i visited a township school yesterday. a primary school for 800 kids. 30ish teachers. it is an unusual school.
some kids come to school hungry. and they are fed - food grown in the school garden at lunch, porridge cooked by early-bird teachers in the morning, and a snack for all mid-morning provided by a local programme.
if they arrive dirty (they have no soap at home, or no parents), then they are bathed by parents volunteering and dressed in clean clothes while their uniforms are cleaned.
if they are HIV+, they are welcome. and if the social workers assessing suitability of their homes for regular, daily, life-long dosing with anti-retroviral drugs (now, finally, available) deem their homes too chaotic, too unstable to warrant these medicines? the school now intervenes - they find neighbours who can help ensure that the children eat the right foods at the right times and take the pills just so. teachers accompany sick parents to the hospital. the principal advocates to have sick students admitted when the system wouldn't ordinarily be bothered.
the principal recently adopted a young girl who is 'positive'. the girl had been very very sick - was delirious, was dying. and the principal had felt that she'd not be able to speak at the funeral if she hadn't done anything to intervene. now the child is back at school, is doing well, may soon start on antiretrovirals. another teacher has taken in her sister's grandchild, and people see that there are things they can do.
the kids in grade 7 and 8 performed for me a play that they had researched and written about antiretrovirals. there are many myths here about these, and the reasons for that are complicated. but their play was marvelous.
none of this is ordinary. if that is sad, it is also true.
15.8.05
from letters, to you (hard copy to follow)
Thus the long letter is begun. I write to you smiling, in spite of being trapped, as I am, in a kind of purgatory; Heathrow is a mall, and I've no escape!
...I spent most of the night trying, rather unsuccessfully, to sleep. But that meant that a fair amount of drifting - into and out of sleep was done. And this I like: all those dozy thoughts that bleed into one another...Nice, I think, because none of the thoughts are meant to be hung onto, so there's no regret at losing them.
...Today we went to the art gallery, to see the work of William Kentridge. You would have loved it, I think. He does these fantastic (dark, funny, playful) sortof animated short films by drawing and erasing on the page. Very political and v.v. cool. We'll find some of his work someday...
...Part of me thinks this is stupid - that I should stop and leave and go do all the other work I've started and hang out with my father...But I'm also glad to be here - with people who can laugh at miserable things, who can be crazy and talk about it and carry right on being incredibly caring and bright; who love second-hand-clothes and start massive art projects and hospices and anti-retroviral programs; who love cheese and yoghurt and tea and walking...
...In other news, the beach is stunning and walks with the dogs are blissful. My accent is quickly morphing. Jaqueline's dogs killed a chicken overnight, and she is torn, because in the village, one is supposed to kill a dog that has killed a chicken. They're supposed to protect, not eat, these valuable commodities (and it was her rooster that they killed!). But she loves these dogs, and doesn't know what to do. I made the kids (about to write their final grade 12 exams) laugh by goofily "dancing" to illustrate nervous/hormonal coordination in Bio. yesterday. Meanwhile, I'm begging them to let me play soccer with them...
...I find here in this isolated little dorp, it's more clear how people are symbols to one another...
...Instead I'll tell you how funny I looked on the deserted beach that my dad and I were hiking along on Saturday. We'd finally reached the rocks, and there found some respite from the driving wind, as well as a vantage point from which to see the angry sea. And what should I hear from my pack? Cell phone ringing! My dad has photos of me (taken, I'll add, with his camera-phone) at last immersed in the culture o my time...Just as I have always whined that I didn't ever want to be so reachable, I have been reached!...
...I miss you, and think of you often...
...I spent most of the night trying, rather unsuccessfully, to sleep. But that meant that a fair amount of drifting - into and out of sleep was done. And this I like: all those dozy thoughts that bleed into one another...Nice, I think, because none of the thoughts are meant to be hung onto, so there's no regret at losing them.
...Today we went to the art gallery, to see the work of William Kentridge. You would have loved it, I think. He does these fantastic (dark, funny, playful) sortof animated short films by drawing and erasing on the page. Very political and v.v. cool. We'll find some of his work someday...
