Email and Skype make it pretty convenient to keep in touch with friends and family, so when people ask if I am homesick, I, probably too quickly or energetically, respond “No!” But I’m not really one to get “homesick”—restless maybe, but not usually homesick.
But when one of my friends asked me what I missed most about home the other day, I said, “The Swiffer”. Yes, that’s right. That wonderful modern day, versatile household cleaning tool that makes life so much easier for cleaning those tile and wood floors or swiping those cobwebs hiding in the corners of the ceiling, or the dust that has collected on the ceiling fan blades. A tool that can dust and mop and then the clothes can handily been tossed into the trash bin. Oh how wonderful! Can you tell from my exuberant explanation that you can’t buy Swiffers in South Africa and that I have tile floors and ceiling fans?
But, I’ve attempted to make my own version of the Swiffer by attaching kitchen counter wipes to my broom—not quite as smooth as the Swiffer, but works better than the old fashion mop that pushes around dirty water.
And then last night I had a craving for “Squeezy Cheese”—actually, I think the can says “Easy Cheese”, but the pasteurized cheese in the aerosol can that you can squeeze on crackers. It’s a great road trip snack, or any time snack. Though they have all kinds of yummy cheese here, I haven’t seen the cheap, squeezey cheese. But we are going to the Cheese Festival this coming weekend with cheese from France, Germany, all over the world---hhhhhmmmmm, wonder if there will be any canned, squeeze cheese? Probably way too American, eh?
I did also miss Real Mayonnaise, but finally found that at a grocery called Spar, but have yet to find some “real” Ranch Dressing. I bought some, but it is no Hidden Valley. But, I have found a new love, and that is Fruit Chutney…but I use it sparingly as the sugar content is a bit high, but it is oh so yummy! Okay, not as versatile as Ranch dressing, but I can stretch it a bit and put it on my chips (fries), since I can’t use Ranch.
Now, I don’t mean to make it sound as if I miss material things more than I miss friends and family, but I can at least keep in touch with people, but I can’t keep in touch with the “comforts” of home. Things that we take for granted and don’t have any idea that we might miss until we don’t have them. As, I wasn’t too fond of using my Swiffer while at home, though I always loved my Squeezy cheese and Ranch dressing!
But Squeezy Cheese reminds me of road trips with my friend Karen to The Floating Men concerts in Nashville, Tennessee—for what’s a road trip without a can of pasteurized American cheese and a box of Chicken in a Biscuit crackers? And ranch dressing reminds me of many friends! A shared basket of fries at Lennie’s in Bloomington with my friend Tackett—oh they have the best Ranch dressing, lunch with my friends Teresa and Barb. And the Swiffer, well, my friend Teresa certainly loves the Swiffer, and could make that thing dance around her beautiful hardwood floors faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, and when me and Teresa helped Barb move into her temporary home after her house had caught on fire, the Swiffer was shared among us to get many jobs done that day.
So, these are not just material things that I miss from home, but attachments to memories of home. Things that may seem so simple when at home, but when far removed from those you love and care about become reminders of not just the taste, the smell, the feel, the sound, or sight of things you miss, but things that remind you of times spent making memories, when you didn’t even realize you were making them.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Forest for the Trees....
This was written after a class discussion....
So just what do I expect to learn from being in South Africa?
That life is good in the states?
That I need to appreciate what I have?
That blacks the world over have been mistreated and the color of our skin is still an issue and is so ingrained in “our” being that it is a continuous fight.?
How do you ungrain something?
Like the grain in a piece of wood?
You must sand it and sand it and sand it to take out the deep gouge or groove that has been placed there. It doesn’t go away by itself and without some serious “elbow grease” as we would say and even then sometimes there’s still a bi of a dip in the wood, a slight showing if you look close, or in the “right light” you can still see it.
Thinking about this idea of wood leads me naturally to the idea of trees. I’m not sure I know anyone who really “hates” trees, unless it’s the tree the person hates to mow around in the front yard, or the tree that dumps sap on the car—I’d say move your car, but really trees are a beautiful sight. And there are so many different types of trees. And in Indian, in the Fall of the year, or Autumn to some, when the leaves are at their peak, they paint the most beautiful panoramic views against the skies in oranges, reds and yellows. And people flock to see those colors.
Then, I thought, people are like trees. There are so many different people. Different shapes, sizes, colors. And just like it takes all the trees to make a beautiful forest, it takes all people to make this world. All people. So why can’t we appreciate all the colors of people like we appreciate all the beautiful color of the autumn leaves? Is it really that hard?
It seems so, even though we try to hide it and often pretend that it is not, but too many things in this world still prove the contrary.
