and so it begins... again

Today is about the first official day of our independent study projects. We turn in our proposals tomorrow and hope they are approved by some official board. Last night we moved into our huge house for the next 5 weeks. This place is fabulous its an old farm house that is bright bright blue almost turquoise actually. 11 of us will live there together and hope it remains as fun as last night. we began our new home experience by making homemade calzones which were so fabulous thanks to Annie Schnieder and Josh Wronski.

So it has been a while since I updated and even longer since i have written in my mandatory journal!

Last week we spent a few days working at a women's prison. We joined Phoenix Zululand in there restorative justice program. I wish I had more to say about this program but I found it uneventful and almost an opportunity for the prisoners to leave there cells. The work was so emotionally advanced for people who are petty thieves and are only in for a short amount of time. not to mention few spoke english and non well enough to understand these tough emotional and justice concepts in a different language than their own.

To be honest the best part of this program was the one on one time we had to chat about what ever we liked with the prisoners. This seems like a big statement from a girl who spent so much time at an emotional growth program. however these work shops seemed more like power complexes than any insight type program (any monarch kids reading this????). I had a hard time not thinking of how our workshops were run and how there is always a power element in teaching people how to regulate there feelings and gain responsibility in their lives. I mean just look at Timothy Earl! I could rant for longer but I am running out of internet data on my 50mb of free time.

P.S. its almost my birthday!

Gateway

Lucky me...
I am sitting in the largest mall in the southern hemisphere right now and I feel like I am in Florida rather than South Africa. the contradictions of this country are incredible. this mall, full of designer shops and an imax theater, is in the home of a country with the largest HIV/AIDS rate in the world in the province with the highest poverty rate and highest HIV/AIDS rate in all of South Africa. Yet here I am, sitting in a large arm chair drinking purified tap water, working on my mac at Gloria Jean's Coffees.

I feel like an oxymoron all by myself. I have spent the past 2 hours looking up international development internships for next summer in both the US and Africa. As I am looking for these opportunities where I can help the worlds poorest develop banking strategies to help them grow in my bureaucratic, global, world bank run world I sit here comfortable because I am surrounded by familiar "white" faces in an environment that suites me because I am american and mall is my culture. Now i am aware that I am lucky enough to have been born into the world I live in and that I work hard academically so I can help others and achieve personal "greatness" but, I still cannot help but think how I call the kettle black and then realize I am the kettle too. Call it white guilt or what have you but I have spent so much time both in Africa and America mulling over this idea and no matter what I do I cant seem to change this nagging opinion that I ironic.

I dont know if anyone else feels this way but in South Africa you are confronted with contradictions from every corner. I can live in a rural homestead but you better believe that there one outlet for power in the house will be used to hook up there satellite television so they can be inundated with american culture that they believe is the best life to live.

Please send me comments on what you guys think about this post or any others. I dont now how to respond on blogger but I would love some on going conversations of relating to me agreeing with me disagreeing with me yelling at me laughing or whatever. I miss all of you incredible and this blog is not just to inform but also to keep in touch so keep in touch back with me

ok now I am going to see an American movie in this monstrosity of a mall



Poverty In Kwazulu-Natal
Size 92 100km2
Share of country -7.6%
Total farming land- 6.5 mill ha
Livestock farming suitability-82%
Arable farming suitability-18%

Total Population
Share of national population- 20.7%
Population growth rate-12%
Population in rural areas-54%
Black people-84.9%
Coloured people-1.5%
Indian people-8.5%
White people-5.1%

Working age population economically active-51.3%
Unemployment rate-45%
Average annual household income-R64 359
Adults with no education-12%
Adults with degree or higher-3.7%
Pupil to teacher ratio-36:1
Matric pass rate-77%

Proportion population HIV+-18.4%
Women at ante-natal clinics HIV+-36.5%

Source- http://www.afra.co.za/jit_default_975.html

SEND ME LETTERS!!!!

