Knowing What I Know

"Knowing what I know, and having seen what I've seen, where do I go from here?"

That was last night's life-decisions question. These sorts of questions have been coming up a lot in the last month. While overseas, I had applied to law schools in Canada, wanting to pursue a career in Public International Law (want to know more about PIL? Click here).

Having returned home to a very different reality than the South African reality, school became a scary idea. Law was still in the forefront, but... well, I wasn't so sure.

Today, Barry (our fundraising specialist at NMCF Canada) asked me to join him in the board room. I walked in to find a spread of food, a team of welcoming colleagues and gift.

NMCF Canada gave me a gavel with an inscription:

"Let there be justice for all"
Nelson Mandela
May 10, 1994

It was an instant reminder of the larger goals that I want to achieve through the Canadian and international legal systems. It was a swift kick in the pants and it sealed my fate.

I will start law school in September 2006. It is where I belong despite the difficulties of going back to school and back to the student life.

If I learned anything in and from South Africa, I learned that there are things in life worth struggling for. I know going back to school won't be easy, but it's the right thing for my life.

I will keep the NMCF gavel on my desk, in plain view, while I work through my studies. I know there will be times that I will question my path, but I know that seeing this wonderfully thoughtful gift will remind me of the bigger picture and of the goals that I wish to accomplish.

Knowing what I know and having seen what I've seen, I'm off to law school in the fall. This is the end of my South African adventure.

Please feel free to keep up with my activities, to keep up with my Law School Years at my new blog found by clicking here.

In the Cold: A Quick Update

The cold is more appealing when one is thinking about it from 35 degrees Celsius.

Unable to type for too long before I must put my fingers back into my mittens, I will give a quick update. I still want to walk along the left sides of hallways (took me a while to figure out why I was always bumping into people). Driving on the right is proving okay, though it takes more mental power than it did 7 months ago. NMCF (Canada) is basically the same (though our new fundraising manager makes coffee for mr every morning, so I must admit, the whole place has gone up a few notches in my mind).

It was great to see my family. I had to keep myself from running through the airport to see them.

All the friends are still here. Just as supportive (and hilarious) as ever.

It won't take long for me to feel like myself in Canada again.

Thanks everyone for keeping up with my journey. It really meant a lot to me to know that I had so much support from all over the world.

On My Way Back Home

I'm in Atlanta. I have a caramel machiato (sp?) from Starbucks and am using a faster internet access than I've seen in 6 months. I'm on my way back home.

I still want to call all older black women "mum" or "mummy" and all women my age or younger "sissy". Maybe one day I will purge these South Africanisms, but for now, I need to keep some connection to the life that I so desperately loved.

I had a typical Sunday lunch at News Cafe with Dizzy, Rowena and Roy, Ray, Charity, James and Leila, and Cara. So, the people weren't usual, but the place and experience were. I was sad to leave (I have a second life in Joburg), but the people who stuck with me throughout the experience will be with me whether I am there or here.

For now, I'm excited about seeing everyone back home. I excited about the cold, the snow (is there snow?). I'm excited to see Mom and Dad at the airport and hang out with Mike at home. I'm excited to be Canada Jan for a while.

In the not too distant future, I'm excited about visits from Diz and Batman. And eventually Rae and Leila (Yup, it's expected now. SAVE!!). :)

Thanks everyone in Joburg, for your love and support. And for tons of great memories. I will have to come back to dive, if nothing else. ;)

To everyone back home, I will be there soon! Can't wait to start a new life, once again, and see where the wind takes me.

I'M GOING HOME!!!
(Moz was great!!! Will post some pics and details soon. I dove with sharks.)

This is the End

Beautiful Friends, the end is here. Today is my last day of work at NMCF (South Africa).

I will leave Thursday morning for Mozambique, where I will dive in the Indian Ocean.

I return Sunday evening and have one week in Johannesburg as a lady who lunches.

