A Couple of Mellow Days

Teaching

Steve and I went back to Langa yesterday morning to help Sipo, the teacher I met the day before, teach about Social Darwinism. Okay. I know very little about it, but I did some research online and threw something together (sound familiar?). It was raining, and when we got there Sipo and the other teachers were just hanging around the teacher's lounge. About 10 minutes after school had started the principal came in and told the teachers to go to class. Kind of an odd change in roles. When we got to class it turned out that Sipo had told me the wrong thing and that actually the class was a 9th grade class learning about the Holocaust. I say learning in a loose framework. Sipo himself didn't realize it until the kids were there, and as I was introducing myself he was flipping through the chapter.

I'm sorry. I need to step back here. I'm painting a pretty dismal picture, and in terms of education this was pretty dismal. The teachers had to be told to get to class, the students were unengaged, the teacher was preparing pretty goddamn late (even for my loose standards - but all joking aside, I have never done that). When I was sitting there I was just shocked. These kids are getting the short end of the stick (and sometimes the broad side of it - Sipo calls it his "stimulator") and it was hard to watch. I spoke with Steve about it afterwards and he pointed out that during Bantu education (the educational system put in place by the apartheid government that limited educational options for black to domestic work and some professions) being a teacher was the highest professional level available for black South Africans. So many people went into teaching for a paycheck - much more so than we have in the states, where sometimes people complain of the same thing. For Sipo, this was the highest level he could reach, so he reached for it and now he is waiting for the ability to finish another degree and move on. The Bantu system has created what exists there today. At the same time, these are children, and they deserve our best. The boy second from the right could anything - he was so curious and inquisitive.


So for this description, please take a grain of salt and remember the context. After Sipo made it through some discussion on the Holocaust that was only generalizations and broad, somewhat illogical connections with South African history, Steve got up and made a quick connection with the kids. I wish I had pictures of that - he was a natural, and they loved his Xhosa. In the next class I taught about Social Darwinism as best as I could - kind of a straight lecture but what could I do? Then I asked the kids about what they might want to know about the US. The girl in this photo all the way on the right asked the most heartbreaking question:

Poignancy

She raised her hand and asked me what kind of students I taught. I told her that they were very similar to her. She asked if they were black or white and I answered both. She looked at me with amazement and asked if they got along. I said well, in a way yes and in a way no. In class, yes, and most of the time, yes, but sometimes they didn't. She was amazed and kept looking back at her friends. After the class was over, she came up to me and said that she was amazed that what I told her was possible. She said, (and I paraphrase)

"I don't know why we don't do that here. I mean, we try, but people are really mean to each other. I try, but they are so mean to me and they never look me in the eye or hear what I am really saying. They just walk by and don't look at me, unless they're saying something mean. It's hard."

I didn't know what to say, I just said that it sounded hard, and that people should be mixed together so that it didn't happen that way. I don't know if she agreed. My heart was in pieces. What do you do with that?

The Rest of the Day

Steve and I had some deep fried township treat, the name of which escapes me. Then we drove back to the city and hung out for the afternoon in a pretty mellow way. In the evening I went out with Jobey and we chatted about everything, but mostly about how we felt here, how much neither of us could handle too much of South Africa at times. How the country kind of makes you paranoid, racist and scared a lot. It does. But it's also beautiful, in a way. The townships were even beautiful, in a way.

Reality Check

This morning, I found my car had been broken into and someone had stolen my rain shell from the back seat. The window was smashed and some empty cigarette packs were one the back seat. I told Steve. "Welcome to South Africa," was the first thing he said. Shit. I switched the car out at the rental place and we drove to Kirstenbosch Gardens for the day. Deep breath. Cloud being held at bay by Table Mountain. Guinea Fowl, flowers, green. It was nice.