Its a Small World After All

So, basically the world is really really small. This was epitomised last weekend when I met up with a friend I had in Thailand (whom I met there 9 years ago when I was in high school, on exchange there) here in Cape Town. When I lived in Thailand there was a small ex-pat community in my town and Grant was there teaching English to elementary school students across the street from my high school. He is originally from Cape Town and left in his early twenties to explore the world. So when I found out I'd be in CT all summer I immediately emailed him, and we were both excited to reunite. So, nine years later, we are both here in Cape Town, and last weekend gave my room mate and I an amazing weekend at the beach. 

We went to Muizenberg, just across the Cape a ways on the False Bay side, which is on the Indian Ocean. He mentioned that he was going to go plant trees and spend the afternoon surfing. Does it get any better? 


So, we spent the morning helping the City of Cape Town plant native trees and plants along the beach where invasive species had been threatening the fragile ecosystem. Grant was telling us that the Cape Town area has some of the most unique flora and fauna in the world, and has more species native to this area than the Amazon rain forest. Then we spent the rest of the day surfing, as my roomie Giselle had never been before, and it was mighty cold, the wetsuits were a must. 

Grant and I

Giselle and I planting away, beautiful Muizenberg Mtns in the background. (Invasive species on left side behind us.)

Beautiful beach in Muizenberg

Little beach huts

Shark flag. Don't worry there were no sharks this day and its someone's job to sit on the mountain seen in next picture watching for sharks, if they see one, they ring an alarm.

9 years later we reunite in CT, SA. Pretty cool, eh.

After a quick bite to eat Grant took us on an amazing drive down the coast of the Cape Peninsula, with amazing vistas and through cute seaside towns, and up and over the mountains back to Cape Town, with an amazing view of both the Indian and Atlantic Oceans at once. 


It was quite the reunion and it amazed me how we got  along after so many years. We were definitely different people then, and have grown in many ways and it was just so wonderful catching up, and seeing who we are now. It is additionally nice to have a local friend here who can give us a real experience of this beautiful place. But the incredible smallness of this vast world will never stop to amaze me (of course with the help from Facebook and other recent technological advances). 

Are you from Durban?

So, this will be a short entry, but interesting nonetheless. So, since arriving here in Cape Town, people keep asking me if I am from Durban, another coastal city in the province of KwaZulu-Natal. And of course my answer is "no." But then I tell them that I'm from the U.S.A. and of course they say, "Really? You are not from India?" And then it develops into this big long explanation where I sum up my life story in 5 minutes or less. 


I bring this up because it again illustrates that where ever I go, I just sort of blend in. Granted, Durban has arguably one of the largest percentages of Indian people outside the country of India itself, but still quite fascinating. I think of myself yes as Indian (256% Gadaba tribe!) and obviously American, and yet people here still think I'm from Durban, with my western clothes and funny accent. For those of you that do not know, Durban has such a large population of Indian's due to the British who, a long time ago, brought Indians to what is now Durban as indentured laborers, and since the population has flourished. So, the history and lineage of people who are from India in Durban extends back into history here. I think these patterns of migration (in this case forced slavery by the British) are always fascinating. Its interesting that I can go places and blend in, although perhaps not many Asian countries, this concept of blending in continuously gets cooler and cooler the more places I go. Its nice not sticking out, but just blending into the background, slipping under the radar, relatively unnoticed.

Mzoli's: The Strangest Experience Ever (with lots of beer!)

So, a week or so has passed and I've not posted anything. I will admit after the first few posts I got burnt out and find blogging rather exhausting. Additionally, I've been mulling over what I want to write in this exact post because the experience I had last weekend was undoubtedly the strangest experience (hence the blog post title) I've ever had. And for my mere 25 years of life, I've had quite a few strange experiences, especially abroad. However, this one definitely takes the cake. 


