Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Today was a slightly livelier day in the care and support office, as we were able to journey out to the community. Relatively early in the day, we went to the store with Nolubabalo and Nolundi and purchased food for the support group we were going to visit.
We eventually arrived at the support group, which was located within a shack within an informal settlement area, positioned on a very sandy hill that overlooked the ocean in the highest parts. We delivered various food parcel packs that are given out once a month: 2 sacks of samp (a bean/corn mixture), 2 sacks of mealie pap (a corn-based porridge that is a staple in the South African diet), 2 things of canned veggies and a sizeable portion of oatmeal. The group was also given sausage, veggies and fruit that we purchased at Shoprite, which was prepared while the Hope women did their workshop on how to care for those living with HIV/AIDS. While the training was in Xhosa, Sabrina made notes on papers tacked to the wall, in English. The training consisted of a revision from last week, including: how to transmit HIV, how to prevent HIV, how to educate about HIV. The new training was all on the topic of disclosure, how to disclose, and why it’s important to disclose. The group came up with a variety of answers about stress relief, seeking support, seeking treatment, preventing HIV amongst loved ones, etc.
The training seemed relatively short, and when it was over, the ladies served sausage, potatoes, pap, and gravy to everyone. Sabrina and I were offered a hefty portion, but we declined initially, and then after one of the staff members urged us to try it, we shared a plate. It was quite good but very filling.
The interactions with the community members were not bad, but not good. It was awkward being with the older adults who most likely questioned our presence. We were not formally introduced to the group, so there may have been some suspicions. One woman who passed by the group asked me if there was perhaps any domestic work I would have her do. Again, they put us to work passing out food, which is always uncomfortable for me, especially to adults.
However, when it came time to give out the meal, the women were so willing to share with us—regardless of knowing that we were not in need. They were so gracious and smiled so brightly when given the opportunity to serve us, despite that we were strangers, despite being Americans, despite not looking hungry, and despite us initially declining their offer. The sense of welcoming was a far cry from today, when our house met to discuss the specifics of the braai we’re having, nitpicking about the individual costs and contributions, making bitter comments about who’s buying what. Having all of the food and the resources that we need while we are here, why is it so difficult for us to extend the same courtesy that is given to us by those who have literally NOTHING? People are sharing the food that they get for free, with huge smiles and the best of intentions--because it is the right thing to do --no matter who the guest is: stranger or friend, rich or poor. But no! Our group has to get technical about making sure that the work and money that is contributed is equitable. Why does it matter, given that we have everything we need, we most likely always will, and it amounts to arguing over the equivalent of 2 or 3 dollars? I had to excuse myself from the room, and couldn’t help but have a mini-breakdown, thinking about the life I live, the things I take for granted, the judgments I make, the things I choose to focus my energy on, the grudges I hang on to, the injustice and indignity of the way of life for people in Khayelitsha, who, on many occasions, go days without food but yet have remarkably learned to extend to a neighbor all that they have, willingly and graciously.
In this, I have realized that after this experience, I will never be the same. Or at least, I hope I will never be the same.