This Ain't No European Vacation

For a political junkie, Victoria Falls is not the place to go to get a reading on the situation in Zimbabwe. As a single female traveller, it's the only place I felt comfortable travelling in Zim by myself.

With just over three weeks left in Africa, I decided that my chances of travelling throughout Zim were limited, so I booked a ticket and a hostel in Victoria Falls, flying out on Friday morning.

Flying into the area, I was struck by the colour below (the photo above is not mine, and was likely taken in the winter). From the air, Northern Zimbabwe appears to be covered in moss during the rainy season. The whole area is a green-yellow colour I have never seen before. From the Zambezi River, both on a cruise Friday night and white water rafting Saturday, I saw that Zimbabwe, after more than a month of rain, is noticeably lush. The scenery is beautiful.

At some point, property along this patch of the Zambezi (both in Zim and neighbouring Zambia) must have been valuable. Houses on properties with a view of the river were massive. Many of them looked like a home one would find in the rich Northern suburbs of Johannesburg. But they are now run-down. The paint is old, shingles are missing, broken windows have not been repaired. Zimbabwe is in shambles and whatever worth these properties once had has vanished.

The town of Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe tries to make money by charging in American Dollars. It is expensive to be in Vic Falls. Seeing the prices on the internet before my departure, I imagined the town to have a tourist infrastructure. There isn't. There is one strip mall in the centre of town, with a shoe store (Bata in fact), a clothing store, a Wimpy burger restaurant, a petrol station, and a Spar grocery store. Down the main street from this mall is the post office and a bank. There are a few adventure companies on a side street. A tourist strip has several curio shops and Mamma Africa's (an African restaurant for tourists). But the town lacks the cute tourist touches I had hoped for.

I quickly realized I was definitely on an African vacation. In the residential area of town, I saw baboons walking through the streets. Buffalo walk freely through town. The bugs in my bathroom and bedroom were HUGE. The bathroom itself was a semi-outdoor affair with only a half wall and a thatch roof. At the Victoria Falls International Airport, the electricity flicked off and on. There is no place to draw international currency. Credit cards are not accepted anywhere in Vic Falls.

The town is safe enough to walk in. It was so nice to walk everywhere I went. My hostel was in the residential area, so it was a 20 minute walk to town, and 30 minutes to the Falls. Every time I left the hostel and started walking, one of the locals would walk with me. They asked me about Canada, if I liked their town. They were very concerned by my bright red/purple legs after I earned a nasty sunburn during the white water raft. Everyone wanted a pen pal. One boy (whose name was Lester and appeared to be in his late teens) asked me why white women liked black men with dread-locks. I didn't know how to answer the question, so I said it was because of Lenny Kravitz.

I took a cab home from dinner on Friday night. My cab driver spoke high English, and I would imagine he has a better education than I do. When we drove by the petrol station, I asked him how much gas was selling for at present. He said that they haven't had petrol in Vic Falls for a long time (the petrol shortages in the country have been happening since 2002). He buys his gas on the black market: either from people who have driven to Botswana and smuggled it back, or by driving to Botswana himself. It's about 150km there and back to buy petrol. Because of the distance, and because the government charges a fee for Zimbabweans to drive back into Zim, driving a car is expensive in Zim.

I asked this cab driver about Robert Mugabe, the president of Zimbabwe. I knew it was dangerous to discuss Mugabe in a negative light in Zimbabwe, so I didn't ask the questions I really wanted to. Instead, I asked if Mugabe was married. The cab driver smiled and said that Mugabe's first wife had died and he married a much younger woman. "MUCH younger," he repeated with a chuckle.

After white water rafting, I went for a beer with one of the guides: Dubs. We were at Mamma Africa's, where the beer was too expensive but the atmosphere was great. Feeling a bit more brave than the previous night, I asked Dubs what he thought of the MDC (the Movement for Democratic Change, the only notable opposition to the president's ZANU-PF party]. Dubs said that he thought Tsvangari (the leader of MDC) was a cheater and that the country would never vote him into power. "He is not an alternative, because we can not trust him."

