A conversation in the dark

How do conversations start? Like a chemical reaction, a conversation can either be spontaneous or in need of a catalyst of some sorts. The result of the conversation is dependent on the initial conditions and the chemicals (people) that are involved. Sometimes you can predict when a conversation will occur but other times they come unsuspected, in the dark.

Such a conversation pounced on me not too long ago. So, let me set the scene. The people that come to Zithulele all have their own unique story of how they ended up here, far away from the world that many of us city kids know and are familiar with. I have my story. The short of it is that beyond my love for learning and want to pass on that love to others, I believe that empowering someone to get an education in the way that the world now requires is one key way to solving a number a issues in South Africa. This is ever more real to me after my brother was murdered two years ago. Maybe if there was less poverty there would be fewer murders? And how does poverty decrease? I guess with education. Finding a way in which I could aid education, I ended up here in Zithulele.

I don’t tell many people my story. But somehow I told it to another Zithulele arrival. Someone who comes from a completely different background, but who shares a similar story. It’s not my place to tell another person’s story, but what struck a chord in me were his words “You’ll never understand what it’s like to live in the township”.  A reminder of how lucky I am to have been born into an easy life, where education just happens and before you know it, you have a degree. Simple as that. I will never understand what it is like to grow up in a township, to be educated in a township. Township life is full of life and energy. But it is also full of crime and violence. Ironically, a place where you rarely see police patrolling. I’ll never know what it is like to be rejected from clubs just because you are black, while you watch a group of white people walk straight past you into the club unquestioned.  And I’ll never know what it is like to see your parents, who lived through the meat of Apartheid, making do with the few opportunities that were given to them, because when they were young their dreams and aspirations could never be fulfilled.

Yes, South Africa we are unified through diversity as our motto proudly reads. But the majority of people still live in separate places. Just last year I was told by a black person after a workshop,”This is the first time I’ve gone out in the evening with white people as my friends as well ” – An example of the kind of things that are still going on in South Africa. Many criminals are people of colour, why is that? Maybe, it is because many of these people are the poorest and have the least education as a result of Apartheid. So, possibly they didn’t grow up during Apartheid, but try going through schools that are dysfunctional and overcrowded. And then try doing homework but not being able to ask your parents questions because they grew up in Apartheid and thus didn’t get the opportunity to go through this schooling system. Try getting an education without access to a library or internet. It’s possible. But think about how much you rely on these resources. Racism isn’t the issue but we have a long way to go before the legacy of Apartheid is conquered, so let’s not forget where we are coming from.

Ecaweni (Church)

This Sunday I went to church. Lutho (8) came with because he heard I was going. He put on his cleanest, smartest clothes and his slops that are too small for him, and wearing his delightful smile we walked off to church. The main church here in the Dutch Reformed church, or as it is now refered to the United Reformed Church (a coming together of both the Afrikaans, Coloured ad Black followers of the religion. Certainly there are no dutch people in this church). People that attend this church wash and wear clean Sunday church outfits. It is a very fancy affair. The service, entirely in Xhosa, is always beautiful, for the songs are sung so beautifully, with spontaneous harmonies and enthusiastic participants. Many people can’t read, but everyone knows the songs by heart. Also interesting was that there is a 90% female dominance in this church. Led and attended by females, although the pastor is male (but he didn’t say anything during the service). Although there are men in Zithulele I rarely see them and started to wonder what they do and where they go. I have only met Nonyanisos husband a few times and he hardly ever spends time with the family. Since I first realised that I didn’t see many men I have discovered a few things from chatting to a few kids and fathers. Here’s my generalisation, the men are away at the cities, working in construction or similar or working under the ground in the mines. If not, they are unemployed and either looking for work or despondent.

