel and flame and men with guns to keep it tame" "... But the fear and the fire and the guns remain."
Fear is a massive issue in South Africa. For white South Africa especially. We build bigger walls, buy more expensive security systems. We don't drive certain places, certainly don't get out of the car in certain places.
And security is definately justified. And caution. Because crime is a real, pressing, issue in our country.
But there is a difference between caution and taking sensible measures to keep safe, and this irrational, pervasive fear. This feeling of being in danger all the time, the feeling of this pressing darkness, "here be dragons" on our mental maps of our towns and cities. Fear of people who are different to us. Fear of other people's anger.
Do you know why the police opened fire on school children on June 16, 1976? Do you know why police opened fire on unarmed protestors in Sharpville, 21 March 1960? As far as I know, there were no orders given for police to fire. On either occassion.
Its was a complex situation, no doubt, with many factors influencing the outcome. But fear must certainly have been one of them. Those police, surrounded by thousands of protestors. Their shooting justified to them by their fear.
This kind of fear, I say no to.
They had to conquer fear because submission to it would have meant that people of conscience would have had to betray their consciences...
Thursday, June 12, 2008
"tryin to brain wash the black man"
Yesterday my digsmates and a friend and I were discussing Barack Obama and his chances in the US elections. We were having a laugh about some of the craziness surrounding Obama: roads in Kenya being named after him, and children. Apparently some children are even being re-named Barack Obama!
So in the silliness we were speaking about Obama needing to secure US oil interests, and someone commented that he needs to get chummy with Gadaffi. Which is surely possible us all being African's, you know what I'm sayin'.
To our amusement this morning we found this article on News24:
Obama disappoints Gadhafi
"Though Gadhafi referred to Obama as "our brother, the Kenyan with American nationality", he also said he expected more from the Illinois Democrat."
The article led to a most hysterical string of emails this morning:
* Names changed to protect the identities of the emailing persons. Alyssa, for the record, is Greek.
So in the silliness we were speaking about Obama needing to secure US oil interests, and someone commented that he needs to get chummy with Gadaffi. Which is surely possible us all being African's, you know what I'm sayin'.
To our amusement this morning we found this article on News24:
Obama disappoints Gadhafi
"Though Gadhafi referred to Obama as "our brother, the Kenyan with American nationality", he also said he expected more from the Illinois Democrat."
The article led to a most hysterical string of emails this morning:
Maybe Chavez and Mugabe can band money together and give it to Obama as a "gift". You know us Africans we give away gifts. Almost like the gift Zuma gave Shaik. Then Obama can make a statement that he inetnds to use the money to build a Dam on the Congo to supply his fellow Africans!!!Thats way he placates Israel and is on the road to winning Gadhafi back!"Gadhafi suggested that Obama should promise to give Africa the money Washington allocates to Israel to "build a dam on the Congo River to supply the whole African continent with power."
Pamela*
I cant believe two intelligent ladies like yourselves have been fooled by this report. This is what is known as propaganda. They're tryin to brain wash the black man, so brother can turn against brother. I mean honestly, they didn't even spell Gadaffi's name right, it's Gadaffi not Gadhafi. I see thru this propaganda and may your eyes be opened too. Until i hear these words coming out of Comrade Gadaffi's mouth myself, i still stand that Gadaffi and Obama are a force to be reckoned with. Sisters this a just a tactic to try convince us that Comrade Obama is not on our side.
Power to the people!!!!
Moanique*
Moanique
how many times do we have to say this...its not always about the black people..what does Gadaffi/Gadahfi have to do about electing the US president. So because Prince Phillip is Queen Elizabeths husband i can say that he is not representing the Greeks...
Alyssa*
You Greeks have never had the same sort of togetherness as us Black folk. This is because the Greeks have never been persecuted! You have always been among the echelons of society, working ur way thru the high calss and often topping the high Class. For as long as I can remember, my people have been fighting to get to the top. Now, one of us has made it. All black people now unite to ensure that he is successful. His success is our success.One person, is the group. HALALA!
Pamela*
what are you talking about!!! we have neva been persecuted????
Let me tell you about us being persecuted by the bloody Turks and Germans! The turks have destroyed so much of our culture..taken our land and killed my people. And that is for over 100 years!!! Then the Germans came and just used our land for strategic purposes, made us slaves....
Zito Ellada!!!
Alyssa*
* Names changed to protect the identities of the emailing persons. Alyssa, for the record, is Greek.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Xenophobia in 1996
I just accidentally found this article in an old ANC publication:
Immigration Issue Must be Tackled.
Its interesting that in 1996 the Home Affairs deputy minister, Lindiwe Sisulu, was already calling xenophobia a problem:
It makes me wonder about some government leaders claiming shock and horror that South African citizens could do such a thing as these recent xenophobic attacks. Calling on third force involvement and criminal elements and so forth.
Maybe there were other factors involved in these recent attacks. And I hope some investigation will bring them to light, if they are.
But it doesn't seem quite honest of the government to claim to be surprised by xenophobia, if it was already discussing the problem of xenophobia in 1996.
Immigration Issue Must be Tackled.
Its interesting that in 1996 the Home Affairs deputy minister, Lindiwe Sisulu, was already calling xenophobia a problem:
There is no doubt the people of this country are becoming very xenophobic and the service we provide requires urgent overhaul, as immigration remains a problematic area.
...
Immigration policy is a touchy area. It has sparked xenophobic conflict. Often, the issues of legal and illegal immigrants are conflated in the minds of the public.
Most South Africans have not been exposed to people from outside [the country]. Apartheid itself was so structured that black and white were cocooned and very few, either than those who experienced the same treatment in exile, had such exposure. Now they find themselves almost overnight faced with the influx of people from other cultures very far even beyond the borders of this continent.
It makes me wonder about some government leaders claiming shock and horror that South African citizens could do such a thing as these recent xenophobic attacks. Calling on third force involvement and criminal elements and so forth.
Maybe there were other factors involved in these recent attacks. And I hope some investigation will bring them to light, if they are.
But it doesn't seem quite honest of the government to claim to be surprised by xenophobia, if it was already discussing the problem of xenophobia in 1996.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Going... Ape?
To continue our series on race:
My flatmates and some friends and I went through a Prison Break stage. We would rent a few Prison Break DVDs and spend an evening rivited to Michael Scofield(*) and Lincon Burrows. Good times.
