by Raven, R. D.
So, where was I? Ah, right, London—long story short, real weird driving on the wrong side of the road (same as in South Africa), rains a lot and ... well, they have these really, really cute little black taxis that look like something out of a Mary Poppins movie (that's an English nanny, Rae).
South Africa
So, Wits—short for Witwatersrand, but don't ask me to pronounce it because it sounds German or Dutch the way they say it here.
It is HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE! Candy wasn't too impressed. She said the entrance looked a bit like the one at Columbia U with all the columns.
So, they have five campuses. We're staying at the International House (awesome place, huge lawn in front, they're basically apartments!) which is on the East Campus and right next to it is a place called The Matrix which is basically like a student mall (with mostly places to eat from what I could see). Overall, this place is ginormous! Maxine (bombshell, mahogany-hair, remember?) was gaping at the entrance for about as long as I was, even though she also goes to Columbia. I guess she maybe expected things to be—I don't know—smaller in Africa or something.
It took a few days to get the internet sorted (between actually getting it working and then finding the time of day when it isn't so totally congested) so, sorry about the delay, but now I've worked it out.
I have my own room (it's like a little studio apartment) with plenty of closet space (so, mom, I could've definitely brought more than just that blue velvet dress for going out!) and my own kitchenette and bathroom. I was totally impressed. It needs a little bit of a woman's touch to spruce it up, but in general it's pretty sweet. I can see that Candy and Maxine and I are gonna have a lot of fun here (saying no more).
What else? Oh, yeah, it's like four a.m. right now. That nine hour time-zone difference is really getting to me. I'm completely exhausted, and can't sleep a wink.
Now, as to South Africa itself, well, it wasn't exactly what I was expecting. I mean, Johannesburg just looks like another city to be honest (maybe a bit dirtier). But apparently we're gonna get to see some of the "real" Africa after the weekend when we go on that camp so everyone gets to know each other. I think that'll be good because, even though I've seen some of the other girls (and guys) we haven't really connected yet.
At the camp we'll also get to meet the local students who are doing the program. The local guys can either do it as a unit in itself (kind of like I'm doing it—it was a bit weird not being a part of a college like all the other girls) or they can do it as part of whatever they're majoring in, meaning that their major will take a little longer.
So, like I said, I haven't met anyone who's done that, but I would really respect someone who'd chosen to lengthen their studies just so that they could learn about human rights.
As to the other students, I know there's a Scandinavian girl here (Finland, maybe?) and there's also a German guy (I think his name is Stefan).
I'll tell you more about them after we "get to know each other" at this camp. The camp is in a place called "Rustenburg"—about 200 kilometers from here (I think that's like 80 miles or something. Nobody knows. No one talks in miles down here) and there are apparently lots of baboons (yikes!) there and obstacle courses and stuff. We'll be doing classes in between everything. From what I've heard, it's a bit like a survival camp.
Safety
So, I know you were all worried about me before I left because of all that bad news about those riots in Alexandra (that's nowhere near where we are, by the way) and that racially motivated killing three months ago. Although, looking around, I really have no idea why the US issued that travel warning. Everything looks ... normal. Not at all like we were made to believe in the newspapers (I hate to say, "I told you so!"—OK, I don't hate it: I told you so!)
On the other hand, we were given some general safety pamphlets (nothing major—and nothing to do with the supposed "rioting"). They're basically about not walking around after dark and staying in groups and stuff. But, at the end of the day, I would do that same stuff in Seattle so it's nothing unusual.
Language
OK, so this is weird. Now, South Africa has eleven official languages, but get a hold of this: their English has like this completely spaced out accent with the weirdest slang you've ever heard!
My ... God!
Check it out:
A china is a person or friend (no relation to Asians apparently).
A broe (pronounced brew) is not a beer, but also a friend. (Actually, it means brother literally).
Same for a boet (pronounced like foot).
Everybody says "Ja" (pronounced yah) which is like our "yeah."
Then their accent is totally British (or Australian?), although they look at you funny if you tell them that. Except for the Africans (I guess white people born here are also "African," technically, but you know what I mean): they have a unique accent all of their own which I can't really name. It sounds, well, "African" for lack of a better word.
But the whites also vary in their accents—some speaking more like Afrikaans (ahh, don't get confused, Afrikaans—pronounced Afrikahns—is what some of the whites speak; derived from Dutch, and is not the same as African which is not a language, but a "person from Africa." If you're confused, imagine how I feel). Then other whites speak, well, like the British (which they can't stand being told).
Shew!
OK, I'm out. Whoever said the US was a melting pot has never seen the RS of A ("Republic of South Africa").
It's just ... beautiful—all the people, all the cultures.
So, I'll be offline for a while after Sunday because that's when we leave for this camp. Tomorrow we'll be visiting Nelson Mandela's house in Soweto and the Apartheid Museum.
I'll do my best to keep you posted although my main interest for now is in finding out where everything is (and for that, I guess, I'll have to find some local friends!)
3 Comments:
Comment from: Mom
Posted on: Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 03:22pm, South African Standard Time
That's SO great, honey! And happy July 4th! It sounds like a wonderful experience.
