The Day the Apartheid Museum Slapped Me In The Face

Last week the gang all gathered in Johannesburg for the Fulbright Sub-Saharan Africa English Teaching Assistant Mid-service....that was not the official long drawn out name, but close I guess. We not only met up with the 14 of us in country, but with the others in Kenya, Senegal, Rwanda, and Cote d'Ivoire. Outside of South Africa, the ETAs are in their last 3 months of service, while we are in our first.  I was expecting days spent painfully drooling at Power-Points in a glacially air conditioned room, staring out at the lively city beyond. While this kinda what happened, the sessions were actually quite wonderful. Hearing what everyone has been up to, and sharing ideas and teaching strategies was a blast. In between overfeeding myself at the high class hotel buffet (...and did I mention the free champagne every afternoon at 5:30?) I managed to feel all sorts of feelings.

On Wednesday we broke free of the hotel confines and headed to the Apartheid Museum and township of Soweto. The hotel gave us free biltong so I was more than content as we jostled through the enormous vastness that is Jo'Burg. But then we rolled into the parking lot of the Apartheid Museum and each of us was handed a card, designating ourselves for the duration of our experience, as either "white," or "non-white." My attention to biltong drifted and in came the feels.

The Art Historian in me geeked out surveying, analyzing, and assessing the museum's success as a enormous symbol within itself. Hallways narrowed and compressed, images towered above us, and pathways twisted and turned. Some rooms were large and sparse, others overcrowded and active, culminating in a very intentional walking tour of Apartheid. But once we were 2 hours into our tour and only about half way through the museum, I realized deeply the dark complex waters of this history. I also realized you probably never want to go a to museum with a bunch of other Fulbright scholars...because damn sure we can saunter through educational materials. 

I thought I knew about Aparthied because I'm cultured and know about the world, and watched the Nelson Mandela movie, and kinda saw the one with Matt Damon as a rugby player. But then the Museum gave me a bitch slap. The images and videos of Apartheid in action were horrible and cruel. While it's easy to think, "how could people do this to each other?" I did see understand the historical contexts from which the policy arose. Since the beginning of forever people do crazy shit when they feel their land, job security, and fair wages are at stake. Throw in a fervent belief in a holy power and it's night night nurse. I get it, I'm empathetic-- but I'm not buying it. But in no one do I agree, even in the slightest, that any laws or traditions of the Apartheid government were actually the way forward.

I did feel very meditative, very somber, very responsible. I felt outraged and hopeless, insignificant and impassioned. Perhaps in my smallest, most insignificant way I am making for the sins of my past generations--those who didn't raise arms to help or who could have stepped in but chose not to. Most likely, I'm probably doing nothing at all. But hopefully, I'm adding a single stone to a new foundation and participate in a new cultural dialogue. 

Next, we drove to Soweto, the largest township in Jo'Burg with a deep history. First though, we stopped at a South African buffet and I gorged on some old favorites I hadn't seen since Namibz. Finally...cow intestines! (I'm not gross, you're gross).

Approximately :04 seconds away from said bovine delicacies was the house of Archbishop Desond Tutu. Perhaps a 45 second sprint away from here, humble and  unassuming, was the house of Nelson Madela. Suddenly, I felt both very old, very young, and very full, as the timeline of Apartheid became even more real. I'm still in it, it's not over. As much as South Africa has opened the garage to a new identity, mom hasn't handed over the keys to the car yet because there is still a week left on the Driver's Permit. It's all still new and it's all still fresh. 

There is a weird dichotomy in Soweto- one of pride, of renaissance, of history, of power and another of the a appropriated surrealism that comes with a new tourist destination. Yet, there is a palpable sense of wisdom in Soweto. The spot were Hector Pieterson died is a breathing living entity. The space is literally the corner outside of a high school, where in 1976, protesting against a new law forcing national schools to teach subjects and courses in Afrikaans, students shockingly (to the government at least) mobilized. Hector Pieterson was the youngest killed that day at the age of 13. The photograph of his body being carried by another young boy, flanked by Hector's distraught sister, was paramount for the international community to finally get it together. The student uprising of 1976 were pivotal moments in the shifting of Apartheid history and proved just how powerful even the smallest of us can be. Soweto commemorates the space with a mix of pride and reverence. It is still a working school block, on the side of a main street, with a long history. Hector would have turned 40 this year, and many of his classmates, have returned to Soweto.

