Soweto Homestay/First Days in Namibia

Hey everyone,

So we just got to Namibia yesterday, and our house is amazing! I am living with the two other guys on the program, which as gone well so far. The house has got a great outdoor space, with a firepit, grill, patio, and small pool. About 50 yards up the road is a little backpackers hostel with internet and a small bar that's fun. The city of Windhoek is beautiful - really clean and visually appealing. It has an heir similar to that of Providence in the sense that the city is not sectioned off into different regions, such as the business center, government buildings, shopping, etc. Everything is very well integrated which gives the city a vibrancy. Granted, it's only been one day in the city, so my opinion could change, but for now I love it and don;t anticipate that changing.

This past weekend, we did a homestay with a family in Soweto, which is a city within the metro region of Johannesburg. Soweto used to be a conglomeration of the many townships that contained black citizens during apartheid (hence its name, which is an shortening of South Western Townships). I stayed with another girl on the trip. We stayed with a single mother and her 16 year old, named Mpumi. We went there on Friday afternoon, and were picked up Monday morning. She worked for the education department in Soweto, where she would go to schools all over the city and both observe classes as well as ensure that the grades that teachers are giving out as adequate and that they are teaching the proper material. They were both great, and I intend to keep in touch with them after this experience is over.

On Saturday morning, we went to a funeral. While in the U.S. this would be a somber experience reserved for the few who were close to the person who died, funerals are more of a community gathering and something of a celebration of the life we do have. You don't need to be especially close with the person who passed to go to the funeral - the reason we went was that our host mother was friend's with the deceased's cousin. Even though she did not have a connection with the deceased, as many who were there did not, it was expected for one to be a part of the community. One aspect that showed just how strong the community is was during the bus ride from the service to the cemetery. In a rented out, packed bus, traditional zulu songs were sung the entire ride over, and everyone on the bus was taking part. It was this experience where I got to see truly how strong community means to the people of Africa.

Another aspect of the homestay that was great was the food. Each meal, there were about five different dishes, ranging from barbecued chicken to cooked spinach and potatoes to beats to fresh baked bread and more. Now, as many of you know, I can be a picky eater, but because I was a guest in someone else's home, I didn't want to be rude, so I ate pretty much everything. And despite my initial apprehensiveness, everything was really delicious (with the exception of sweet potatoes - I will never like sweet potatoes). It may sound kind of weird or corny, but I was somewhat proud of myself for eating pretty much everything served.

One thing I was expecting on the homestay was to notice my color often. Throughout the entire weekend, I didn't see another white person, but I did see thousands of black faces. I expected to feel somewhat out of place, but to my surprise I really didn't notice anything different. Sure, some kids would look over and whisper the zulu word for white person, which I can't seem to remember right now, and other adults sometimes gave suspicious glances, but for the most part I didn't pay any real mind to the color of my skin. Maybe it was because of white privilege that is somewhat inherent in South Africa, which continues to have racial divisions and statuses even after apartheid. Or maybe it was because we were living in someone's home, which provided us with a level of acceptance because we had been brought in as guests, as opposed to coming in and looking down on the people there, as white South Africans are accused of doing. The only time where I felt the slightest bit of discomfort for my race was at the funeral. After the burial, everybody goes back for a big lunch (made by everyone close to the deceased's family - another sign of respect). We had gotten in line like everyone else - the line had about 200 people. However, the father of the deceased saw us and invited us to eat inside of the house, where there was more options for food and we were given plates, as opposed to styrofoam containers. I felt some apprehension about going with him because I didn't feel worthy of the special treatment, while others close to the deceased had to wait in line. I'm not sure what to attribute us going inside the house to, yet I found it to be solely due to my color.

That's pretty much it for now. Tomorrow, we are heading up to northern Namibia for one of our professor's weddings, then heading Etosha for a weekend safari. Talk to you all soon.

Evan