If you have watched Prison Break you probably remember the epic "Lock down" episode in the first series. There is something like a huge riot in the prison , the prisoners are going crazy, the wardens are hiding out and the prison officials are trying to get things under control. So it's scary, people are being attacked, its anarchy in the section of the prison where the riot is going on. One of the main characters, a lady, is locked into a prison hospital room with crazed prisoners trying to break through the glass to get to her.
Now to further set the scene, I live with a rather vocal bunch of people. So we aren't watching Prison Break in tense silence. Oh no. There is chaos in our longue following the chaos on the TV screen. Lots of commenting and chatting and squealing.
Ok, so I've set the scene. The prisoners are running riot, we are watching them... Oh, and the final scene setting note: I was probably the only white person in the room. There may have been one or two more, but most of the TV watchers in our longue were probably black (and our Minoshni of course!).
In amidst all of this Prison Break chaos, Laura (me) comments "Oh they are going af!!!"
"... what Laura?"
"The're going af, the prisoners..."
"Uh Laura I think you mean 'going ape'" (says Minoshni, master of subtlety!)
"No, I mean 'going af.' Its an expression."
"Uuuh..."
"OH," says Laura, starting to blush, realising what she is saying: "oh I'M SORRY!!"
Needless to say I haven't used the expression since. Sad to say I had used it many many times before I realised in that moment that "going af" is shorthand for "going African." And it means, pretty much, behaving barbarically. Eish. Not great. But we had a good laugh about it!
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they had a good laugh about it, at my expense!
(*) Since this is a series on race, it might be worth noting that Wentworth Miller, who plays Michael Scofield in Prison Break, has the most wonderful ancestry:
"Miller has stated that his father is of African-American, Jamaican, English, German, Jewish and Cherokee ancestry, and that his mother is of Russian, French, Dutch, Lebanese and Syrian descent." (Ref: Wikipedia on Wentworth Miller)
My flatmates and some friends and I went through a Prison Break stage. We would rent a few Prison Break DVDs and spend an evening rivited to Michael Scofield(*) and Lincon Burrows. Good times.
If you have watched Prison Break you probably remember the epic "Lock down" episode in the first series. There is something like a huge riot in the prison , the prisoners are going crazy, the wardens are hiding out and the prison officials are trying to get things under control. So it's scary, people are being attacked, its anarchy in the section of the prison where the riot is going on. One of the main characters, a lady, is locked into a prison hospital room with crazed prisoners trying to break through the glass to get to her.
Now to further set the scene, I live with a rather vocal bunch of people. So we aren't watching Prison Break in tense silence. Oh no. There is chaos in our longue following the chaos on the TV screen. Lots of commenting and chatting and squealing.
Ok, so I've set the scene. The prisoners are running riot, we are watching them... Oh, and the final scene setting note: I was probably the only white person in the room. There may have been one or two more, but most of the TV watchers in our longue were probably black (and our Minoshni of course!).
In amidst all of this Prison Break chaos, Laura (me) comments "Oh they are going af!!!"
"... what Laura?"
"The're going af, the prisoners..."
"Uh Laura I think you mean 'going ape'" (says Minoshni, master of subtlety!)
"No, I mean 'going af.' Its an expression."
"Uuuh..."
"OH," says Laura, starting to blush, realising what she is saying: "oh I'M SORRY!!"
Needless to say I haven't used the expression since. Sad to say I had used it many many times before I realised in that moment that "going af" is shorthand for "going African." And it means, pretty much, behaving barbarically. Eish. Not great. But we had a good laugh about it!
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they had a good laugh about it, at my expense!
(*) Since this is a series on race, it might be worth noting that Wentworth Miller, who plays Michael Scofield in Prison Break, has the most wonderful ancestry:
"Miller has stated that his father is of African-American, Jamaican, English, German, Jewish and Cherokee ancestry, and that his mother is of Russian, French, Dutch, Lebanese and Syrian descent." (Ref: Wikipedia on Wentworth Miller)
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Do you feel left out?
I've been meaning for a while to do a series of posts on my experiences with race. Just some stories from my life. Because race is quite a big issue in South Africa.
In South Africa there are still pretty large gaps between different races. On Thursday I went to a talk by a Professor from UCT, entitled "Recent patterns of racialisation." It was mostly a bunch of stats about different races in SA. The kind of stuff we all know, really, but maybe don't talk about much. For example, they did a study on the Jammie Steps at UCT, where they set up a camera to regularly take pictures of the stairs. Then they looked at how people were grouped in the pictures. And guess what? People sat in groups of the same race. But we all knew it would be like that, didn't we?
So ja, there are still pretty large gaps between different races. Physical gaps where we often still live in different neighbourhoods and so forth, but more personal gaps too. Where we don't understand each other, where we have had different experiences of life, where we make assumptions about each other and so forth. Even language can be a big gap.
Anyway, that was a long intro to a short post. I've been really blessed in life to be around a very mixed race bunch of people, which has been difficult and great in very many ways (And even the difficult is a great thing, when it comes down to it, because sometimes its difficult to deal with race stuff. But its still very important to deal with it. And I'm very grateful for the opportunity I have had to do this).
So along the way I've had all sort of experiences that have challenged me and opened my mind and humbled me. So I thought I must blog about some of them!
Just a short one for today:
I used to tutor maths to some kids from a township school near me, just to help them out. It was quite alot of fun actually.
They usually spoke Xhosa to each other. We did math problems in a group, so it usually meant me speaking to them in English and them speaking to me in English, but then discussing and explaining the work to each other in Xhosa. Sometimes they even spoke Xhosa to me, which I could usually understand just enough to reply. Because when you're talking about maths you would usually use the word "parabola" or "gradient" even if you are speaking in Xhosa, so I could pick up enough from the few words I know, and the context, to reply somewhat intelligently!
And I don't mind it at all. Xhosa is their home language, and the home language of most people in my region, so really it should be me making an effort to learn Xhosa. Also, grasping maths can be hard enough in your mother tongue, why make it more difficult by insisting on using English?
Anyway, on this one occasion I was walking back to the car with them, and one of the girls asked me very earnestly if I felt left out when they all speak in Xhosa.
And it was such a moment for me because I thought it was the most beautiful role reversal. Here was this young black girl, concerned for me. A wealthier, older, educated while girl, who was, in that context, her teacher.
Language is a strange thing, because it can represent so much of a person's identity. And its often the case that English represents wealth and education and sophistication. That English is exalted above other languages, in a sense, and represents white superiority. Which is nonsense of course, but that it how it is sometimes viewed, consciously or unconsciously, by people.
