My time in the tiny island of Mauritius flew by, despite the concept of "island time". This teeny weeny island east of Madagascar has the distinction of being the only place that I've ever been that I didn't know how much I wanted to visit until I got there. Convoluted, but sincere... that's me :)
I was completely ambivalent about what seemed like a mystery stop on our worldwide voyage of discovery. As has become the case whenever I was ambivalent, I now acknowledge that was nothing more than ignorance and a lack of intellelectual curiousity on my part. I'm glad that grace covers a multitude of sins, because I got the opportunity to travel there anyway and expand my mind, and an expanded mind never returns to its original shape. Mauritius is now a part of my reality, and it will always jump off the map to me, despite the fact that it is miniscule in the scheme of themes, a freckle on the face of the Indian Ocean, for all intents and purposes.
My entire three days on the island, mostly spent in or near the capital city of Port Louis, were endlessly illuminating. I enjoyed taking a water taxi from the ship to the well-developed and picturesque waterfront area, visiting the colorful and bustling Central Market, the idyllic and tranquil Trou aux Biches for a stay in a private villa and day of white sandy beaches and crystalline water. A couple of friends and I chartered a private glass-bottomed boat for some snorkeling in the reefs just off the coast of the water. I turned down offers of tubing and parasailing for napping in the sun in the vain hope that the sun would fry the bacteria replicating in my congested sinuses with the same alacrity as it fried my skin (I'm like 13 shades darker... at least).
I even made it to the Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanical Gardens. The amazing flora and the amazing opportunity to be in the oldest botanical garden in the Southern Hemisphere and one of the premier gardens in the world. the giant water lilies there are not to be missed. Among other wonders I saw coffee, tea, camphor, flame-of-the-forest, and many herbal remedies being grown. There was also a 250 year old Banyan tree that was at least 10 feet wide -- a baby sapling as those trees are thought to grow to be over 1,000 years old. It was worth the bug bites to see the sights there, as well as the giant turtles and the deer. To top it all off, a 30 minute public bus ride provided some of the best people watching of the trip.
Mauritius is endlessly diverse, multi-ethnic and fascinating, with most of the population being a exotic swirling mixture of Indian, African, Malay, etc. Hindus, Muslims, and Christians that co-exist peacefully there, seemingly without effort. For instance, the day we left was Divali, the Indian festival of light. The entire island took a holiday, shutting down early and stringing lights on homes and in the town squares. There was a night fireworks show that we watched off the deck of the ship. And yet the muslim call to prayer still went out on schedule and the church bells still rang at noon. How soothing for the heart, and how hopeful for the other areas of the world that defy such simple and cooperative living!
One thing that I would remis if I didn't mention is that the state bird is the dodo... at first glance this might seem totally random. (and second, and third...) Why is a long extinct, half-mythical, no-flying, half-squab, half-ostrich looking thing with purportedly disgusting and bitter meat the national bird? How was it even hunted into extinction in the 18th century if it tasted so frickin narsty? Even though the bird is printed on towels, flags, and clothes, no one could give me an answer to the question. The only actual evidence of this bird is 2 rusty dusty skeletons in the museum! I would return for a visit to investigate that mystery alone.
PS: The McDonald's there has a doorman. A doorman!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Hello (again) Robben Island
Robben Island is a place with a history of torture, illness, and imprisonment. As a former WWII garrison, a prison many times over, the solitary confinement place of Dr. Robert Sobukwe, and a forrmer leper colony, it is nothing if not another one of the world's oubliettes, a place where were disrobed of our humanity and annihlated one another, just like the slave dungeons on the West African Coast. What is it about this continent, these dark skinned tribes, that brought out the such fear, such aggression? All I could do while I was walking through the prison, listening to our guide, a former political prisoner at Robben Island having only been released in 1991, was marvel at the power of fear to rule over logic, rationality, morality, or even basic humanity.
Prisoners were given no shoes, no beds, no succor. Depending on your race or what part of the prison you were in, you may not even have been permitted to have cigarettes or jam on your toast. Beatings were the result of forbidden political conversations, and applause was hidden as the rubbing of hands. A simple newspaper was not allowed; prisoners slit open tennis balls and stuffed messages inside, lobbing them over the walls to each other, praying for perfect accuracy. And yet...
Nelson Mandela wrote his autobiography there, twice (the first one was found while he was writing it and destroyed). Many of the prisoners earned multiple degrees from the University of South Africa while there. It was the birthplace of the current South African government in that the first black politicians were almost exclusively ex-prisoners there. It is now a monument and a museum. People still live on Robben Island. Hope rears its head once again. There's something so audacious about it, so indomitable. Humbling.
This is not to say that South Africa's, indeed humanity's, long walk to freedom is complete, or even truly begun. But these ain't no baby steps neither. So to my South African brothers and sisters I say: run on.