I came to South Africa on my quest for perspective and damn did I find it on this particular Wednesday in April. Being here I often get frustrated when I feel people are closed off to me, when I hear lingering racist commentary, and when I can't seem to navigate the intentions of those around me. Justin Bieber is on repeat every day in my head, asking "what do you mean?" Sometimes I talk for the sake of talking, just to let those around me know I AM AMERICAN AND I AM DIFFERENT. I DON'T THINK THE WAY YOU MIGHT THINK I THINK. AND BECAUSE OF THAT I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME. But, in no way do I have the right to enter into the lives of those who rather I stay away. Maybe it's because I'm the oldest of a generation who hears about Apartheid in history books. Maybe because I didn't hear stories growing up about uncles, aunties, and family members who randomly disappeared and never returned. Maybe because I didn't have a father who was forced into mandatory military conscription and drilled to hate his fellow countrymen. Maybe because I didn't grow up with a mother who worked double digit hour days in the opulence of their employers house, only to return to the squalor of their own. Maybe because I'm not South African I will always be left wondering, "what do you mean?"

Yesterday, had a unexpectedly candid conversation with an equally unexpected learner. It started simply enough (he was asking for advice to convince his mom to let him go out partying) but ended rather poignantly (we made a chart of his goals and how he could take steps to one day providing clean water for local villages). While it was hard not to raise my hands in the air and shout  "#youjustgotTAUGHT!" when he left to go home, it was a victory for the Teachable Moment. This is how we can change the world folks...slowly slowly. I strongly believe in the South African youth and I believe in the power of my kids to change the world, that is once some of them close.their.mouths.and.pay.attention. It hurts my heart when my some of my precious nuggets of 8th girls ask me what it's like to be white or tell me they would rather not be the beautiful black they are. My sweet babies, you're gorgeous, but you're also more than how you look. You can be powerful, kind, educated, and full of self-worth. You're on your way. Once you're there, you're country won't be far behind.

Kids Say the Darnest Things...

I try to do good stuff sometimes. One of those good things is starting every class with a small activity or writing prompt to get the learner's heads in the game. I've found my kids struggle with opinion, critical thinking, and personal questions where they need to articulate how they think or feel as an individual. So I'll have a "DO-NOW" question  on the board as they come in that touches on these skills.

Many of the kids are still perfecting the art of pretending to do assignments and instead just sit there, but when I do get answers, some are awesome. Below is a collection of a few of favorites to the question, "What are some things you like most about yourself? Why do you like those things?"

"What I like about my self is am energetic and am inspecaring. What like bout the two things is that they bring out my inner beast and my mojo."

"I like me curves and face because I look aweseom and good on them. People also lke them when I am wearing a skin jean."

"The two things I like about myself are --> my crazzines, my sense of humor"

 The reason I like this about myself is because people like me more when I can act crazy with them and tell really awesome jokes. Thats just the joy of being me."

"…The reasons I like my shyness is that it always get me out of trouble because people wouldn’t think that I am naughty. Nobody would ever think that a princess would be in trouble"

"I like my self because I am brave and I am the only boy in the whole family so when ever something comes I will have to fight it as a man. I like my self because my pastor and his family likes me because I am braves and I am part of worship team."

And the winner...

"Well I’m a little fat so every time I get in a fight I see I can win I use my belly to deflect my opponents punches"

This Week on "WTF Is In The Library..."

Some of the gems that dislodge themselves from the stacks of the library are worthy of sharing. For example, this totally relevant Interior Design guide from the 1960s and the 1980s Black Remix of Julia Roberts...

But seriously, the library could use some help. Some of you lovely people in my life have asked what you can do to support my time in South Africa. Unlike in Namibia, we have greater access to school supplies and textbooks and honestly, we could use some new relevant and teen friendly books.

We recently received a great donation from a local rotary club, but books on the American Civil War and Ipad user manuals only excite kids so much. There are ways to send materials through a US. Diplomatic Pouch, or perhaps it might be cheaper on shipping to send one giant package and split the cost.

I have one learner in particular who I turned on to Harry Potter and now he's ravenous for the rest of the series. He keeps asking me questions about the larger story line and I tell him he hasn't earned the answers yet (because he needs to read it like the rest of us suckers!). But, without the rest of the series available in the library I feel quite hypocritical.

Roller-Coaster Rage Complex

Alright Rockettes,


So week 2 of Terms 2 is over and if there is any sort of grove to speak of in the classroom, I might slowly be crawling towards it. If you've ever done any sort of teaching before you are very much aware of what I like to call the  "Roller-coaster Rage Complex," or the act of spending your day experiencing dramatic spikes in rage and happiness.

Thursday in particular was quite the sample. Somethings that happened are as follows:

-One of my Grade 8s brought me a watch as a gift because I drove her home yesterday. Her transport had left and she was crying all pathetically and adorably...I'm not completely a robot, people...

-When I told a group of Grade 9s to get to class, a chubby one apparently told his friends something in Sepedi. When I asked him what he said he goes, "Miss, I said you are very beautiful" and then he GAVE ME THE UP AND DOWN EYES.  (....I can't hit kids, I can't hit kids, I can't hit kids...)

