The Daily Commute

I stay with my sister & her family out in Sea Point (click for map), a neighborhood of Cape Town. I work in Silver Town, an area of Athlone, a suburb of Cape Town. The drive takes about 20 minutes, because thankfully I can use Lisa & Chris’ car (otherwise, the combination of koombis would take well over an hour). On the way I get to pass by the Parliament building, the Castle of Good hope (the oldest building in Cape Town, dating back to the late 1600s), and even a hillside where I can occasionally see zebra grazing!  I pass the University of Cape Town, and the stadium they built for the World Cup, and when I carpool with Chris I pass this lovely war memorial statue.

The billboards here tend to be very straightforward. A few that stick out to me include “If you drink & drive, you’re a killer.” “If you speed, you’re a killer.” and “Famous last words: WE WERE DRUNK. Use a condom.” Finally, I leave the city and cross over to Athlone, made obvious by the “Ladies of Athlone,” two coal-fire cooling towers. They haven’t been used to since 1995, but have acted as a famous landmark for Cape Towners. Not only notable because of their visibility from miles away, they also held importance during the apartheid, when they acted as a boundary beyond which all people of color had to move, out of Cape Town. On Sunday, these towers were imploded! We tried to watch from Table Mountain, but it was a hazy day, and we were busy having a cookie-toast when they fell.

The area beyond the towers was known as the Cape flats, dumping grounds of the apartheid regime. I pass Langa and Gugulethu on my way to work, two of many townships in the area. A stark juxtaposition to the fancy houses and European-style city of Cape Town, the townships are crowded masses of corrugated tin, tarps, and plywood shacks, along with a few cement houses. There are a ton of orange streetlights sticking up throughout, and a complicated grid of power lines webbed over the entire township. You can see where some people have decided to get electricity for their home by self-wiring down from these community lines, while others have legitimately wired power, and still others have no electricity at all. While it saddens me to think about the meaning of these neighborhoods, I am thankful for the daily reminder of this country’s recent history, and the injustices that continue to exist today.

Then I hear an ad on the radio, talking about the strength, intelligence, and great potential of the country, how it was shown during the World Cup. It was a call to action for the people to treat every day as a World Cup day, every day as Mandela day, to work together to become a united people. Hope!

Flight!

“Now remember, what did I tell you was the most important thing?”

These were the first words Jacques said to me. I tried desperately to remember whether he had given me any instructions on the phone about what my job was when it came time to actually paraglide, but nothing’s came to mind.

“RUN. Just keep running, don’t stop until I tell you.”

Gotcha.  I can do that.  I watched two girls go before me with their instructors. The first duo caught a sideways wind, meaning they ran in a slightly different direction than intended, which left them crashing through shrubs and bushes while waiting to be lifted off the ground, and left me rolling with laughter.  Really it was hilarious! The girl’s friend who was next in line to go did not look pleased; I’m pretty sure I heard some cursing. I thought it was hilarious.

Because of a change in the wind, I didn’t end up getting to fly that day (but I did enjoy some ice cream on Signal Hill while we waited an hour to see if we’d luck out), but finally got to go on Sunday. This time the wind was best for taking off from Lion’s Head, so Jacques and I hiked partway up the mountain, set out the chute, and took off! Remembering my only instructions, I kept my little legs pumping until well after we were off the ground, when Jacques told me to sit back and relax.  Glorious! Graceful! Flying with ease above the rocks and trees, out where the sun was bright, up to the highest height!

Actually, there was one guy above us. He’d lucked out early in the day and caught some thermals, putting him just over the peak of Lion’s Head, soaring for hours. We want back and forth along the hillside searching for updrafts, and sometimes sinking so low I thought surely we were going to land right there in the bushes. Jacques kept telling me we were “really battling!” but quite to the contrary, I was just chillin’ out maxing relaxing all cool, completely at ease, enjoying the wind in my face and the feeling in my stomach as we’d whip around another turn. Fantastic!