Hello (again) Amy Biehl Foundation!
This time, it was really special to get the opportunity to eat breakfast with some of the staff members and give them a tour of the ship. I love instant connections with friendly people; by the end our time together, we were all fast friends. I also loved meeting their new director, Kevin Chaplan, and his energy and enthusiasm for the work of racial reconciliation and development in the townships moved me. I could feel the aura of disbelief when he spoke to the group, him being a white man with a banking background who suddenly quit his 25 year career and started a foundation to promote racial harmony in the post-apartheid era. It took only a few minutes for his genuineness to break down that disbelief and turn it into the bemused chagrin you can only feel when you're wrong and happy about it.
Even more awe-inspiring, however, is the story of Amy's killers. Amy was dragged from her car, stoned, and stabbed to death during an anti-apartheid rally while dropping friends home. She had been unaware of the rally, and the friends lived in the township. 4 young black men were convicted of the crime and sentenced to 18 years imprisonment each. However, after apartheid ended they sought asylum with the truth and reconciliation commission, which was granted with the full blessing of the Biehl family (in fact, they were there and spoke in favor of the proceedings). The part that is even over the top of that is that 2 of the young men were then taken in by the Biehl family and now work for the foundation! One is the program director and the other one is the sports director for the kids afterschool programs. They keep in touch regularly with Linda Biehl, Amy's mom, and even call her "Makulu" (grandmother). The transformative power of forgiveness, redemption, and absolution are all quasi-religious talking points for so many people, it is absolutely paralyzing to see them applied in a secular world. It's a revelation to me to see the humbling, penetrating power it has as applied to the politics of South Africa -- and this is secular! I am moved to think of what it must have been like while Jesus's message was first sweeping the world, changing the course of human history as the physical embodiment of God's forgiveness to every person.
After a morning in their offices learning about the organization and Amy's story, we had an amazing traditional !Xhosa lunch at Mzoni's Place in the Gugulunthe township and went around to different schools there visiting the Amy Biehl Foundation's after school programs. The foundation provides music, dance, drama, and visual arts programs to empower kids, keep them out of trouble, and finish school (there is a high attrition rate). The students performed for us, and they were amazing! I itched to dance and sing along -- I could barely keep my butt in the seat! I had to settle for taking video. My plan: to study the moves and take So You Think You Can Dance by storm! Check for me!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Molo Khayelitsha
Khayelitsha: youngest and fastest growing township in Cape Town, South Africa
Today I visited the Khayelitsha Township on the outskirts of Cape Town, an official Semester at Sea sponsored activity. The details sound cringe-worthy -- a bus full of white students and one black person, yours truly, driving in and around the township, cameras clicking. The reality, however, was something quite different. It's never felt so great to be completely wrong and leave an experience with expectations unmet.
Our intrepid young tour guide, Njungo, started off the tour by doing his best to allay any fears or discomfort with the idea of being in a tour group headed for a township -- an insightful and necessary statement to make, as I was already headed there and we had barely left the waterfront area! What had seemed to make so much sense when I signed up (indeed, the only safe way to enter a township is as a part of such a group or with family and friends) now seemed the stupidest idea I'd ever had. Thank God for stupid ideas...
Njungo gave us lots of information about the history of townships and how and why they formed, as well as helpful statistics to help us understand where they are currently. Much of it was familiar to me, but I enjoyed the refresher. The townships are a visible byproduct of the horrible apartheid regime of forced relocation after the Group Areas Act of 1950 (ridiculous name, I know) and migrations of blacks from rural to urban areas in search of work. When apartheid became official with the National Party's election in 1948, racial groups were created on the basis of some really random physical characteristics. Based on racial profiling, the different districts in Cape Town were razed and people were forcibly removed from their homes and relocated to townships. In addition to these relocations, shantytowns sprang up on the outskirts of Cape Town and even the townships themselves due to rural migration. These places were known for being plagued with just about every housing (under)development problem imaginable -- crime, lack of education, unemployment, sanitation, no running water, electricity, lack of infrastructure (roads, police stations, hospitals). This is still largely the case in many areas of townships, but things are changing. With the end of apartheid in 1994, racial segregation policies ended, causing a migration of many blacks back into the city and leaving townships behind. Khayelitsha, however, is the youngest and fastest growing township with 1-2 million people living there. Although the same struggles exist there as in many townships -- i.e. unemployment is 60% or higher and many people just walk the streets -- there is a vibrant sense of hope, ubuntu (community), and an entrepreneurial and striving spirit towards taking ownership and pride of their Khayelitsha, or "new place" in the !Xhosa language.