How bad is your cold? I packed some vitamins in your bag. Is there a pharmacy around there?
When can we call you?
Reply from: Jaz
Posted on: Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 09:35pm, South African Standard Time
> Mom!!! I'm fine! :) It was just a little runny nose. I haven't slept in practically three days
> (thirty-one hour flight from NY, remember? Not to mention that first flight from Seattle. At least
> I had a day's break there).
Reply from: Mom
Posted on: Thu, July 4th, 2013 at 09:41pm, South African Standard Time
>> OK, honey. Have fun on your camping trip!
>> We love you!
Comment from: Dad
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 04:56am, South African Standard Time
Great to hear all your news sweetie. Keep us posted.
Love, dad.
raeinseatlle.blogspot.com
Matt
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 05:27pm, Pacific Time
Posted by: raeinseattle
# Comments: 7
Is this guy a fucking babe or what?!
[IMG_5632.jpg]
Matt and me kissing
[IMG_5633.jpg]
And some tongue
[IMG_5634.jpg]
Oh yeah!
[DSC_7135.jpg]
Brenda—this is the biatch he dumped for me. What a fucking skank!
L8a!
7 Comments:
Comment from: Randy
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 05:43pm, Pacific Time
Awesome!
Comment from: Jen@work
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 06:55pm, Pacific Time
W00t! Have you done it yet?
Comment from: Matt
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:32pm, Pacific Time
Nice fotos baby. But you mis
sed 2 or 3—my favorites.
Reply from: raeinseattle
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:39pm, Pacific Time
> Baby, I can't post THOSE!
Reply from: Matt
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:45pm, Pacific Time
>> Of course you can.
Reply from: JohnQuarterback
Posted on: Fri, July 5th, 2013 at 07:53pm, Pacific Time
Post them! Post them! Post Them!
FOUR
Although it was technically winter (the seasons being all backwards in the Southern Hemisphere), Jaz's skin had begun to feel dry and sore from the Jozi wind. Jozi, that was a new word she'd learned—a local way of referring to Johannesburg (or Jo'burg). And then there was also Egoli, which not only meant "Place of Gold" (Johannesburg being one seriously big gold-mining area) but which was also the name of a majorly long-running soap opera that had some hot African (black) as well as African (white) studs in it.
It was Thandie (short for Thandile, which means "beloved"), Jaz's new best friend, who had chosen the word "stud" although Jaz had yet to confirm if the men of whom she'd spoken indeed met the requirements for such an honorable title.
She'd met Thandie that morning in the Wits Great Hall, a massive structure that looked a bit like the US Supreme Court from the outside. All the foreign students were getting together to go to Soweto, but Thandie (a local who was also doing the IHRE program) decided to tag along because she "had nothing better to do that day." Thandie had been holding a Colleen Hoover book in her hand and Jaz, without questioning or thinking, ran up to her and grabbed it, saw that it was Hopeless and then, without prompting and with eyes wide open on both their parts, they started firing off all their favorite quotes—almost word for word—back and forth as if they were in a tennis match!
She knew they would be best friends forever.
Thandie was short—real short, like five-three or so (which suited Jaz just fine with her own meager five-five) and had long, beaded-braids that stretched down to a little below her shoulders. Her nails sparkled with blue and gold nail-polish and, from the number of guys she'd turned her nose up at and showed her palm to, it was clear that she had more than a few (unwanted?) admirers (some of them a real catch in Jaz's opinion, actually).
Jaz had been more than a bit "threatened" by Maxine and her five-nine (not to mention her legs). But Maxine had also proven to not be much of a conversationalist—her favorite "genre" being Elle Magazine (true story—that was actually what she'd said when Jaz asked her what genres she liked reading ...). As for Candy, she'd needed some girly things and came by Jaz's place the night before and Jaz made her a coffee but the ensuing silence only left them both feeling a little uncomfortable.
With Thandie (a girl whose vocabulary shamed Jaz's own) it was immediately different. Jaz felt she could really relate to her, and they spent most of the time on the bus to Soweto talking, Thandie explaining different things about their culture and about the land. She explained about the shanty towns (which the locals called "townships") they'd seen intermittently on the way. Many of them lacked basic facilities like running water, or even electricity. One of the poorest and most notorious of them (although they didn't drive past this one) was a place called "Alexandra" and Jaz remembered it as being the name of the place that had suffered those riots only weeks before she'd left, and which had caused the US to issue those travel warnings.
After the trip, Jaz was taking a break by the pond in the center of the Wits East Campus quad (just ahead of the Great Hall), leaning against a low brick wall underneath a tree with almost blue (yes, blue!) leaves she couldn't quite name, and looking at two fountains in the pond spraying up intermittently. Thandie had left to go to a mall in a place whose name Jaz had already forgotten.
She'd forgotten many names. Everyone used them like she was supposed to just understand them all but all she did was end up getting confused. She knew Soweto, but she'd already forgotten the name of the place they were heading out to after the weekend. She knew Johannesburg (of course) and liked the Jozi appellation as well.
"Howzit."
