Out in Africa - Week 6 in Cape Town

Molweni,

Well, I'm now three-fourths of the way through my volunteer placement on the Scalabrini Centre's Employment Help Desk (EHD).  Just when I think time could not travel by any more quickly, it turns around and does so in leaps and bounds!  I suppose that I should not be surprised by this . . .  I have been, after all, taking in all that Cape Town and South Africa have had to offer and I've been enjoying it in ways that I am still at a loss to describe; that alone will make time pass quickly.

Last week I got trained to do the intake interviews for new clients to the EHD.  It's something that I had requested to do, but I wasn't sure that I'd be able to do so given my relatively short eight-week placement at Scalabrini.  But, thankfully, the opportunity came this week and I was happy to jump at the chance.  So, I was trained on Wednesday and part of Thursday, and I did new client intake on Thursday and Friday.

The intake process itself isn't that difficult -- it's essentially the initial data collection system that allows Scalabrini to keep track of what types of people are coming to the EHD for assistance -- but the informal parts of what happens during the intake process proved to be more challenging.  Why?  Well, first, there are some clients who don't speak much English and are more comfortable communicating in French (and I speak almost no French, although I'm surprised at how much of it I'm able to understand if someone speaks very, v-e-r-y, v---e---r---y slowly and simply).  Fortunately, there are French-speaking staff and volunteers who can translate if needed, or, if all else fails, I can resort to using hand gestures and facial expressions that seem to get the point across.

More importantly, this initial intake provided face-to-face time with an even wider array of clients, who had a correspondingly broader range of needs and personalities.  In just two days, I talked with clients who were incredibly posed, motivated and put together, to clients who had never attended a day of formal schooling, to refugees who had no country, no paperwork, no home, no job, and no concept of where to turn next.  It's been another lesson for me in being thankful for the opportunities that I have had in life . . . and another lesson in the capacity of the human spirit.

In my down time, I attended the first weekend of the "Out in Africa" film festival, which is, I think, the only LGBT film festival on the African continent.  Jessie, Nikkie, Dana and Elizabeth (thanks, ladies!!) from the CCS program joined me for the double feature on the first night - The Cutter and A Kind of Language.  While I enjoyed both of the South African short films, I really loved A Kind of Language and can only hope that the production team is able to secure funds to make a feature-length film.  It indirectly speaks to much of what I've found so hard to describe about Cape Town and South Africa and the lengths that people will go just to survive.  Over the course of the weekend, I saw two additional films - Amphetamine, a film from Hong Kong, and Road to Pride, another South African film - both of which were great.

After the first night of the film festival, we went out with the remainder of the current group of CCS volunteers for Oktoberfest on the V&A Waterfront.  And the pictures that I've been tagged in on Facebook are a result of that bit of beer-drinking, off-key signing, out-of-step dancing fun.  And I went out to Cafe Manhattan (again) and Bronx Bar (don't worry, not all of the LGBT establishments in Cape Town have NYC-themed names, but it's just where I wound up!) in De Waterkant later that weekend.  I've gotten a chance to meet some of LGBT Captonians, and to talk with them about growing up gay/bisexual in Africa.  It was an honor to have them speak so honesty and openly about their upbringing, and another lesson for me in being thankful for my own background.  And I'll get to see more of the LGBT community this week, when I head off to a fundraiser for Positive Heroes.

So, until next week, be well!

Sala kahuhle,

Troy

South Africa, Week 6 (18-24 Oct 2010)

Here are more pictures from Cape Town (all street shots from De Waterkant and shots of the CCS home base)

Life & Living - Week 5 in Cape Town

Molweni,

I trust that this finds all well with each of you.  Another week has come and gone, and I now have only three weeks remaining with my placement at Scalabrini.  And, five weeks from now, I'll be on the first leg of my return flight home.  It is truly startling as to how quickly time is now passing, so let me get this "halfway through the trip" posting up.

This past week, my fifth full week in Cape Town, was a fairly quiet one.  Most of my Dad's family gathered for a funeral service for Aunt Joan last Monday, so the start of my week was full of introspection (and, yes, even more introspection that I am typically prone to do).  I had been okay with Aunt Joan's passing, and was very thankful that she was able to pass quickly and without great suffering, but I longed to be back in the States when I found out that my family was going to hold a funeral service for her.  And yet I knew that would have been the last thing she would have wanted from me.  So, I spent last Monday afternoon at the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden.  The photos I posted last Monday are almost entirely from my visit there in her memory.

