I hope Mandela was right about it being… effective.

I feel claustrophobic and unhappy already.

I feel like this place… definitely isn’t it.

And so begins the nausea.

We went to the grave site of Shaka before embarking on our journey to the house of a Nobel Laureate. We visited the home of the President of the ANC – John Luthuli. It was fascinating to see the house of his detention – where he was limited 2 visitors a day during his house arrest. It brought about more thought on my class paper: the redefinition of historical tourist sites, their relationship with the concept of reconciliation, and the relationship between their current function and the previous function they were used for.

After this, we had lunch. The meal took forever to receive, eat, and pay for. That is all that I can say on that.

We then went to the Phoenix property. This is also known as the South African home of a certain barrister who was called from India to defend for some Indo-South Africans in a case of extreme discrimination. He was also kicked off of a train for purchasing a first class ticket when he was a man of color. Yep, mother will be happy to know that I went to the home of a Mahatma Gandhi.

Shortly after, we went to the site where Mandela cast his first vote in the newly Democratic South  Africa. He chose to cast it at the old home of the Founder of the

ANC. This man was John Dube. We were able to appraise the artifacts there, as well as take pictures of different artifacts pertaining to this man who got lost in History.

We went home after that, and it was a happy tale for all.

The End 

I’m going to a different country tomorrow! HelloBotswana.

Today we had the pleasure of understanding the political opinions of our esteemed tour guide; a middle aged white woman whose subliminal rhetoric seemed to parade the benefits of the apartheid movement and her lack of knowledge in regards to the subject area of this region. We came to Durban to study the Indians and how the apartheid movement affected them. However, as our instructor pointed out, she had a grasp of Gandhi that was similar to the content I personally witnessed when watching a particular movie: Gandhi. She attempted to tempt an argument from another guide when we were at a mosque, and also couldn’t answer questions asked of her.

What may have been the clincher was her way of explaining how a white person in the area needs to keep safe, how she’s suspicious of almost everyone when she’s at the beach, or the story of how her children needed to study in Cape Town and how her poor and brilliant son-in-law was affected by how he wouldn’t be able to academically rise up in Durban because he was white. Gosh, it’s really too bad for her family that apartheid ended when it did.

Anyway, all of that riff raff aside. Today was eventful. We went to a mosque, a Hare Krishna temple, and had what could be called a city tour. The city tour was a 5mph drive around of the tourist parts of the Durban. The Mosque was lovely and peaceful, and the imam who spoke with us was a former Evangelical Baptist Priest. Furthermore, we went to the Hare Krishna temple, which was definitely pretty (with Krishna and stories plastered upon its walls).

After all of that, we went to the beach. I got sand stuck in my swimsuit as I had a battle with the waves. I tried to hold my ground, but on many an occasion, I was thrown around and beaten up by the the Indian Ocean. Exhausting but fun. After that, there was a nap, a group meeting, dinner, and some time at a carnival. I was put on a ride that frightened me. It was a boat that rocked up and down like a super extreme swing. I was scared. I screamed. Pictures were taken.

Fun.

All in all, an exhausting but eventful day in Durban! :- )

I love it in Cape Town. This may have been apparent from previous journal entries. There was just something about that place that makes me want to become a better person and hope for change. Yesterday was definitely one of those days. We went to the African Parliament and had the opportunity to tour and ask questions of the staff to the Secretary of the General Assembly. That was definitely fantastic. We were able to understand the micro workings of the South African legislature and then compare and contrast it to the American system. We were then taken around to the different parts of the Parliament District, ending our tour at the room that is similar to the Senate floor. This room was gorgeous.

It had two levels; the top level is where the general public could sit in on the hearings of the general assembly. The bottom level is where all the politicians and representatives of various parties were seated and were able to vote on issues pertaining to anything from public health to finance to abortion. We were told, while we were at the South African parliament, that President Zuma would be speaking there later that afternoon after responding to the assembly’s criticisms for a budget plan. I turned to Dr. Brown, my instructor, and proclaimed that we should stay in the district (rather than going back with the group to the hotel). He and Salika  agreed and we had lunch at a nearby restaurant before meeting up with the wife of one of the other faculty members.