Howzit. That word she recognized. And she could tell that the male voice uttering it was directing it at her. Jaz looked up to find a well-dressed man of about twenty, in a light-blue button-up shirt and khaki slacks, donning spectacles that made him look like a Harvard grad and shoes that looked like they'd been shined for two hours. He carried a notebook (the kind you write on) under his left arm. A sharpened, yellow pencil stared menacingly at her from above his left ear.
"Howzit," she said back, proud of how the word had now become part of her own language, as if she'd been using it her whole life. The first time she'd heard it (at the airport), she'd looked at the person blankly, waiting for the "going?" at the end of the sentence. After hearing it two more times and realizing that howzit was merely a statement and not a question (one meaning simply "hello") she'd smiled and shook her head, chalking the experience up to yet another one of the many, many things she still had to learn about this country.
"I'm Sandile," said the guy, now extending his hand to her.
"Jaz—with one Z, not two." He stared blankly at her. "It's Jasmine ... actually. Just—just Jaz." She wondered why he hadn't replied to her when she realized she'd never reciprocated the handshake. Damn it! "I'm sorry!" Jaz was always pretty nervous when meeting new people, but especially boys. And, particularly, good looking boys. She extended her hand in one convulsive movement.
Sandile laughed.
"Scared of a black man or something?" he said openly to her.
Her face went serious.
"I'm joking! Sheesh!" he said. "Thandie told me you were all into this political correctness shit. Just relax!" He sat down next to her and she scooted over to let him into the shade, but he seemed happy to just sit basking in the sun, closing his eyes for a second as he looked up into it. She noted he had a ... different ... kind of accent, sort of a mixture of the white and black accents she'd heard from others.
"You know Thandie?"
"Yeah, we dated once ... a long time ago. So, how's South Africa treating you?"
"Oh, you mean despite all the complexities of language. I mean, howzit and broe and ... urgh!"
"And don't forget lekker?"
"Lek-what?"
"It means 'cool, awesome.' It's Afrikaans."
Jaz thought for a moment. "Afrikaans ...."
"The Dutch-based language," he said
"Oh, right .... Right! That's the confusing thing—it's called 'Afrikaans' but it's spoken by the white"—she hesitated—"Africans."
Sandile laughed. "I see you're still doing that white-African-black-African thing. Thandie told me about that, too."
Jaz shook her head, embarrassed, and raised her palm to her forehead.
"Don't worry about it. Just say whatever makes you comfortable. The only word you shouldn't use for us is 'kaffir.' That one generally doesn't go down too well."
Jaz's jaw dropped. Did he just say—? God, these people are in your face down here.
"But, back to your question," Sandile continued, "it's not only the whites that speak Afrikaans. Many blacks speak it, too. Then, of course, there are the coloreds—you know what coloreds are, don't you?"
"B—black people?"
Sandile gave out a laugh that came from his nose and Jaz was feeling more and more embarrassed. "Man, 'coloreds' are neither black nor white. They're an ethnic group, mostly concentrated in the Western Cape. Their skin is darker than white, but few have skin as dark as mine, for example. Their predominant language is Afrikaans, although that's not a hard and fast rule. They have a mixed ancestry—maybe Dutch, maybe even a bit of Xhosa. But they're an ethnic group unto themselves with their own customs and music and culture."
Clearly she hadn't read enough books about South Africa before coming here (or had read all the wrong ones). "I see," said Jaz, a little confused, and finding it hard to separate the racial connotations she'd always ass
ociated with the word 'colored' and now the fact that she was expected to use it as the sole descriptor for an entire ethnic group.
"Anyway, you'll get the hang of it all soon enough. And, as I said, few people really get offended by things down here. There are so many more important things to worry about."
"I hope I do get the hang of it."
Sandile smiled and a brief silent moment passed. "So, excited about the trip on Monday?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am," she said quietly. "It'll be good to meet some of the other local kids. Thandie was the only 'local' who went with us to Soweto today."
"Yeah ... she generally gets her way." They laughed again. "Well," he said, "I'm another one of those locals." He extended his hand out again, but this time he gave her a three-part shake and explained that it was a traditional African handshake.
"Yes," he continued, "I'm also in the IHRE program."
"Oh, really?" Jaz's mood brightened. Somehow she liked Sandile. "That's awesome!"
"No, it's lekker," he said.
They sat in silence for a while, looking out at kids in various colors of shirts walking on the grass and making their way home, some of them milling about, one trying to kiss a girl who promptly pulled back and ran, the failed suitor then extending his arms out to his side in dismay.
"So, what's with the pencil?" she asked, breaking the silence. She took another sip of the mango and orange LiquiFruit she'd bought earlier (something which tasted not unlike Juicy Juice back in the States).
"Ah, that!" He grabbed it and looked at it. "I'm a journalist wannabe. Oh, that's not why I'm talking to you." He waved his hands defensively and then stopped. "Well, actually it is ... but it's not. God, I sound like you now." Jaz laughed (also through her nose, some of the juice making its way up there and burning it). "No, look. I've got like a local news-blog and I do articles on different things. I did come and talk to you because Thandie said you're pretty cool and I was hoping we could all be friends. But I also wanted to ask if you'd mind being interviewed for an article I'm doing about all the Europeans and Americans here."