So just what do I expect to learn from being in South Africa?
That life is good in the states?
That I need to appreciate what I have?
That blacks the world over have been mistreated and the color of our skin is still an issue and is so ingrained in “our” being that it is a continuous fight.?
How do you ungrain something?
Like the grain in a piece of wood?
You must sand it and sand it and sand it to take out the deep gouge or groove that has been placed there. It doesn’t go away by itself and without some serious “elbow grease” as we would say and even then sometimes there’s still a bi of a dip in the wood, a slight showing if you look close, or in the “right light” you can still see it.
Thinking about this idea of wood leads me naturally to the idea of trees. I’m not sure I know anyone who really “hates” trees, unless it’s the tree the person hates to mow around in the front yard, or the tree that dumps sap on the car—I’d say move your car, but really trees are a beautiful sight. And there are so many different types of trees. And in Indian, in the Fall of the year, or Autumn to some, when the leaves are at their peak, they paint the most beautiful panoramic views against the skies in oranges, reds and yellows. And people flock to see those colors.
Then, I thought, people are like trees. There are so many different people. Different shapes, sizes, colors. And just like it takes all the trees to make a beautiful forest, it takes all people to make this world. All people. So why can’t we appreciate all the colors of people like we appreciate all the beautiful color of the autumn leaves? Is it really that hard?
It seems so, even though we try to hide it and often pretend that it is not, but too many things in this world still prove the contrary.
Winds of Change....
A thought on the use of Wind Farms to please the eye. This was something I wrote while waiting for class and after a chat I had with some friends about why wind power wasn’t being utilized and the argument about how unsightly wind farms would be on the landscape.
Must it be ugly?
Could artists be brought together with engineers to create functional, but beautiful works of art that could be a “wind farm” disguised” as a monument to South Africa? The work of African artists on display for tourists to line, and pay, to view?
Something grand---like Mt Rushmore! The Eiffel Tower!
Could it be done?
Yes it could!
South Africa has the artists, the technical know how, the wind power, the need for alternative power sources and the tourists willing to see its beauty.
Something spectacular, something amazing, something people can marvel at, ooh and aah at, the eighth or ninth wonder of the world. The Winds of Change of South Africa.
In many facets, in the way the people from different vocations came together for the good of the cause, in the way they overcame adversity, in the way they capitalized on their many strengths, the way they took care of themselves, and they did it to benefit the people all people and the land and all who came to see it. And how they became an example of how other countries, still grappling with the same struggle of how to utilize wind power, can overcome, would be amazing.
What a wonderful testament to their ability to utilize their strengths, talents and resources to empower themselves and be an example for the world to see.
Must it be ugly?
Could artists be brought together with engineers to create functional, but beautiful works of art that could be a “wind farm” disguised” as a monument to South Africa? The work of African artists on display for tourists to line, and pay, to view?
Something grand---like Mt Rushmore! The Eiffel Tower!
Could it be done?
Yes it could!
South Africa has the artists, the technical know how, the wind power, the need for alternative power sources and the tourists willing to see its beauty.
Something spectacular, something amazing, something people can marvel at, ooh and aah at, the eighth or ninth wonder of the world. The Winds of Change of South Africa.
In many facets, in the way the people from different vocations came together for the good of the cause, in the way they overcame adversity, in the way they capitalized on their many strengths, the way they took care of themselves, and they did it to benefit the people all people and the land and all who came to see it. And how they became an example of how other countries, still grappling with the same struggle of how to utilize wind power, can overcome, would be amazing.
What a wonderful testament to their ability to utilize their strengths, talents and resources to empower themselves and be an example for the world to see.
I was doing some thinking....
I had a conversation with a friend last night that got me thinking. And for those of you who know me, I’m a thinker. This can get me into trouble, as I can do more thinking than doing sometimes, but I wanted to share with you these thoughts, though a hornet’s nest it may be.
I was sharing with my friend some of the things that had been discussed in on of my classes and we then started discussing racism. And how, even with the ending of apartheid in South Africa and the demolishment of slavery in the US, that racism still exists and how do you end racism.
I shared with him a talk that he and one of my friends here had recently. This is not a great example, but an example none the less. Take a fine antique table that has a large gouge that has been made on the top of it, that table is now damaged. If you want to repair it, you need to sand it, work long and hard to remove that damage that has been done that piece of furniture. Or you could throw a table cloth over the table and no one could see the damage, covering it up as if it is not there, masking it, though it is still there underneath because you would rather not do the work. Or you could fill it in with some putting and try to match the wood, though it wouldn’t look the same. Or you could try to find a piece of wood that was similar to replace it, but it still wouldn’t be the same, but close. The best is to work hard at sanding out the flaw to remove it with hard work, even though it may still leave a bit of a scar, it will eventually look better. That’s what we have to do about racism. Work hard, sand it, and sand it and work hard. But often we through a table cloth over it and cover it up and say it is gone when it is not. Or we try to use putty to fill it in; some other kind of method to take care of a problem that doesn’t quite fit the problem.