Which is why I thought it was beautiful when this girl was concerned for me, that I felt left out in not understanding her language. And in her concern, she became the gracious and I became the one who received her grace.
I could say more, but I'll leave it for another post :)
In South Africa there are still pretty large gaps between different races. On Thursday I went to a talk by a Professor from UCT, entitled "Recent patterns of racialisation." It was mostly a bunch of stats about different races in SA. The kind of stuff we all know, really, but maybe don't talk about much. For example, they did a study on the Jammie Steps at UCT, where they set up a camera to regularly take pictures of the stairs. Then they looked at how people were grouped in the pictures. And guess what? People sat in groups of the same race. But we all knew it would be like that, didn't we?
So ja, there are still pretty large gaps between different races. Physical gaps where we often still live in different neighbourhoods and so forth, but more personal gaps too. Where we don't understand each other, where we have had different experiences of life, where we make assumptions about each other and so forth. Even language can be a big gap.
Anyway, that was a long intro to a short post. I've been really blessed in life to be around a very mixed race bunch of people, which has been difficult and great in very many ways (And even the difficult is a great thing, when it comes down to it, because sometimes its difficult to deal with race stuff. But its still very important to deal with it. And I'm very grateful for the opportunity I have had to do this).
So along the way I've had all sort of experiences that have challenged me and opened my mind and humbled me. So I thought I must blog about some of them!
Just a short one for today:
I used to tutor maths to some kids from a township school near me, just to help them out. It was quite alot of fun actually.
They usually spoke Xhosa to each other. We did math problems in a group, so it usually meant me speaking to them in English and them speaking to me in English, but then discussing and explaining the work to each other in Xhosa. Sometimes they even spoke Xhosa to me, which I could usually understand just enough to reply. Because when you're talking about maths you would usually use the word "parabola" or "gradient" even if you are speaking in Xhosa, so I could pick up enough from the few words I know, and the context, to reply somewhat intelligently!
And I don't mind it at all. Xhosa is their home language, and the home language of most people in my region, so really it should be me making an effort to learn Xhosa. Also, grasping maths can be hard enough in your mother tongue, why make it more difficult by insisting on using English?
Anyway, on this one occasion I was walking back to the car with them, and one of the girls asked me very earnestly if I felt left out when they all speak in Xhosa.
And it was such a moment for me because I thought it was the most beautiful role reversal. Here was this young black girl, concerned for me. A wealthier, older, educated while girl, who was, in that context, her teacher.
Language is a strange thing, because it can represent so much of a person's identity. And its often the case that English represents wealth and education and sophistication. That English is exalted above other languages, in a sense, and represents white superiority. Which is nonsense of course, but that it how it is sometimes viewed, consciously or unconsciously, by people.
Which is why I thought it was beautiful when this girl was concerned for me, that I felt left out in not understanding her language. And in her concern, she became the gracious and I became the one who received her grace.
I could say more, but I'll leave it for another post :)
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Vivian's garden
This post is for my old Vinayard small group from UIUC. Hi everyone! I miss our crazy small group!
I chatted to Geoff the other day and I was telling him some of the stuff my friends and I have been up to here, so I thought I'd put it all in a blog for you guys, with some pics!
Extension 9, an area on the outskirts of the town I live in
The lady in charge of community development at my church, Wendy, runs a weekly discussion-type group. We get together and read about, talk about, think about community development from a Biblical perspective. This year Wendy decided we had done enough talking, we actually need to start doing!
So this had been a year of doing! And learning along the way.
One of the things we have been involved in is setting up a vegetable garden for Vivian. Vivian is a lady who works for Wendy and a couple of other people we know. She is remarkable - she has her own church, which she runs from her house. She feeds scores of people, especially sick people, she takes people into her home and cares for them.
Her house is tiny, it's really just one room with a tiny bathroom. Its what we call an RDP house, the houses the government here has been building for people. And its on a pretty tiny patch of land. But there was an open patch at the back, a few metres by a few metres. And it's on this patch that she asked us to help her start a vegetable garden. So we did:
Eben and Yeukai clearing away the grass - it was a serious job! You can see the rows of identical RDP houses in the background. I'd estimate maybe 80% of the population in my town live in accommodation something like this, or worse. And the other 20% live in bigger houses or apartment blocks, more like yours :)
The boy next door checking out the progress!
The whole team knuckling down! (I'm the one with the black and white hat). The ground was *so* hard the poor guys really had to go for it with those pick axes. Us girls just pulled out grass and planted seeds.
Vivian lives right near the end of town - you can see in the picture near the top of this post, which is of the open field close to her house. Unfortunately living near open fields also means its not the safest area.
Wendy recently told us Vivian was asked for help by a lady in her community whose four children had not eaten for four days. So we're going try and help somehow, we will brain storm it next week. Vivian feeds a lot of people in her area, so we have been trying to help her buying basic groceries.
Vivian's dream is to start a creche where she can care for children. Our church has been trying to buy a house for her to start a creche in. They found one just around the corner from her present house, which is ideal. I think the process of trying to buy the house is underway. They ran into some unexpected problems though. For example, one house they wanted to buy, which was selling for about R20000, had an outstanding water and electricity bill of nearly another R20000 attached to it! Which had to be paid for before the house could be sold.
Some other ladies from our development discussion group are trying to build a playground in an open area near Vivian's house. And another group (my group) is trying to help some ladies expanding their beading businesses. There are about ten ladies who sit on upturned crates all day on the edge of the university campus where we stay, selling beadwork. They are very skilled - their beadwork is lovely and they are an organised team. But their working conditions are just not ideal, and we had some ideas for helping them tap into a larger market. We're really still trying to figure things out on the beading project, so we will see how things go with that!
At the moment a lot of our "doing" is just research into how to do things. Its been quite encouraging to learn about other development projects going on. From skills development, to homes for street children, micro-lending projects, small business projects, all sorts of things. Our group actually wanted to try a micro-lending project but it was looking a bit overwhelming so we decided to start small!
I chatted to Geoff the other day and I was telling him some of the stuff my friends and I have been up to here, so I thought I'd put it all in a blog for you guys, with some pics!
Extension 9, an area on the outskirts of the town I live inThe lady in charge of community development at my church, Wendy, runs a weekly discussion-type group. We get together and read about, talk about, think about community development from a Biblical perspective. This year Wendy decided we had done enough talking, we actually need to start doing!
