Is this real life?

Well, I’ve been putting off blogging for quite some time because I simply do not know where to begin. You’d think that, having been a chronic procrastinator for many years now, I would realize that that just leaves me more to do when I finally get around to the job, but that never seems to stop me. The past two weeks have consisted of one new and incredible experience after another. I don’t know how to cover them all here, but here’s my best shot:


First of all, it is beautiful here! In an attempt to share some of it with you back home, I've including some pictures. Here is the view from the parking lot just outside my building and the view from my kitchen window at sunrise. Below are shots of Table Mountain and the Waterfront in Cape Town (it's ok to be jealous).

What do you get when you mix a liberal, feminist lesbian with a conservative, traditionalist Catholic? I know you’re waiting for the punch line, but that’s my roommate and I. Throw in some exotic-looking bugs, a freezer that doesn’t freeze and a couple near-death experiences, and you’ve got a bad sitcom, I mean, our lives together here. As much as we may joke about it, the truth is that we get along quite beautifully, and I’m not sure I could ask for a better roommate. Obviously, we have to agree to respectfully disagree on a few issues and to live our lives differently. Differences aside, though, Sam and I have found that we have quite a bit in common – a shared taste in music, a love of chocolate, random physical ailments from which only bodies much older than ours should suffer, a lack of desire to get drunk almost every night (which many of the international students here seem to have), and a heart for children and the poor – and I am very grateful to have her friendship as we navigate this new country.

And my friendship with Sam is not the only one that has required me to bridge some gaps. All of my classes are with international students only, which disappointed me at first, and I know I will have to put forth effort to involve myself in the South African community. However, my classes have not contained the homogeneity that I expected. Differences in culture and thought are evident in my discussions with the many Europeans and even the Americans from other parts of the country who are studying here. I find it quite interesting that my many opportunities for personal reflection and growth stem not only from my interactions with the native South Africans, but also those with the people I expected to be more similar to myself.

Speaking of my interactions with European students, I must say that I am incredibly impressed by their ability to speak English despite the fact that it is not their mother tongue. I knew that many European schools begin teaching their students English at a very young age, but I have only started to fully realize it here. Most of the German students speak German and English fluently, along with a fair bit of French and/or Spanish. After taking four years of German, exceeding the language requirements in the US, I could barely attempt to greet them in their native language, and they always speak English around me. It’s the same with the South Africans. Even the young children from poor communities with whom I will be working speak isiXhosa and/or other indigenous tongues at home and Afrikaans and English at school, and they always speak English to me even though it may be their third or fourth language. I am realizing at an even deeper level how ethnocentric the US school system can be compared to those around the world, and the way people everywhere go out of their way to conform to our norms. I am humbled.

On a lighter note, I have been thoroughly enjoying South Africa before I get too busy with classes. My study abroad program brought us to Cape Town twice in the past two weeks to meet up with the University of Cape Town (UCT) students and attend events there. The first time, we went to a dinner theatre in an old church building in District 6, the township where the poorest of the poor live and which infamously evacuated all Black and Coloured residents during apartheid. The show was intended to entertain and to educate about race relations in Cape Town, and it included traditional and modern music and dancing, performed by a very talented and very young cast. We stood in a cafeteria-style line to get our food just like many of the residents of District 6 would have, and the performers taught us parts of the famous African “gumboot” dance, which was originally developed as a way for the slaves in the mines to communicate when they were not allowed to speak to one another. It constantly amazes me how, in the midst of great poverty, I always find the people full of great joy. Our program also brought us to Cape Town to watch a professional rugby game, and I found a new favourite sport. It has all the great aspects of American football – running, throwing, tackling – without the less awesome aspects – helmets, pads, stopping the play every three seconds – and it can actually keep my interest for a full 90 minute game.


Aside from those bigger excursions, we have been finding ways to keep busy. The international office had a showing of “District 9” followed by a wine tasting, where I watched the movie for the first time (it’s about District 6, and I very highly recommend it to anyone who has not seen it!) and had my first legal drink (I also highly recommend South African wine). Yesterday, we rode the train to Cape Town and spent the day shopping and wandering at the Waterfront, which was beyond gorgeous (plus we got to see the FIFA Soccer City). We have also been wandering around Stellenbosch, acquainting ourselves with the shops and restaurants, and simply going grocery shopping can sometimes be an adventure. When all else fails, you can find a braai just about any night of the week. What’s a braai? A South African barbeque where they burn lots of wood, grill and eat lots of meat, and drink lots of alcohol (the last part is optional). It seems like South Africans are always celebrating, even when there’s nothing to celebrate other than simply being alive.

And I’ve saved the best part for last: Church. The Catholic church in Stellenbosch is St. Nicholas, and it’s within walking distance of my residence. The priest works at multiple parishes, so the Masses are limited – only 8am on Sunday mornings and a couple other times throughout the week. Now that classes are starting again, they will resume student Mass on Sunday evenings, which I will begin attending next week and where I will be able to connect with members of the SU Catholic community (so excited!). The church is very little but very comfortable and beautiful, the people are wonderful and faithful, and I already feel at home there. Much as I expected, Mass is the same as in the US and easy for me to follow, but totally different at the same time. At the beginning of my first Mass, the priest said, “The Lord be with you,” to which I responded with a confident and solid, “And also with you,” before realizing that was not at all what everyone else was saying. Since then, I have mumbled my way through Mass, trying to learn the responses, which are almost all slightly different than at home (even the Nicene Creed and Gloria say the same thing but with different words and in a different order).

The priest is passionate and fiery but still compassionate and loving in his preaching. I love that he is not afraid to call us out, to light a bit of a fire beneath the rumps of our spiritual lives, as many of the priests at home seem to avoid out of fear of scaring people away. Last week was the story of Mary and Martha, and he talked about ensuring that we do not get so caught up in doing things, even good things, that we forget why and for Whom we are doing them. This week was Jesus’ teachings on prayer, including the Our Father, and he talked about approaching God as our Abba, Daddy, and ensuring that we don’t go into auto-pilot during prayer, citing Jesus’ warning against babbling like the Pagans. At the end of his sermons, you feel like you need to step up and make some changes in your life, but it’s a feeling of being lovingly compelled rather than condemned.

The sign of peace is during the offertory, which I just learned is specific to my parish and not characteristic of the country as a whole. The priest always gets up after the collection has been taken but before the gifts have been brought forward and cites Jesus’ teaching that, if we come to make our offering at the altar and realize we have not made peace with our brother, we should leave the offering and go to make peace before returning. He then invites us to at least make peace with one another, and many people move up and down the aisles, genuinely wishing peace to as many people as possible. It is beautiful. They also serve communion by intinction, the Eucharist minister dipping the Body into the Blood before administering it, so everyone receives on the tongue. Even though there is not a communion row, people act like there is. The altar is on a platform one step up from the main floor, and the ministers stay on the step while people fill in spaces along the edge. Some people choose to remain standing, but most people kneel on the step while the minister moves back and forth administering the Blessed Sacrament. Not too many people stay in their pew during communion, but certainly more than at home. While I would love to see everyone receive communion, I like to see that people are deliberate about ensuring that they are in a state of grace in order to receive and are humble enough to stay back if they are not. Kneeling to receive, receiving on the tongue, only receiving in a state of grace – it is all so reverent and beautiful.

And they love Mama Mary. There are statues of her everywhere in the church, we lift all of our prayers to her and recite Marian prayers at the end of the prayers of the faithful every week, and we invoke her frequently. I already love it here.

peace and love