I <3 Africa

Molweni!

As you read this post, I highly recommend that you listen to “Elias” by Dispatch =)

Check out all of my pictures at: http://www4.snapfish.com/share/p=696161234825751125/l=472660710/g=149258594/COBRAND_NAME=snapfishau/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Allow me to apologize for I have not lived up to my promise to be more punctual with my posts. It has been a little over two weeks since my last entry, and as I said in my last post… the amount that can happen in a merely two weeks is amazing! I last left you on February 18^th, the day before my first day at the school in which I am completing one of my student teaching practicum: St. Joseph’s Marist College…

I found myself sitting in a large room, chairs in a circular formation, surrounded by unfamiliar accents. The topic was education and I listened intently, as my passion for pedagogy is ever growing. My focus was sharp, for this dialogue would offer new insight and an extremely different perspective. The conversation turned to a particular student who, according to a large grey-haired man within the circle, was “headed down a dodgy road.” Others in the circle nodded in affirmation. Curious and possibly stepping outside of my realm of jurisdiction, both for my lack of certification/experience and it being my first day, I questioned the infractions of the student. I was met with stories of throwing paper, standing up during examinations, classroom outbursts, failed examinations, late assignments, missing assignments, distracting other students, etc. The educators in the circle hung their heads in fear of losing another male in the sea of South African drugs, sex, and xenophobia.

I studied the grey-haired man intently; he was not ready to lose this student. There was rallying to be done. There was great work ahead. I watched as the grey-haired man ignited a spark amongst his colleagues, and subsequently observed as the educators analyzed the student’s background to best address his needs. The student speaks Xhosa at home and is expected to speak English in school, fluently. Like many students in this school, he struggles from what South African educators call semi-lingualism (not being completely fluent in any of one’s languages). The student has ADHD and, although extremely bright, he has much difficulty focusing on the task at hand. The student must return to a Township every night, an underprivileged neighborhood that is a residual effect of Apartheid. There he is surrounded by drugs, violence, hunger, and disease. The student’s family makes very little money and he must work everyday after school and weekends to help put food on the table. Despite all of these impediments, the student wakes up every morning before the sun rises to walk almost 7 kilometers to school.

Although this conversation took place during a staff meeting at St. Joseph’s Marist College in Rondebosch, South Africa, it is almost identical to a conversation that I had with my cooperating teacher at Brighton High School on my first day as a student teacher. When a student, who demonstrated similar behaviors to that student in South Africa, shouted an obscenity at a girl across the room, I was perplexed that my CT did not reprimand him; yet merely asked the class to continue on their independent reading and pulled the student out of the classroom. After class, I questioned my CT on the exchange of words with the student, and was completely mystified when he informed me that he asked the student “is everything alright?” My CT explained to me that the student has an obscene amount of obstacles impeding his pursuit of education, and that misbehavior is a cry for help, not an indicator of a mal-intentioned young adult. That student speaks Spanish at home and is expected to speak English in school, fluently. The student has ADHD and, although extremely bright, he has much difficulty focusing on the task at hand. The student must return to a rough area of Boston every night, thus being exposed to drugs, poverty, and violence. The student’s family makes very little money and he must work everyday after school and weekends to help put food on the table. Despite all of these impediments, the student wakes up every morning before the sun rises to take an hour T ride to Brighton.

I learned a great deal from my CT at Brighton High School, and as I continued on in my practicum experiences in urban settings, I noticed commonality in student behavior. However, I was shocked when I learned in my first day as a student teacher in South Africa, that I can hold these behaviors, these cries for help, to be universal. Like the student who was not completely fluent in Xhosa or English, but rather semi-lingual because of the disjoint he faces in his realms of language, there are many students in the United States who experience some form of semi-lingualism, like the ELL (English Launguage Learner) student at Brighton High School. This impediment, in addition to another disability like ADHD, can create a seemingly impenetrable barrier between a learner and an educator. However, I believe that through an intense study of ELL education and a passion for teaching, any obstacle can be overcome.

