DukeEngage | Duke Center for Civic Engagement

    On Thursday, we had the opportunity to meet with famed photographer and filmmaker Paul Weinberg. With sheer dynamism, Paul delivered enthralling stories of his experience documenting the horrors of apartheid. He also shared with us his views on South Africa, calling it a “factory of humanity.” Here, he declared, exists a microcosm of the world and its issues; those who study this complex nation are that much closer to understanding imminent global challenges. This is a powerful statement that truly resonates with me, as I attempt to come to terms with my South African experience.

    Writing this blog entry, I am situated at quaint café nestled into a gorgeous Mediterranean-style neighborhood. Yet I am also sitting in the midst of an area ravaged by HIV/AIDS. Among a people suffering the consequences of extensive political corruption and faltering leadership. Just miles from “informal settlements,” a euphemistic term for some of the most intense poverty imaginable. How am I to reconcile this dichotomy? How am I to feel about this stark juxtaposition?

    It seems to me that this poignant, sickening contrast is supposed to make me feel irrevocably unsettled. For it is this discomfort which inspires real personal understanding of the need for change. Ultimately, gross global inequalities cannot forever persist without consequence. I am not sure that guilt is necessarily the appropriate emotion here; rather I prefer to leave South Africa with a newfound consciousness of the world’s realities that will inspire my actions in the future. Hopefully, by sharing my stories with others, I can spread this awareness, as Paul seeks to do with his work.
 

    Today at the Daily Deli, an adorable local café nestled into the mountainside, I had by far the most fascinating, inspiring conversation of the last two months. I was working on my fourth Black Sash educational presentation, when a kind-eyed, middle-aged man moseyed across the terrace and took a seat at an adjacent table. Immediately, he introduced himself as Michael Copley, a real Irishman turned South African citizen and connoisseur of global culture. I spoke about five words before Michael identified me as an American and inquired after my specific hometown. When I named the Boston area, he nearly leapt out of his seat with excitement and began to tell me of his Northeastern adventures with various girlfriends in his youth.
   

     However, the conversation quickly grew more serious as he asked me about my impressions of South Africa. We soon agreed that this is a powerful place- epitomized by the majestic Table Mountain, which never fails to impress and to spiritually move. But the real magic of this power, in a uniquely South African sense, is its ability to inspire positive confrontation. Never have I perceived such a  palpable effort to reconcile and to come to terms with competing historical perspectives. Here, people generally seem committed to confronting past injustices in order to build a unified nation. 

     Now it is important to note that my observation of this “commitment” is a relative statement; I am not blind to the obvious, upsetting, and gross inequalities that currently exist in South Africa. But the mere existence of a conscious effort toward reconciliation impresses me. In the U.S., we have never deliberately opened a popular social dialogue of the histories of race and class in our nation. Maybe this is why we so easily gloss over our own issues of poverty and inequality hidden just below the glimmering façade of American promise.
   

      As Michael said, “With the light comes darkness. With newfound consciousness and awareness emerge the shadows.” Perhaps an understanding of these shadows is a signal of increasing empowerment. In reality, confronting society’s very darkest problems is the first step toward recognizing previously marginalized populations and identifying workable solutions.
 

    On Wednesday, I had my first independent South African adventure. One aspect of this trip that has challenged me so far is striking an appropriate balance between the desire to explore this new place and the reticence to be truly daring. Oftentimes, the adults surrounding our group challenge us to break outside of our comfort zones in order to get a feel for what it really means to be South African, but they simultaneously warn us to be careful and to remain vigilant at all times in order to avoid dangerous circumstances. The dichotomy of these pieces of advice never fails to perturb me: how can I spontaneously make new acquaintances and have casual conversations if I am inherently suspicious of anyone who approaches me?
   

