Last week was a little slow at
internship, especially on Monday. With Glenton in Johannesburg for training,
I’ve been lacking things to do around the Unit. So on Monday, all I really did
was read the newspaper. Then the sign language class we usually have every
other Monday didn’t happen because the instructor didn’t show up. You would
think that I would be really pissed off by the day I had and how unproductive
it was, but I really wasn’t because by the end of the day, when the instructor
should have been there, volunteers finally started showing up to the GEU. Only
two of them were there for sign language and the rest were there just to hang
out. Even though I could have left early and gotten home before 7:00 PM, I
stayed because I actually wanted to stay- because the people I get to talk to
at the GEU and the conversations I get to have are worth far more than getting
home early. This wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation, in comparison
to others I’ve had here, but it was still worth my time. We were talking about
our families, moms, Xhosa, and whatever little things that came up. Somehow
these conversations seem more fulfilling though than ones I have at home about
the same topics. Maybe it’s because the cultures are different, but honestly, a
lot of our experiences are the same. Mothers still get on our nerves (sorry, ma,
but I know it’s reciprocal) and at the same time we still love them more than
anyone else. There’s still a middle child syndrome in South Africa as there is
in the US. These basic things are still the same, so I don’t know why it’s a
different calibre of conversation for me.
The rest of the week at the GEU I
managed to find things to do, and Pinkie was there both Tuesday and Wednesday,
which always makes my days at the GEU better. We actually went to see a fashion
show and a dance performance during lunch on Tuesday at the Student Centre,
which was pretty fun. Our friend Tristian was actually in the fashion show
modelling UWC clothing, so we cheered extra obnoxiously for him. Later Pinkie
and I saw pictures of the recent xenophobic attacks going on in South Africa.
It’s really hard for me to get a sense of why South Africans are attacking
people from other countries especially when those people are from countries
that helped South Africans during Apartheid. It makes me think that the saying
in the constitution about the land belonging to all those who reside in it is
not true at all right now. When discussing the issue with Pinkie, she said that
black South Africans think they have privilege after apartheid and that they
are entitled and that’s why they are attacking the foreigners. The foreigners
in this country work very hard, she said, and they get up early, open shop, and
close late and do it again the next day. South Africans, on the other hand, are
lazy in her opinion and don’t want to compete with people and so they attack
those who are doing well and say they are doing it because they don’t belong in
South Africa. I think this makes reasonable sense, but it’s just so
hypocritical to me that a country that’s been through so much discrimination is
now doing the discriminating.
On Friday I got to see Pinkie perform a
poem (unfortunately, mostly in Xhosa) at the UWC’s Got Talent. Instead of going
to the soccer game with everyone, which I heard was an awful game anyways, I
took a taxi to UWC that night and got to see a whole range of artists perform-
singers, poets, dancers, rappers. The show was awesome and I got to see really
talented people perform, but the audience was sort of rude and would talk while
people were performing. I really do think that the US has better audiences.
I’ve never been at an event like that at UConn and had an audience so rude. We
may talk in between performances, but not during. Anyways, it was cool to be
with the volunteers outside of the unit for once.
At the end of the night I shared
an Uber with Pinkie and got to see where her aunt lives in Mitchell’s Plain. The
car didn’t stop directly in front of the house, so Pinkie had him move up five
feet to be as close as possible to the gate. I thought this was so weird to see
that a South African, with a car with people right by her, was too scared to
walk five feet to a gate of a house. Yes it was around 9:30 PM, but we were
right there. I don’t think this fear would’ve crossed my mind for a second. I
walk into our house from across the street at night and don’t think anything of
it- I’d even walk from down the street and probably feel fine. Perhaps I’m
taking my safety for granted. We also got to pass through Nyanga on the way to
Mitchell’s Plain, and that was very eye opening. Right before we entered the
township, the driver locked all the doors. The informal settlements we saw
seemed to be even worse to me than ones in Khayelitsha or Mitchell’s Plain or
any other township. Maybe it was just the fact that it was extremely dark, but
I was definitely concerned knowing that Nyanga is actually one of the most
dangerous townships with the highest murder rate. This Uber ride was probably
the most interesting I’ve had.
My week got a little weird and
frustrating by the end, though. About three weeks ago I ordered a dress and a
shirt for Vernon to be made at this African clothing store. We told them that
date we would come to pick both up and they said that was fine. So we go
Thursday to pick up the shirt and dress and neither were even made. We spent
money and time to go into the city and neither was even touched. They said to
come in the next day and both would be ready. The next day both were ready, but
the dress needed alterations because it wasn’t the exact style I wanted. Now
this is when the situation becomes my fault and I take responsibility that my
actions were wrong. We kept doing alterations for about three to four hours,
but still the dress wasn’t looking like anything I wanted and I knew I wouldn’t
wear the dress. I wanted to walk away from the store knowing I would wear what
I bought. So I decided to ask them to scrap the dress project and use the same
material to make a skirt. They were deeply offended and frustrated with my
decision. They were working on this dress all morning into afternoon, and here
I am with some sort of entitlement asking them to waste fabric and more time to
make me a skirt. I felt like a brat, without a doubt, but I was determined to
get something I would love and not feel like I wasted money on. The dress project
was just too big and risky of a venture when the fashion culture of the US and
South Africa is so different. Even when I showed pictures of the style the
dress still did not turn out right. It was frustrating on both ends, and
although I think I was more in the wrong, I think the business also did a
wrong. I’ve been to that store probably four times for the same thing and then
they don’t even make the items we ask for on time. So while they said I wasted
their time and fabric (which I totally did), they also wasted my time and money
for the number of times I had to go there and try and sort things out.
Collectively, we have given them so much business, so I was disappointed in how
they sometimes didn’t follow through with orders. So the next day I went in and
picked up my skirt. This was the quickest exchange I have ever had in the
store- less than five minutes when usually everything takes at least one hour.
As I expected, I got the silent treatment when I walked in, but I paid them the
price for the skirt and dress combined. The skirt was beautiful and I told them
so and apologized for the inconvenience. Honestly though, I know this whole
situation was so wrong and I felt so bad about it that it took me hours to fall
asleep the night of the incident. I really hate being an inconvenience, but my
mom has always told me when buying clothes to only buy something you know you
will wear. I’m not pegging this whole thing on my mom, but I like that advice
and wanted to make sure I walked away with something I love. Yet I am still
trying to justify my actions. Even writing about this makes me so jittery and
disappointed in myself.
