One-(wo)man band

Surprise! For someone who normally shies away from the spotlight, I have turned into a singing, dancing, Kudu horn-playing entertainer!

My journey to stardom started earlier this week, when we watched a performance by the “Happy Feet Dance Company.” This troupe, comprised of about 30 kids between the ages of 3-15, is an after school dance program in one of the nearby townships. Originally developed to keep the kids off the streets, the organization has built up quite the all-star cast. The children mirrored the style of dance and song common in the old mining towns of Johannesburg (hence the mining boots, suit, and hard hat that is their costume-see photo).

After their wonderful performances, we split into groups to mingle and learn some moves. Before we knew it, we were the ones on-stage, performing alongside these little stars! The whole afternoon was so much fun, and I have now built up an arsenal of new dance moves to break out on occasion. You have been warned…

We also went to a Xhosa restaurant later in the week where we had a taste of some amazing homemade Xhosa food. During the meal, instruments were brought out and we could learn to play. I happened to pick up the Kudu-horn (the Kudu is a large elk-like animal with really cool spiral antlers) that is played like a trumpet. It was so much fun to try, even if the New York philharmonic won’t be calling me anytime soon.

Yet, the real stars of the show can be found in the rural village of Ceres. We spent the day in a one-room church, observing as children were tested for fetal alcohol syndrome (FAS). FAS is a very prevalent issue throughout South Africa and especially in the wine-regions of the Western Cape where farm laborers were once paid in alcohol. This practice has been outlawed, but it has not stopped the pervasive alcohol abuse that exists among the communities. Many women drink throughout their pregnancies, causing growth and developmental defects in their unborn children. These kids face a host of challenges including mental retardation, social and behavioral issues, and a predisposition toward substance abuse later in life.

Our time in Ceres was also spent observing a focus group that is run by a non-profit organization. This group consisted of about ten women (and a few men) who voluntarily come on a regular basis to discuss everything from malnutrition, FAS, domestic violence, and alcoholism- all issues that they face daily. We happened to come on the last day of their focus sessions, when they were receiving their course completion certificates. The smile on their faces and the pride in their eyes as they boldly walked to the front of the room to receive their certificate amidst the wild applause was an Oscar-worthy performance!

Behind Bars

Yesterday, I was fortunate to visit Robben Island, the site where Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were held because of their resistance to the apartheid regime (a period of intense oppression for black and colored (mixed race) people by the white minority). If you’ve seen the movie Skin, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Walking around the empty yard where prisoners once spent eight to ten hours of every day doing manual labor was an emotional experience. I could only begin to imagine what they went through here. Viewing Nelson Mandela’s tiny cell (see photo) and speaking with an ex-prisoner (who had been convicted for five years for leading a student protest movement against the regime in the 80’s) was incredible.

My trip to Robben Island has been just one of the many reminders of the consequences of apartheid. Last week, I visited District Six, a residential area in Cape Town that had been deemed as a “whites only area” under the Group Areas Act of 1957. Shortly after the implementation of this Act, the government forced thousands of colored and black people to relocate to informal settlements on the outskirts of the city. The entire area was demolished, businesses closed, and homes destroyed to make space for white people to move into the area. Because of the cruel removal of these families, no one wanted to move into the district, leaving wide spaces of undeveloped land in the middle of the city. Today, the land remains largely empty (with the exception of a once bustling Main Street-see photo), an eerie testament to a legacy of oppression.

Even my daily conversations with locals who lived during this dark period of South Africa’s history have given me incredible insight into life under apartheid. Many of them remember when they had to carry around “pass books” that dictated where they could and could not go, whom they could marry, and where they could live. Imagine the Jim Crow Laws of our country, but ten times worse.

Apartheid was a horrible “prison” that bred racism, inequality, and hatred. Yet, a discussion with a young, black entrepreneur or a visit to a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting tolerance reveals a country that is slowly working to break free from these bars that are holding it back. One only needs to visit the empty cells of Robben Island prison to see how far this country has come.

A Tale of Two Health Care Systems

On Friday afternoon, I visited a private hospital. However, this was not the ordinary type of facility I have seen before. Most of our previous excursions have been to the public sector- a very different system in terms of resource availability, staff quantity, overall appearance, and patient population. This particular facility was well supplied and managed. It was as if I had been transported back to Illinois for a typical day of work at Evanston Hospital.

In immediate contrast to this private hospital is the plethora of public health care sites that are (often) dilapidated, poorly resourced, and overcrowded with patients- many of whom do not have health insurance (let alone stable employment or a permanent living structure). The disease demographic is different as well. HIV/AIDS, tuberculosis, and violence-related injuries comprise the bulk of the medical cases seen by the staff at public clinics and hospitals. In contrast, the private sector typically interacts with patients suffering from chronic conditions such as cancer, arthritis, and cardiovascular diseases.

These two vastly different medical systems symbolize the much larger socio-economic divides that have plagued this country for centuries (and are getting worse by the year). To drive past affluent gated communities to get to the townships where I interact with people who are living among scrap metal is a powerful experience. Something that lingers on my conscience long after the day is finished.

Yet, the optimist in me is convinced that it is this precise emotional turbulence that will be the catalyst for positive change. A change brought about by the hard work, dedication, and compassion of individuals who are committed to promoting social justice (in my case, social justice through public health equity). To quote American anthropoligist Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

(Other photos include my recent excursion to Table Mountain and the
Bo-Kaap district of Cape Town).