So this had been a year of doing! And learning along the way.
One of the things we have been involved in is setting up a vegetable garden for Vivian. Vivian is a lady who works for Wendy and a couple of other people we know. She is remarkable - she has her own church, which she runs from her house. She feeds scores of people, especially sick people, she takes people into her home and cares for them.
Her house is tiny, it's really just one room with a tiny bathroom. Its what we call an RDP house, the houses the government here has been building for people. And its on a pretty tiny patch of land. But there was an open patch at the back, a few metres by a few metres. And it's on this patch that she asked us to help her start a vegetable garden. So we did:
Eben and Yeukai clearing away the grass - it was a serious job! You can see the rows of identical RDP houses in the background. I'd estimate maybe 80% of the population in my town live in accommodation something like this, or worse. And the other 20% live in bigger houses or apartment blocks, more like yours :)
The boy next door checking out the progress!
The whole team knuckling down! (I'm the one with the black and white hat). The ground was *so* hard the poor guys really had to go for it with those pick axes. Us girls just pulled out grass and planted seeds.Vivian lives right near the end of town - you can see in the picture near the top of this post, which is of the open field close to her house. Unfortunately living near open fields also means its not the safest area.
Wendy recently told us Vivian was asked for help by a lady in her community whose four children had not eaten for four days. So we're going try and help somehow, we will brain storm it next week. Vivian feeds a lot of people in her area, so we have been trying to help her buying basic groceries.
Vivian's dream is to start a creche where she can care for children. Our church has been trying to buy a house for her to start a creche in. They found one just around the corner from her present house, which is ideal. I think the process of trying to buy the house is underway. They ran into some unexpected problems though. For example, one house they wanted to buy, which was selling for about R20000, had an outstanding water and electricity bill of nearly another R20000 attached to it! Which had to be paid for before the house could be sold.
Some other ladies from our development discussion group are trying to build a playground in an open area near Vivian's house. And another group (my group) is trying to help some ladies expanding their beading businesses. There are about ten ladies who sit on upturned crates all day on the edge of the university campus where we stay, selling beadwork. They are very skilled - their beadwork is lovely and they are an organised team. But their working conditions are just not ideal, and we had some ideas for helping them tap into a larger market. We're really still trying to figure things out on the beading project, so we will see how things go with that!
At the moment a lot of our "doing" is just research into how to do things. Its been quite encouraging to learn about other development projects going on. From skills development, to homes for street children, micro-lending projects, small business projects, all sorts of things. Our group actually wanted to try a micro-lending project but it was looking a bit overwhelming so we decided to start small!
This is what the Lord Almighty says: ‘Once again men and women of ripe old age will sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with cane in hand because of his age (not all dying young of HIV/AIDS). The city streets will be filled with boys and girls playing there (safety, peace, childhood, happiness, laughter)’.
Zech 8:4 (comments by Wendy!)
This is what the Lord Almighty says, ‘My towns will again overflow with prosperity...’
Zech 1:17
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Welcome Mutsa
I've been trying to convince my flatmates (present and past) to blog for over a year now.
Finally Mutsa has taken up the call to blog. Well done Muts, welcome to the blogging world!
(As an aside, my friend Heather told me its always better to make links several words long, rather than one. Because its easier for people to click on, I suppose. And she works with web stuff, so she should know!)
Finally Mutsa has taken up the call to blog. Well done Muts, welcome to the blogging world!
(As an aside, my friend Heather told me its always better to make links several words long, rather than one. Because its easier for people to click on, I suppose. And she works with web stuff, so she should know!)
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Humbled again
I was checking out aquilogy's blog this afternoon and I came across this post (not for sensitive viewers). And it really put things into perspective for me.
You know, its good to give and its good to protest and its good to make a stand.
But what can you say to a picture like that. There are no words really.
You know, its good to give and its good to protest and its good to make a stand.
But what can you say to a picture like that. There are no words really.
Evil triumphs when good people do nothing
"Evil triumphs when good people do nothing."
This was Dr Badat's concluding exhortation in the Rhodes statement against xenophobia. Dr Badat is the VC of Rhodes, the university I go to.We do need to make a stand at this time, we need to be people who speak out against bigotry, xenophobia, violence, lawlessness. But I think this is also a time when we need to do more than raise our voices against this. Raising voices is important, but when there are literally thousands and thousands of people trying to live out of tens or in halls, afraid, with nothing, its the time to use our hands along with our voices.
I live far away from the areas affected by the violence, so it seems difficult to help in practical ways. So I was very glad to read about the relief efforts that His People Church in Joburg have been involved in (more info here: Call to Action). I emailed some of the HP Joburg staff to ask how things were going and in their reply they commented, "The only light in this awful, awful situation has been to see how South Africans have rallied to help!" You can check out some of the stuff they are doing on the call to action above. They are helping in all sorts of ways, from working with medical teams, to looking after children to, to visiting people hiding out in and around police stations and providing for their very practical needs: blankets, food, mattresses, washing powder, and they even said they were looking into hiring porta potties!
There and many churches and other NGO type organisations helping with relief work. Which really is quite encouraging to see, in the midst of such a terrible situation. The government has a role to play, of course. But as normal citizens, we are responsible for our country and our communities. We need to be the ones to take action and change things, and help people, protect the poor and promote justice. I think that this was an excellent example of that.
So I decided to contribute financially to the HP Joburg relief efforts. And as I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that there are probably lots of people who want to help, but just need an avenue to do so.
On Friday the university commemorated Africa Day with anti-xenophobia pledges. People went to the library quad and signed pledges against xenophobia and took Africa posters to put on doors and windows as a sign that we do not support xenophobia. So we joined with this initiative in the library quad on Rhodes campus and did a collection for the HP Joburg relief work.
As it turns out a couple of other students and staff members (Rebecca and Kate) had also organised a collection so we joined forces with them and we accepted monetary donations and they accepted donations of goods. Rebecca and Kate were very impressive, I thought!! They started the day with no way to get the donated stuff to Joburg, but during the course of the morning they made a plan with Algoa FM and a PE transport company to sent the stuff up to Joburg next week. Very impressive!
Here you see Rebecca (bending down, bottom right) accepting a donation from the lady next to her.
People donated so much stuff!! Bags and bags of clothes, bedding, even cultery and crockery... Rebecca and Kate are sending off the truck load of goods they collected to an organisation called Gift of the Givers, to be distributed in Joburg.