I asked what made Tsvangari a cheater. Apparently, the last time Tsvangari crossed the border from Vic Falls into Zambia, he used fake identification. I asked if this could be the result of the treason charges against him (attempting to imply that Mugabe has created a situation in which Tsvangari cannot move freely). Dubs said he had never heard of any treason charges. I pressed him again. "The trial. When Tsvangari was accused of plotting to assassinate Mugabe?" Nope, nothing. Dubs had never heard of this. I don't know if he believed me that it had happened.

"Why are you interested in Zim politics," he asked me. "There are no politics here. Our neighbours have politics, they have war. Here, we have none of that."

I asked if the petrol crisis could not be considered politics. He mumbled his accord, but I could see the conversation was over.

I can't decide what has been covered up in the media (the state has tight control on the national media). Many people that I spoke to, when they heard that I lived in South Africa, they were appalled. "But there is so much crime! Why would you want to live there?" It seems like in Vic Falls, far away from Operation Murambatsvina (Operation "Clear the Filth") in Harare, the people seem content with the status quo. They seem to think that Mugabe is alright and that their country is doing well in light of the situations north of them.

Then again, they could just have been afraid to say what they really thought of Mugabe.

Standing in front of the incomprehensible beauty and power of Victoria Falls on Sunday, I could also imagine that nothing seems significant to locals in light of this abundant creation. With the falls ahead of me and strip of rain forest behind me, I was powerless to do anything but weep. The mist rising off the falls danced in circles and shimmered. It was magic. It collected above and fell back down to earth in big drops of rain. Soaking wet and crying, I walked the length of these falls, breaking through the rain forest every now and again to get another look at the roaring wonder. The entire length of the falls is 1600m. They go on forever and are difficult to understand. In the middle of Southern Africa, how can this just exist? The Victoria Falls are so expansive; being unable to put them into a single view of one's camera makes them difficult to accept.

The falls stretch from Zimbabwe and into Zambia. They flow through a gorge (190m from top to the water) and the Zambezi continues along with Zambia on the left and Zimbabwe on the right. David Livingtonse was the first European to discover the falls in 1855.

International Santa of the Year

Christmas revisited

I didn't think much of sending out my Christmas card. I never dreamed that anyone would have thought that I was in fact, rubbing shoulders with Madiba.

As it turned out, some of you did.

Just to clarify, Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela did not dress up in a Santa suit to wish me a Merry Christmas. Sorry for the confusion!

This statue stands in the boardroom of the NMCF offices. My first week here, I walked by the boardroom and caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye. I stopped in my tracks, certain that Madiba was standing in our office. When I poked my head in the door, I realized it was a statue.

I walked to the statue and was overcome by the look on his face. I was overcome by that smile Madiba always seems to have. I stood in front of the statue crying.

I have recently learned the statue was given to Mandela by the Premier of Greenland, Mr. Lars Emil Johansen, in 1995. Then President, Mandela was the first ever recipient of the "International Santa of the Year" award by the Santa Clause of Greenland Foundation. He was given the award for his concern for children. Madiba donated the $100,000 cash award to the Children's Fund.

Words are Powerful Tools

I have just published one of many posts that have been sitting as a draft, awaiting my attention.

"The New South African Struggle", about my first visit to Jane Furse, can be found by clicking on the link for November 2005 on the right-hand side bar. It is dated November 1, 2005, so you will have to scroll to the bottom of November's page to find it.

While I have not been explicit, this post deals with rape (and in particular child rape) in South Africa. Unfortunately, the instances of rape in this part of the world are particularly high. I have been confronted with it more often than I would have liked, not only on the job but as a visitor both in South Africa and Zimbabwe. Often, I've been frustrated to be without any real recourse.

Obviously, rape is a global problem that demands international attention.

