As I mentioned in my last post, my former roommate came to visit me in CT for a week, which was absolutely incredible. I got to show her all of my favorite places, from the best Indian food in town to Old Biscuit Mill. The strike & related violence was still in full swing in the townships, so unfortunately I wasn't able to take her to see where I work. It was so much fun to hang out with her, and it was especially interesting at this point in the trip because I got to see what surprised her about Cape Town. I found that I had forgotten how different things are here, so her culture shock reminded me what a big transition I'll have when I move back home.
Yabonga:
The strike has ended and except for one day where the program was cancelled, because of intimidation & threats. By now, my friend & I have gotten to lead two workshops, which were semi-successful. We're currently rewriting our curriculum based on what worked and what didn't. The most exciting thing, though, is that we've gotten to know the students at the program a lot better. One girl has even invited us to visit her church, once we're back from spring break. Work in the office is going great, and as of last week we found out that they have tea and a hot water heater. Needless to say, we've been taking advantage of that to the fullest degree possible. #interns
Classes:
Class has been going well so far, and the end of this week marks the end of the mid-term assignments! Most recently, we had a language exchange between the 5 of us taking Xhosa and the 5 Afrikaans students. This culminated in a very ridiculous "dating game" skit written by my class. Unfortunately this was caught on video. After the exchange we went back to the house with our teachers & CIEE staff and ate a ridiculous amount of homemade, traditional African food. It was a nice way to end the first round of assignments.
Thirty Seconds:
My new favorite board game is called Thirty Seconds. It's sort of like Taboo, but with more of a South African twist to it. We play it as frequently as possible, particularly with our RA.
My latest near-death experience:
Any blog post would be incomplete without giving my parents a littleee reason to worry. I am abroad after all. If anyone is familiar with the famous minibus taxis in South Africa, they are my default mode of transportation. If you are not familiar, they're an experience and a half. However, riding any minibus taxi has a few rules, especially for the kids with heavy American accents. (1) We don't ride them when it's dark out. (2) We don't get in if there are less than 3 other passengers, because of the risk of getting mugged. (3) We don't get in if the guy who shouts out the window is trying too hard to get us in, but isn't interested in other passengers.
Normally, following these rules is very easy, because they pack minibuses to about twice the legal capacity for most of the day. I decided to take Adrienne to Old Biscuit Mill, so we hopped on a minibus to Woodstock. There were about 5 other passengers and all was good. A few blocks later, 3 people got out. The shouter guy was still diligently calling "Cape Town! Cape Town!", so I figured it was okay. We got into Woodstock, and he got out, presumably to find more customers for his fairly-empty vehicle. The minibus pulled forward. And left. And he wasn't in it.
At this point, I took every valuable item out of my purse and into my pockets, including all of the cash in my wallet, my license, and my debit card. I then looked out the window and noticed that we were all the way on the far end of Woodstock, far beyond my stop. Uh oh. I climbed up to the front and told the driver that we had missed our stop and would like to get out. He responded, still driving, that he would arrange for me to get there, because it was his fault for missing my stop. Suspect.
Eventually he pulls over, gets out, and starts shouting to the driver of a parked, empty minibus across the street. We cross the road with him, he talks to the driver of the other vehicle for a few seconds (in another language), and tells us that we will be driven there for free. No way am I doing that. I politely tell him that we will walk. The minibus starts to roll after us and I firmly insisted that we were fine.
Poor Adrienne, meanwhile, is looking around Woodstock, and asked me if it was terribly safe to walk. I told her it was, and casually failed to mention that Woodstock has the one of the highest violent crime rates in the southern suburbs. So we got directions from a delightful woman working in a fabric shop who expressed serious concern for our safety, blowing my cool cover for Adrienne. We then took about a 45-60 minute walk through Woodstock until we finally reached Old Biscuit Mill. Our first purchase was a glass of champagne each.
....Luckily, for the rest of her week here, every minibus we took was completely fine. It was the only time that I've felt really unsafe since getting here, which is great, considering that we've been here for nearly two months.
Apologies for my inability to summarize anything, ever. Thanks for reading! =)
