Why do I really have to leave? -- (oh wait, that's the point[?])

Day 4 – Last day in Khayelitsha

Today was kind of on the fly, in that we really didn’t know where I would be going. I left the mission house with Susana to find Pastor Ohm who then decided we would be going to the winery in Stellenbosch. He knew how much I wanted to take home of the tastiest wines of the world. I settled on a cross breed of Shiraz/Viognier and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Can’t wait to take a taste. Pastor Ohm and I sat a picnic table in the midst of South African wine country with the perfect late morning sun. We sipped our coffee and talked about Mozambique, and the expectations of working and living with the family that I will meet tomorrow. There are still so many so many uncertainties about what I will be experiencing and what will happen when I arrive. I’m just going without expectations… that makes it easier for me to expect the worst and hopefully come into the best.

We left the dreamlike escape of the wine country and returned back to Khayelitsha. It was only about a 20min drive, and we entered the Saturday chaos. The entire township is up and about spending their paychecks for the week on new clothes, groceries and mostly taking in the weekend. How I would love to own a taxi on the weekends in Khayelitsha. I’d make a killing.

We (Beauty and I) had the plan to have a last lunch before I headed out and it was usurped by the planning of Madoda, another great helper of African Leadership. He decided we’d have a beach picnic. The only problem: we didn’t have any means of transport. So, my solution: we walk there. hahhaa. Little did I know, after taking a taxi about half way with our feast (fried snoek fish and chips, appletizer sparkling grape juice, seasoned garlic bread, salad [lettuce and cherry tomatoes] with balsamic vinaigrette, and yogurt with fresh fruit for dessert), we were set to walk over. Another problem: they said it might be dangerous to walk all the way there through Harare. It is notorious for its flagrant violence, even in the middle of the day. One of the youth ministry leaders mentioned he’d been robbed there 4 times in his life. The last time was last week, and it was broad daylight.

Whoops. Minor details. I mean, it’s Saturday and it’s the beach…

Needless to say, I made it out alive and felt completely safe. We sat on the edge of a beautiful beach and stared into the cape, watching the city far on the other side under mind bending mountains. It was perfection. We feasted and watched the young African children (mostly boys) splash around in the cold water and build their magnificent sand castles. Monwabisi beach, populated by blacks and coloureds, is the place the township people go when they want a close by beach. I was shocked when the three locals I was with told me they hadn’t been to the beach since March or before then. It’s not an accessible thing they can enjoy. It is something out of the ordinary, and they told me they wanted me to have the best.

The entire day I was spoiled rotten by my friends. They, meaning Madoda, wanted me to have everything to be perfect. They spent way too much money on food and we frivolously enjoyed the day at the beach. It was incredible. I’m much too blessed. Even those that still need are giving to me, their friend. It’s overwhelming… I can’t believe they care so much. I need nothing, want nothing, and yet they dote upon me, just because they want to make me feel good about being there with them. I pray one day I can do the same for them. For now, I can spend $16 and have a feast with them. They paid for transport and the fish and chips. Fish and chips cost a whopping $3.50 for a mountain of chips and the most delicious local Cape fish. We all shared and it was more than enough. Ohhhhh the food!

We chatted about the limitations to further your education in South Africa if you come from an impoverished background. Every barrier in the book is there to keep people from having the means to attend college if they were black. They have to come up with all of their own money, have practically no access to outside money to aid them, and basically they are left to fend for themselves if they did not have sufficient funds. They are forced to work before or during school, no matter what. I have heard of no one coming out of Khayelitsha that has been able to attend college without a financially unbearable struggle. If it is access to school they lack, it is then having to be transported to and from school that becomes another problem. When will this change? I can’t believe how blessed I am to have what I have… Wow… Explaining the American university system—although not perfect, it is leaps and bounds above what it could be. I pray that they can make it into school. They will; inshallah.

I was a bit in trouble when we returned because we completely missed the Teen Life service at the College. Casta, one of the local leaders of the service didn’t want to speak to me. He had thought I was going to be there. And as I walked up with a handful of callow lilies (a ‘weed’ in Cape Town), he did not want to hear my excuses about the long walk to the beach and the slip of our minds to the time. There were no excuses. We simply did not make it. I promised him a personal written apology for what I missed out on.

I better go write it. I’m still not completely packed. I just checked the weather. Looks like the time there is going to be scorching! 85°-96° by Wednesday. Oh man. I hope it’s appropriate to wear shorts/practically nothing there. I’m going to melt. Yay for summer!