So, our first weekend here (June 10th for reference) we got an invitation to go to "lunch" in a nearby township with our newly made American friends, Kaity and Tim. For those who do not know what a township is, a township is a South African slum or a shantytown. During apartheid those that were non-white (Black, Coloured and Indian) were systematically moved out of the urban areas and forced to live in on the outskirts of town in these settlements. It should also be noted that during apartheid these three ethnic groups did not live together in the newly made townships, rather each group made up their own. During apartheid the living conditions in the townships were abominable and crime was rampant, with the government raiding the townships without warning and inciting widespread fear and terror (for a good, and true read on this experience try Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane, and it will make you cry - its a window into the realities of growing up in a township during apartheid, written by Mathabane who lived outside Johannesburg during apartheid - he now lives in DC). Still, today these communities are extremely poor. The houses basically consist of tin and anything else (sometimes concrete blocks) there is available. More often than not electricity and basic plumbing do not exist. It would be hard to give you the entire history of these communities in this one blog post, so you'll have to read up and/or visit one for more information, but I just wanted to give you the basics now. 


Right, so back to the story. We went with Kaity and Tim, and our newly made friends, JP and his brother Eugene, both from Rwanda originally and students here at UWC. When we left school, I was under the impression we were going to get a quick bite to eat and then head into Cape Town proper for most of the afternoon. This is by no means the way the day went. We arrive in the township, Gugulethu (which means "Our Pride") about 20 minutes away. Now, l have spent time in slums all over the world and Gugulethu was not much different than many of the places I've been, when merely looking at it from inside the car. My privilege punched me in the face, as I stared at the tin shacks, children playing in the streets and laundry hanging out. However, I was not prepared for what the next few hours in this townships would be like. 


So, we arrived at famed Mzoli's, a braai restaurant. Braai means "barbacue" in Afrikaans. So, Mzoli's is a world renowned braai place, known to foreigners and locals alike as some of the best meat in all of South Africa (it even has its own Facebook page!). On the inside Mzoli's is just a butcher shop, with huge hunks of meat behind the counter, where we just pointed to enough meat for an army, and then brought it back to be grilled. Then we went outside, and our lovely local friends insisted that we get beer to go with the meat. Seeing as it was barely 11 AM, our response was that we didn't need any as it was too early. But, they insisted that it was tradition to consume braai with beer. So, we got in the car, and drove around the corner to this store in what looked like the back of someone's house and bought 1 six pack of beer for the five of us. This however, was not enough and before we knew it more and more beer arrived. So, we went back to Mzoli's beverages in hand. By this point it was probably half past 11 AM and we went to find a place to sit. In front of the restaurant there were many people selling gifts, alcohol, and strangest of all, hooded sweatshirts and t-shirts that said, "Gugulethu" on them. In the back of the restaurant there was an open seating area with at least twenty tables and an awning on top.


So, this is when things started to get weird. So, the first thing I see when we enter the seating area is a large group of American students with post-it notes on their foreheads, a few Black South Africans, and a group of hipster white South African in the corner smoking. At first, I was very confused by this many white people in this very impoverished community, and thought it was not quite the setting for an ice-breaker type game, but who knows. After sitting down, I noticed there's a DJ playing house/techno music over the loud speakers and more and more people started showing up. The majority of these people were foreigners, wealthy and white, but some were South African (Black and White), some where speaking languages I didn't know, smoking hooka, and drinking excessive amounts of alcohol for a Sunday morning. (Soon we learned this was the place to go after church). So, we were all sitting there, and I was just blatantly staring at this bizarre crowd. People were outside with their BMW's and Mercedes Benz's talking amongst themselves, and all kinds of people were there. It was the strangest thing ever, all of a sudden we were in this huge party! Some people were dressed to the nines, others hipsters, others in regular clothes. I could not stop staring. There we were in this township, at this crazy party!?


Finally, our meat came on a huge platter all lathered in sauce. No utensils, just our hands. So as I stuffed my face with meat I contemplated my surroundings. What on earth were all these people from all over the world doing here? In a township, that historically and systematically segregated people for so long? Was it the meat? Was it the party? Did people here come to the slums to party? I still haven't truly figured it out why everyone was there, but supposedly it was the meat. It has also become a tourist attraction, yet I still have my own reservations about such a tourist attraction especially in a township. It is difficult to properly articulate all that was Mzoli's but the strange juxtaposition of such a celebration in such a impoverished community struck me. I wondered what effect these parties have on the township? How are tourists viewed? While I finished eating I never came up with the answers to these questions, and still haven't a week later, and I probably never will find answers to these questions, but one thing is for sure I will never forget this experience at Mzoli's, and just how bizarre it was (even more so than a Spanish Film Festival, at a Russain Cultural Center in Kathmandu, Nepal). What I have told you is my experience, but in reality the Mzoli experience defies words.

