What a weekend! Woke up Sunday and clambered over the door of our bathroom which had been removed from its place in front of the shower and toilet, peered into the tub and there floating in brackish waters was around 100 plastic cups. I spotted someone on standing just outside the door in the yard, and I only knew it was Marlee because the individual was not wearing any pants. After many attempts to re-install the door, M&K recruited the help of a shirtless Natty who was also unsuccessful. And with that, we established that until my two frat brother roommates figure out how to repair the blockade, showering just became highly inappropriate. But TIA: This Is Africa.
I spent my day doing a Game Theory tutorial and writing a paper for the History of Medicine in the Making of Modern South Africa class. I was surprised at how easily the writing flowed after I outlined my brains out—I haven’t written many proper papers in college due to my concentration in economics or “ecos” and the sciences, so I was somewhat tentative about the whole thing. Luckily, I cranked out 1100 of the 1500 words this afternoon and need to do a little more research to wrap it up, but it should turn out just fine! That’s not due until Friday, but there’s nothing that I hate more than waiting until the very last minute, especially with all the other work I’ve had going on.
To back up, to Friday, the soccer game was incredible. We had an amazing time and I don’t even like soccer! Unfortunately, we lost our friend Andrew, Spencer’s roommate, at some point during the game. After many unsuccessful phone calls and worried pacing about the stadium, we resolved that Andrew was probably just in a no service area or his phone ran out of batteries. At 6 AM we received a phone call from Andrew saying he has just woken up in jail. The cops informed him he’d passed out on the sidewalk and as a public service they put him in the slammer so he didn’t get mugged. After paying US $14 to be released, Andrew was driven to the train station by the police who were “going in the same direction” and “used to also do stupid shit when they were drunk.” The cops also spelled his name wrong and didn’t take down any of his information, so we’re thinking it was like checking into a motel with bars instead of walls and he won’t have a record. Either way, he’s an extremely lucky guy.
Saturday I hung out with Barry, a South African male model (bow chicka bow wow), and a few of his friends while they watched the Springboks rugby game. I was surprised at how welcoming they were to me as they offered me dinner the moment I walked in the door. I felt a little anxious after a bit of time passed because I was in a stranger’s apartment too far away from my house to walk home if I wanted to, so I was happy when they brought me back at half time to reunite with convict Andrew and Spencer to go to the Red Wine White Shirt party for my friend Marina’s 21st birthday. She has a gorgeous house that’s a little out of the way, but we had a blast teaching the South Africans how to play Kings and braaiing in the backyard. We returned home to the chaotic scene of Marlee and Kat throwing a party outside my room, at which time I bowed out and locked myself inside, which brings you to the beginning of my story when I woke up to madness in the common area. It’s an animal house, but it’s OUR house.
Love from the bathroom without a door ;),
A
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Beating the System
Today, Spencer and I beat the system. UCT's library charges outlandish sums of money to print and while I cannot reveal my secrets for fear of losing the priviledge that we have won, I have to cannot help but boast that this is one unbelievably clever loophole. I've been in the library for the past 2 hours... I don't even know what I'm printing anymore. All I know is that it feels awesome.
In a couple hours Spence and I are going to catch the free bus to the soccer stadium where the world cup was played (!!!) to watch a soccer game. I'm looking forward to a fun Friday evening checking out the fanwalk and other hyped up areas.
I'm getting a handle on Trade Bargaining and I'm actually starting to enjoy it. I've gotten pretty close with the people in my sub-plenum because we rely on eachother for our marks errrr... grades. I'm beginning to sound like a South African! Tomorrow we're all going to my friend Marina's 21st birthday party themed: Red Wine, White Shirts. Should be a disaster.
I haven't talked about this much, but a lot of the population here is devout Muslim. It's currently Ramadaan and many of my South African friends fast all day while at school and aren't able to eat until the sun goes down. I'm moved by their faith and impressed by their ability to be upbeat despite being hungry. One of our security guards (not Lockmo) is Muslim, and gave me a cup of "booba" after I snagged him a 3 rand ice cream cone one my way home from the library. It's a sweet milk, cinnamon and tapioca drink that is used to break the fast. Millions of people around the world are voluntarily going without food so they can understand what it feels like to be starving. That's powerful stuff.