We went back to the room and found ourselves some nice seats in the balcony (the upper part of the senate-floor-like room) and watched the budget speech. President Zuma’s speech retold the story of Nelson Mandela, evoked the link between Mandela and the ANC before briefly rebuking the floor’s arguments to his proposal. It was, all in all, a fantastic opportunity to see the silky-ness of this leader’s personality. After the speech was over, we journeye downstairs to leave the premises. I, however, appraised the security and nudged Mrs. Usman and Salika to come with me to the main floor to catch a closer glimpse of the President . I thought to myself: I want to go as far as I can before security will stop me. So, I stood up straight, and walked with a refined gait onto the floor – where I was given no second looks. I kept walking as 40 feet away turned into 10 feet away which then turned into me making eye contact with President Zuma with my hand outstretched. I was so nervous! This is the conversation that followed:

Arthi: Hi, I’m a student from Detroit
Zuma: Excuse me?
Arthi: Hi, I’m a student fromDetroitand I’m very nervous right now.
Zuma: Are you alright? (He might have noticed how glossy eyed I was and on the verge of fainting)
Arthi: Yes, I’m hyperventilating a little bit right now because I didn’t expect to be standing here shaking your hand right now.
Zuma: Where do you study?
Arthi: I’m at Wayne Wtate university in Detroit.
Zuma: How long have you been here?
Arthi: About a week, we’ve been traveling from Joburg to here to Durbin and then Botswana
Zuma: Where are your colleagues? (Looking towards the doorway, as if willing to greet whomever was with me)
Arthi: I think they left me, I kind of did sneak over here to be able to talk to you. May I take a picture with you?
Zuma: Yes, of course! *nods to pissed off security woman and says* You do know how to take a picture?
Arthi: I just wanted to let you know that when you went over toLibyato talk to Gaddafi, I was totally rooting for you – I hoped you’d be the one to make it all over!
*picture is taken*
Zuma: Is that right? *laughs*
Arthi: Thank you! *as led off by the security woman who then lectured me angrily about how dangerous what I did was. I guess someone might’ve lost their job today. Clearly they haven’t heard of how the US uses the Secret Service.*

And that, kids, is how I got a picture with the President of South Africa.  It was definitely a risky thing to do, but it was one of those experiences that made me feel like I am capable of doing anything (so long as I take the gamble). That was definitely the highlight of the day. Highlight number two was being able to synthesize precisely what I want to write about for my final paper.

I love Cape Town. Everything about the place makes me feel uninhibited, free, and powerful. I write this from another beach, however. Greetings from Durbin!

Standing atop table moutain and gazing upon the cape gives you a taste of what divinity must of envisioned when creation occured. Or for those who don’t engage in that kind of rhetoric: Standing atop table mountain leaves you dizzyingly breathless as humanity, hands tied, has to admit it had nothing to do with the creation of the world below. Sitting on a stone along the edge, experiencing your mortality; knowing that a wrong move would yield your demise as you witnessed the stillness of a world that hasn’t been ruined by our species.

I am falling deeply in love with Cape Town with every passing breath, moment, minute, hour, day.

It feels like the place to runaway to when wishing to unplug from our reality of twitter, facebook, commercialism. It feels like a place where time stands still as you gaze upon the beach, trying to predict the intensity of the waves as you try to get close enough to where the sand – wet – is like a road along the coastline. Hot nutella crepes made by a Frenchman who calls Capetown ‘home,’ his tiny cart facing the shoreline in perhaps one of the best views on Camps Bay.

On the water, the smell of the sea is crisp and cool. The light spray of mist is delightful when accompanied by the potential glimps of a seal or dolphin swimming alongside your boat. Showing off. The pollution goes so far as little plastic bags in the water that reveal themselves, later, to be jellyfish swimming close to the surface.

Today, we were in  The Gardens. It was fantastic seeing the flora and fauna. It was also fantastic seeing the community come to this park to lounge, read, socialize. The pigeons interacted with us, awaiting feeding. The squirrels too. Be careful though, don’t tease the squirrels with food in your hand – they will jump onto you and guarantee reception of the food. This is from personal experience.

Oh! What makes this, furthermore, a delightful place is the district we went to today. Faizal, our guest guide for the day, took us to a parts of the city. One of the comunites in the Muslim district were colored in blues, greens, pinks and more! It felt safe, and homely, and we could watch people of many colors and creeds interact with one another in peace. I love it here.

This is the place where I could see myself retiring to whenver I wish to escape reality or find hope in this world.

This is it. A toy city from my window, nestled between the mountains and the sea.

After, we went to a center square. We had an hour there. Within this hour, I bought myself a basket of hot pink carnations and white Queen Anne’s Lace  (or, at least, that’s what I believe the flower was named). I took these with me into thePalaceofJustice. Normally, visitors aren’t permitted into this building. However, upon seeing our group of attractive you women, the guards allowed us in. Turns out, this was the building that Mandela was sentenced in. We were snuck into the courtroom and were allowed to view the cell he was in. We also had the chance to climb up onto the roof. Pictures were taken.

All of this was wonderful, yes, however it was only the beginning of a long but fulfilling day. I met up with a wonderful gentleman namedAdrianat the Edgars located near our hotel. He discussed with me, briefly, about men’s fashion and his perceptions of identity. This gentleman and his relationship to the fashion world was a prelude to our evening at a fashion show being held at our hotel! There, we were able to meet top South African designers who were showcasing their wares as a prelude to the South African Fashion week in July. We were also able to explore the themes of sexual, gender and aesthetic identity…. GAAAH IT WAS SO COOL!!!