Everyday heroes

The end of my traveling last week was spent in Knysna, a town located six hours along the eastern coast from Cape Town.

While in Knysna, I was able to work with a hospice, or home-based care, worker as she visited the homes of patients living in a nearby township. Her patients are all terminally ill; many are in the late stages of cancer, AIDS, dementia, and/or epilepsy. One particular home visit that really struck a chord in me was to care for a patient who has epilepsy, advanced AIDS, and suffered a stroke three years ago. The woman, weighing only 80 lbs., has been confined to her bed since her stroke and can only blink to communicate. Her daughter, her primary care taker, has been extremely negligent; we (the hospice worker and I) spent the better part of a morning giving the patient a sponge bath and cleaning the horrible bed sores (ulcers) that span from her shoulder to hip.

The visit was impactful for a number of reasons. One in particular was observing the incredible compassion shown by the hospice worker to her patient (and to all the other patients we visited). Here is a community based health care volunteer who wakes up every morning with the emotional stamina, work ethic, and dedication to provide basic health care to people sick enough to have been cast aside. Without her inspirational courage and unwaverable conviction that she can make a positive difference in her community, many of these patients would be left to suffer-alone and forgotten. If this hospice worker isn't her nation's everyday hero, I don't know who is.

My time in Knysna also taught me that I seem to really like jumping off of tall things. As if my recent skydiving adventure wasn't intense enough, I found myself willingly jumping off a bridge! Not just any bridge, mind you, but the tallest bungee jumping bridge in the world! At 216 meters, the Bloukrans Bridge, located in the mountain range that separates the Eastern and Western Cape provinces, is a great place to defy gravity (at least for the five second free fall that drops you 600 feet before you are recoiled back up). To dive head-first from such heights was terrifying, exhilerating, and fun all rolled into one. I even have a nice certificate that proves I am too crazy for my own good!

The rest of my time in Knysna was spent safely on the ground. We took some time to explore the town, shop, hike, and take in the breathtaking ocean views (I have now dipped my feet in the Indian Ocean!). It has been nice to visit different parts of this country-a country that never ceases to fascinate me!

Hello, my name is Lufuno

Upon my arrival in the rural village of Domomboni, a tiny farming village on the border of South Africa and Zimbabwe, to live with a family for the weekend, I was promptly renamed "Lufuno," the Venda word for "love."

The title was fitting, considering these people have the biggest hearts, greatest smiles, and most welcoming personalities I have ever encountered. I was immediately embraced by the family, their neighbors, and anyone whom I met during my weekend there. People couldn't get enough of the "white thing" that had come to stay with them: children clamored to hold my hands or sit on my lap, adults came from everywhere to introduce themselves, and I was met with smiles and waves wherever I went.

My time in Domomboni was incredible: I ate a worm for the first time (a delicacy that I might have enjoyed more had I not known I was eating an insect), chopped wood with the men of the family, took a tour of town on a rickety old donkey cart, learned to make "pap" with the women (a staple food item that resembles grits), balanced a water jug on my head after fetching it from the central water pump with the children, given a beautiful "muksasi" (skirt) to wear, went to a church ceremony (where I was welcomed on stage in front of the entire congregation!), visited the secondary school and public health clinic, and learned a traditional dance. I even got to witness a young woman's coming of age ceremony and consult a traditional healer, or "shangoma."

Needless to say, the weekend flew by, as we crossed cultural and language barriers to come to a better understanding and appreciation of our vastly different worlds. It was amazing to learn how their society works, the problems it faces (HIV, teenage pregnancy, illiteracy, the fading power of the traditional ways, and unemployment being the foremost concerns) and the challenges it is working on overcoming. The importance of building a close family and a strong community were paramount in Domomboni; it is this sense of belonging that allows many to face the ups and downs that life brings.

In short, I don't think I have ever laughed, smiled, or danced as much as I did; the entire experience was an amazing gift- one that I will cherish forever.

Before my time in Domomboni, I went on a safari in Kruger National Park, the largest game reserve in the world. It is in the far NE corner of the country, next to Zimbabwe and Mozambique. This, too, was an amazing adventure- we drove in open game vehicles for most of the time, viewing animals right and left. Watching elephants, giraffes, zebras, kudu (elk-looking animals), impala (deer), wildebeest, rhinos, hippos, and baboons cross the road was an hourly occurrence. On a night drive, we even saw a pack of hyenas taking a nap in the middle of the road! Lion and other large predators are very prevalent in the area, but were elusive and only seen sporadically.

Our week in Kruger was enhanced by our tour guide, Dr. David Bunn, the leading expert on all things environmental, political, and cultural relating to the park. Dr. Bunn and his team explained everything from the consequences of elephant poaching to the problems surrounding illegal migration of Zimbabwean refugees through the lion territories of Kruger. These topics prompted fascinating debates and conversations around the campfire, as the moon and the milky way sparkled above us.

In addition, we enjoyed a few hikes along riverbeds, an evening braai in the bush (where armed game rangers with giant rifles stood guard to make sure hungry animals didn't join us around the dinner table), and a sunset champagne toast on the middle of a tall bridge!

My week away was a great opportunity to see other parts of the country, try new experiences, and step out of my comfort zone (let me just say that I have a renewed appreciation for running water and electricity!). In a few short hours, I'll be heading off to a week in the tiny seaside village of Knysna for some public health work. More updates to come!