As it stands, there's only a week of class standing between me and spring break. Spencer and I rented the car yesterday and they simply asked us sternly "How old are you?" to which we responded in concert "22!" They didn't check to confirm this because they historically will rent a car to anyone with a credit card. We got a free upgrade on the vehicle and its going to cost us ZAR 188 a day, which is under 30 dollars. I can't wait to start the adventure... and only 1 week, a paper and a tut stand in my way.
Love from the printer station,
A
In a couple hours Spence and I are going to catch the free bus to the soccer stadium where the world cup was played (!!!) to watch a soccer game. I'm looking forward to a fun Friday evening checking out the fanwalk and other hyped up areas.
I'm getting a handle on Trade Bargaining and I'm actually starting to enjoy it. I've gotten pretty close with the people in my sub-plenum because we rely on eachother for our marks errrr... grades. I'm beginning to sound like a South African! Tomorrow we're all going to my friend Marina's 21st birthday party themed: Red Wine, White Shirts. Should be a disaster.
I haven't talked about this much, but a lot of the population here is devout Muslim. It's currently Ramadaan and many of my South African friends fast all day while at school and aren't able to eat until the sun goes down. I'm moved by their faith and impressed by their ability to be upbeat despite being hungry. One of our security guards (not Lockmo) is Muslim, and gave me a cup of "booba" after I snagged him a 3 rand ice cream cone one my way home from the library. It's a sweet milk, cinnamon and tapioca drink that is used to break the fast. Millions of people around the world are voluntarily going without food so they can understand what it feels like to be starving. That's powerful stuff.
As it stands, there's only a week of class standing between me and spring break. Spencer and I rented the car yesterday and they simply asked us sternly "How old are you?" to which we responded in concert "22!" They didn't check to confirm this because they historically will rent a car to anyone with a credit card. We got a free upgrade on the vehicle and its going to cost us ZAR 188 a day, which is under 30 dollars. I can't wait to start the adventure... and only 1 week, a paper and a tut stand in my way.
Love from the printer station,
A
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Lockmo: Lessons on Life and Love
Our security guard Lockmo comes over in the evenings to check on us and last night he gave me a healthy dose of South African wisdom. Lockmo's been living on his own for the past 2 years trying to save up to buy a cow. Why? Because his wife left him and a cow is the way to get her back. He was vague on the details, but effectively his wife was convinced that Lockmo had cheated on him with the secretary at Lockmo's place of work. He said they were innocent SMS messages, but when his wife caught wind of the situation she poured a boiling pot of porridge on him and told him to move out of their house in Zimbabwe. Lockmo sustained burns and had to go to the hospital over this incident.
Now he's been working in Cape Town for 2 years so he can buy a cow to give to her parents so they will tell her to return to him. He says that even though he doesn't feel as though he did anything wrong that the past 2 years of work will be worth it to have her back because she's the one that he wants to have 13-15 children with. Love is pain, he reports. Love is searing porridge on your bare chest and love is 2 years alone far from home and your only son. I will find out when I grow up, he says, that love hurts.
I wonder when precisely this event of growing up happens. When do you stop running towards greener pastures and buy the cow? That's commitment, man.
Love from Leslie Commerce Computer Lab,
A
Now he's been working in Cape Town for 2 years so he can buy a cow to give to her parents so they will tell her to return to him. He says that even though he doesn't feel as though he did anything wrong that the past 2 years of work will be worth it to have her back because she's the one that he wants to have 13-15 children with. Love is pain, he reports. Love is searing porridge on your bare chest and love is 2 years alone far from home and your only son. I will find out when I grow up, he says, that love hurts.
I wonder when precisely this event of growing up happens. When do you stop running towards greener pastures and buy the cow? That's commitment, man.
Love from Leslie Commerce Computer Lab,
A
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I have schoolwork?