I already miss the hotel staff; they were patient with us as we questioned them about their culture.

All in all, it was a very fulfilling day.

Today, we boarded a flight toCape Town. This is where I am writing to you from. This place is lovely. I think my biggest qualm is with the hotel – internet here is a rand per minute. I have purchased 30 min of internet for a little more than 4 bucks. Great – made me think about net neutrality and the issues surrounding that fun problem. More to come tomorrow!

We went to Soweto today. This is the name of a facet of Johannesburg – much like Corktown is a facet of Detroit. It is a middle class area that was built for black miners during the time of apartheid. This area has grown, however, it is  a very poor area. It was a humbling experience to see the people there and how they lived. How they had to drink water from a polluted source, bathe in it as well. We saw how trash was dumped in a designated spot – contaminating the ground water that is consumed by the locals and their livestock.  While it was a humbling scene, it was further depressing to realize that it wasn’t unique by any means. Members of the group had seen these scenes in Turkey, Yemen, and Bangladesh. I personally witnessed this condition in India and China. Dr. Brown brought up an interesting/depressing point – no matter what, things will always be like this for those who are in this situation. I am still grappling with how I viewed this aspect of the visit, and I know my writing isn’t doing any justice to what I have seen.

We then went to the Nelson Mandela family home. Here we witnessed a contrived scene of what the Mandela house looked like and what the living conditions of Mandela’s youth was like. The cool part was probably the letter on the wall from Michigan’s state government to George Bush Senior, demanding that an apology be made to Mandela for what the CIA did when collaborating with South Africa’s Intelligence.

We then went to the Hector Pieterson memorial museum. It was here that we watched a recounting of the famous youth, Pieterson, who was shot when people protested the mandate that Afrikaan be the language in which schools were taught. He became famous because of an image in which the youth was carried away, dead, after this protest. This image invigorated dissident forces during the apartheid movement. This reminded me of Muhammad Bouazizi, the youth who recently set himself on fire in order to protest the unbearable living conditions of his native Tunisia. He and his mission was recognized and known because of the proliferation of an image  where Bouazizi set himself on fire when the police tried to steal his fruit cart – the only source of income for his young family.

After we got back to the hotel, we went shopping. It was then that I met a debonair gentleman, involved with the fashion industry, who taught me how to walk in a lovely pair of hot pink & lace heels. I will, hopefully, be able to see him tomorrow. I really hope I will – the problem seem to be in that we will be going to Pretoria tomorrow and might come back after he has left.

I also got into an in-depth discussion as I was writing this in the lobby of our hotel – with a gentleman who worked here – about societal and cultural norms and truths about South Africa and Johannesburg. It’s so surprising how forward and kind people are over here. I love it.

These days have been long, but the lesson has been the same every day: Question Everything. There is so much that I wouldn’t understand if I hadn’t asked, and there’s so much I still don’t understand – trying to find the answers through interviews.

We went to the University of Johannesburg today. Woke up and were greeted by students who were locals or from various African countries. They aspired to be doctors, accountants, engineers, journalists – you know, the usual. This university was repeatedly compared to Wayne State University because of the ideals used to determine admission. Wayne State University takes people who apply, who wouldn’t usually get an opportunity to attend a university, and allows them the chance to beat the odds and get a degree.  This usually means people from Detroit proper who now have the ability to become the first member of their family to ever hold a college degree.

This same concept is applied to University of Johannesburg. People in the country who are the first in their family to attend a four year university. The end of apartheid brought about the chance to take control of one’s life, but also, the ability to be part of an atmosphere that doesn’t discriminate. Dedication to this mission is visible through the fact that classes are taught in both Afrikaans and English. This makes education accessible to those who  do not exclusively speak in English.

We then went to the Apartheid Museum. It is here that we received a more intimate look at how racial discrimination in this country came to fruition, was executed, and the laws that allowed for inequality to exist. The top floor touched on these concepts. The bottom floor was all about Nelson Mandela. Idk, for some reason, homeboy is a big deal. The museum was designed to evoke a prison. The outside walls were the same color brick we saw at Constitution Hill. Gazing upon the exterior, there were columns that rose up from behind these “prison walls” representing the political prisoners. These columns had ideas like “dignity” and “freedom” upon them, almost representing the ideas that these prisoners, too, stood erect for.

The South Africans seem very blunt about their past in a way that I hadn’t witnessed in the United States or China. In China, the past was hushed even though Mao destroyed monuments of history in his euphemistically named “Cultural revolution.” In the United States, our more glorious moments are emphasized with conflict existing as to how the Civil War is retold. Here, the South Africans accept that the past was real, but almost seem stronger for facing it head on. Making sure that the truth of events are put as plainly and bluntly as possible, South Africa moves ahead because everyone in the nation state is not confused as to who they are, where they came from , and were the future can now take them.