Yesterday I went with some friends to the Menlyn Mall, which is an American-style behemoth of a shopping center where you can get lost and forget that you are anywhere outside of America. (well, there are a lot of places here where that can happen). Anyways, we decided to see a movie, and we saw UNITED 93. I have to say, that was possibly the most difficult movie-watching experience I've ever had. It was almost too much. It was the first time I've cried during a movie in many years. And, it feels very timely, in this season of foiled terrorist plots and "liquids on a plane."
On a semi-related note, my friend Jenn recently emailed me an article written by another of my friends back when I was at Columbia University. This is a great article to read, I must say:
http://www.slate.com/id/2146306/
And, on a totally unrelated note, the 15th group of Peace Corps South Africa volunteers (SA15) arrived in country at the end of July. I'm reminded of my own first experiences of South Africa, and I thought I'd let these new arrivals figure South Africa out for themselves, like we did. But then I received my August Peace Corps mailing, in which was an article written by one of the SA15 trainees. After reading this article, I have to say that this group might be in serious need of intervention! I'm going to transcribe the article here, with the name of the author omitted to save him any embarassment.
Thoughts on the first few days in South Africa: Too Much And Not Enough.
Understanding how to use words means first understanding all of the ways that they fall short in the description of our most significant experiences. Understanding first impressions of South Africa means understanding that the phrase "falls short" does itself fall short.
Those first feelings, of course, were different for everyone, but I imagine that the sense of being overwhelmed was virtually universal. How big it must seem to those of us who are returning, and to those of us just arriving...well, there is vitality to the land and the people that reminded us of something we had always imagined, and perhaps even felt, but never known.
Our trainers, for example, are foreign but haunting in their beauty. Life bursts forth from them, singing, dancing, recalling shared human memories that we have forgotten not because of time, but because of rush hour, because of McDonalds, because of capitalism. The first night, as they sang while we left the cafeteria after our first taste of (crossed fingers) pap, moths to a flame is perhaps the best way to describe it. Volunteers to words that rang clear and were understood without any need for translation.
I do not mean to denigrate our own culture, for it surely has its bright spots. But there are parts of it that seem to have convinced us to forget things we can find again in Africa, in African singing, African dancing; things best remembered.
I am running out of room, and perhaps I have failed to address many concerete impressions, but the words truly do fall woefully short. If they didn't, then I imagine most of us would have never left our loved ones (and probably our plumbing) behind to come here.
So First Impressions? Words.Looking back over these pages I see overwhelmed, vitality, foreign, haunting. None of them are enough; none of them completely describe it. But neither, I suspect, will two years be enough, will two years describe it. For what, when it has passed, is time save fading memories that, like words, fall woefully short of the reality.
First off, what the hell is this guy talking about? He speaks of words falling "woefully short", and in his case, that is exactly true.
This little article is indicative of an idea that really bothers me, and that is the idea of Africa being the "other" place (whether its a "dark continent" or a "Dark Star" or whatever). Whether that "other" is better or worse, people tend to put up boundaries to separate themselves from Africa or Africans. It's "that" place, a mystic land, where animals run wild, where nature is vicious, where life proceeds as it has for millennia. It's a place to explore, to find yourself, to reinvent yourself as a man (or woman) of adventure, of the people, whatever. All of these are common conceptions of Africa, and they are FALSE. That romanticized image only serves to further push apart people from recognizing commonalities.
The author of this article seems to have come to Africa looking for something different, to take him back to some unknown roots that he had "always imagined, and perhaps even felt", as he says. But that is NOT the South Africa of 2006. Anyone who comes looking for this romantic image is bound to be severely disappointed. But anyone who is properly informed will appreciate the country for all of its true worth, both natural and human.
His sentence on our language trainers is laughable at best. My friends and I have spoken this line to each other, mocking this poor trainee, and it never fails to elicit a laugh from us. "Haunting in their beauty?!?!" That paragraph as a whole is incredibly naive and pitiful, although I think that might be a little harsh of me to say. (recalling shared "human" memories? what, as opposed to shared animal memories?)
He speaks of McDonalds, rush hour, and capitalism eroding the human memories of Americans. Um, dude. Rush hour in places like Johannesburg is as bad as any rush hour in America. South Africa has embraced capitalism, and it seems to be working fairly well for the country these days. And as for McDonalds....I'm sure every one of the "hauntingly beautiful" trainers has either eaten at, or worked at, a McDonalds. I smirked as I passed by a long line of people waiting at a McDonalds here in Pretoria as I walked to the internet cafe to write this.
Anyway, I hope that these initial misconceptions are easily changed. If not, SA15 is in for a rough time. But, I have to say, I don't have anything against the author. I'm sure he's a very nice guy. I met some SA15 trainees at the Peace Corps office yesterday, and from them I've found out that the author of that article unfortunately had to leave South Africa and return home to care for his father, who is seriously ill. So, yeah, I feel bad about attacking the guy, but that doesn't change the fact that these comments had to be said.
On a final note, here is a picture from my village. This is a bar/shebeen. And yes, the name is "Loss My Cherry." Every time I walk by it, I smile.