I have schoolwork. And a lot of it. I guess I sort of missed the "study" part of study abroad for the first 5 weeks of this magical semester. Trade Bargaining has officially started kicking my ass. Representing the island of Fiji, I am expected to participate in 3 hours worth of online chatting per week with my sub-plenum concerning itself with Dispute Settlement Procedures. We also have class 5 days a week-- DOWNER. I guess I'm going to have to buck up. I'm done complaining, I promise.
As I was saying in my previous post, I am loving our new home Devonshire. We haven't had any issues so far so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for continued success in this maximum security fortress.
A plus side to our new location has been the great gym that's just across the road that I've become a member of. They have a lot of classes and a wayyyy better facility than the one at Graca Machel so I'm much more motivated to work out. Also, we walk at a 45 degree angle to school every day for 20-25 minutes. Exercise is built into my day. Marlee couldn't figure out why her bum was on fire until we thought about our morning hike-- case closed.
Plans for Spring Break are about to shake themselves out. Myself and 4 male friends (Spencer, Andrew, Parker, Chris) are going to make a 6 day pilgrimage down the coast on the Garden Route. There are a lot of amazing things to do on this drive like see elephants and monkeys, ride ostriches, bungee jump off the highest bridge in the world, etc etc. I couldn't be more excited to go on this trip! I'm used to being the token estrogen, so in exchange for all the manly protection they can offer I'll play the part of mom. The idea of just getting in a rented car and driving away into new spaces is pretty amazing and I think the 5 of us are going to have some unbelievable times on this trip.
Earlier today I was sitting at my desk reflecting (read: procrastinating) and after 5 weeks I can say I'm beginning to miss some things about home. The excitement of being in South Africa is still unreal, but I wish I could share everything I see with the people I love back home and in New Orleans. Ultimately I think going it alone makes you really appreciate the obstacles and challenges you face with your people by your side. And of course, this experience will without question make me a stronger woman.
Love from Garden Route daydreams,
A
As I was saying in my previous post, I am loving our new home Devonshire. We haven't had any issues so far so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for continued success in this maximum security fortress.
A plus side to our new location has been the great gym that's just across the road that I've become a member of. They have a lot of classes and a wayyyy better facility than the one at Graca Machel so I'm much more motivated to work out. Also, we walk at a 45 degree angle to school every day for 20-25 minutes. Exercise is built into my day. Marlee couldn't figure out why her bum was on fire until we thought about our morning hike-- case closed.
Plans for Spring Break are about to shake themselves out. Myself and 4 male friends (Spencer, Andrew, Parker, Chris) are going to make a 6 day pilgrimage down the coast on the Garden Route. There are a lot of amazing things to do on this drive like see elephants and monkeys, ride ostriches, bungee jump off the highest bridge in the world, etc etc. I couldn't be more excited to go on this trip! I'm used to being the token estrogen, so in exchange for all the manly protection they can offer I'll play the part of mom. The idea of just getting in a rented car and driving away into new spaces is pretty amazing and I think the 5 of us are going to have some unbelievable times on this trip.
Earlier today I was sitting at my desk reflecting (read: procrastinating) and after 5 weeks I can say I'm beginning to miss some things about home. The excitement of being in South Africa is still unreal, but I wish I could share everything I see with the people I love back home and in New Orleans. Ultimately I think going it alone makes you really appreciate the obstacles and challenges you face with your people by your side. And of course, this experience will without question make me a stronger woman.
Love from Garden Route daydreams,
A
Monday, August 16, 2010
Greetings from Devonshire House
We've turned the clocks back to 1970 in our new retro bungalo next to the main bar by campus. Through some intense application of game theory, I scored myself a massive room in the "cottage" portion of this incredible dwelling. Marlee and Kat are also living in the attached house, which has a kitchenette, bathroom and common area-- a total score compared to the main house. The property shares a big courtyard, a garden in the front yard and the location is to die for... except that location also means my key ring that's so heavy it must be transported in a backpack. I have 9 different keys for the house as I have to pass through that many gates to get inside of my room. These security measures are due to a high volume of break-ins that occurred in this house last semester. Hopefully the issues are remedied with said key ring, but as always, I will keep you updated.