It was a cool, drizzly afternoon, so the gardens were fairly quiet.  I was able to find some peace there and I reflected on Aunt Joan’s strength, and on the strength that runs through my entire family.  For as much as I’ve joked over the years about being from that part of New York State that few have heard of -- the Southern Tier in the foothills of America’s Appalachian Mountains -- with the summer visits to see my Mom’s family in the heart of the Mennonite and Amish communities Kansas, it’s precisely this upbringing that has served me well in my adult life.  My empathetic, yet hard-headed, stubborn, guardedly private and often sarcastic nature I owe to my family, and for that you have my eternal love and unending thanks.  (And, to those family members who haven’t fallen over in shock after reading this far, here’s hoping we all get a bit more communicative in our more "seasoned" years . . . LOL!)  ((And, to those of my friends who have read this far and are scratching their heads in mild or total bewilderment, welcome to life with the 'new and improved' me . . . LMAO!!))

After I got through Monday, I honestly found myself drawing strength from the clients at Scalabrini's Employment Help Desk (EHD).  Their stories continue to be immensely inspirational to me and I often find myself at the end of the day feeling as if I've gained more from them than I've given in return.  Most fundamentally last week, their stories served to put things in perspective for me and to help me further focus on life and living.

I wish that I could share their individual stories with you, but I won't out of respect for their privacy and our shared humanity.  So, I can only speak about them generally.  Truth be told, on any given day the EHD sees a mixed lot of personalities come across the desk.  The beautiful thing about Scalabrini is that no one is turned away; if the person can sit there long enough to help us with a CV and can give us enough information to put on paper, Scalabrini will help them out.  And everyone that comes through the door is treated as if they were family (and, as with any family, some members are more charming while others are more, um, troublesome).

A handful of the 'regulars' on the EHD, who I saw almost daily my first two or three weeks at Scalabrini, have stopped coming in.  I find myself quite often wondering what job they've found.  That they actually found a job is a huge assumption, and there's no way to know that is the case.  But the gracious interactions that I had with them leads me to only hope for the best for each of them.  Other regulars continue to come in, and I now enter Scalabrini every morning a little after 8:30 in the morning with a round of "good mornings" and "hellos".   (And, since 'Troy' isn't an easy name for a number of them to remember, I'm increasingly responding to "hello, chief" . . . )  And, day in and day out, all of the volunteers on the EHD continue to do what we can to help the returning clients and the newcomers to the desk in their individual job searches.

So, let me wrap this up with a few final unrelated thoughts.  I finally made it up to the top of Table Mountain yesterday; the weather was fantastic and the views were indescribably beautiful.  All 50 pictures that I posted yesterday evening were from earlier that day.  This last week saw Lindsey's placement end (here's a shout out to you, Des!), so I'm the last of my group that remains.  But I've gotten to know the group that started a little over a week ago, and I've made another group of friends that I'll continue to keep in touch with after my placement is over.  And finally, from all reports, last week's reading of Same Train went amazingly well.  A huge THANK YOU to the entire cast and creative team for what I've heard described as one of the best readings -- if not THE best reading -- of the show.  And a special "thank you" to Mark Bruckner for filling in for me on the production end of things!

With that, until next time, all the best.

Sala kahuhle,

Troy

South Africa, Week 5 (12-17 Oct 2010)

South Africa, Week 4 (4-11 Oct 2010)

Here are a few pictures from this past week. The pictures from
Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens are in your memory, Aunt Joan.

Transitions - Week 4 in Cape Town

Molweni,

My placement at the Scalabrini Centre is already halfway finished!  And THAT is truly hard for me to believe.  My time here in Cape Town continues to fly by with lightening speed.  And I continue to settle in to my post-law-firm life with equal ease; perhaps that is part of why time seems to pass so quickly.

So, my fourth week here in Cape Town has felt like a week of small transitions.  This past week was the first week without formal afternoon cultural and language programs offered at Cross-Cultural Solutions' home base, since those programs are concentrated in the first three weeks after a new group's arrival in order to allow the volunteers here on a shorter placement still get the full set of cultural activities.  That meant that I was able to start working a full day at the Scalabrini Centre, so I've been getting dropped off by CCS at placement in the morning and then arranging for my own transportation back in the afternoons.  It's allowed me to interact more extensively with the other volunteers at Scalabrini, to experience what a full work week would be like here, and to begin to feel more settled and at home here in South Africa's Mother City and less like a long-term visitor.

This weekend has also seen the arrival of the new group of volunteers at the CCS home base, and the end of Linda's placement (leaving Lindsey and I to serve as the veteran volunteers who show the new arrivals around the neighborhood and the home base).  The new group has 12 American volunteers, made up of 11 women and one man.  Watching their arrival, and talking with them as they settled in on their first day, I have been struck by how my perceptions have changed in many little ways since my initial weekend at CCS.   None of these changes are individually huge, nor are many of them readily apparent on the surface, but I can tell how things register differently with me.

