I've been here how long?

Well I did it. I managed to all-go, no-quit myself into a head cold. I type this just having downed some Nyquil and relentlessly chugging some South African Puma cough syrup. It tastes like black licorice, my least favorite flavor of all time. Pity me. I will henceforth elaborate on the events that led up to me becoming a walking petri dish of disease…

As the previous week had put me firmly in my place as office “bitch” for lack of a better term, I returned to work this week rested and better prepared. I completed interview after interview, helping Fwamba as much as I possibly could. I did it with a smile and at the end of the day I left relatively unstressed. That was Monday. Tuesday was a completely different story. I think our security guard Stanley has a special radar, one that beeps whenever I get hungry and am contemplating going out to get food. I think this radar exists because he never fails to bring me the hardest cases, after meeting hours keep in mind, whenever I’m at my grumpiest during the day.

Tuesday brought me a case of a woman from the DRC who does not speak English. We brought in an interpreter for Swahili for her, not an actual interpreter, but another refugee in the waiting room who could speak both Swahili and English. As I was just getting her basic information, it slowly came out that she was living in a container that was being locked, from the outside, at night. The people who owned the container had apparently brought her in so she could get assistance from us to pay for her rent… in the container… locked in with her child… away from her belongings… and at a completely different address than the one she had given Home Affairs. I mean, I know I’ve only been on the job 3 weeks but HOLY CRAP! Her story screamed abuse, it screamed human trafficking! I can complain all day about how my boss is disorganized, how she’s this or that, but when it comes down to it, Christina will step in tough when it comes to crazy situations. She made the call right then and there to take the woman and child into our care, to send the man bringing her in back home, and to set them up at a shelter. She did this all while dealing with her own cases, defending my roommate to a woman who was accusing her of short-changing her, and yelling at the guy to stay away from this woman. She is tough!

The rest of my week at work was pretty relaxed. I was able to go on a few field trips to Athlone, Phillipi, Mitchells Plain, and Retreat. Another intern, Andrew, had to conduct home visits in order to determine whether some of the small business proposals submitted to the Empowerment/Self-Reliance Department were actually feasible. The trip to Retreat was just to get out of the office with Wandile. He needed a CTRC Board Member’s signature as he is in the Finance Department, so we just took a drive. He told me about life in South Africa, how he had offers to play professional soccer but he chose school instead.

Everyone at work is really intent on showing us around, I absolutely love it. Wandile offered to pick me up and take me out for a night on the town. Fwamba volunteered himself and Stanley to pick me up and take me to a real African club in the Northern suburbs. Also, they want to show me and Samantha around the beaches one day. These guys are absolutely amazing and have incredible stories. Stanley is ex-military, and will constantly tell me how living in Obz is dangerous. He is #3 on my speed dial and I trust him to show up with a shot gun if I ever need him to. Fwamba is originally from the DRC, came to South Africa much like most of the refugees we see daily, and is now a citizen, living what he terms a “simple life.” I have so much respect for everyone that I work with, they all have something unique about them and I hope I never forget them.

In addition to the full-time internship, there is something to do every night as I elaborated last post as far as the weekly routine. Add in two potlucks and a meet and greet, other than that my week stayed true to form. Friday brought along another trip to the garden. I woke up that morning feeling a sore throat coming on, my indicator that a deathly disease is on it’s way. My half-day at work was absolutely pointless, me and Samantha were so exhausted from a hard week that we just kept getting the giggles. Thus, my three hours of work that day were spent hiding in Phaladi’s office crying from laughing so hard. We rushed home to get some proper food before setting off for Nyanga. It was a much smaller group that went this time. Our task for the day was also a bit more hard labor-oriented than it was the previous Friday. We mowed, raked, mowed, and raked some more. We cleared a patch for some vegetables that will most likely be overgrown much sooner than we can actually plant anything. Two and a half hours later we retired for the day to a job well done beer and frolic in the field with Ivy’s son Thando. This kid is the most rambunctious 4 year old I’ve ever met, his energy is endless! He was helping us clear fields, he was making racecar noises whenever he pushed the wheelbarrow, and he was constantly climbing on us like we were jungle gyms. I love the kid! The best part is that he speaks maybe 3 words of English so getting Andrew (his uncle and VAC staff member) to translate for him is absolutely hilarious!
Saturday was spent lounging at the beach in Camps Bay. Camps Bay is the really swanky area of Cape Town. If I wanted to spent all my money in an hour shopping, drinking, and eating, I would come to Camps Bay. My amazing friend Shelby drove us down to the beach and we just laid out in the sun, amidst the wind pelting us with sand and leaves… You can really tell who the tourists are as no one goes in the water except the people not from Cape Town. In order to look local we also avoided the water, I mean, winter JUST ended here!

Sunday brought the big adventure! Me and Samantha ventured down to the V&A Waterfront to catch the ferry to Robben Island. On the island sits a former prison (and leper colony) where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years of incarceration. The correspondence and work he did while on Robben Island laid the groundwork for the end of Apartheid. The ferry ride showed us an amazing view of Cape Town with Devil’s Peak, Table Mountain and Lion’s Head looming above. Once we arrived, we were ushered onto buses that took us on a brief tour of the island. Then came the amazing part… The last half of the tour includes a walk through the prison led by a former political prisoner. AMAZING! Our guide explained to us the layout and daily life of the prison. He then shared his own personal story, including the events leading up to his being labeled a terrorist and sent to Robben Island. The way he spoke was so eloquent and expressive that I could spend a lifetime listening to all of his stories. When he led us through the prison, the folding of his hands behind his hunched back just spoke volumes about what this man has done in his life. That is an image I hope to never forget and I was so proud to shake his hand at the end.

So here’s to next week and all the crazy new adventures it will bring!