This weekend was nonstop full of activity. Friday I hiked up Lion's Head again and this time successfully conquered my fear of heights by scrambling onto the massive boulders that I chickened out of last time. Unfortunately towards the top of the mountain I started feeling sick and boot'n'rallied all the way to the bottom with Marlee and Kat alternatingly seeming concerned and trying to boost my moral with good humor. By the time we got to the bottom I was pretty dehydrated and passed out in the street-- "whoops" as Marlee would say. My friends carried me into the house and the rest was history. Luckily this bout ended quickly because I was abled to take my anti-nausea medication from the last time I was sick.
Saturday morning I rallied and went to a wine tasting-- interesting choice after having stomach problems but I was determined not to miss anything after I missed Camps Bay. I wasn't able to try any of the wine, but I had a good day with everyone touring the winery and enjoying the beautiful day in Stellenbosch. After the tasting we moved to a cheetah rehabilitation center and it was amazing to see such powerful animals close up.
Sunday we hit up Mzoli's: a barbeque in a township. The only way to describe this place is the biggest party in the world on a Sunday. Hundreds of people danced to the music spun by a DJ underneath a tent and spilled into the streets. We drank from 6 packs bought from the liquor store in the township and waited 4 hours to receive a MASSIVE bowl filled with every kind of barbequed meat you can imagine that we ate with our hands. Incredible.
I'm running late for volunteering so I can't write too much more at the moment, but I'll be sure to send an update again soon.
Love from Mzolis in Guguletu Township,
A
This weekend was nonstop full of activity. Friday I hiked up Lion's Head again and this time successfully conquered my fear of heights by scrambling onto the massive boulders that I chickened out of last time. Unfortunately towards the top of the mountain I started feeling sick and boot'n'rallied all the way to the bottom with Marlee and Kat alternatingly seeming concerned and trying to boost my moral with good humor. By the time we got to the bottom I was pretty dehydrated and passed out in the street-- "whoops" as Marlee would say. My friends carried me into the house and the rest was history. Luckily this bout ended quickly because I was abled to take my anti-nausea medication from the last time I was sick.
Saturday morning I rallied and went to a wine tasting-- interesting choice after having stomach problems but I was determined not to miss anything after I missed Camps Bay. I wasn't able to try any of the wine, but I had a good day with everyone touring the winery and enjoying the beautiful day in Stellenbosch. After the tasting we moved to a cheetah rehabilitation center and it was amazing to see such powerful animals close up.
Sunday we hit up Mzoli's: a barbeque in a township. The only way to describe this place is the biggest party in the world on a Sunday. Hundreds of people danced to the music spun by a DJ underneath a tent and spilled into the streets. We drank from 6 packs bought from the liquor store in the township and waited 4 hours to receive a MASSIVE bowl filled with every kind of barbequed meat you can imagine that we ate with our hands. Incredible.
I'm running late for volunteering so I can't write too much more at the moment, but I'll be sure to send an update again soon.
Love from Mzolis in Guguletu Township,
A
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Europe is a cop-out
Volunteering has begun to pick-up and I've made some breakthoughs with the nurses who work here. One stood next to me while I fed Jerimiah through his feeding tube and she asked me about my studies and where I lived. In turn, I found out that she's from Joberg and has been a nurse since 1997. She misses the city and hopes to go back there one day.
As for Jerimiah, she's not sure how he got his trancheobronchial fistula. It could have been a birth defect or as a result of interventions during his course of TB. The child is over a year old, and he probably doesn't weigh more than 12 lbs. He's tiny. And he throws a fit when he's put back in his crib. These children miss so much important contact with their mothers in these early years because they are so sick. As one of the nurses put it to me, "they all want to be held but we are simply too busy."