Because I believe that words are powerful tools, I have posted the few that I wrote in November in an effort to shed just a bit more light onto the issue. And I encourage you to read more. Find out what's going on and what can be done about it. Human Rights Watch maintains a wealth of information on the issue of sexual violence (you can link to their information here). Or check out the Canadian white ribbon campaign's website here (where you can link to global white ribbon campaign sites).

Apparently, I'm a "Nice Lady"

Dizzy has been out of town on business since Wednesday, so I've been in the charge of Mr. David Milne.

Our days start at an early 6am and revolve around breakfast and dinner, homework and driving to and from school. It's the school part that is stressful; if I am not at the school by 5:30 to fetch David, he is left on side of the road outside the school. This is a far greater incentive to fetch your child on time in South Africa than the threat of extra fees.

As such, I leave work particularly early to make sure I don't get caught in the traffic and miss the 5:30 deadline.

Tonight, I'm fetching him and his friend Michael who is staying the night. We're going to make pizzas from scratch, putting on our own toppings. This seems rather novel to the two of them.

With this culture of maids, gardeners and cooks (in the Northern suburbs), the children are quite different here than those I knew in Canada, so many of my experiences with David seem novel to the kid. The Northern suburbs has created generations of children who don't have to help around the house. The constant fight to clean one's room just doesn't happen here; that is what the maid is for. Even simple things like putting the oatmeal dish into the sink is a novelty for David who could always just leave it on the table (before Jana took over), b/c the maid would take care of it. When I asked him to feed his cats while I packed his lunch today, he didn't know where the cat food was.

It's a different balance for these kids. They don't have any responsibilities around the house and they can't have any freedom outside of the house: they can't walk to school or the store, they can't play with their friends in the neighbourhood, coming home only when the street lights come on. They are more sheltered because they have to be. As such, they seem to have little perspective on the world around them. When David complained to me about not having as many Play Station games as the other kids, I couldn't help but point out that most kids in this country don't even have a TV, let alone a play station and games. I don't think anyone has ever made this sort of statement to David, and I was worried about how he would process the comment.

He told me later that I was a "nice lady", and that it was nice to talk to me. Maybe he appreciates the different perspective. When he discovered I worked for NMCF, he was rather impressed. "This is why you know about kids, right?" he asked me. He asked if I was "like a teacher". I told him that I worked with volunteers who cared for children who didn't have a mommy and a daddy. I explained that I made sure that even orphaned children had someone who made sure their homework was done, their teeth were cleaned and that they had food in their tummies and clothes to wear to school.

I wonder what David will remember about this trip. His memories of me from the previous two are few (he was two the first time and only 'remembers' what he's seen in photos, and the last time he was five, and remembers swimming with me). I wonder if he will remember me as that mean old lady who made him feed the cats or as that strange Canadian lady who made him oatmeal in the mornings.

In some ways, Aunt Lynda's comment is correct -- the longer I stay here, the more difficult it is for me to go home. But at the end of the day, I know that I want to raise my children in a Canadian environment where they can have the personal freedoms and clean-your-room fights I had growing up. I want them to play in the snow in the winter and in the sprinkler in the summer. I want their curfew to be the first street light.

Mandela Rhodes Foundation

Today, Madiba was introduced to the 2006 Mandela Rhodes Scholarship recipients. 15 Scholars were formally introduced to Mandela, who shook hands with each of them in turn. In what I've come to expect from the man, he made witty quips to some of the students, including a comment to the effect of 'won't you bring Mugabe a message from me' to one of the three Zimbabwean recipients.

The event was held at Mandela House, where the Mandela Rhodes Foundation and Nelson Mandela Foundation have their offices.

Information on the Mandela Rhodes Foundation can be found at the title above.

Scuba Diving

I am a PADI certified Open Water Diver!