-One of my entire Grade 8 classes RAN into the library while I was on the phone and it was exactly like this... I just told them, "NOPE," and locked myself in the library. 

-Watch Girl came back to hang out with another friend and we talked about 1800 American Steam Boats and how she was surprised when a white girl wanted to be friends with her.

-Grade 9 losers tore down, crumbled, and stomped on a sign I made for the library.  If I had seen who had done it, I would have sat them down and made them make me another one.

-2 Grade 11 boys I meet this week through Art Club came in to do art during break and after school.  I got to give them "art challenges" on figure movement and expressionist portraiture....then one of them ruined it by telling me he smokes weed and I know I probably have to do something about that information now.

-I walked in on some kids with phones out (which are not allowed in school) and when I tried to take it the girl (who was in cahoots with cubby sexually inappropriate kid from before) shoved it in her bra.

-Most of the teachers left around 11:00 to go to either a Memorial Service or a Union Meeting so kids were basically just wildin' out in the hallways, running around, screaming, and storming the library like it was the Bastille.

- 2/3 of my kids skipped my class. So y'all get zeros, y'all get a late, y'all suck. 

-A group of girls asked me to teach them about makeup...apparently they don't know yet I'm a huge bro who sweats a lot.

Glossary of Terms

Before we go any further, let's all get on the same (web) page here.
Below are Who's Who and What's What in our subsequent journey:

"sharp, sharp-" pronounced more like "shapshap" in real life, it's a common South African phrase meaning everything from "alright" to "let's go" to looking flyin' and stylish. 

Izora- My Fulbright partner. A lovely gal from Chicago who so far has put up with both working and living with me for 60 days. Props to her. We're a good team.

Lizzy- Field Director for Peace Corps. We met her randomly one night at an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet (American habits die hard...) and we mentioned we were looking for a place to stay. Luckily, she had an entire empty house that needed some filling...so in we moved! Lizzy's from Cali and has been here for over 2 years. She knows what's up and helps me recharge data/minutes on my phone, and tells us when we're being hit on.

Nana- Izora's Boerboel/ South African Mastif puppy, also known as "Banana" or "Wiener." She is the dichotomy of love and hate in a physical form. Her first language is Afrikaans and she's growing at a rate of 2.5 Kilos (5 pounds) a week. Right now she is all joints and paws, but soon will have the body of a rugby player.

Girl Squad- The collective name for the Girl Power four-some that is Izora, Lizzy, myself, and the NanaBanana.

Ahimsa- the Sanskirt word for "not to injure" and "compassion." I'm trying to make this my philosophy starting Term 2 towards school, myself, and general life in South Africa. Some days are much more successful than others.

PLK- Polokwane. Our home base and the largest city in the province of Limpopo. We're closer to Mozambique and Zimbabwe than Cape Town. It's a small big city where every one knows each other and there's not really that much to do, but that's ok. 

Flora Park- A neighborhood in Polokwane where our school is located. Our school's full name is Flora Park Comprehensive High School, but I'll probably just call it Flora Park.

Biltong- dried meat, essentially beef jerky. I don't know why I love it so, but it has become the bottom of my food pyramid whenever in Southern Africa. There are so many varieties and it's like Paleo or whatever so just let me live.

Braai- What South Africans live for. Essentially a cook out over a slow burning wood grill, but also the way to celebrate accomplishments or get anyone to hang out with you. Used in a sentence it's, "Hey, come over to my place, we're having a braai," to which the answer is always "yes."

When in South Africa....ROADTRIP

Izora and I had a 3 week break from school as Term 1 ended. In South Africa, like in Namibia, the school year is divided into 3 terms: January- late March, April- late June, and late July-Novemberish. This meant it was time to explore and cause some trouble. On the agenda was a 2 1/2 week road trip covering 3 provinces, 5 cities, and dangerously close to my 3,000 Kilometer monthly rental car limit.

I pushed a Chevy Spark through enormous mud puddles, tires were popped, replacement cars were given (shout out to the new Ford Fiesta....despite a horrible name, that's a luxury sedan people), we attended 2 music festivals (one with a 3 day yoga festival included...), saved one stranded band on the side of the road and became heroes because their set was in 2 hours, woke up multiple times in the Drakensberg Mountains, roughly ate my weight in biltong, swam in the Indian Ocean, met wonderful, fantastic people-with only a few losers in the mix, visited a Hare Krishna temple in Durban (...not much else was open on Easter...), and wore the same clothes for 80% of the time because we did not pack correctly. Below are some poorly captured media moments from the March Madness Adventure:

Back to School!

So, another reason why I haven't jumped on the internet soapbox is because things in South Africa 
have been both exactly what I expected while simultaneously very different. It's been hard to articulate in my head how I feel about aspects of my new life, so I didn't exactly want to start blowing up the internet with premature impressions.