I was dissapointed to find that Pelo, a 4 month old in the ward, hadn't been changed all day and the irritated skin began to bleed when I took off his diaper. These children don't cry when they have dirty diapers or when they are hungry or when they feel sick. With the exception of a few, they are silent in their cribs-- used to being shouted at by the nurses when they make a peep.
While it's not the happiest work, I look forward to going to the hospital every day. Today Reagan, Keeley and I even had a nice moment in the little courtyard with Pelo, Baby and Jeremiah. We took the babies out and let them get a few rays of the fast setting African sun before taking them inside to get them ready for bed. I can't imagine what it would be like to be seperated from my child for a minimum of 9 month course of treatment here at the Brooklyn Chest. It seems too easy for too many of their mothers.
On another note, a rat infestation has everyone's hackles up in Roxburg this evening. We have some type of emergency meeting with our program director and they're talking about moving us to other houses at the request of a few people living here. I haven't seen any of these rats in person and I'm not too keen on packing my life up to move it somewhere new. Hopefully the situation is resolved without resorting to that-- I think we could get some serious compensation if we just suck it up.
Gearing up for a big weekend of Stellenbosch wine tastings and Mzoli's Sunday Jol. I'll be sure to send another update soon.
Love from the Rats in Roxy,
A
As for Jerimiah, she's not sure how he got his trancheobronchial fistula. It could have been a birth defect or as a result of interventions during his course of TB. The child is over a year old, and he probably doesn't weigh more than 12 lbs. He's tiny. And he throws a fit when he's put back in his crib. These children miss so much important contact with their mothers in these early years because they are so sick. As one of the nurses put it to me, "they all want to be held but we are simply too busy."
I was dissapointed to find that Pelo, a 4 month old in the ward, hadn't been changed all day and the irritated skin began to bleed when I took off his diaper. These children don't cry when they have dirty diapers or when they are hungry or when they feel sick. With the exception of a few, they are silent in their cribs-- used to being shouted at by the nurses when they make a peep.
While it's not the happiest work, I look forward to going to the hospital every day. Today Reagan, Keeley and I even had a nice moment in the little courtyard with Pelo, Baby and Jeremiah. We took the babies out and let them get a few rays of the fast setting African sun before taking them inside to get them ready for bed. I can't imagine what it would be like to be seperated from my child for a minimum of 9 month course of treatment here at the Brooklyn Chest. It seems too easy for too many of their mothers.
On another note, a rat infestation has everyone's hackles up in Roxburg this evening. We have some type of emergency meeting with our program director and they're talking about moving us to other houses at the request of a few people living here. I haven't seen any of these rats in person and I'm not too keen on packing my life up to move it somewhere new. Hopefully the situation is resolved without resorting to that-- I think we could get some serious compensation if we just suck it up.
Gearing up for a big weekend of Stellenbosch wine tastings and Mzoli's Sunday Jol. I'll be sure to send another update soon.
Love from the Rats in Roxy,
A
Sunday, August 8, 2010
On African Time
There's a phenomenon here called "African Time." It means being exceptionally late for everything and proud of it. A few phrases to describe time frames here have made their way into my vocabulary.
"Just now" : 20-30 minutes from now
"Now now" : 15-20 minutes from now
Last night I went out with a few African friends Chenai ("nay-nay"), Blondina ("Blah Blah"), and others and I learned how difficult it is to coordinate a large group of South Africans for our friend Vuvu's birthday. The activity for the night was to complete a list of missions written on a piece of paper. My mission was to point, smile and wink at a stranger of the birthday girl's choice. Other missions included kissing someone old enough to be your father and singing a duet of waka-waka so I was glad to pull an easy one. I literally did not walk through the door until 5 AM this morning and believe me it was NOT by choice. Those girls just did not know when to call it a night!
Overall an interesting night on many levels because I've never been out with a group that was entirely South African. Will I have a repeat performance? Not a chance.
