Now It's Hitting Me.

We got up early again this morning to head to UCT for a lecture by professor Zwelethu. We all got ready just like we had the day before with a few exceptions. Tanishe wasn't here this morning to escort us to the bus stop or to the African Studies building on campus. But we could totally do it on our own, right?? Yeeeeah. The girls were all ready and waiting outside the front door but the door was locked and the boys were inside because - of course - David had decided to shower about 10 minutes prior to that. Well, none of us had the motivation to drag out our keys so we yelled a few times but we didn't want to miss the bus and be late for the lecture so we headed for the bus stop without the boys. Let's just say they were not happy... They ended up making it to the lecture on time by running up campus. When I say up campus - I mean UP campus! There was some running - there was some sweating - you get the picture.

After the lecture ended, we drove into the city and went to the District Six museum. This museum honors the black people who were driven out of District Six in Cape Town during the 1960's. These people were forced to find housing in lower income districts where amenities were not as good. The museum was so small! It was tucked into downtown and it seemed as if words from hundreds of books were thrown onto the walls for us to read. I found it very difficult to wrap my head around all of the information. Maybe it was because it was about a history I didn't know or quite fully understand. Back home, I like going to museums and reading about the Civil War (well, at least can tolerate) because it is something I know and understand. I'm starting to get the feeling I don't know enough about the world. Maybe I would feel more comfortable here if I would have learned more before hand...? What I did learn while I was there shocked me. I was alive when this was happening. In the 80's, apartheid was still going strong and black South African's were still not getting the rights they deserved. My pre-collegiate education did close to nothing to teach me about what was going on in South Africa. People were being thrown out of their homes and forced to live somewhere new. Overall, I thought the museum was laid out poorly and the information was thrown at us in a ill-maner - BUT - with any museum, I feel information is great no matter what. If I can walk out of a museum and say I have learned something, the museum has achieved it's goal. I took away from District Six a piece of some of the people who were pushed from the area. A long tapestry hung from the ceiling where people had the opportunity to write a message. Each message made me think about what it would have been like to be that person. The handwritings were preserved by hand-stitching each letter. The messages conveyed feelings of sadness and how leaving District Six made lives of families worse.

We had some extra time after touring the museum so we all decided to walk into downtown Cape Town and shop around Green Market Square. The square holds a variety of venders who offer cultural merchandise for sale. I mentioned in my previous blog how I am becoming more vulnerable here in South Africa. Here is where it truly hit me. As we were walking into the market, my group was approached by a very young looking girl who was pregnant. She couldn't have been more than 12-15 years old. She was holding a styrofoam cup and was asking for money. She came towards me and stopped approximately one foot from where I was standing and began talking very softly as if she was in pain and asked me if I had any rand. I began to panic, not knowing what to do. I honestly didn't know what was right. I didn't want to start a scene but I also could not escape the situation by walking away because I had been cornered. This young girl obviously was in need of money. Who would put themselves in this situation if there wasn't some need for it? The part of me who wants to help people kept me from running away. Some of my group was in front of me and some were behind. A few of them noticed what was going on and a few did not. I knew I had some spare change in my wristlet so I opened it and tried to grab it to give it to her to escape the situation as soon as possible. The reason I was panicked was because we had previously been told that many muggings occur in South Africa and we really shouldn't trust people we don't know. My intuition told me the situation was not safe. As I was reaching into my purse and was struggling to reach the coins, a R20 (20 rand) could be seen by the young girl and out of the corner of my eye I saw another man walking towards us. At this point, I yanked the coins out of my purse and threw them into the cup and walked away. I guess this wasn't good enough for her. She followed me yelling that what I had given her wasn't enough. The man followed as well. My group and I booked it across the square until we were out of sight of the two people. After some discussion, we came to the conclusion the girl might have been a gypsy or something of the sort and the man quite possibly the person in charge of her. Many times in these situations, the girl lures someone like me into giving money and then the whoever the man is comes and either mugs or does something worse. I think my face may have been as white as a ghost for the remainder of the day. Sometimes I wonder why this situation bothered me so much and other times I completely understand why I get so freaked out. I almost cried a few times today when I thought back to what happened. I thank God I had my friends to talk to. This may not seem as upsetting in type as it was in person. Writing it out is actually shaking me up - I wasn't able to experience the square as fully as I had hoped. Throughout the rest of the day I had issues walking around when people weren't within a few yards of me.

We continued to walk through the vender's stations and each person who owned the tables would push for us to buy from them. I don't know if it was just me, but the pushier they were, the less I wanted to buy from them. I don't know if I would have felt more comfortable in the market if what had happened earlier had not happened. Each of the venders not only pushed their merchandise, they crowded each customer. But all in all, I really did enjoy this true cultural experience. Mykala and I learned how to barter and we kicked butt! The tables carried hundreds of different types of jewelry, masks, bowls, scarves, and different items all hand-crafted. These are the types of things I pictured myself bringing home.

I entered this country with a wall around me - sort of like a protective shield. It protected me from everything I was scared of in the beginning: culture differences, safety, and race. That wall has now fallen down. I don't know if I have felt this vulnerable before in regards to my culture, safety, or race. I am beginning to understand how culturally different the United States is from South Africa, how safe I actually am in "Murderapolis", and how when I walk down the streets in South Africa I tend to hold my purse a little bit closer. It's a generalization I feel I need to try to escape. I am here in South Africa to learn about contexts of culteral diversity - that's definitely being achieved. As a participant in the Leadership minor, I am challenged to look at the world through several sets of eyes. Prior to coming to South Africa, I had one set. I'm hoping now that my wall is down, I'll be able to welcome a few more.