The best was maybe when we were heading out toward the sea and our landing point, when Jacques found some updrafts over a parking lot. We stayed there for a bit trying to gain some height, until suddenly he said “Uh oh, we’re not going to make it to our landing site. Uh oh!” Haha, he really knows how to put a girl at ease! Much to our delight, we did make it, and had a graceful and easy landing. This paragliding trip was a gift from my father, because he didn’t want me to feel too sad or lonely without Lisa, Chris and Holden. Problem: solved. Thanks dadda!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK!!

Today, August 14^th, is Mark’s 30^th birthday. Big day! And I’m not even in town for it – how lousy. Luckily, I decided to celebrate for him here in Cape Town, with a nice, pocket-sized substitute. That’s right – this dinosaur finger puppet! Good morning!

We started the day off right with a haircut, and let me tell you, that is the LAST time I let a finger-puppet cut my hair.  Well, at least until he gets some clippers.

Next, we warmed up our minds and bodies with some yoga, thanks to Taryn’s wonderful instruction. Little dino’s pretty limber!

Although it’s winter here in Cape Town, so far I’ve been extremely lucky with the weather, and today was no exception. Mini-Mark and I took to the streets, and walked the hour to Clifton Beach. On the way, we passed by these cliffs, called the 12 Apostles. Beautiful!

Once at the beach, Mark got up close & personal with a jellyfish, and then we shared a romantic afternoon lounging on the sand.

On the walk home, he enjoyed some local succulents, and then got to do his favorite thing in the world – help with garbage!

To wrap up the celebration, we shared an ice cream cone – chocolate, Mark’s favorite.

Though we couldn’t be physically together today, I had a great time pretending. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

HIV/AIDS in South Africa

The HIV/AIDS epidemic here in South Africa is an entirely different beast than it is in the States. Well, at least, than it is now. And maybe I’m just being naïve; maybe the heavy stigma and shame in the States is still too great for many to even think about getting tested, but here it is a power so strong that people die alone in their houses, unwilling to be treated for the disease for fear someone will find out they have it. It is devastating.

Another difference is the prevalence – it is estimated that over 10% of South Africans are living with AIDS, more than any other country in the world. In 2007, less than 30% of those people were receiving anti-retroviral treatment. This number cannot possibly account for all the carriers who are unaware they are infected. One problem is misinformation – from everything about ways the virus is spread to theoretical cures, including having sex with a virgin, or choosing a diet of garlic, olive oil and lemon. The latter was promoted by the nation’s then health minister as recently as 2006.

This disease is both more of a scary mystery here, as well as much more of an every day reality. Everyone knows someone affected by HIV/AIDS. Eight-year-olds know that using condoms will help prevent the spread of the disease, and will tell you as much in a very matter-of-fact way, the same way I might tell you that Alaska’s the largest state in the union. It just is – I don’t know how big, or its size relative to Brazil, or what you can even do with that information, it just is. Do 8-year-olds in the States even know what a condom is??

I saw a film here called Themba – A Boy Called Hope, which addresses this issue in a very approachable way, about as lighthearted as possible given the topic. The website is www.thembathemovie.com; I don’t know when or whether this film will make it to the States, but if it does, it’s worth seeing. PLUS part of it was filmed in Cape Town!

Another plug here for a worthy cause – the Desmond Tutu HIV Foundation, where Lisa works & where I’m interning, are pioneers in research, and within their programs they have the highest retention rate for those being treated. I’m sure I’ll write a blog just about the good work they’re doing someday, but in case you feel like donating today, feel free to! Sorry the webpage doesn’t make this easy (we’re working on it!), but the donate button is tiny and grey in the top right hand corner. Thanks!

Women’s Day

August 9, 2010 was Women’s Day here in South Africa, which meant no work. I decided to participate in society and this celebration by running a 10k. Woohoo! My co-worker Shantalie told me she was doing it, and I invited myself along. As it ended up, she left for a vacation earlier than expected, so instead of going with her, I simply took her spot and her goody bag (she kept the commemorative t-shirt). The race started at 8, out in Bellsville, which is 22 minutes away from my house. After some technical difficulties involving my alarm clock (meaning I accidentally set it for 7:30 instead of 6:30 – whoopsidoodle!), I started my day off right by chicken-without-a-heading it around the apartment for 10 minutes trying to get out the door. Somehow I wasn’t at all upset, but laughed about this near-catastrophe all the way through to my start of the race at a cool 8:25am. Not bad, considering I was dreaming just an hour earlier.