On one hand, I am more comfortable than I need to be. I have a car (which I haven't had in my previous cosmopolitan life), I have a gym, I live with other young Americans gals in our own house, at home I'm mostly walking around in just a sports bra, I have internet and vegetables, there is protein powder and Netflixs. I'm distracted and that wasn't really the point. On the other hand, much of my school experience has been similar to my experience in Namibia. A lot of what I have to talk about I feel I already ranted extensively on on Not Far Off The Main Road. Teaching is hard, the kids don't understand me, both my school and myself don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing,  I often have no idea what's going on, I live in the library like a gremlin, and whine whine whine. It's been this weird back and forth in my head of "you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into," and "but this is haaaaarrrrrddd." 

Overall, the skill level of my learners is much higher than in Namibia, which has it's own pros and cons. They can articulate they like my cat eye make up, but the trade off can be a high level of snark. If I've talked to you since February, I'm sure I've gone off on a diatribe against the poor behavior of some of my learners. If I haven't, a quick highlight of hell includes learners: laughing at my accent/mocking me to my face, kicking in doors, writing "Ms. J must fall" on the board, walking out of class as soon as we make eye contact, jumping on top of and across desks, and wrestling their phones out of my hands as I try to take them and sprinting down the hall. rude. I also have 40+ kids in each class and every day I'm just in the room like:

Herding Cats Like Nobody's Business...

I'm constantly reminded that teenagers the world over are wonderful, beautiful, hilarious, infuriating shit-heads. Take today for example, I had to tell one learner "You are a man. Act like one. Use your power for good, not bad. Don't be an asshole," after I found out (I think correctly...) he punched/kicked another one in the halls and brought the victim to tears. I agree using the word "asshole," was a bit strong, and I could should get in trouble for it....and maybe I shouldn't be posting about it on the internet...but, I've built somewhat of a rapport with this particular kid and felt this language might resonate with him more than any other reprimand. Just like, GET IT TOGETHER DUDE. BE BETTER.

I've also had learners who are inspiring, gorgeous, precious creatures. One who I had never seen before approached me after a very frustrating class to read her poetry. It was electric, passionate, and moving. She went off about wanting to save the world but not knowing if she should be a neurosurgeon or a poet to do so. I told her to be both. I have a few who DEVOUR books with articulate vocabularies, others who specify their favorite music is "deep house" (because apparently just "house" isn't cool enough), and another who continues to bring my partner and I drafts of the science fiction novel he is writing. He's such a character I can't help but search for him in the halls. He will try and speak French with me. I don't know why. He knows I don't do that....and he doesn't know French either...

Anyways. We are at the start of Term 2 today. Term 1 was hectic and disorganized and I hadn't really found my footing. When I first got to school I started subbing, which turned into "THESE ARE NOW YOUR CLASSES," which morphed into "JK, you're co-teaching," which then shape shifted into "No, let's not do that." So, I felt like most days were a crap shoot. Now, I guess I'm ready to get back in the ring. I'm starting with new kids, moving from Grade 9 to Grade 8, and working with my Fulbright partner to dominate all the Grade 8 classes in the school and crush the national exams.  

But, let's do this. I'm here to teach, right? Honestly, I love all these nuggets. I even love the kids that drive me INSANE and make me cry/contemplate physical violence...it's just a very VERY different kind of love. As a person, I'm a project that is not even close to finished. I'm not wise, I'm not grown, I don't feign I've got it together. I'm not trying to drop knowledge I don't have on my learners. But, I went to a fantastic school not because I'm WICKED SMAHT but because I tenaciously and over-ambitiously worked my butt off. While that was  partially due to a solid case of "middle child syndrome," it was also a result of being fortunate enough to have teachers and professors who told me to GET IT TOGETHER. They expected nothing but honest and dedicated effort and who set bars higher than I could see. I know how education has shaped my life and led me to awesome galavanting adventures.  I have that going for me.  So, I guess I know one or two things.


God, I missed talking about myself over the internet. Thanks for being there with me guys. Also here's a vid about my every day life:

(*pool no longer a thing. That was where I lived my first month, which was an Air BnB situation as I looked for permanent housing...)

I'm Not Dead Yet!

A big "sorry, please love me" to all the friends and family. I jetted off to South Africa and then sort of fell off the planet. My parting words to most were "don't worry, I'll blog a lot like last time," and so far... LIES!

I could blame it on settling into a new school, finding an apartment, renting a car, hours consumed slapping mosquitos, going on a 3 week road trip vacation, lesson planning, or the fact I wanted to create a really cool artsy/ trendy/media based blog that was intentional, and interesting, and inspirational only to discover my computer is too old to operate any other blog website besides Blogger... but I should just be honest.


This is pretty much what I've been doing the whole time.