Through my experiences teaching, both in Boston and South Africa, I have constructed a mission that I believe will be nurtured by further practicum experience: a mission to develop a healthy personal relationship with my students and to provide my students with an intellectually challenging experience. I want to provide my students with an education that promotes an excitement for learning, intellectual excellence, involved citizenship, personal accountability, and an understanding of cultural differences. There are thousands of students headed down, as my South African colleague dubbed, “a dodgy road;” I am confident that this practicum/future practicum will provide me with the necessary experience and knowledge to support and educate a student when I pull him/her aside to ask "is everything alright?"

Now that I have gotten my thoughts on education out of my system, I should probably tell you about the school itself. Well, St. Joseph’s Marist College is truly an amazing place; I will bring my camera one day so that I can take pictures for you all to see. This has been the most amazing practicum that I have had thus far in my study of education. For the first time I do not feel like a student teacher; I feel like a real teacher, an actual member of the St. Joseph’s staff. I teach Mondays and Thursdays, and I have been welcome by staff and student alike with open arms. As I said earlier, I sit in on staff meetings and my insights are not only listened to, but respected and considered. I went to a play and drinks with some of the teachers on my staff the other night. The students are so respectful: they stand up when I walk into a classroom and call me sir. The questions that the students have for me are absolutely hilarious: “have you met Jay-Z? Have you met Beyonce?” My response is always the same: “Have you met Nelson Mandela or Desmond Tutu?”

My CT (corresponding teacher) allows me so much freedom and gives me a wonderful amount of responsibility. I have taken over most of her grading, I teach most of her lessons, and we work together to develop assignments and activities. This experience is offering me so much knowledge, only pouring gasoline on the fire that is my passion for teaching.

As I don’t want to focus this entire entry on education, I will briefly tell you about everything else that has happened in the past 2 weeks before I tell you of my weekend trip to Johannesburg, which was the most amazing experience of my life.

My UCT classes are going splendidly and the subject of all my classes is so interesting, I really enjoy the lectures; yet, I’d rather be spending all of my time at St. Joe’s. The service society that I told you about in my last post, SHAWCO, is also going splendidly. The program allows me to tutor English at a Township called Kensington every Tuesday, and I feel that I am truly seeing the real South Africa. The kids are absolutely hilarious and SHAWCO is definitely one of the highlights of every week. I was there two days ago, and my kids (7th graders) made me sing them the U.S. National Anthem. Most of them speak Afrikaans as their primary language, and a few speak Xhosa. They were having a conversation in Afrikaans today, and so I dropped a few Afrikaans words that I know, it totally freaked them out. There is much more to tell about SHAWCO but I will save that for a later post. Ethiopian food is without a doubt my new favorite type of food and I highly recommend it to all.

There is truly not a boring minute in Cape Town! But Cape Town is only one city in the enormous country of South Africa; thus it is extremely important that one venture outside of their base camp and see what else this culturally rich and exciting country has to offer. That’s why I hopped on a plane and flew to Johannesburg last Friday with Chrissy, Tristan, Pat and Sarah.

Jo-Burg! Where do I begin? Well, firstly it is so vastly different from Cape Town. Cape Town is rather slow and has a very natural feel; Jo-Burg is much faster and more industrialized, yet Jo-Burg has a 40% unemployment rate, and I saw many a sign stating “sorry, no work.” Our hostel (Brown Sugar) was great and we met some really cool kids while we were there: Leo who is from Germany, Amanda who is from Virginia, and Bronwen from Ontario. They are all on holiday touring through South Africa, so when they make their way down to Cape Town, we will definitely have some couch crashers. After we checked in, we immediately went to the Apartheid museum, and it actually brought me to tears on multiple occasions. The history of South Africa is just as turbulent as ours with respect to human rights and race. The museum was truly an experience and words falls short at narrating the experience, so I suggest you check out the Snapfish account to observe all the pictures that I took while I was there.

After the Apartheid museum we went to dinner and a new friend took us all to a school that perches high above Johannesburg. We ate pastries and enjoyed a beautiful starlit view of J0-Burg.

Saturday was a day like none I have ever experience before. After touring around the markets of Jo-Burg in the morning, we took a cab to the one of the most famous townships in South Africa: Soweto.