What am I actually doing in Cape Town, SA, you ask?

Okay, so this is my final post for the day. Promise. I realized as I was reading over my previous posts that I hadn't really made clear what I am doing here in SA, and for those that don't know and are going to follow this blog let me tell you. I am here through a research program through Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing, called the MHIRT program (Minority Global Health in Research Training program). It was founded at Hopkins over ten years ago with the purpose to increase minority students in the field of nursing research with the intention of offering a research experience abroad. I applied because I see myself doing research my career and wanted an opportunity to get my feet wet in research abroad in hopes that it would inform my nursing practice at home as well. I was extremely excited and thankful to be accepted in December, and now I am here. 

I was accepted to a position at the University of the Western Cape here in Cape Town, working at the School of Nursing here on a project with Dr. Makombo Ganga-Limando looking at traumatized refugee populations, specifically looking at the parents of traumatized children and their responses to their child's trauma. It will focus on the coping mechanism of individual resilience and its ability to help parents through their experiences. This project has already been started and I will only be analyzing data and stuff like that. Additionally, the "trauma" we define is sexual assault and gender based violence. It may not sound uplifting but interesting and complex, most definitely. As weird as it sounds I'm very interested in gender based violence work, and have the extreme honor to be working with Dr. Jacquelyn Campbell (my US Faculty mentor from Hopkins) who is one of the world's leading experts on intimate partner violence (IPV) and domestic violence. 

I think this summer's experience will be eye opening and enriching in many ways, as I've already mentioned and am looking forward to seeing who I am after it is over. Many of you know how I have been envisioning myself in twenty years just like Dr. Campbell, but who knows maybe this experience will show me a different interest, open a different door, or shoot me forward on this path with the force of a canon ball? Either way life will continue on the path I'm on, and will just be made under me as I place my feet, we'll see where it goes.

Work begins on Monday and although I'm relatively new to the world of research I cannot wait to get started, because there's only one way to learn how to do it, right? Just do it and jump in. Experiential learning was always my easiest way to learn. 

Snapshots of Life at UWC

Hey everyone, here are some pictures of the campus I was telling you about. 

My side of the two person room, no door though. Quite cozy.

School of Pharmacy

School of Social Sciences

The campus map. Its huge. We are number 33, which I do not think you can see but is close to the "East Campus" and Modderdam rd.

Scenic green space.

This wonderful building was locked, but we will be back.

Pretty columns.

Just some awesome art inside a building.

The main hall. Exams were in progress while we were snooping around.

 

Again, with the clock tower.

Hopkins 0, UWC 1

So, basically, I'm never coming home. In fact, can I just finish my nursing degree here? The University of the Western Cape Campus far surpasses Hopkins. Thus, Hopkins 0, UWC 1. I say this because yesterday, Friday we got a proper tour of campus in which my mind was blown. Okay, before I go into describing this miraculous campus I will give y'all some background history on UWC and its nursing programs etc. 

So, back during apartheid there were only two Universities in Cape Town that had nursing programs, the University of Cape Town (UCT) and Stellenbosch University. However, these Universities were historically and primarily for white South Africans and after apartheid ended the government said to both institutions either you take non-white students or we take away your programs, so instead of integrating the schools, they said no, so the government took away their nursing programs and gave the program to UWC which was founded as a school for "coloureds" or people of mixed race. Now, as evidenced by my tour yesterday, this campus is far more diverse than Hopkins or than many other Universities in the States. So, that is obviously a plus. However, this change to nursing programs has made it so that there's a huge influx of nursing students to UWC but not enough faculty. 