Lauren Sakin
c/o School for International Training
Postnet Suite 151
Private Bag X04
Dalbridge 4014
SOUTH AFRICA

Reflection from a Famous Perspective

I have always wondered what it would be like to be famous and in a constant spotlight. After visiting rural KwaZulu Natal, I can confidently say I would not enjoy being famous. Being a while person (umlungu) in rural South Africa makes you a sort of “novelty item.” Everyone wants to know you, have his or her picture taken with you, date you, or even just walk next to you. Multiple times a day I would find myself surrounded by people of all different age groups wanting to say sawubona to me.
Men were the worst when it came to celebrity like attention. Men and boys ranging from ages 6 to 80 were telling me that they loved me and wanted to marry me for a very high lebola. One day as I was leaving my home-stay house a young group of boys about 6 to 8 walked by carrying water and goods for their family. One young boy stopped and looked up at me. In the sweetest voice, he told me he loved me and would marry me right away. I laughed both out of discomfort and out of amusement. I could not believe a boy this young had already been affected by the premature idea of love. Even more so, I could not believe he was already taught that it was better and to be white and therefore he should strive to marry an American foreigner for. After a few days, I began to retreat into myself. I avoided walks, the beach, and anything outside of the home-stay. Being a “novelty” began to take its toll on me. Knowing there was nothing particularly special about me, I also allowed my subconscious feelings of white guilt to take over my conscious.
As the attention grew, I started to contemplate the difference between a visitor of a foreign minority group in South Africa and one in America. I attempted to interpret how this “novelty” status made me feel and why. I decided my discomfort with it was due to the difference in treatment black South Africans would receive in my own country. Urban America is extremely used to seeing people from all corners of the world just as urban South Africans are used to it. However, rural America is less accustomed to minority groups. Small towns in the middle of the United States rarely have minority groups live there or visit. These towns could barley imagine an African visitor let alone one coming to help improve their school. I believe that if a minority, like a black South African, entered a rural American town the citizens would do everything in their power to avoid the group. The people would also possibly speak negatively about them.
I tried to compare this complex of rejecting minority groups in the US to the celebrity status rural black South Africa gives its white minority visitors. In the end, I found only partial similarities. Even language barrier was not comparable because Americans believe everyone should speak English. Many Americans even believe it is rude to struggle speaking English when you are in the states. Unfortunately, I could draw no other comparisons of how rural America treats its minority visitors and rural South Africa treats theirs.
Now that I have left the rural area and have had time to reflect I have thought of a few actions I could have done differently to assist my comfort and understanding. Instead of retreating into my home-stay to avoid the popularity, I could have spoken with students at the school, men in the community, or possibly even my Baba and Aunti. With them, I could have questioned why people in the community were so excited to see us. I could have asked the men what made Americans so special. I could have asked if they treated white South African who came to the area the same way. Instead of running away from the situation, I could have worked to understand the people’s behavior. If I took the time to understand then I could have possibly viewed my interactions with the locals differently. Another way I could have changed my reaction to my “novelty” status would be to bring up the feeling of discomfort with the group. If we all took the time to share our feelings and discuss I could have adopted the techniques of other group members.
Although I know there were many things I could have done differently in the rural area, I do not regret my time there. Each experience teaches you something else. I did learn about how rural black South Africans feel about Americans. I also learned about my personal comfort level with being in the spot light. The week home-stay in Dokodweni was a great experience both for my own personal reflection and for my understanding of the relationship between rural black South Africa and the western world.

Poetry Session

As a part of our internal seminar and in an attempt to get to know each other better we all spent five minutes writing short poems/ haikus about each other

Turquoise
A come of silence
Fire burning in her dark eyes
Through the night gliding- from Dan

Your cute hats, cute skirts
Your pillow, crinkle crinkle
Yay! Suitcase was found- Love Jaclyn

Kathlyn
Eager embracer of culture
She yells her Zulu
Wears only jewels

Max
Loves the shoes,
The Ray Bans too,
What a laugh
He is classy and kind too

Sarcastic, witty, long, refreshing
The head is more than the body
You make me laugh
hahaha

Curly hair sarcasm
Living cool shades of the south
Your shopping will get better- love Whitney

Annie
Like a child, she is joyful in the moment
Rolling in the water
Like an old woman she reflects
Asking all the wise questions
Some how she manages to be both