This was the stand we set up. Here you see Caroline and Lomile manning the stand. We collected a total of R7250 in financial donations, which amazed me. I was completely humbled by the generosity with which people gave. Thank you so much to everyone who gave! The money has been internet transferred to HP Joburg and will be used to help displaced people.
Ian Sieborger, a Christians@Rhodes member, came to support and wrote a bit about the collection on their blog.
If people want to donate financially to the HP Joburg relief efforts, or help in any other way, their details are on this page. And if you have blankets, clothes, toiletries or anything else you would be willing to give to someone who now has pretty much nothing, you can drop off donations with Rebecca French in the Rhodes University Germany Department on Monday (tomorrow). The goods are being sent to Joburg on Tuesday.
Also, remember to lift our country and this situation to God in prayer - he can change the life of a person and the destiny of a nation.
And of course, if there are other ways you can think of to help, or other organisation you want to help, go for it!!
Because evil triumphs when good people do nothing.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
More on Xenophobia
These xenophobic attacks are such a heavy thing. The images on the news are terrifying.
I live with two Zimbabweans, which makes it all the more real.
Today my flatmates and I were chatting about the fact that Mbeki has been so silent on the issue, and I pointed out that I had seen references to a statement Mbeki made about the situation yesterday. But neither of them had heard about his statement.
Strange.
I was chatting to a friend at work about the same issue, and she was saying that she wished she could get some definitive information about the situation. The media are prone to sensationalism, she was saying, so its hard to know what's really going on. Not to say the situation isn't serious, but what is actually happening? Is it escalating? Has is calmed down? Are things under control now? Are the police coping? Are they not?
She really made me think about how the media has played this story. I was watching ETV news tonight. The presenter on location in Alexandria said they hadn't been any more violence today, but added the ominous qualifier that the violence usually starts pretty late. Implying that there is plenty more time for violence to still happen today, and almost implying that it probably will. And she spoke of scared people going home early to shut themselves into their homes.
Now I do really think the situation is scary. Its so distressing that such a horrible, senselessly violent thing could happen here.
But it seems to me that unbiased reporting on the issue would have said:
"There have been no further attacks today," or even "There have been no further attacks today, but there is still a feeling of fear among the people here."
Rather than effectively saying:
"There have been no further attacks today, BUT JUST YOU WAIT!!!"
It reminds me a bit of Mbeki's lie factory comments the other day. I wonder what it must be like, to be him. And I wonder what the truth is about all of these issues.
I read the news and watch the news, but I really battle to know what parts of it I can actually believe.
(I was glad to see that Ndumiso Ncobo mentioned the weirdness that is the media in his blog post on this issue: Xenophobic racism and other general idiocy.)
I live with two Zimbabweans, which makes it all the more real.
Today my flatmates and I were chatting about the fact that Mbeki has been so silent on the issue, and I pointed out that I had seen references to a statement Mbeki made about the situation yesterday. But neither of them had heard about his statement.
Strange.
I was chatting to a friend at work about the same issue, and she was saying that she wished she could get some definitive information about the situation. The media are prone to sensationalism, she was saying, so its hard to know what's really going on. Not to say the situation isn't serious, but what is actually happening? Is it escalating? Has is calmed down? Are things under control now? Are the police coping? Are they not?
She really made me think about how the media has played this story. I was watching ETV news tonight. The presenter on location in Alexandria said they hadn't been any more violence today, but added the ominous qualifier that the violence usually starts pretty late. Implying that there is plenty more time for violence to still happen today, and almost implying that it probably will. And she spoke of scared people going home early to shut themselves into their homes.
Now I do really think the situation is scary. Its so distressing that such a horrible, senselessly violent thing could happen here.
But it seems to me that unbiased reporting on the issue would have said:
"There have been no further attacks today," or even "There have been no further attacks today, but there is still a feeling of fear among the people here."
Rather than effectively saying:
"There have been no further attacks today, BUT JUST YOU WAIT!!!"
It reminds me a bit of Mbeki's lie factory comments the other day. I wonder what it must be like, to be him. And I wonder what the truth is about all of these issues.
I read the news and watch the news, but I really battle to know what parts of it I can actually believe.
(I was glad to see that Ndumiso Ncobo mentioned the weirdness that is the media in his blog post on this issue: Xenophobic racism and other general idiocy.)
Life in the ghetto
I live with two wonderful friends in a very central, safe, block of flats. And we pay exceptionally low rent. And we have lovely landlords.
But our flat has been systematically falling apart. And not being fixed. This is our fault in part: we often don't bother to tell our landlord about problems we have. But when we do, it often takes quite a while to get things fixed...
Take our lounge light, for example:
The light has always been dubious. At any given time usually only one or two of the light bulb fittings are working. But around the beginning of the year the whole thing just died and we had no light in our lounge. Our landlord sent someone to fix it a week or so back. It worked for a day. We called the landlord again, she sent someone to fix it again... And it lasted for about a week. So we just make do with a desk lamp.
Then there is the stove:
Our little stove has done well for us over the years. But it always had door problems really, which have become worse of late. And because the stove door doesn't close properly it lets heat out. Which means you have to budget *way* more time that you would expect to cook anything in the oven. One of the stove plates also has a baffling habit of turning off when you turn the oven on.
But a couple of weeks ago things really came to a head and half the oven door just fell off. Yes, *fell off*. The kindly light-almost-fixing handy man says it has breathed its last. Something in the door hinge has just rusted right off. He put it together but it is very precarious and he advised us not to use it.
Oh dear.
Then of course, the toilet:
This toilet seems not to work more often than it works. End of last year we finally called a plumber ourselves. He fixed it, billed us, and now its broken again.
Then of course, the plugs in the kitchen:
This multiplug arrangement is like an old friend. We've been together for years now, we know all of it's foibles. It trips if the kettle boils while the toaster is on, for example. Not just if the kettle is on while the toaster is on, understand, only if the kettle boils.
I'm not sure where the problem lies here. I think its just a wiring problem in our flat, manifesting itself in the kitchen. We went through a stage where you could only turn an iron of if you turned off all other electrical appliances. Just looking at an iron too intently would trip everything.
And of course, the washing machine that makes incredibly suspicious noises we try to ignore:
The fly graveyard aircon in Danai's room:
And finally, the most recent addition to our litany of woes, a microwave with a door that only sometimes opens:
But in spite of all of that, there is a reason life in the ghetto is still alot of fun:
But our flat has been systematically falling apart. And not being fixed. This is our fault in part: we often don't bother to tell our landlord about problems we have. But when we do, it often takes quite a while to get things fixed...