...Part of me thinks this is stupid - that I should stop and leave and go do all the other work I've started and hang out with my father...But I'm also glad to be here - with people who can laugh at miserable things, who can be crazy and talk about it and carry right on being incredibly caring and bright; who love second-hand-clothes and start massive art projects and hospices and anti-retroviral programs; who love cheese and yoghurt and tea and walking...
...In other news, the beach is stunning and walks with the dogs are blissful. My accent is quickly morphing. Jaqueline's dogs killed a chicken overnight, and she is torn, because in the village, one is supposed to kill a dog that has killed a chicken. They're supposed to protect, not eat, these valuable commodities (and it was her rooster that they killed!). But she loves these dogs, and doesn't know what to do. I made the kids (about to write their final grade 12 exams) laugh by goofily "dancing" to illustrate nervous/hormonal coordination in Bio. yesterday. Meanwhile, I'm begging them to let me play soccer with them...
...I find here in this isolated little dorp, it's more clear how people are symbols to one another...
...Instead I'll tell you how funny I looked on the deserted beach that my dad and I were hiking along on Saturday. We'd finally reached the rocks, and there found some respite from the driving wind, as well as a vantage point from which to see the angry sea. And what should I hear from my pack? Cell phone ringing! My dad has photos of me (taken, I'll add, with his camera-phone) at last immersed in the culture o my time...Just as I have always whined that I didn't ever want to be so reachable, I have been reached!...
...I miss you, and think of you often...
12.8.05
back in sleepy grahamstown
spent some time, after jo'burg, after the karoo, after a few days chez papa, with a high-energy crew in tiny little middle-of-nowhere hamburg. a little rural community in old ciskei of the apartheit era - one of many eastern cape communities struggling with extreme poverty, services in shambles, and ill health all around.
there i always meet people that force me to think. and my eyes and ears are forced open. and there are many interesting things underfoot - an arts project, a new HIV/AIDS hospice tucked into an old house, struggles to attract a few tourists to this stunning coastal estuary. and there is also lots to make me uncomfortable. lots to question, and the question of which roles to play. this is not really a place for outsiders. but it's not much of a place for insiders, either. and sometimes i marvel at south africa for that. it's often said of india that it is the land of contradictions, but it as true here as anywhere. and somehow there's also less comfort in the contradictions here - less resignation to that fact. a sense that things must change. and in spite of old patterns deeply entrenched ("it's like apartheit all over again"), and a lot of learning from scratch (pressure-groups and municipal demonstrations and undoing dependency in fits and spurts), there is also the whirlagig spinning of happening.
of course i can leave, and most never will, but still, it is hard for me to imagine reconciling to life here (though s.a. draws many refugees - mostly economic: it is also a land of opportunity; it is the place my father has returned to; it is where my people come from, and still are). new perspectives on home, and the power of stories.
and now i'm back in sleepy grahamstown, pretending to work, but mostly visiting with my father. saving up time with him to buffer what looks to be a four-year absence looming on our horizon. sometimes i need to move, but sitting still is good for me as well.
there i always meet people that force me to think. and my eyes and ears are forced open. and there are many interesting things underfoot - an arts project, a new HIV/AIDS hospice tucked into an old house, struggles to attract a few tourists to this stunning coastal estuary. and there is also lots to make me uncomfortable. lots to question, and the question of which roles to play. this is not really a place for outsiders. but it's not much of a place for insiders, either. and sometimes i marvel at south africa for that. it's often said of india that it is the land of contradictions, but it as true here as anywhere. and somehow there's also less comfort in the contradictions here - less resignation to that fact. a sense that things must change. and in spite of old patterns deeply entrenched ("it's like apartheit all over again"), and a lot of learning from scratch (pressure-groups and municipal demonstrations and undoing dependency in fits and spurts), there is also the whirlagig spinning of happening.
of course i can leave, and most never will, but still, it is hard for me to imagine reconciling to life here (though s.a. draws many refugees - mostly economic: it is also a land of opportunity; it is the place my father has returned to; it is where my people come from, and still are). new perspectives on home, and the power of stories.
and now i'm back in sleepy grahamstown, pretending to work, but mostly visiting with my father. saving up time with him to buffer what looks to be a four-year absence looming on our horizon. sometimes i need to move, but sitting still is good for me as well.
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