We spent the hour between classes at Cocoa Wa-Wa café on Main Rd, sipping “Americanos on Ice” (iced coffees) and “Choccochino Crushes”, and then met up at Marita’s flat for a – we’ll call it spirited – debate on racism in America and South Africa. Our discussion was followed by a visit from a wonderfully engaging and charismatic woman, Jeremicia Seherie, who works as a lawyer for the national government. She provided a lot of background information into the current presidential race, the Zuma court case, and Constitutional law in South Africa. She also gave a brief but powerful lecture on the concept of Ubuntu that is at the core of South African society and community. For more on Ubuntu, which literally translates to I am because we are, I’m sure you can reference Marita’s blog.
On Friday, I left to catch the train to Fish Hoek at 8:30AM with Emily A, Michelle, and Michelle’s boyfriend Dan, who’s visiting for two weeks. We got off the train a little before 9:30 and faced the challenge of finding a minibus to take us to Masiphumelele Township, where TEARS is located. The minibus strike last week had prevented us from having to navigate yet another local minibus taxi rank, so we walked with as much confidence as we could muster towards the small cluster of minibuses up the block from the train station. Several bold drivers descended on our little pack in no time, coaxing us toward there vehicles even before we could rattle off our destination. The taxi hub was much smaller and quieter than the others we’d encountered, so when we climbed into a mostly-full taxi a minute later, it was uncharacteristically still and silent. We drove away from the coast and up the highway until we reached Masiphumelele Township, where the taxi took a right and began rolling through the streets between the informal shacks and rubbish heaps.
As has been the case during every visit to the townships – which previously had been only by hired group transport – the narrow streets were lined with vendors and hair salons and children rolling spare tires through the dirt. We realized we didn’t recognize the area, and started to worry we weren’t anywhere near where we needed to be. Once everyone else had gotten off in the township, the driver pulled over at the main entrance to the settlement, in a dirt parking area beside the highway. People loitered at the edges or walked between the half dozen other minibuses parked in the lot, while others meandered up the asphalt walk beside the highway. The driver told us he could point us in the direction of the TEARS compound, which he insisted was just a few minutes walk, and still a bit wary, we got out of the minibus and followed up a few meters down the highway. The sideways glances we exchanged within our group betrayed the anxiety we all felt on account of being so dependent and defenseless in the alien environment. But once we caught site of the TEARS sign, we were summarily at ease and appreciative of the minibus driver’s guidance.We spent most of the three hours at the animal rescue society walking the dogs up and down the same stretch of industrial road outside the compound. Most of the dogs were manageable and sweet-tempered, but one particular black hound tugged so hard as we passed the other dogs on the street that he broke his lead and dove viciously into a fight with a small dog passing by. The other volunteer walker and I wound up on the ground in a scuffle with the dogs – a precarious position, given the nature of dog fighting – who lunged and bit and growled at one another, through our flailing arms. It took almost a minute to pin the aggressor to the ground and get a hand looped under his collar, at which point the other walker and I stumbled to our feet and assessed the damage. I had a few cuts and scrapes, and she looked visibly shaken, but we dusted ourselves off and tracked down a new lead so that I could return the dog safely to the kennel. It wasn’t until later that I realized I’d lost my watch in scuffle and would now be at the mercy of true South African time.
On the way home from TEARS, we’d decided to stop at Muizenberg and soaked up the relaxing beach atmosphere for about an hour. The wind wasn’t as strong as the last time I’d been to the beach, but the waves were much bigger and the undertow stronger. At 3:00, Emily and I hopped back on the train so that we’d have time to go grocery shopping on Main Rd before returning to the house. The walk home from Checkers grocery store, however, was a major feat, as I’d had to add a week’s worth of groceries to my already-heavy bag from the morning (and adding insult to injury, it was a giant, hideously commercial bag with the word “Africa” and a picture of an elephant plastered across it in bright ink).
Nine of us had tickets to see the Super 14 rugby match between Cape Town’s Vodacom Stormers and Australia’s Queensland Reds. So at 6:15, three of us headed over to join the six who’d left for the pregame “tail-gating” earlier in the day. Newlands Stadium was about 45 minutes’ walk from the house and required walking to Main Rd, again, before taking a left and following the stream of pedestrian and vehicle traffic towards Claremont. Blue flags waved out the windows of cars headed for the stadium, and when we arrived, fans clustered around food vendors and rugby memorabilia stands outside the gates. It was a lively atmosphere, which we also found replicated on the inside, once we passed through security and climbed the two flights of stairs to our seats. The stadium itself was much bigger than the Athlone soccer stadium and was much more crowded, adding to the excitement and energy of the event. When the game started, that energy was channeled into dynamic cheers, collective oohs-and-ahhs, and several rounds of “the wave”. Two of the people in our group play for the UConn women’s rugby team, and two more of us have played the sport in college at one time or another, so we provided occasional commentary on the rules and calls to the rest of the group during the game. Though the home team took a significant lead in the first half, the Reds came back to miss the victory by just three points, despite countless injuries on both sides. Meanwhile, the mobile vendors that climbed up and down the stadium steps offered treats both familiar (ice cream, cotton candy, water) and bizarre (jerky, doughnuts, hot-chocolate-from-an-insulated-backpack). All eyes were glued to the game until the final whistle sounded, at which point we filed out en masse, and either headed out to a nearby rugby pub or back up Main Rd. towards the house.
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