It's also been a week where I have been mentally pulled back across the Atlantic and up over the Equator to the United States for more than just a fleeting moment.  I've spent a portion of my free time this week working on the material for the special reading of portions of Same Train, the new spoken word musical that I've been trying to get up for an off-Broadway run in New York City, to be held at the Dwyer Cultural Center's Performance Space on Wednesday, Oct. 13, 2010 at 7pm.  If you're interested in attending this reading, please RSVP here.

I've also spent a good portion of my time talking with my family as Aunt Joan, my Dad's older sister, went from bad to worse over the course of the week.  I'm incredibly thankful that I had a chance to spend some time with her in July before I headed off to Cape Town . . . she protected the family from the details of how serious her condition was until the end, and she passed away early early yesterday morning (Saturday, Oct. 9, 2010) surrounded by family.  Per my aunt's wishes, there will be no viewing or wake and only a simple graveside service will be held, so I will say my goodbyes from the top of Table Mountain when next the weather cooperates.

So, it's been a week of transitions . . . small and large. 

Sala kahuhle,

Troy

We are free because . . .

Molweni (Xhosa for 'hello all'),

Three weeks have now come and gone since I arrived in Cape Town.  And what a captivating whirlwind it's been.  I find myself sitting here in Cross-Cultural Solution's now very quiet Cape Town home base (there are only three volunteers, myself included, who remain here this week) reflecting on what's transpired since my arrival.  My last posting failed to mention much of what I've done in my free time, and there's been a lot packed into these last several weeks.  So, let me start with a thumbnail sketch of those events . . .

I've gone 'shark cage diving' off Gansbaai and I got to watch a great white shark swim several yards in front of me, and then watched another one swim below me.  (True, I got seasick for the first time in my life while on the shark cage diving trip, but it was well worth it.)  I've gotten up close to resting African penguins (who as adorable as you might imagine), seen southern right whales lounging off the coast, watched seals wave at the CCS group from Hout Bay, visited the southwestern most point on the African continent at Cape of Good Hope, and seen some of truly breathtaking coastline and countryside.  I've traveled up to some Western Cape vineyards in Stellenbosch and Franschhoek, where I found a new favorite wine (Simonsig's Redhill Pinotage), got fairly close to a cheetah (kitty!! kitty! kitty!), ate some fantastic food and saw more stunning landscape.  I've gone out to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was held as a political prisoner from 1964 to 1982, and interacted with South Africans (not to mention Zimbabweans and Congolese) from a myriad of backgrounds.  And so much more. 

So, tonight, after the start of my fourth week at the Scalabrini Centre, I sit here reflecting on everything that has transpired.  Most of you reading this are probably aware of the enormous problems that South Africa faces -- one of the biggest gaps between wealthy and poor on the planet, an unemployment rate in excess of 25% (but keep in mind that's NOTHING compared with some of the other nations in the region who have unemployment rates in excess of 50%!), a high crime rate, and a still staggeringly high HIV+ rate, to name just a few.  And this in a country which only emerged from the Apartheid era less than 20 years ago, holding its first universal elections in which all citizens could vote in April 1994!  Nothing that I've posted here is meant to gloss over this stark reality; it is as much a part of South Africa today as is the graciousness, beauty and warmness that I've described in other posts.  And my experience here is that much more difficult to describe to you all as a result.

Everyone who visits Robben Island is shown around the former Maximum Security Prison, where male political prisoners of color (using South African terms, black and coloured political prisoners) were held under the Apartheid government, has a former political prisoner as a tour guide.  When our group was at the end of the tour, our tour guide told us his story as to how he wound up imprisoned on Robben Island.  He was one of the men arrested following the 1976 Soweto uprising, where black students protested against an Apartheid-era law which forced all black schools in South Africa to use Afrikaans and English (neither of which are the "mother tongue" of black students) in course instructions, and he spent five years on Robben Island as a result.

After telling his story, our guide was asked if he was bitter about what had happened to him.  His response will be one of those moments that likely will be etched in my mind for the rest of my days.  "No, I'm not bitter.  What we did was part of a larger struggle . . .," was what he said before he had to raise his fist to his mouth as he began to get a bit choked up.  "What we did was part of a bigger purpose . . .," was all he got out when he then tried to continue.  "We are free because . . ." is all he was able to say before he motioned us out of the room.

The freedoms here in South Africa are not taken for granted.  No adult South African, be they black, white or coloured, is unaffected by what happened under Apartheid.  And it's something that many South Africans are willing to talk about if you're open to listening.  Add this to the work I've been doing at the Scalabrini Centre, and it makes me more than just a little ashamed of what I (like many Americans) take for granted.

We are free because . . .

We are free because . . .

We are free because . . .

South Africa, Week 3 (27 Sept-3 Oct 2010)