Love from 5 AM on Long Street,
A
"Just now" : 20-30 minutes from now
"Now now" : 15-20 minutes from now
Last night I went out with a few African friends Chenai ("nay-nay"), Blondina ("Blah Blah"), and others and I learned how difficult it is to coordinate a large group of South Africans for our friend Vuvu's birthday. The activity for the night was to complete a list of missions written on a piece of paper. My mission was to point, smile and wink at a stranger of the birthday girl's choice. Other missions included kissing someone old enough to be your father and singing a duet of waka-waka so I was glad to pull an easy one. I literally did not walk through the door until 5 AM this morning and believe me it was NOT by choice. Those girls just did not know when to call it a night!
Overall an interesting night on many levels because I've never been out with a group that was entirely South African. Will I have a repeat performance? Not a chance.
Love from 5 AM on Long Street,
A
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Harrowing Near-Death Encounters
I climbed a mountain... (!!!!!!!!!). I haven't revisited my fear of heights since I chickened out of the ropes course during 6th grade outdoor education. But this wasn't just any mountain-- this was Lion's Head on Signal Hill. We'd heard that it was only around an hour and a half to the summit so we packed wine and cheese in intense northface hikers backpacks, or in my case the standard one-pocket school sack in orange and blue that I hijacked from my basement.
It started off great as there was a well-travelled trail we were heading up. It wasn't too steep and we noticed many walkers and some runners (holy moly) moving up and down the mountain. The view was incredible within just the first 20 minutes, as this path was carved out of the side of the mountain and there were no trees impeding everything below. We were hustling to make it to the top in time for sunset because we'd caused a brawl between 3 taxi drivers about who was going to take us to the mountain and it held us up for a few minutes.
There was just enough time for Marlee and a few others to climb atop this enormous rock for pictures. On the other side of this rock was a drop off that fell what looked like a thousand feet to the city below. This was my first flirtation with my height phobia. I tried to climb up this massive boulder but between the two rocks that I was trying to shimmy up, I could see how quickly one would perish if they tripped or got pushed or if a massive gust of wind blew through (not uncommon). I gave it a few tries a Marlee's insistence, but ultimately went running back to the path when a cloud enveloped us and our visibility dropped to only a few feet (glad I wasn't on the rock for that!).
Onwards we climbed, noticing there was less and less path and more and more rocks. We grabbed onto dirty earth with our hands and wedged our sneakers in whatever footholds we could find as our hike became what Marlee likes to refer to as a "vertical jungle climb." Mind you, we're moving at a furious pace now as we round the mountain and see clearly that the neon sun is going to bed. There are two ladders, two chain climbs, and a couple places where I was sure this mountain was going to make us pay with one of our lives in order to get to the top.
With about 10 minutes to spare, the last of the group dragged themselves over the lip and it became immediately clear that it was so worth it. So high that we were above the clouds, I couldn't stop myself from thinking: this must be heaven and we just climbed the stairway. The world was ending as the clouds undulating off the ocean swallowed the city below. After taking rounds of pictures and a video(!) we sat at the top of the hill and enjoyed the endorphins... and the wine. Marlee knew I was going to be a mental case on the way down, so in typical Marlee fashion she insisted we purchase a couple bottles of $3 wine from the discount liquor store (think building 19 for alcohol).
We shared them amongst the group of 12, laughing and enjoying for a few minutes past when we should have. Then someone mentioned the setting sun. The hot globe had dissapeared and only a peach glow lit the horizon and it was fading fast. We threw on our packs and began the scramble down against an altogether new enemy: darkness.
We knew if we didn't make it down the sheer rock portion of the trail in 15 minutes we'd be in big trouble. Only one person in our group had a working flashlight and it would have been a nightmare trying to get 12 people down the chains in that scenario. It was anyway as many of us opted out of the chain route on the way up, but were forced to do it on the way down because it was faster. Picture me, feeling the effects of the wine just enough to not have a heart attack clutching a thick iron chain, trying to repel down the side of a mountain 30 feet. Thank God for Charlie-- one of the guy on the climb guided us down and even let us use his hands as footholds. My hands are bruised this morning from the attempt and I flaunt them proudly-- battle wounds. We didn't make it in the time frame but the hardest part was over when the sun set. With nothing but faint illumination from the city on our right Marlee and I held hands and moved cautiously towards the Boogie Bus that Marlee called to take us from the bottom to a Mexican Restaurant called Fat Cactus. We passed several security gaurds stationed on the mountain on the way down who sat in the darkness with german shepards at their sides, ready to spring on mountain robbers which are all too common after dark.