    Finally, I decided to take matters into my own hands. My boss, the Social Media Director of the Black Sash, and I compiled a list of places that I can safely visit on my own as activities to restore my creative energy, as I work on the design of human rights education materials to be broadcast nationally throughout South Africa. The first activity on my list was to spend the morning at Camps Bay with a spectacular view of both the ocean and the Twelve Apostles Mountains.

    And so I spent the morning collecting sea glass and shells on the beach with the wind whipping across the shoreline so strongly that my ears nearly filled with sand. I spoke with locals walking their dogs in the morning sunlight and even took in the sight of an impromptu beach rugby game. Beach rugby- quite the South African sport. This morning marked a pivotal moment in my time here because in exploring the oceanside for once on my own, I finally proved that I trust these people and this place. While I will always remain aware and watchful, I will not be afraid in a place that has effectively become home over the past six weeks.
 

    On Saturday, we had an incredible experience at M’Hudi, the only black-owned winery in all of South Africa. That’s right- in the post-apartheid era, still only one of South Africa’s 4600 vineyards is owned by black farmers. Our visit began with a spirited talk about the history of Stellenbosch, the most fruitful area for grape farming in the Western Cape. Then, Diale Rangaka, a former professor of history and current co-owner of M’Hudi, told us the story of how he and his wife persevered to break into the wine industry with no knowledge of the business and to develop the M’Hudi label into a successful international brand. Ultimately, the discussion highlighted the incredible resilience, commitment, and entrepreneurial drive of the Rangaka family. It is their mission to prove that black South Africans too can profit in a traditionally white industry. And so far, the Rangakas have demonstrated that it is possible to maintain a commitment to their African heritage while building a global, cosmopolitan label.

    By far one of the most memorable parts of the day, however, was sharing a traditional African meal with the family. With a spectacular view of the surrounding mountaintops and the glorious warmth of the sunshine streaming through the picturesque French doors, we consumed a feast of local specialties. Dishes included lamb and chicken cooked on the braiie, carrots with lentils, spinach with chicken livers, and a starch similar to grits served with tomato chutney. Finally, for dessert the Rangakas treated us to papaya, grown in their own fields, with delicious crème Anglaise. This was my first real experience with the type of food that many South Africans would share together at a family gathering, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. But more importantly, in being invited to take part in this meal, I felt like I became an actual member of the family. Ultimately, this day was truly a rare treat that offered me a glimpse into a South African family absolutely committed to each other and to the pursuit of their shared dream. 
 

   Throughout my time in South Africa, I have become increasingly interested in the protection of children, particularly of those in conflict and post-conflict situations. In Pietermaritzburg, I continued to explore this newfound passion through one deceptively simple question: In your opinion, what is the most concerning issue facing South African children today?
   

    First, I asked this question of an older, white anti-apartheid activist and his family, who had the unique experience of living in a black township during the struggle. Much to my surprise, their most serious concern was the sense of “entitlement” currently burgeoning among South Africa’s youth. Although the response shocked me, I initially attributed this fear to the realization that only remarkable leadership will allow this nation to overcome many of its most persistent problems. However, I remained particularly puzzled by this statement because it did not strike me as a uniquely South African concern. Surely one could say the same thing about young Americans. And furthermore, is growing entitlement really a more pressing concern than say the increasing number of child-headed households as parents continually fall victim to the AIDS epidemic? Ultimately, the response felt very surreal and removed from what I perceived as the reality of the situation facing the majority of South African children, particularly those in townships and informal settlements.
   

    Then on Monday night, I received a remarkably different answer to my question when I spoke with a local social worker committed to advocacy work on behalf of children. Without a moment’s hesitation, she responded that the sexual abuse of young South Africans frightens her most and that the number of reported cases seems to increase each week. This answer first broke my heart and then perplexed me even more. How could two people, both very active, informed citizens of their communities, see the same situation from such obviously varied perspectives? I have a feeling this question will continue to haunt me for the remainder of my time in this foreign place, which constantly challenges my understanding of the world.