Take our lounge light, for example:
The light has always been dubious. At any given time usually only one or two of the light bulb fittings are working. But around the beginning of the year the whole thing just died and we had no light in our lounge. Our landlord sent someone to fix it a week or so back. It worked for a day. We called the landlord again, she sent someone to fix it again... And it lasted for about a week. So we just make do with a desk lamp.
Then there is the stove:
Our little stove has done well for us over the years. But it always had door problems really, which have become worse of late. And because the stove door doesn't close properly it lets heat out. Which means you have to budget *way* more time that you would expect to cook anything in the oven. One of the stove plates also has a baffling habit of turning off when you turn the oven on.
But a couple of weeks ago things really came to a head and half the oven door just fell off. Yes, *fell off*. The kindly light-almost-fixing handy man says it has breathed its last. Something in the door hinge has just rusted right off. He put it together but it is very precarious and he advised us not to use it.
Oh dear.
Then of course, the toilet:
This toilet seems not to work more often than it works. End of last year we finally called a plumber ourselves. He fixed it, billed us, and now its broken again.
Then of course, the plugs in the kitchen:
This multiplug arrangement is like an old friend. We've been together for years now, we know all of it's foibles. It trips if the kettle boils while the toaster is on, for example. Not just if the kettle is on while the toaster is on, understand, only if the kettle boils.
I'm not sure where the problem lies here. I think its just a wiring problem in our flat, manifesting itself in the kitchen. We went through a stage where you could only turn an iron of if you turned off all other electrical appliances. Just looking at an iron too intently would trip everything.
And of course, the washing machine that makes incredibly suspicious noises we try to ignore:
The fly graveyard aircon in Danai's room:
And finally, the most recent addition to our litany of woes, a microwave with a door that only sometimes opens:
But in spite of all of that, there is a reason life in the ghetto is still alot of fun:
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
"Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien"
I read this article in the online Mail and Guardian today. Its another story of xenophobic attacks, against a Zimbabwean lady and her young sister. There was a spate of attacks against Somalians a while back too. But I think its an ongoing thing really (another example).
One of my flatmates is a lawyer. She attended some workshops on foreigners and refugees in South Africa last year. Some of the stories she came back with were unbelievable, in the way foreigners are treated in our country. Often the problem is with official bodies like Home Affairs, which is a scary thing. But scarier still is the fact that ordinary people often hold such venomous beliefs about foreigners. She said that one of the disturbing things about the workshop was that the workshop participants themselves were quite outspoken about how badly they regard foreigners.
To quote Home Affairs Minister Malusi Gigaba: "There [is] a tendency among South Africans to regard all immigrants as criminals who wanted to steal jobs" (from here).
Which is bad enough in and of itself. But when you realise that so many of our current leaders spent years in asylum, aliens in foreign countries, it becomes all the more absurd.
I'm not saying we need to invite all foreigners to work in South Africa, of course we need sensible policies for these sorts of things.
But there is no place for stripping people of dignity because they are foreign, being suspicious of people because they are foreign, mistreating people because they are foreign, taking advantage of people because they are foreign and vulnerable, blaming people for our own problems because they are foreign.
And the fact that these things (and worse) are happening is a reproach to our nation.
I once sat next to a man from Sierra Leone (if I remember correctly) on the bus and he told me the most disturbing stories of how he had been treated. How he had been robbed, how his family lived in fear, because it was known in their community that they were foreign.
And he said the saddest thing: that they had come here in search of a better life, but it had actually just become a nightmare. That things were so bad for foreign people that they were starting to think of returning home, to the poverty and unrest they came here hoping to escape.
Again, what a reproach to our nation. Surely as a nation we want to be standing up for the oppressed? Not turning our backs on them?
I think its time we make a communal stand against this. Perhaps the dramatic forms of xenophobia that make the newspapers aren't something you deal with in the usual course of your life. But we all know how people speak about Nigerians, for example. Or have heard people speak about foreigners stealing jobs.
I think the time has come for us to speak up in conversations like that, politely, and make a stand for foreign people.
I did a quick Bible study to see something of what God feels about foreigners (referred to as aliens in the Bible), and here are some verses:
One of my flatmates is a lawyer. She attended some workshops on foreigners and refugees in South Africa last year. Some of the stories she came back with were unbelievable, in the way foreigners are treated in our country. Often the problem is with official bodies like Home Affairs, which is a scary thing. But scarier still is the fact that ordinary people often hold such venomous beliefs about foreigners. She said that one of the disturbing things about the workshop was that the workshop participants themselves were quite outspoken about how badly they regard foreigners.
To quote Home Affairs Minister Malusi Gigaba: "There [is] a tendency among South Africans to regard all immigrants as criminals who wanted to steal jobs" (from here).
Which is bad enough in and of itself. But when you realise that so many of our current leaders spent years in asylum, aliens in foreign countries, it becomes all the more absurd.
I'm not saying we need to invite all foreigners to work in South Africa, of course we need sensible policies for these sorts of things.
But there is no place for stripping people of dignity because they are foreign, being suspicious of people because they are foreign, mistreating people because they are foreign, taking advantage of people because they are foreign and vulnerable, blaming people for our own problems because they are foreign.
And the fact that these things (and worse) are happening is a reproach to our nation.
I once sat next to a man from Sierra Leone (if I remember correctly) on the bus and he told me the most disturbing stories of how he had been treated. How he had been robbed, how his family lived in fear, because it was known in their community that they were foreign.
And he said the saddest thing: that they had come here in search of a better life, but it had actually just become a nightmare. That things were so bad for foreign people that they were starting to think of returning home, to the poverty and unrest they came here hoping to escape.
Again, what a reproach to our nation. Surely as a nation we want to be standing up for the oppressed? Not turning our backs on them?
I think its time we make a communal stand against this. Perhaps the dramatic forms of xenophobia that make the newspapers aren't something you deal with in the usual course of your life. But we all know how people speak about Nigerians, for example. Or have heard people speak about foreigners stealing jobs.
I think the time has come for us to speak up in conversations like that, politely, and make a stand for foreign people.
I did a quick Bible study to see something of what God feels about foreigners (referred to as aliens in the Bible), and here are some verses:
- Deuteronomy 27:19
"Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless or the widow." Then all the people shall say, "Amen!"
