(sh)It Happens

Well, another week has come and gone in Cape Town, South Africa. What have I done during the past week? I went to Robben Island- the prison that held Nelson Mandela for 27 years as well as other political prisoners during the period of apartheid, attended classes (mostly), spent time sunbathing by the pool, attempted to escape the sweltering heat and burning sunshine, took a 3-hour roundtrip car ride to a place called Ceres in an amazingly mistaken adventure, went to a rugby game, went to a carnival and deliberately avoided doing any school work.

Robben Island is, of course, a must-see in South Africa. I’m not exactly certain what I was expecting to see there, but what was actually there wasn’t what I had pictured. I imagined a large concrete prison wholly occupying a small island. Instead, there was a prison on a island surrounded by African penguins and limestone quarries. On the inside of the cells there are biographies and stories of some of the prisoners. Everyone who goes wants to see Mandela’s cell, but it is no different than anyone else’s. Inmates on Robben Island lived in cells the size of my bathroom at home. In that cell they ate, slept, and used the same bucket as a toilet, for washing their clothes and bathing themselves. Can you imagine? Inmates were also subjected to forced labor. They worked from 8 am to 4 pm in the limestone quarries. After first arriving on the island the political prisoners were not permitted to have any visitors for six months. After that they got a 30 minute visit once a month- usually. If guards thought you were “up to no good” you would not be permitted to have any visitors. One of the most amazing parts of Robben Island is that the tours are given by former inmates of the island’s prison. Similarly, there are even former inmates who still live in houses on the island! Can you imagine that? To be so devoted to a cause (like remembering the horror that was apartheid) that you will remain on the island that was the site of so many traumas… Remember that apartheid only ended in 1994- so it hasn’t even been twenty years. I was in kindergarten when this “policy” was defeated.

One of the most exciting things of this last week was my epic fail of an African adventure to Ceres on Friday. A group of friends convinced me to skip my afternoon Genocide class to come with them to pick fruit in this valley about an hour and a half outside of Cape Town. After some intense thought on the subject I decided to go. I was kind of sad because I really love my Genocide class and I don’t want to start skipping classes within the first month of classes. But I thought that fruit picking sounded like fun and the girls that were going were very fun. So that day we met up and bussed into Cape Town to get the rental car. Ilana was driving, Bridget was navigating (until we realized that she wasn’t too good at it and the job was given to me), and Sydney and Diane were chilling in the back. The drive was magnificent. Mountains surrounded us the whole way and a handful of times we nearly ran over groups of baboons. After seeing what the drive was like, we were so excited to actually get to Ceres to begin our fruit-picking adventure! As we rolled into town we noticed some strange things:

1. There were no signs saying “This way to fruit picking!” or “The fruit capital of the Western Cape!”

2. There were TONS of people wandering the streets.

3. The people wandering the streets were all wearing different colored versions of the exact same outfit (navy blue, light blue, or green).

4. And those people were all in incredibly long lines for ATMs

While this seemed strange enough in and of itself, we decided to ignore it, go to a place called “Information” and try to find some… information, that is. Ilana went in, came back out, discussed what she had learned and then we all went in to try to understand why there was nowhere near Ceres to pick fruit. The woman there made us an appointment at a farm to learn (for two hours) how fruit is picked, but we couldn’t pick fruit there and we couldn’t buy any fruit from them. The five or us decided that we had driven so far that we might as well see what’s up at the farm. On the way there we passed by the shankiest looking prison I’ve ever seen. Actually, we passed by it several times because we were so lost. Anyway- as we turned onto the dirt road that was going to lead us to the farm (where we couldn’t pick any fruit) we began to notice that the situation and the scenery seemeed eerily similar to the opening scene of the horrifying American film The Hills Have Eyes. Ever seen that movie? Yes- then you know what I’m talking about. No- don’t watch it. It’s terrifying. In short, it’s a movie about people driving in the middle of nowhere who get eaten and mutilated by mutants. So, naturally, we stopped the car in the middle of the road, got out and began to explore. It was. So. Quiet… Quiet like Nebraska in the Sandhills… I could hear myself walk. We took a couple of pictures and decided that this was another failed African adventure. It was time to go home. We had gotten bad advice from South Africans, been misled by a website, and hadn’t gotten any fruit. When we went to a restaurant in town (where we were the only customers) we asked the waitress, “Is there fruit around here? Where exactly is it?” She replied, “Oh, it’s everywhere! It’s here and over there and that way, too and, also over thatta way!” During this explanation she pointed to each cardinal direction. So we asked her, “Where can we buy some?” She said, “Oh, over at the Pick ‘n Pay.” The Pick ‘n Pay is a chain grocery store… That wasn’t exactly what we had in mind…

My plan for this week is as follows- continue to work on my tan, escape the heat, go to the beach at least once, start and finish my second paper due this week, sweat less, do laundry, finish planning my mid-semester break trip to MOZAMBIQUE, and, finally, find out where Ryan Reynolds is in Cape Town as he films his new movie. Just another week in the life of a Midwesterner on the move…

Love you all.

B.

Pictures include: Ilana, me, Kait, and Jeff at the carnival getting "candy floss" or cotton candy, the scenery on the way to Ceres, Bridget, Diane, me, Ilana, and Sydney at the restaurant in Ceres, and the beginning of a professional rugby match!