For the first 2 km, I was running upstream next to the river of other participants. There were about 3500 racers, primarily women, and occasional men taking this opportunity to show their support by running in drag, complete with stuffed bras, skirts, and wigs. One volunteer ran with me for a bit, with an accent so heavy I could barely understand a word he said. “Pardon?” I still missed most of it, but I did catch the words “speed trap,” which I assumed was a reference to my break-neck pace. Turns out up ahead was the turn-around, with cops, volunteers, and a speed radar camera.
At this point I began to catch up with people – the walkers. The benevolent racers bringing up the back of the pack, making sure no one’s left behind and everyone’s having a good time. I passed an elderly couple in matching skirts and scrunchies. Friends walking arm in arm. I had to dodge a mother and daughter having a water fight. It lifted my spirits to see all this camaraderie (well, that plus speeding by them like the Flash). I passed the volunteer who’d run with me before, and he shouted more unintelligible words, ending this time with “See you at the finish!”

At this point I should also mention the weather. It was a chilly morning, and wet from earlier rains, but I arrived to Bellville under the arc of a bright rainbow and sunshine. Around kilometer 5, this all changed. The sky darkened, the wind picked up, and the rain came, and came, and came some more. And it wasn’t your mother’s rain – oh no, this was cold and piercing and found its way directly into your eyes no matter how hard you squinted. Guess I should have worn a hat! The route turned around again at km 7, and this was where I started to pass the joggers. Although I hadn’t run 6 miles since I can’t remember when, it suddenly became apparent that I could do it. What’s more, I realized that I wouldn’t even hate it! For the third time, I passed my volunteer friend. “Good effort!! Good effort!! Eadlgdcnvcangdsjkghj!!” Having just read The Alchemist, of course I took this triumvirate of good will as an omen. Uphill, downhill, through puddles, I ran my little heart out that last mile. I finished in 53 minutes. Certainly not my fastest, but also not my slowest, and I felt wonderful.

All this before 10am – whew! For the rest of the day I mostly ate and relaxed. I drove out to Camps Bay to write this blog in the sun by the beach; it’s just south of Cape Town, and is one of those towns full of super-hip young people lounging at even-hipper coffee clubs across from the ocean. I proceeded to enjoy french fries, pizza, and the Banana-Maniac dessert, which involved bananas, pomegranate seeds, and chocolate ice cream. DELISH. After all that decadence I felt I needed another run! Luckily Hilton called, so I joined him for a pick-up frisbee game. And to cap this long, relaxing day? A bath! To quote everyone’s favorite, Shania Twain – man, I feel like a woman!

Sunrise at Lion’s Head

Before Lisa and Chris left, they did a wonderful job of setting me up with many people in Cape Town who like to do all sorts of things. I called one of them, Hilton, to find out about the ultimate Frisbee scene here, which is more sparse than usual as it’s now winter (Sprawl – I’m trying!). He did invite me on a morning hike, and the next day picked me up at 5:50 am. On the way we picked up Meghan, a fellow volunteer at the DTHF, who’s also doing an internship (she’s getting her Master’s in public health), and who’s also from Oregon (she’s at OSU)! It really is a small world.

We arrived to the base of Lion’s Head and started the hike around 6:20 am, and found at least 6 other cars there for the same. I guess we were on the late side of the early birds. I was wearing a fleece and had another jacket in my backpack, as it’s fairly chilly at that time of day, but I was shocked to find that the thermal winds on this hill were quite warm! I was down to just a long-sleeve shirt within the first 5 minutes of the hike. It was still pretty dark, which downed my depth perception and really upped the excitement level of navigating the unknown rocky paths. Soon my eyes adjusted and the sun got closer to breaching the horizon, so my thoughts could turn to our conversation and getting to know my new friends rather than having to focus on not falling.