- Psalm 146:9
The LORD watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.
- Leviticus 19:34 The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.
- Leviticus 23:22 When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the LORD your God.
- Leviticus 24:22 You are to have the same law for the alien and the native-born. I am the LORD your God.
- Numbers 15:16 The same laws and regulations will apply both to you and to the alien living among you.
- Deuteronomy 1:16
And I charged your judges at that time: Hear the disputes between your brothers and judge fairly, whether the case is between brother Israelites or between one of them and an alien.
- Deuteronomy 10:18 He [The Lord] defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing.
- Deuteronomy 10:19 And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt.
- Deuteronomy 24:14 Do not take advantage of a hired man who is poor and needy, whether he is a brother Israelite or an alien living in one of your towns.
- Deuteronomy 24:17
Do not deprive the alien or the fatherless of justice, or take the cloak of the widow as a pledge.
- Deuteronomy 24:19
When you are harvesting in your field and you overlook a sheaf, do not go back to get it. Leave it for the alien, the fatherless and the widow, so that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hands.
- Deuteronomy 24:20
When you beat the olives from your trees, do not go over the branches a second time. Leave what remains for the alien, the fatherless and the widow.
- Deuteronomy 24:21 When you harvest the grapes in your vineyard, do not go over the vines again. Leave what remains for the alien, the fatherless and the widow.
- Deuteronomy 26:12
When you have finished setting aside a tenth of all your produce in the third year, the year of the tithe, you shall give it to the Levite, the alien, the fatherless and the widow, so that they may eat in your towns and be satisfied.
- Jeremiah 7:6
If you do not oppress the alien, the fatherless or the widow and do not shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not follow other gods to your own harm, then I will let you live in this place, in the land I gave your forefathers for ever and ever.
- Jeremiah 22:3 This is what the LORD says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of his oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the alien, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.
- Zechariah 7:10 Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.
- Malachi 3:5 "So I will come near to you for judgment. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive aliens of justice, but do not fear me," says the LORD Almighty.
Linux tip: Printing multiple pages on one page
Printing multiple pages onto one printed page is easy with the programme evince. You just go to:
I use a software package called AIPS as part of my PhD research and unfortunately AIPS sometimes outputs postscript files that evince doesn't like too much. For reasons I don't understand, to be honest.
So here is my method for printing out 4 AIPS ps plot on one page.
1) First combine them into one postscript document:
2) Put the four pages in outputfile.ps onto one page:
3) And then print the final combined postscript file:
You can also plot 3 pages on a side (still each on a quarter of the page) by only inputting 3 files in step one. Or if you want to print two pages per side you can input 2 files in step one and use the qualifier "-2" rather than "-4" in psnup, so make each original page take up half of the final page.
I would end with "Easy as that!"
But really, no, its quite a mission just to print.
.
- Print > Page Setup
I use a software package called AIPS as part of my PhD research and unfortunately AIPS sometimes outputs postscript files that evince doesn't like too much. For reasons I don't understand, to be honest.
So here is my method for printing out 4 AIPS ps plot on one page.
1) First combine them into one postscript document:
- gs -sDEVICE=pswrite -sOutputFile=outputfile.ps -dNOPAUSE -dBATCH file1.ps file2.ps file3.ps file4.ps
2) Put the four pages in outputfile.ps onto one page:
- psnup -4 outputfile.ps finaloutput.ps
3) And then print the final combined postscript file:
- lpr finaloutput.ps
You can also plot 3 pages on a side (still each on a quarter of the page) by only inputting 3 files in step one. Or if you want to print two pages per side you can input 2 files in step one and use the qualifier "-2" rather than "-4" in psnup, so make each original page take up half of the final page.
I would end with "Easy as that!"
But really, no, its quite a mission just to print.
.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
I'm appreciative of... Grahamstown
I stumbled across this blog this morning, a blog dedicated to showing appreciation. Which I think is rather nice!
So shamefully plagurising from aquilogy, I am appreciative of... Grahamstown.
Grahamstown is the city (town?) I've lived in as a student for many years now, enough to consider myself a semi-local. You can check out official info about it here.
Its a pretty small place, but its only about 1 hour and 15 minutes away from PE and about 2 and a half hours from my home town, East London (3 hours the way I drive!). Its also only 45 minutes from the beach and all that entails. Which is seafood, mostly, in my life. And about 40 minutes from the
Big Pineapple, South Africa's premier tourist attraction.
Its small enough so you get used to seeing the same cashiers at some shops. And some business owners and shopkeepers are public figures - the guy who owns the only movie house in town, the lady who works in the video store... that lady who works in the traffic department. If I speak about, say, Mary who works in Home Affairs, people will know who I mean. You can't go shopping without bumping into people you know. Its rare that you eat out and don't see people you know sitting at another table in the same restaurant. A friend of mine is eternally bound to the same hairdresser, a little old lady he used to live next door to. Even when he tries to book other people, she sees him and takes over his hair!
A couple of months ago there was a knock on the door quite early one morning. I wombled to answer it, still in my PJs I think. I was the only person home. I opened the door to a man who wanted to sell me CDs. And then when I said no thanks, asked for money. I said no again and off he went.
It occurred to me at the time that it probably isn't the best idea to open the door (the grid gate thing was open too) to a stranger. But the whole incident didn't make me nervous. I still see that guy in town every now and then, trying to sell CDs.
Which is another thing I love about Grahamstown - in a bigger city I'm sure people would be much more afraid to open their doors to strange men. And possibly rightfully so. I can't say crime isn't an issue here, because it is. But not of the magnitude we hear about in bigger cities.
I don't walk around afraid, or drive afraid, or sit at home alone at night, afraid. Sometimes I wonder why people don't move to smaller places rather than emigrating.
I know small towns aren't everyone's cup of tea, but they certainly have their advantages!
So me, I am appreciative of Grahamstown!
So shamefully plagurising from aquilogy, I am appreciative of... Grahamstown.
Grahamstown is the city (town?) I've lived in as a student for many years now, enough to consider myself a semi-local. You can check out official info about it here.
Its a pretty small place, but its only about 1 hour and 15 minutes away from PE and about 2 and a half hours from my home town, East London (3 hours the way I drive!). Its also only 45 minutes from the beach and all that entails. Which is seafood, mostly, in my life. And about 40 minutes from the
Big Pineapple, South Africa's premier tourist attraction.