I have just had the best weekend, completing my open water dives at Bass Lake, 45 minutes outside of Johannesburg. My instructor, Eddie, was great, as were the rest of my classmates. Despite the early morning departures from Greg's house, it was one of the most enjoyable weekends I've had since my return to Jo'burg.

Scuba diving is quite popular in South Africa, and there are lots of places to dive, both in lakes throughout the country and on the coast (mainly in the Indian Ocean). I will have lots of places to choose from during my last 6 weeks here.

As I plan out my next dive, I'm keen to take the Advanced Open Water Diver Course to gain a bit more experience before heading out to the ocean. I'm interested in the Wreck Diving and Night Diving electives, and promise to post my picture promptly if I take the Underwater Photography elective!

Speaking of photography, I'm slowly posting more photos, so keep checking my online photo album.

SA Blood Donor Services: No Gays Need Donate

(Link to article via Title above)

Yesterday, the South African Broadcasting System reported that the South African National Blood Service (SANBS) does not allow blood donations from gay males who have had sex with another male in the last five years. The head of the SANBS, Dr. Robert Cookes, is quoted saying "A man who has had sex with another man within the last five years, whether oral or anal sex, with or without a condom... is not permitted to donate blood and must please not do so."

Two years ago it was revealed that blood donations from black or coloured donors were incinerated or otherwise destroyed by the SANBS because black and coloured blood was considered to have too great a risk of HIV/AIDs. (See article here).

It Would be Easier to Slaughter a Chicken

Today, the world seems to be back to normal. M is back to work today. The sun has come out after 5 straight days of rain. And I had a solid 8 hours last night.

In all, it is nice to be back to a typical Jo'burg routine. I have adjusted back to my daily commute and morning workouts. Dizzy and I had a lovely evening sitting on the couch last night in our sweat suits (it was cold with the rain). We ate tofu and salad and watched South African Soapies.

Isidingo has been particularly good (check out their website here). A current story-line involves Joe (a white South African) dating Letti (a black South African). Letti's father has found it difficult to deal with his daughter dating a white man. This week, he has been making an effort to get to know Joe. Things were looking good until he decided to invite Joe over for a family brai (bbq) on Friday afternoon; he plans to slaughter chickens to brai and will have Joe participate in the slaughter as a means of testing Joe's ability to fit into a Sotho family.

While this may seem a bit stereotypical or dramatic, it's a common issue in South Africa. Going on holiday this Christmas, Rae reminded me that I must call ahead to my host-brother to ensure it was okay that I was bringing a black friend along with me. It's something that I would never think about at home, yet I know from my history here in South Africa that these issues need to be dealt with. People I would never have expected to have a problem with race have been overtly concerned with colour and would have flatly refused a house guest of a different race.

In a country where racism was institutionalised, it's not surprising, really. It is not easy to purge nations or individuals of their beliefs.

As for Joe, I am sure it will be easier for him to slaughter those chickens than change Letti's father's beliefs.

Smash and Grab

There are times when I don't want any part of this country's problems. Times when I want to take the next flight to Canada. This afternoon has been one of those times.

One of my colleagues came screaming and crying up the stairs and into her office just after lunch. She was hyperventilating. SCREAMING. Sobbing. The HR director went in, followed minutes later by the office manager. The rest of us stood out on the floor wondering what had happened.

It was a smash and grab.

I had the unfortunate experience of watching one unfold during my holiday. Far too close to my home, I sat at a red robot and saw a man approach the car next to me. I knew of smash and grabs, but couldn't believe that was his intent. So I watched. I watched the man walk up to the passenger window, cup his hands around his eyes to look through the glass, all without the driver knowing. Then, in the blink of an eye, he backed up a fraction of a step before smashing his hand through the window, grabbing the driver's purse, and running off into the night.
The driver of the car was erratic as she pulled away, pulled over and then turned around and drove off. I was shocked.

My colleague is definitely in shock. I brought her tea during her screaming. Now, a half hour later, I asked if she wanted some food. She is dazed. She held my hand and said no. I hugged her, and was overwhelmed by the energy coming off her. I'm still shaking from it.