The thumping base of the boogie bus that rattled my chest was relieving compared to the silence of the mountain. The lack of noise on the way down was only interrupted momentarily by renditions of "Hey Baby" and "Build Me Up Buttercup" to strengthen team moral.
It's true what they say about feeling close to people that you face your fears with.
Love from above the clouds in the most beautiful place on earth,
A
It started off great as there was a well-travelled trail we were heading up. It wasn't too steep and we noticed many walkers and some runners (holy moly) moving up and down the mountain. The view was incredible within just the first 20 minutes, as this path was carved out of the side of the mountain and there were no trees impeding everything below. We were hustling to make it to the top in time for sunset because we'd caused a brawl between 3 taxi drivers about who was going to take us to the mountain and it held us up for a few minutes.
There was just enough time for Marlee and a few others to climb atop this enormous rock for pictures. On the other side of this rock was a drop off that fell what looked like a thousand feet to the city below. This was my first flirtation with my height phobia. I tried to climb up this massive boulder but between the two rocks that I was trying to shimmy up, I could see how quickly one would perish if they tripped or got pushed or if a massive gust of wind blew through (not uncommon). I gave it a few tries a Marlee's insistence, but ultimately went running back to the path when a cloud enveloped us and our visibility dropped to only a few feet (glad I wasn't on the rock for that!).
Onwards we climbed, noticing there was less and less path and more and more rocks. We grabbed onto dirty earth with our hands and wedged our sneakers in whatever footholds we could find as our hike became what Marlee likes to refer to as a "vertical jungle climb." Mind you, we're moving at a furious pace now as we round the mountain and see clearly that the neon sun is going to bed. There are two ladders, two chain climbs, and a couple places where I was sure this mountain was going to make us pay with one of our lives in order to get to the top.
With about 10 minutes to spare, the last of the group dragged themselves over the lip and it became immediately clear that it was so worth it. So high that we were above the clouds, I couldn't stop myself from thinking: this must be heaven and we just climbed the stairway. The world was ending as the clouds undulating off the ocean swallowed the city below. After taking rounds of pictures and a video(!) we sat at the top of the hill and enjoyed the endorphins... and the wine. Marlee knew I was going to be a mental case on the way down, so in typical Marlee fashion she insisted we purchase a couple bottles of $3 wine from the discount liquor store (think building 19 for alcohol).
We shared them amongst the group of 12, laughing and enjoying for a few minutes past when we should have. Then someone mentioned the setting sun. The hot globe had dissapeared and only a peach glow lit the horizon and it was fading fast. We threw on our packs and began the scramble down against an altogether new enemy: darkness.
We knew if we didn't make it down the sheer rock portion of the trail in 15 minutes we'd be in big trouble. Only one person in our group had a working flashlight and it would have been a nightmare trying to get 12 people down the chains in that scenario. It was anyway as many of us opted out of the chain route on the way up, but were forced to do it on the way down because it was faster. Picture me, feeling the effects of the wine just enough to not have a heart attack clutching a thick iron chain, trying to repel down the side of a mountain 30 feet. Thank God for Charlie-- one of the guy on the climb guided us down and even let us use his hands as footholds. My hands are bruised this morning from the attempt and I flaunt them proudly-- battle wounds. We didn't make it in the time frame but the hardest part was over when the sun set. With nothing but faint illumination from the city on our right Marlee and I held hands and moved cautiously towards the Boogie Bus that Marlee called to take us from the bottom to a Mexican Restaurant called Fat Cactus. We passed several security gaurds stationed on the mountain on the way down who sat in the darkness with german shepards at their sides, ready to spring on mountain robbers which are all too common after dark.