Church community, sitting outside during Siyavuyas welcoming ceremony

The first time I went to church I was warmly welcomed into the community, being asked to stand and say a prayer in my language during praise time and then afterwards to come to the front of the church (accompanied by wizard) and introduce myself to the church, telling them why am here and how long I will be with them for. It was slightly unnerving but felt quite nice. One of my main hopes is that I can be recognised as a member of the community and not a complete outsider. This way maybe I’ll be able to build stronger relationships. What is incredible is that people here have so little money, but everyone gives so much to the church, and the church asks a fair amount from them. R50 is a large investment to contribute to the opening of another church. Another great splurge of money by the church was the welcoming celebration for Siyavuya (a new pastor). It was a whole Saturday affair. Many songs were sung, many gifts presented and much food cooked (I spied a few sheep slaughtered outside for the event). It was all full of fun, dance and music, definitely nothing like what comes to mind when ones thinks of the Dutch Reformed Church.

Siyavuya on the far right with other important people. Receiving all his gifts, which included a bed, wardrobe, chairs, blankets and much much more.

 

Monday Morning

Monday morning and students wake up early (5-5:30) in order to be ready for school by 6:45am. Getting ready takes a while. The night before, freshly hand washed clothes must be ironed, in the dark, on the mud floor with an iron heated on the fire outside. Morning time involves a number of routine things, starting the fire to boil water for tea and filling a tub with some water to wash. With many people in the family you have to wait your turn, or wake up early to be the first to wash. Ngubani ixesha? What is the time? No-one knows; all cell phones are dead (a common occurrence, a place I thought would be timeless and the only time I’ve ever wanted a watch). One by one the kids set off for school (for some a very long walk…1-2 hours), guesstimating the time and hoping to not be late. Here if you are late you get beaten. It’s no fun scene, listening to teachers scream at crying students and the swish of the stick. But then again, probably because of corporal punishment and the culture of respect for ones elders, the students are easy to work with. The issue not being behaviour or discipline but with making them talk ,think for themselves and question you.

Today is a different day because it is parent-teacher day. Students arrive at school only to be sent back home to fetch their parents. By 10:30 the meeting is in full flow, classes are disrupted or non-existent because all the tables and chairs are being used by the parents. By 13:30 the meeting is still going on. I had the pleasure of being introduced to the parent congregation as Sindiswa from Cape Town, a teacher in training, helping out with maths. I also had to explain that I didn’t have a clan name. Just an example of how foreign I am, a place one assumes that clan names are global. In South Africa, (the most “civilised” of Africa), but isolated from the rest of the world. I sometimes feel like people here have been forgotten about as everyone rushes around to save Africa. It is fantastic seeing all the parents at school. The times have changed from when going to school was a ‘white mans’ thing and rejection of the Bantu culture to a time when going to school is now associated with empowering oneself to be employable and thus lift the whole family out of poverty (which is a big ask).

In the school hall/ matric classroom. Parent Teacher Meeting. A rather long affair.

Getting an education is special. Most parents cannot read or write or do maths as they didn’t have the chance to go to school when they were young. Not to say that they are uneducated, but the reality here is that most mothers stay at home and manage the huge households, doing all the gardening and looking after the kids. Most fathers are miners, or labourers of some sorts, otherwise unemployed. And they want more for their kids and they are proud of their young ones, going off to school every day from 6:45 to 4pm. Even if the schools are struggling with functionality, attendance (by both students and teachers) and resources. For instance, today, we were planning to do a grade 12 life sciences practical that the Department of Education sent the school. In order to do it we are ordering wheat germ from East London (at least a 4 hour drive away) – there is none anywhere near here and the whereabouts of methylene blue are still to be determined.  But then, after all this, and all the hopes and dreams that the parents have for the students, they have but a little chance. In general, learners will finish school with hardly competent English and better marks in the range of 30-50%.  I have come to understand the need for a quota system in accepting students into tertiary institutions and such. Some of the kids here that are getting 60% would be the 90%-ers if they went to a school like the one I went to, and had the type of environment that I had when in school (i.e. electricity, a desk, privacy and tea).

Axium Students crowd around a guest speaker, a lady from just a but further North from here, who made it for herself. Getting herself to Cape Peninsula University of Technology in Cape Town (the first time she had been to city with so many lights). She is now a mechanical engineer and Project Manager. A real inspiration for the learners.