They say that the sound in the car of the window smashing is like a gun shot. In many ways, there is a progression in the crime in this country that there is only the sound of a gun without any present. Highjackings were the flavour of the day when I lived here in 1997 (when drivers/passengers were pulled from your car by multiple armed men). That the current trend is to steal possessions, and with relatively little violence, is heartening.

Still, I didn't sleep for 2 weeks after witnessing that smash and grab. As I sit here shaking with M's energy following her encounter, I'm certain the victims of crime in South Africa feel that the crime is not nearly non-violent enough. Having sat here waiting for 30 minutes for the emergency services to arrive, I'm not so sure that the crime levels will be made history any time soon.

As much as I hate the crime here, I realize that the work that NMCF does is vitally important to this country. The children of South Africa need to be given a head start in life so that their best option isn't crime. So, for the next 2 months, I will certainly keep my purse in the trunk, and nothing visible in my car. And at home, when things go bump in the night, unless I see a man waving a gun, I will assume it is one of the cats. :)

Christmas, Birthday and New Year to Come

I spent Christmas day with Dizzy. Imagine my surprise when she woke me at 6am w/ coffee and champagne. (For the record, there were no children in the house -- 6AM AND NO CHILDREN!!!).

We opened our presents together, sipping coffee and catching up on our last few days. With David staying with his father over the holidays since the divorce, it was the first time Diz had anyone at the house on Christmas morning. I went a bit over the top trying to make it a special morning for her. I did one of Ruth Ann's famous stockings (while I had to use one of David's gym socks, the inards were the same. I became quite teary eyed shopping for everything, thinking of my mom and the lovely Christmases she had always organized for my brothers and I.). I also found a few gifts that Diz would both love and need (including the baking equipment that had disappeared from her stocks during all of her moves over the years).

The day was spent preparing a typical Canadian christmas dinner: turkey, potatoes, butternut, broc/cauliflower, carrots. I was rather stressed out about the whole procedure so I was so pleased when Dizzy's boyfriend Dave showed up w/ some presents for me that included a bottle of "Reckless Red" wine from Woolies. It was delicious, and I enjoyed the humour.

The only major disastour was the white sacue. Thank goodness Diz's cousin, a chef, showed up to save the day. The meal was lovely. We chatted, ate and laughed. A game of 30 Seconds later and the evening was done.

I left on the 27th for George with Rae, Katherine, and Tash. The drive was lovely, with frequent stops for Wimpy coffee. Mmmmm... coffee (I'm on my way to pick some up for Rae and I now, so this will not be spell checked, edited or in any way censored... priorities don't you know).

Rae and I drove from George to Knysna for my birthday. We looked in the shops, walked to the waterfront, had pedis and massages. Dinner was at Harry B's, a lovely pub in the oldest residence in Knysna. Pip and Lisa drove in from Plett to meet us for desert. It was so lovely seeing Pip! Even the thought of having to go back to the pirate's house wasn't enough to spoil the lovely visit. (More on the pirate at a later date...).

Rae and I left George yesterday and drove to Cape Town. We had done much of the coast (Mossel Bay being my favourite), and it was time to move on. We're staying in her sister's flat in Cape Town, near the University. I got up this morning on a mission to buy some groceries and coffee. Cape Town, especially this area, is one of those places where the whites take taxis. It was a huge adjustment getting used to having each taxi hoot and yell at me as I drove by (seeing if I wanted a ride).

I saw this internet cafe and couldn't resist checking my email. Thanks to everyone for the Xmas and Birthday wishes. It really means a lot to me.

Must get that coffee though -- Rae will be climbing the walls! ;)

Will let you know how my New Year's Eve pans out. Pip, Lisa, Jeremy, Mayra and others are all in Cape Town, so I'm sure it will be lovely.

Happy New Year Everyone!!