Soweto came to the world's attention on June 16, 1976 with the Soweto Uprising, when mass protests erupted over the government's policy to enforce education in Afrikaans rather than English. Police opened fire in Orlando West on 10,000 students marching from Naledi High School to Orlando Stadium, and in the events that unfolded, 566 people died. The impact of the Soweto protests reverberated through the country and across the world. In their aftermath, economic and cultural sanctions were introduced from abroad. Political activists left the country to train for guerrilla resistance. Soweto and other townships became the stage for violent state repression. Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu both spent many years living in Soweto.

It has been estimated that 65% of Johannesburg's residents live in Soweto (2002 figures). However, the 2001 Census put its population at 896,995 - or about one-third of the city's total population.

We arrived at Soweto with no idea of what to expect, nor any idea of where to go or what to do. The only guidance that we received was that we should try to find an area known as Kliptown and search for a revolutionary artist commune dubbed District 77. As the cab drove through the streets of Soweto on our way to Kliptown, I was overcome with a flashback to my first experience at the first Township that I visited, Ocean View. The same emotions overwhelmed me: frustration at the poverty, disbelief at the living conditions, disillusion with the world, empowerment with a sense of drive to change, grateful in my decision to dedicate my life to education, and amazement of the people. I noticed the barrenness of the land of the Township, remembering that the Afrikaans government placed these townships on the worst possible land, completely infertile, sandy and desert-like. The tension within the cab was tangible, as we all asked ourselves the same questions: how would we be received? Was this place as dangerous as so many people had told us? I could tell that certain people in the cab were beginning to regret the decision to come to Soweto, upon seeing the dismal conditions. Ultimately, we all reminded ourselves, in some way, shape or form, that a man cannot change a world of which he is scared. As we drove past a sign indicating that we had arrived in Kliptown and the cab came to a halt, two little boys came running over to the cab with excitement overflowing. The more trusting and the younger of the two boys, K’bal, was eager to show us that he could count and giggled upon receiving our congratulatory high-fives. K’bal loved to be carried; during our entire stay in Soweto his feet barely touched the ground. His friend, Lulo, a bit older and less trusting tagged along out of curiosity. We had an entourage, an entourage to whom I am forever grateful, despite their lack of years, for they invoked curiosity among two women selling home-made jewelry, who asked “who are your friends?” We informed the two women that we just met these two little boys, but we already had grown quite fond of them. The two women seemed hesitant about our being in Soweto, and boldly asked “What are you doing here?” Being caught rather off-guard, the words that left my mouth seemed to come directly from my heart. I explained that we weren’t there to take pictures, nor were we there to tell them how to better their living conditions, but we were there to meet them, to know their story. I explained that we wanted to know the real South Africa. Zwakale and Samantha’s eyes lit up, they introduced themselves, and truly took us under their wings.

Zwakale and Samantha took us all around Kliptown. They showed us the Walter Sisulu Square and Walter Sisulu Square Monument, dedicated to Ten Pillars of the ANC. They took us through their market and showed us some real South African traditions such as Mpepo (which is a plant burned to drive away bad spirits, Samantha said it “could help me with the ladies”) and clumps of soil (which pregnant women eat to put more iron in their blood). They then took us over the train tracks to the residential area. The conditions were abysmal. No electricity, no running water, only a few port-a-potties which are cleaned weekly (if they are lucky). Zwakale showed us her home, sadly her roof had fallen in over threw weeks ago, and her home is in rubble. Yet, I was amazed at her resilience and the resilience of her children, despite the fact that they did not have a livable home, they continued to smile. Zwakale explained that she was saving up to rebuild her home, it would cost her R5 a brick, and she said she still had a long way to go.

