7 days…

I was in a funk as we got ready for bed the other night and complained to Dave that I hadn’t gotten anything done that day. When I said that, I was simultaneously having computer issues and haranguing one our daughters to get me her essay on apartheid. She was dragging her feet. In hindsight, that’s a pretty nebulous topic and one that would be overwhelming for any 13 year old, uprooted from her comfortable American suburban existence and plopped down in the hellscape that is a South African township, over the course of 1 week.

And speaking of 1 week, that’s exactly how long it took for me to go from the version of me that races from work to chores to parenting (and all the tasks in between), to the international version of that. Mind you, I said that after a day in which we got up early to pack up and clear out of our apartment in Cape Town, rented a car, hiked 3 miles (seemingly all uphill, in the scorching sun), changed into dress clothing at a dusty trailhead (to cover our dirty limbs), enjoyed a meal at a bucket list restaurant, went grocery shopping, drove over Chapman’s Peak whilst screaming at Dave to stay on the correct side of the road, and finally settled into our new home just north of the Cape of Good Hope. But still, or maybe because, I felt compelled to harass my kid about a made up assignment at 9pm; an assignment I pulled out of thin air because I want to make sure my kids understand our inherent privilege and that this sabbatical isn’t a vacation.

There are (at least) two things going on here. The first, and most obvious, is the deep conditioning of a Gen X woman equating self-worth with busyness. The second, is a white woman grappling with the privileges she was born with. I have eyes and a brain so I didn’t necessarily need to go to a township to understand the concept of systemic racism, but I thought seeing the scarcity and destitution of a township first hand might drive the point home for my kids. Interestingly, the things they chose to focus on were the bright spots - the entrepeneurship of “Mr. Langa”, the first coffee shop owner in the township, how tidy and bright one young woman kept her shack, an art gallery with a budding community garden, craftswomen selling handbags made from old c.d.s and soda can tabs, and the home of 27 orphaned children, sharing 9 beds, cared for lovingly by 3 elderly ladies.

I’m not sure how to conclude this post, dear reader. I can’t detach 47 years of self-worth from productivity just yet and I certainly don’t have a tidy academic conclusion for the racial inequalities here (or at home). So I’ll leave you with these photos.

xo

London

Loyiso

Our guide, Loyiso, was born and raised in Langa Township. The township was created in the 1920s, when black men were forcefully removed from their homes in District Six and relocated to these prison-like barracks, as a means of control and segregation. The township is now home to roughly 100K people, 98% are Xhosa.

Many people are housed communally in the barracks, made of concrete block. There are others living in metal containers, split into multiple small rooms - 1 room per a family. And still others live in shanties/shacks made of scrap metal and wood. Most are without formal power or sanitation.

The roads and paths were littered with trash. But so many of the walls were covered in powerful and uplifting art.

This young woman lived in a 10x10 metal box, which she tended to lovingly.

The owner of Langa’s first coffeeshop was previously a café server in Cape Town. He met an Italian tourist, who gifted him a used coffee maker. Through grants, loans, and savings, he was able to rent this small space and buy the things he needed to open. He told us that the township residents are somewhat confused by this coffee shop as served coffee is a luxury they haven’t been exposed to, but slowly he is building his clientele.

He made refreshers for the girls, served in cups he procured from the street, which the girls declared as good - if not better - than Starbucks. If we could, we’d give Mr. Langa a 5/5 on Yelp.

A one room home to 27 orphaned children. This woman cooked for them all in this small kitchen.

Upcycling isn’t an environmental fad in Langa, so much as a way of life. This woman can crochet a soda can tab into just about anything you can imagine.