Some parts of the route were steep, with little handles screwed into the rock, a couple of ladders, and even a segment or two with chains attached to the mountain to aid in the climb (or cling to in fear, whatever…). We reached the summit just after 7, and enjoyed some oranges while we waited for the sun to make its grand appearance.

Right on cue at 7:37, there it was! Glowing pink and bringing warmth, it was amazing to watch how the light slowly infiltrated the nooks and crannies of this mountainous city by the sea. It was wonderful to be able to appreciate this natural wonder that happens every day, regardless of whether anyone’s bothering to watch.

At this point, the rest of the hikers had descended, and we had the place to ourselves! Soon, though, the crows encroached and started spooking us out, so down we went. We talked about the simultaneous cruelty and beauty of this developing nation, and the steps it has made toward freedom and equality, as well as the long road that lies ahead. We covered the racial and gender barriers that continue to exist, the frustrations of politics in any government, and the overwhelming power of forgiveness. A fantastic way to start the day, to be sure. Thanks Hilton & Meghan!

Struggles of an International NGO, part I

Today I’m going back in time to Ethiopia, writing about some observations of the nonprofit world. Having only started my internship at the Desmond Tutu HIV Foundation this Monday, I already have questions and insights about this organization. But while I wait to learn more before passing judgment, I thought I’d reflect on Lalmba, a truly wonderful organization doing amazing work.

Lalmba’s in need of a programmatic overhaul. As far as I understand, they initially wanted to be the last line of defense in Chiri, a place for people to go because there was absolutely nothing else. Since its inception, the health care system of Ethiopia has improved a little – there is still a far way to go, but progress is happening. Now Lalmba is at a bit of a standstill. Should it just keep doing what it’s always done, or should it expand? They currently oversee vaccinations in their outreach sites – should they leave this primarily under the HEW’s control (local gov’t health workers), and focus instead on furthering their public health advocacy by selling soap and latrine slabs and teaching about the cleansing power of a capful of bleach in water? And as for the clinic, they currently assist with births, but have no one who specializes in C-sections. Should they build a new building to accommodate this possible extension? Finally, regarding staff – as it is, the nurses are paid in part by the government and partially by Lalmba. This means they have less control over who they hire, and often times have to deal with kids out of a training program who think they’re more qualified than someone who’s been working in the field for 10 years, just because of a piece of paper. Should they continue to be public, or start hiring privately?

To top it all off, of course is the question of funding. This particular nonprofit works entirely off of donations, and does not seek grant money. They have no development department to speak of, and try to cut costs wherever they can. One example I was privy to was the question of how many translators to keep on staff. Their main translator is very good, with a lot of experience, and he knows how to get the correct information from the patients. Unfortunately, sometimes a translator is needed both at the outreach site and in the clinic, and rather than hire someone else, a suggestion given was to use one of the English-speaking lab techs to see patients with Jeff. I’d spoken with her at length, and it initially seemed like a good idea, as we could easily understand each other. However, I was with Jeff when a trial occurred, and I was going mad after the very first patient!

He was doing a routine follow-up on a malnourished child who’d been the week before. Jeff needed to know whether the patient was doing any better; after much conversation between the lab tech and the mother, we were told that the child was very weak, and had trouble walking. Ok, but could he walk when he left here after his initial treatment? Is this a new problem, or is the mother still worried that her boy isn’t at 100%? Minutes of conversation go by, many words are said, but again all that’s reported to us is that he can’t walk. Patiently Jeff tries to explain that he only needs to know whether the child is getting any better (is he eating more? Is he more responsive? Jeff gives many options for ways to find out whether the kid is progressing), and finally after another long conversation, the lab tech reports “it is good.” This infuriating process continues for another 10 minutes, and finally we leave to try to track down whatever information we can glean from paperwork because clearly, the conversation was getting us nowhere.

At that point, if asked whether another translator was needed on staff, my answer would be a resounding YES. However, I am not in charge of the money, I do not see the budget, I don’t know whether that’s the best use of resources, I don’t know any of it. Maybe I’m just another American wanting to throw money at a problem in order to fix a particular issue, rather than trying to understand the bigger picture. But being there, watching the ineffectiveness happen before my eyes, was almost more than I could handle.