The thumping base of the boogie bus that rattled my chest was relieving compared to the silence of the mountain. The lack of noise on the way down was only interrupted momentarily by renditions of "Hey Baby" and "Build Me Up Buttercup" to strengthen team moral.
It's true what they say about feeling close to people that you face your fears with.
Love from above the clouds in the most beautiful place on earth,
A
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Mr. West is in the building
First day of volunteering at the Brooklyn TB hospital and I am most officially in love. When we arrived I felt lost for a moment among the flurry of nurses who seemed to not even notice the 3 awkward looking white people. I approached one of the nurses and let her know who I was and why I was there and her response was, "Great, here's a baby." She tossed a beautiful 6 month old baby girl into my arms and before whirling around to go about the rest of her tasks said, "it's time for her to eat." I made my way over to some sort of nurses' station where bottles were resting in a tub and I asked the woman supervising said bottles for one I might give my baby. She gave me one and my little nugget ate away hungrily. Having a vague idea about 6 month old's eating habits, I attempted to slow her eager gulps by pulling the bottle away from her every once in a while, but her expressive little face let me know that she was not pleased with me.
I burped her. She spit up on me. We laughed. We cried. Her name is Nahkanye but I've taken to calling her, "Kanye." You could say that she's pretty cool for a 6 month old because when you smile at her she smiles right back. After the feeding debacle I tried to feed some other children, but when I put Kanye down she immediately began to bawl. Mind you, all the other infants were hysterical for contact as well and this left me very distraught. So I picked K back up and double armed infants for a while. But ultimately me and little K were a match made. I changed her nappy and discovered the most horrendous diaper rash. It took some angling, but I managed to convince one of the nurses that this child absolutely needed diaper rash cream, which is apparently some sort of delicacy here. Its not suprising that her little bum was so raw; the nappy's they use would probably fit me. And when I was changing her onesie I noticed a chest tube scar and it became apparent that this tiny 6 month old who was born on Valentine's Day had been through way too much in her short life.
I spent the rest of the day with Kanye as a fixture in the crook of my right arm. I remembered my mom saying that swaddling calms infants, so I wrapped her tight hoping she'd feel like she was being held even after I left. But her little cries broke my heart despite all my best efforts.
Love from Brooklyn Chest TB Hospital,
A
I burped her. She spit up on me. We laughed. We cried. Her name is Nahkanye but I've taken to calling her, "Kanye." You could say that she's pretty cool for a 6 month old because when you smile at her she smiles right back. After the feeding debacle I tried to feed some other children, but when I put Kanye down she immediately began to bawl. Mind you, all the other infants were hysterical for contact as well and this left me very distraught. So I picked K back up and double armed infants for a while. But ultimately me and little K were a match made. I changed her nappy and discovered the most horrendous diaper rash. It took some angling, but I managed to convince one of the nurses that this child absolutely needed diaper rash cream, which is apparently some sort of delicacy here. Its not suprising that her little bum was so raw; the nappy's they use would probably fit me. And when I was changing her onesie I noticed a chest tube scar and it became apparent that this tiny 6 month old who was born on Valentine's Day had been through way too much in her short life.
I spent the rest of the day with Kanye as a fixture in the crook of my right arm. I remembered my mom saying that swaddling calms infants, so I wrapped her tight hoping she'd feel like she was being held even after I left. But her little cries broke my heart despite all my best efforts.
Love from Brooklyn Chest TB Hospital,
A
Monday, August 2, 2010
Yesterday I met the man above at Robben Island. An ex-political prisoner, he works as a guide where he was once held captive. After watching his pregnant girlfriend get shot in the face, he decided to take action against the apartheid government. In 1980 he attempted to bomb a government building but was caught before completing his mission. His three associates were hung and he was charged with high treason and given a life sentence to be served on the barren and desolate Robben Island. Walking around the Lyme workyard and seeing the 5ft x 5ft cells put me in awe of the gentleman before me. I was blessed with the opportunity to listen to his story of systematic starvation, but how their spirits overcame with the philosophy "each one, teach one." I'm so fortunate to study in a country where iconic individuals still walk the earth.
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