We had heard of Post 77 and it being an artist commune, so prior to leaving for Soweto, Tristan and I purchased some cloth at the Oriental Plaza in Johannesburg, in hope that we could find an artist. We showed the cloth that we had brought with us to Zwakale and she was, aside from being surprised that we knew of Post 77, excited to take us to this commune. As we walked into the area that has come to be known as Post 77, we were greeted with an incredible amount hospitality and curiosity by a group of men sitting upon a grassy knoll. We sat with the men for quite some time as they relayed to us the plight of their circumstance. I found myself in conversation with an educator by the name of Lazarus, who was one of the most interesting people that I have met in my South African experience. He told me of his pursuit of education during the Apartheid era, and due to the Bantu Education act, he only made it through grade 5 (when he was 17-years-old!). He was completely self taught and wise beyond belief. He told me that he didn’t care about himself, that he only cared about the kids because “The kids are the future of South Africa.” And he relayed to me the importance of education because it “will change the way things are.”

I then found myself in conversation with a man named Lebo. Lebo, only 34 years young, spoke with the confidence of the most worldly of men, despite having never left Soweto. He explained to me how proud he was of my friends and me for having come to Soweto with no hidden agendas, but rather to learn and experience. He told me that I will truly walk away from South Africa with a piece of South Africa in my heart, because Soweto is the heart of South Africa. He said that in order to continue to build upon the South Africa that is already in my heart, I must “eat what we eat, walk where we walk, and breathe what we breathe.” I will never forget that. Lebo told me of the pain he feels when white people come to Soweto with their camera’s flashing or their money waving, and how they keep their wallets and cameras close to them; so in retaliation, when he sees white tourists like that, he yells to his friends, “Oh there is a white person, hide your camera, keep your wallet close!” He wants these people to experience what he experiences. Lebo also told me about how the consciousness of the Sowetan people has changed over the years, and how their pride is ever-growing, despite corruption in the government and the slow process that is bettering their lives.

As Lebo and Lazarus began to question me about the states, asking me questions such as “Have you ever taken a New York City Taxi?” an artist by the name of Bapana (who calls himself Black Material) came into the conversation, and was truly humbled when I asked if he would provide me with a piece of his work to take home as a keepsake of my time in Soweto. Tristan and I went with him to his workshop, and watched as he turned our blank pieces of cloth into pieces of Sowetan pride. As he handed me my cloth, he told me “Soweto is in your heart forever.”

The people that I met in Soweto have truly provided me with a life-changing experience, and they will be in my heart forever. They invited me back to spend a few days with them and volunteer in a tutoring program for their youth called SKY: Soweto Kliptown Youth. I will definitely be returning! Words fall short at doing justice to the magnitude of the emotions that swept through me that day. The pride of the Sowetan people and their graciousness were astounding. Their love of life and passion for community were inspiring. I feel the world could learn a lot from the sentiment of the Sowetan people. All I know is that I will never be the same after my experience in Kliptown.

Another mentionable experience from my time in Johannesburg was a man by the name of Sydney. After visiting the Apartheid museum, we took a cab back to our hostel with Sydney. Despite the awkwardness at first, I questioned Sydney about his life and expressed a sincere curiosity in him. He opened up to me and we became very good friends. He told me of his past jobs, of what life was like during Apartheid, and the pride he feels being from/living in Soweto. It is amazing what a smile and a hello can inspire. He became our liaison in Johannesburg and was more than happy to take us anywhere that we needed to go. He would call me randomly just to make sure that everything was okay. The night before we left, on our way back to the hostel, he invited us all to his home for dinner, expressing how much he wanted us to meet his family. He said that he had told his family all about us and they wanted to make us dinner. I was blown away with his kindness and I was humbled by his offer. Sadly there was not enough time in our trip to take him up on his generous offer, but when I return to Johannesburg, I will definitely be having dinner at Sydney’s home.

There is so much more to tell, but this entry is exceptionally long and so I will bid you adieu here. Please keep me posted on all your lives, I miss you all much and I look forward to hearing what is new! Also, thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes! 21 woo woo!

As I said last time, you can email me at McCluskM@bc.edu and for those of you that have blackberries my pin is 31C15C39, BBM me! Also my address is in case you want to send a letter:

22 Lovers Walk

Rondebosch 7700

South Africa

Also if you have a Skype account, skype me at Matthew S. McCluskey, or you can skype my South African cell at +27 82 311 8566!!

Feel free to send me your love!! More to come…

Lots of love,

Matty

South African Word of the Day: Oak (Dude)