Anyways, more history to come I'm sure as I learn more. Yesterday, Ryan, one of the men who picked us up from the airport, who is extremely nice, gave us the tour and helped us get our student access cards did the paper work for our online access (we are currently borrowing from our friend Katie). What struck me most about the campus is how big it is, and how amazing the buildings are. They are old but well done. The dining hall itself is massive and has benches and tables (pictures to come soon!) and good food, and so much natural light. However, the most amazing building on campus, which may blow your mind, is the library. Its a circular building, with a corkscrew design that a description will not do it justice, with no stairs. It a big long ramp, with many computer labs and each level has a different subject. I foresee myself spending a lot of time on the 11th floor as it is community and health sciences.  Going to the library now could actually be an enjoyable learning experience. And the new public health building looks incredible. Ahh... how will I ever leave? And its only day 3... So basically, Hopkins has some stiff competition. It will be hard for me to get on that airplane in a few months. 

The Looonggg Journey

So, I do believe a recap is in order. On Tuesday afternoon I went to Boston, had a speedy yet fantastic dinner/visit with Jenny Ruducha and Peter Berman, and then boarded a night flight to London. I had a slight panic attack when I realized I was going to be in the back of a section of seats, which all too closely mirrored my horrible flight to Tokyo back on my way to Thailand in high school, in which I was squeezed between an obese couple, and a small Korean lady, with no leg room and my chair wouldn't go back. I sat sitting directly straight with no place to put my bag but right in front of my knees for 13.5 hours. So, of course on Tuesday on my way to London, I had a freaked out thinking that this would be the same nightmareish flight. Yet, British Airways treats is customers well. To my greatest surprise the only other passenger in my row was a wonderful woman from Finland who I talked a lot with. And my seat went back, really far, and I passed out almost the second after we took off from the tarmac.


Next thing I know I was waking up in London Heathrow. I unfortunately realized as I arrived in London, that I had no way to contact my future room mate Giselle. So, I made the quite regrettable mistake of not leaving the airport in hopes that we'd somehow connect in the airport. Giselle of course, the crafty one she is, just went off and left the airport and explored London alone. I wish I had just left too. Instead I went through security and found a nice seat and proceeded to pass out right there in front of everyone for about three hours. This of course only took care of three of the almost twelve hours in the airport before my next flight. I will forever regret this decision of not venturing out to London Town. Looks like I'll just have to go back sometime. (Spencer, I will come visit.)

 I boarded my flight to Cape Town in a sort of panic wondering where Giselle was. I realized that she probably had made her way into London via the tube, but the fact that we were boarding and I didn't see her made me a bit nervous. But as I was walking to the plane I turned around and out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Then just to make sure I had truly seen her I walked around the airplane to find her, and there she was just a few rows away.


Next thing I know, we're arriving in Cape Town. My awesome awesome room mate Giselle (you can follow her blog here: http://GisInSA.blogspot.com/) and I arrived to a very very rainy Cape Town on Thursday morning around 7:30am. As we disembarked from our extremely long, and rather uncomfortable flight from London, we did not see a sign with our names as promised, so we waited. Then we schemed how long to give them and our alternative plan of action to get to our destination. At this point we had basically been up for the better part of two days and were quite disorientated. So we scouted the airport and got some coffee and a snacks and waited some more. As I was waiting in line to get coffee I notice Giselle picking our bags up. I guess, somehow I didn't hear them page "Ms Rajani Marie and Ms Giselle" over the airport intercom system, but soon found the people to pick us up. 

The Chameleon Returns

So, the chameleon returns. As I've sat here thinking about all the catchy names for my blog, that will document this summer's experience in Cape Town, South Africa - the chameleon has decided to come out of hiding. Some of you may remember a few years ago when I traveled to Guatemala, I wrote few obnoxious mass emails entitled "The Adventures of the International Chameleon." These emails described my experiences with my own racial identity in places where my dark skin and dark hair seem to make me a chameleon of sorts, floating in and out of different countries and cultures without as much as glance from passerby. In fact, most people I encountered on those trips never thought I was American, and thus the "International Chameleon" came alive to explore this fascinating blending-in experience. Now, as I embark on this new adventure, in a new country, on a new continent, the chameleon has come out of hiding and plans to write about the experiences of race, culture, identity and (here's the twist!) nursing (and nursing research that I am doing!) that I encounter here. Considering South Africa has had such an complex history, I'm sure this will make for a rich experience in many many ways. Stay tuned for more updates from the chameleon, who is extremely behind and will get up to speed this weekend on the first exhausting few days getting here, and now being here.