If I were a seed
At last I’d be free
Smile with glee
Grow up big- from max

Lauren (me)
Nature girl at heart
Speaks strongly and with banks
Buys shiny art- love Stephanie

She comes undone now
Spill red laced with silver gems
Shola, I need help!- love Rachael

Elias
An encourager
Always making me smile
An awesome twirler – Turquoise

Jaclyn
Always so perky
Please show that sexy face
Eats her weight in size- love Turquoise

Luxurious hair
Likes to make fun of her mom
Zulu class all-star- <3 Jillian

Daniel
He’s got the beats
Takes care of the crew
I have so much love for you- Josh

Stephanie
Drawing all the time
She sees the beauty in all
She’s a free spirit- love Jaclyn

Josh
Been rockin’ a hat
Likes to have crazy voice time
Often in the morn- From Caroline

Hits head on ceiling
Huggable like a teddy bear
“oh is it my turn”- Lauren (me)

a shattered illusion

When I decided to travel to South Africa for my first semester of junior year, I believed I would be entering a newly enlightened country. I thought that it had thrown the past aside and was only moving forward. Once I arrived, I realized my idealist perspective was just that, ideal, and that South Africans were just beginning to change apartheid ways. Since studying at SIT and living in Cato Manor, I have encountered multiple situations where I was unsure whether apartheid really had ended. These situations have been in both white and black context and each has seized to shock and amaze me.A few of these events have left a lasting impression on my optimistic mind. One of thee events took place on our group trip to the south coast. We stayed at an amazing little hostel situated right by the ocean. The atmosphere was incredibly calming from both a mix of the smell of the sea to the silence of the night. A man named Eric ran the Hostel. Although he was a French migrant to South Africa, he had lived in the country during the apartheid era. All the staff besides Eric where black South Africans. The main staff members name was Musa. He worked with his head down towards the ground and spoke so softly it was nearly impossible to hear him. Eric would summon Musa with a wave of his finger and expect Musa be at his side in seconds. Eric acted as if Musa was his servant.

On our last morning, I was sitting alone inside on the couches. I was peacefully reading my book “Coconut” trying to get some space from the group. While I was reading Eric stormed into the living room walked over to the kitchen door and summoned Musa with his usual hand wave. Startled by the loud footsteps, I looked up from my book. Musa, being busy, did not see Eric. Eric, once again, waved his finger and yelled Musas name. “Is a wave not enough Musa? Must I now also you to me as well,” yelled Eric in a demeaning tone. “ Are you a child Musa? Must I work with imbeciles who embarrass me and upset my guests?” Being his only guest and far from upset I had no clue why Eric was so angry. However, I was to afraid and shocked to come to Musas aid and his behind my book until the scolding was finished and I could scamper outside unnoticed. I could not get the conversation out of my mind for the rest of the day.

This final event showed me how attached South Africa is to its apartheid ways. I believe Eric considers himself superior to his staff both because he owns the hostel and is white. Being shocked out of my naivety and into reality has left me to feel scared thatchange will never come to this nation. I know I have come to South Africa to witness the change first hand but I currently feel no hope for the older generation of this country. I also fear for the younger generation such as Musa. He could not have been older than 25. Meaning Musa only spent 9 years of his life under true apartheid rule. If he is treated by whites as nothing but the trash that sweeps the mess of the floor than he will be destined to a black inferiority complex. This complex is detrimental to black South Africans and is passed from one generation to the next. After such an emotionally startling event, I have misgivings about the ability for South Africa to leave its past behind.

After experiencing an event such as this, I am stuck wondering what I could have done differently. Should I have stopped Eric? How would Musa have felt if I told him, I was not angry? Where was my place in this interaction and should I have takena more critical role in it. After analyzing my feelings and having time to reconsider the situation, I believe I did the right thing. It is not my place to try to change South Africa. I am here to understand the conflict and hypothesize about the bright future of South Africa. I have come to the country to learn about the social and political development of the country so I can go on to help assist countries in the future with their own development. Maybe one day I will come back to South Africa and tackle the apartheid racism from a structured social context. However for now, I am hear to be an observer and understand as much as I can about the good and bad South Africa has to offer.

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