Its small enough so you get used to seeing the same cashiers at some shops. And some business owners and shopkeepers are public figures - the guy who owns the only movie house in town, the lady who works in the video store... that lady who works in the traffic department. If I speak about, say, Mary who works in Home Affairs, people will know who I mean. You can't go shopping without bumping into people you know. Its rare that you eat out and don't see people you know sitting at another table in the same restaurant. A friend of mine is eternally bound to the same hairdresser, a little old lady he used to live next door to. Even when he tries to book other people, she sees him and takes over his hair!
A couple of months ago there was a knock on the door quite early one morning. I wombled to answer it, still in my PJs I think. I was the only person home. I opened the door to a man who wanted to sell me CDs. And then when I said no thanks, asked for money. I said no again and off he went.
It occurred to me at the time that it probably isn't the best idea to open the door (the grid gate thing was open too) to a stranger. But the whole incident didn't make me nervous. I still see that guy in town every now and then, trying to sell CDs.
Which is another thing I love about Grahamstown - in a bigger city I'm sure people would be much more afraid to open their doors to strange men. And possibly rightfully so. I can't say crime isn't an issue here, because it is. But not of the magnitude we hear about in bigger cities.
I don't walk around afraid, or drive afraid, or sit at home alone at night, afraid. Sometimes I wonder why people don't move to smaller places rather than emigrating.
I know small towns aren't everyone's cup of tea, but they certainly have their advantages!
So me, I am appreciative of Grahamstown!
Friday, May 02, 2008
Remember Your Home Address
"History is the Home Address"
Mongane Wally Serote
I found this poem a few months ago, scratching in the library for something else. Its long, nearly 70 pages, so I've just typed up extracts from the beginning section here.
It is all set in a conversation between a man and a women, lying in bed, burdened by the state of South African and Africa and trying to make sense of it all, finding their own places in it all. They go on to speak about various other African countries, about images of African people: the soldier, the intellectual, the strong woman, the leaders... they talk through AIDS and poverty, military conflicts, life, culture and important historical events.
I think it is a really beautiful poem, and strong too. Probably what I like most about it is how real it is: a conversation between two people with heavy things on their hearts. The hanging questions, "who killed him" "on whose side are you?", the silences and lapses in conversation where they are involved in their own thoughts, minds wandering to this and that, looking for answers, hopelessness sometimes, hope sometimes.
My favourite poems are poems that make you feel something. And here I felt their confusion and conviction and despair. Which, to me, makes it a beautiful poem. And if they make you feel something, they've opened your eyes and made your world a bit bigger, to see bigger than yourself.
This is a poem about identity, ultimately, and where people find their identities. History is your home address, they conclude. Their answer is that we find our home in our history, this where we come from and how we understand our place in it all. The stories of our people, our exploits and trials, our leaders and our culture. And if we forget where we come from, we lose part of ourselves.
Its coming from a pretty traditional African worldview, so there is lots of emphasis on finding your identity from the group, on the spiritual and on the ancestors. Hence the answer "History is your home address" - you will find yourself in your people and their history, "I am because we are."
Some of these aspects of it are a bit at odds with my own worldview, but I think it holds a lot of truth. And it reminds me of how God exhorted the Israelites to remember their past, and remember what he had done for them:
Mongane Wally Serote
we lay there then
and the night
in its buzz
purred time which was passing
it passed slowly
this time
and we were not aware of its passing
as night followed into day and day into night
we lay in dialogue
she asked -
why are they asking if he is fit to rule?
and the cricket
and the purr of the fridge
and the heaviness of the darkness
and the night without breeze or noise
answered in silence
and I asked -
who are they that ask that?
she turned face up
and we shuffled a distance between us
must I believe that
I asked
that there was a pre-colonial time
there was slave trade
there was colonialism
there was apartheid
and because these were there
there is racism
who must I ask in these times of agreement
who must I ask when it seems there are no witnesses
in this time when the burden of the past is also mine?
with no accomplices there have been no perpetrators
who
who must I ask?
...
I panic
in the daylight and the darkness of the night
I pray they may hear
that they may help him
that they may protect him
that they may be kind to him, their son
not to fall into the acid
which acided so many
when he says - there are two nations here
one white and rich
one black and poor
it is the truth
don't they know?
don't they know
that if you go away -
remember your home address
why do they expect him to forget his?
they have not forgotten theirs
...
beloved,
I said
beloved,
she said
what must we learn from our home?
don't forget your address
if you go away
when they ask you
where you come from
search for the address and give them
ah!
when you return
you must know where to go
she said -
history is the home address
it resides in you
it is your sanctuary and you its sanctuary
if you don't know it
or remember it
if you throw it away
its like you enter the desert
where there is just sand and sand and sand,
she said
...
I found this poem a few months ago, scratching in the library for something else. Its long, nearly 70 pages, so I've just typed up extracts from the beginning section here.
It is all set in a conversation between a man and a women, lying in bed, burdened by the state of South African and Africa and trying to make sense of it all, finding their own places in it all. They go on to speak about various other African countries, about images of African people: the soldier, the intellectual, the strong woman, the leaders... they talk through AIDS and poverty, military conflicts, life, culture and important historical events.
I think it is a really beautiful poem, and strong too. Probably what I like most about it is how real it is: a conversation between two people with heavy things on their hearts. The hanging questions, "who killed him" "on whose side are you?", the silences and lapses in conversation where they are involved in their own thoughts, minds wandering to this and that, looking for answers, hopelessness sometimes, hope sometimes.
My favourite poems are poems that make you feel something. And here I felt their confusion and conviction and despair. Which, to me, makes it a beautiful poem. And if they make you feel something, they've opened your eyes and made your world a bit bigger, to see bigger than yourself.
This is a poem about identity, ultimately, and where people find their identities. History is your home address, they conclude. Their answer is that we find our home in our history, this where we come from and how we understand our place in it all. The stories of our people, our exploits and trials, our leaders and our culture. And if we forget where we come from, we lose part of ourselves.
Its coming from a pretty traditional African worldview, so there is lots of emphasis on finding your identity from the group, on the spiritual and on the ancestors. Hence the answer "History is your home address" - you will find yourself in your people and their history, "I am because we are."
Some of these aspects of it are a bit at odds with my own worldview, but I think it holds a lot of truth. And it reminds me of how God exhorted the Israelites to remember their past, and remember what he had done for them:
Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.
Deuteronomy 32:7
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