Food for Thought

Recently, I was having lunch with my Xhosa “daughter”, Nosibabalo, at one of our local restaurants.  Nosi and I always have the most interesting conversations, learning from each other about our different countries, cultures, and life experiences — oh so very different.  I learn a lot from listening to Nosi’s stories and her perspective on the world she knows so well.  During this particular lunch she educated me once again.  

Nosi spoke to me about her new part-time job at a local restaurant, ironically called “Dixie’s” – southern food `a la the cape peninsula.  I assumed Nosi worked as a server.

“You won’t see any darkies in the front of the restaurant!” she said.

I was sure I hadn’t heard correctly.  “Did you just say ‘darkies’?”

“Yes.  What’s wrong with that? ”

“If you said that in the U.S., you’d be called out for being racist.  It’s the same for calling someone ‘colored’, even though here in South Africa, that’s an accepted and specific segment of the population.”

Nosi was stunned.  “How can there be no colored people?!  If the parents are one black and one white, what is the child?”

“In the U.S., if your parents are of mixed race, you are black; for example, President Obama.  His mother was white, but he was considered to be black.”

“No!  Even if this is the case, if the father is white and the mother is black, the child must be white, because it is the father’s line that counts.”

“That’s a good point, but in the U.S., that’s not how it’s interpreted.  You’re black or white, and if any part of you is black, you’re black.”

This made no sense to Nosi.  Shaking her head, she went back to the restaurant topic.

“The manager says that the patrons are racist and they don’t want to see black people serving their food.  So only whites and coloreds are allowed to be in the front.  But those patrons are cr-r-r-r-azy (she rolls her “r’s” in her Xhosa accent), because I am in the back with Zimbabweans and other Xhosa and we are preparing their food with our own dark hands!”

It seems the U.S. and South Africa have some things in common.  For one, there’s still a percentage of people who perceive that the color of someone’s skin should define their role in society.  I agree with Nosi.  Those people are crazy.  Roll the “r’s” please.

Women’s March in Cape Town

 

 

 

 

 

Return to the Cape – Part IV

For the fourth time, since June 2014, I find myself in the cape peninsula south of Cape Town.  It is high summer and the weather is brilliant – the word “brilliant” being a favourite adjective here in South Africa – and the perfect adjective to describe the daily high’s of low 70’s to low 80’s; mid-60’s at night; sunny, breezy and low humidity.  The sun doesn’t set until after 8:00 p.m.

Sunset at my cottage

Surfer off Longbeach, Kommetjie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have already been busy this first week, meeting with a few of my contacts, as well as friends and former colleagues.  During my five-month stay this time, I will be working with the NGO, Ikamva Youth based in the Masiphumelele Library.  I look forward to tutoring young students and participating in additional group activities.  In the meantime, I am reunited with my two Xhosa “daughters”, Nosibabalo (24) and Lihle (Lisa) (9).

Much has happened since my last post in May 2016 and I will cover these intervening events later.  Suffice it to say, that the two NGOs involved with the Pink House (one managing and the other, the owner of the property) had a full-blown falling out.  Due to this deterioration, the partnership between them collapsed, to the detriment of the Pink House.  Therefore, I am moving on to other volunteer opportunities.  I miss the Pink House and my dear friends there – but we were all turned out by the NGO-owner and there’s no going back.

Nevertheless, I am exhilarated to be back in Kommetjie and Masi.  I was able to be here for Lihle’s first day of 4th grade (school year here is January through December with breaks in June/July and December/January).  The day before school began, Lihle and I went to pick up her school supplies.  Afterward we stopped at my cottage and I gave her the tea set I brought from the U.S. as a Christmas present.  I think it went over pretty well! (see below).  Nosi (“Nah-see), is finishing up at False Bay College and we will be focusing on employment opportunities while I am here.  I am so proud of both of them.  They have worked hard – determined, courageous, strong – girl and woman – overcoming challenges and hardships we cannot envisage.

Lisa’s surprise

My beautiful Nosi

My landlady, Jackie, welcomed me back to my little cottage – which I love!  I am so comfortable here.  Each time I arrive, she adds many thoughtful touches to my surroundings.  Because there are no screens in S.A., I don’t like to leave my window open at night.  I don’t want to be surprised by uninvited visitors (and since there are burglar bars, I’m actually referring to small to medium-sized insects).

As a surprise, clever Jackie invented a screen out of fabric and figured out how to fix it to the left panel of the window.  Since the window has inside handles and opens outward, this was a tricky business.  The results are amazing and I am delighted!

And of course, I am reunited with Mittens the Cat.  He is having health issues in his advanced age, but he loves his tuna, his daily

Jackie and me on Longbeach, July 2016

sunbaths on the brick walk, naps in the afternoon, and still comes to my cottage every day for a little drink of water.  Mittens – Rock On!

Action shot: Mittens takes a Catnap

Jackie’s fabric screen invention

This morning I walked on the beach for the first time since I returned.  It was a stunning morning.  Instead of the usual colours of blues and grays, the ocean was different shades of emerald green.  The sky was its usual deep cerulean blue.  Lihle and I walked the beach together.  I watched her run through the cold water waves and do cartwheels in the sand.  She was laughing and smiling and running back to me at intervals, just because.  Our walk was…brilliant.  I have no pictures – you’ll have to take my word for it.