We arrived at the township and started by visiting the Khayelitsha Craft Market, a place where some of the local artisans showcase and sell their crafts. There was also a marimba band there playing music. Many of the local crafts were quite clever -- there were bowls made from spare telephone wire and bottlecap figurines along with paintings and handpainted cloth. I didn't even have the strength to bargain for the bracelet that I bought. I figured that the least I could do was put some $ into the local economy there. I did fear that the entire trip might turn out to be a junket around to various shops (horrible flashbacks of Morocco), but that turned out not to be the case. The local schoolchildren were just getting out of school then and they filled the streets. Many of them were curious to see us. All of them were cute and energetic.
After we left the craft market we visited the Phelani Nutrition Project, where women are educated and empowered as well as taught to weave wonderful tapestries and print handpainted cloth. We were able to visit the looms and watch the women work. I was amazed to see that all the looms were handlooms or ones with giant foot pedals like an organ! We spent too little time there.
The next stop was the famous Vicky's Bed & Breakfast, "the smallest hotel in South Africa", operating right smack in the middle of the township. Although Vicky was not there, her assistant was more than happy to show us their 6 rooms and tell us the wonderful story of how that business got started. I was proud to hear about this intrepid woman, whose spirit of entrepreneurship would not allow her to watch as tour buses full of tourists drove through her township, windows alight with camera flashes, and no one getting off to visit, meet citizens, or spend a dime there. Her example spread the idea of tourism, B&Bs, and jobs outward to her neighbors. One of the most impactful things that Vicky's assistant said about their business was "our neighborhood is our security". In other words, far from being jealous, undermining the business, or robbing their guests, the neighborhood was in full support of visitors coming to see, learn and explore. The neighborhood is security enough for all who stay there to be safe. They depend on one another. How powerful. I find that South Africa is a place full of such wise lessons.
Our final stop was at the Kopanong B&B to meet Thope Lekau. A big beautiful woman with a robust personality, she reminded me of home. She even smelled like some of my favorite ladies from church! She told us the story of how she'd traveled to the University of Pittsburgh for a special fellowship and come back to Cape Town with the idea for her business over a nice spread of ginger beer, juice, tea, cookies, tarts, and a local pastry (I can't remember the name, tasted like cold beignets with no powdered sugar :). She was enthralling. If ech person there has even a part of her spirit or commitment to their community they cannot fail to reach their goals. We took a brief walking tour of the neighborhood that turned into quite the merry parade with children from all over coming to join us, and several of the students creating a joyful havoc by blowing bubbles and handing out stickers. They felt no fear in grabbing the hand of a student and just enjoying a walk with us. Many people came out of their homes to wave and shout "Molome!" It was awesome.
I learned so much from my trip today. It was excellent to see so much progress. There was barely any electricity and running water in the townships that I saw in 2000, let alone home-building and replacement projects 100% funded by the government. I was uplifted to the depths of my soul, and smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
Another interesting thing that happened that I can't neglect to mention is that everyone was curious about me. They kept asking me where I was from, surprised to hear me say the US. Is it the 'fro? If I didn't say a word, I could probably walk down the streets anywhere and be taken for a local. I find that I am enjoying this very much. That and the astonishment when people ask me my age and where I am studying. It's great! I told the tour guide my age and he refused to believe it, going so far as to not-so-subtly offer 50 cattle to my father as a dowry price! All in all a good day's work!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Hello Rough Waters
The thing about a voyage like this is that time can really get away from you. For instance, I currently have no idea what the date is, let alone what day of the week. I woke up this morning and spent a lazy morning working from the "home office" (read: bed) and didn't realize that I'd failed to set my clock back by an hour until the noon announcements startled me by blaring into my quiet sanctuary at eleven o'clock. See what I mean?
Now that we're on the same page, I can talk about the current state of affairs on this bizarre floating campus. The seas have been really rough the past few days. I'm talking up and down, round and round, rat in a rattled cage rough. The kind of rough that makes your eyeballs ache and the food in your belly rhythmically revolt in time with the waves. Now, mostly, I perversely enjoy this kind of motion -- keeps things interesting, and yes I am one of those people that rides roller coasters without the need for a dare. At first, I smiled and giggled, safe in the knowledge that I am generally immune to seasickness. Now, my smile has faded, my brow wrinkeled, and I am tired of grabbing railings and being puched to and fro by forces outside of my control. My general immunity to seasickness is over and the headache and mild vertigo is enough to make me scream. Is this me getting old, or this voyage getting old, or both?
I would end this post with my excited feelings to be headed to Cape Town, but even that is checked by the fact that I drew the short straw on the port duty calendar and have to spend the first 2 nights in port on call overnight to deal with any problems that should arise (read: drunk students). So what I am really living toward and looking forward to is the 3 day of my time in Cape Town. Until then... hello rough waters.
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