So then we started talking about equality, but what is really equal about us, except that we are all living, breathing human beings? Shouldn’t we celebrate our uniqueness, our differences, our talents, our abilities? Why must we separate and categorize? Why do many whites often feel superior to others? Why do some blacks feel inferior to whites still today? Why do we still check “color” boxes on forms? Why does it matter? Why should it matter? It shouldn’t. The only thing my skin color REALLY matters to is the sun as it makes me more likely to burn and more prone to skin cancer….been there, done that and have the scar to prove it!
We still have a lot of sanding to do, both here in South Africa and in the US.
Then our conversation turned back to the US and my friend mentioned people that didn’t want to learn English that came to the states. But I said, maybe it is not that they don’t want to learn, but that they are afraid to learn. And there could be many fears attached that—fear of being caught because they are in the states illegally, or fear that they can not learn, or fear that they will lose the one thing that still attaches them to their homeland. I know this is an extremely controversial subject in the states, but I have always been proud of the fact that the US has been a melting pot and a dream for people to come as a place to call home and to make a new life for themselves when the place that has been their home has become a place that is no longer a place that they feel they can raise their family. The US provides hope and future for them and their children. I know we can not “save” everyone, but the US has been that for so many and it has always been such a magical place that I hate to see that die. Many of these families turn to the states as their last hope and the language barrier is certainly a problem and many rely on their children to be the conduit for communication. But perhaps it is fear that prevents them from learning our language, not an easy language to learn, and especially for older people who come to our country.
But how often does fear keep any of us from doing something that we want to do? How often does fear keep us from doing something that we feel we should do? We fear that which we do not know. Fear is often what creates such things as racism and hatred, because we do not know better. So we must educate ourselves on that which we do not know. And we do not educate ourselves by listening to what is said on the news or in the newspapers only, as we do not get the full story. We must take the time to read about that which we do not know or reach out to those people we do not know and get to know them.
We must face our fears in order to overcome them.
So what are your fears?
I was sharing with my friend some of the things that had been discussed in on of my classes and we then started discussing racism. And how, even with the ending of apartheid in South Africa and the demolishment of slavery in the US, that racism still exists and how do you end racism.
I shared with him a talk that he and one of my friends here had recently. This is not a great example, but an example none the less. Take a fine antique table that has a large gouge that has been made on the top of it, that table is now damaged. If you want to repair it, you need to sand it, work long and hard to remove that damage that has been done that piece of furniture. Or you could throw a table cloth over the table and no one could see the damage, covering it up as if it is not there, masking it, though it is still there underneath because you would rather not do the work. Or you could fill it in with some putting and try to match the wood, though it wouldn’t look the same. Or you could try to find a piece of wood that was similar to replace it, but it still wouldn’t be the same, but close. The best is to work hard at sanding out the flaw to remove it with hard work, even though it may still leave a bit of a scar, it will eventually look better. That’s what we have to do about racism. Work hard, sand it, and sand it and work hard. But often we through a table cloth over it and cover it up and say it is gone when it is not. Or we try to use putty to fill it in; some other kind of method to take care of a problem that doesn’t quite fit the problem.
So then we started talking about equality, but what is really equal about us, except that we are all living, breathing human beings? Shouldn’t we celebrate our uniqueness, our differences, our talents, our abilities? Why must we separate and categorize? Why do many whites often feel superior to others? Why do some blacks feel inferior to whites still today? Why do we still check “color” boxes on forms? Why does it matter? Why should it matter? It shouldn’t. The only thing my skin color REALLY matters to is the sun as it makes me more likely to burn and more prone to skin cancer….been there, done that and have the scar to prove it!
We still have a lot of sanding to do, both here in South Africa and in the US.
Then our conversation turned back to the US and my friend mentioned people that didn’t want to learn English that came to the states. But I said, maybe it is not that they don’t want to learn, but that they are afraid to learn. And there could be many fears attached that—fear of being caught because they are in the states illegally, or fear that they can not learn, or fear that they will lose the one thing that still attaches them to their homeland. I know this is an extremely controversial subject in the states, but I have always been proud of the fact that the US has been a melting pot and a dream for people to come as a place to call home and to make a new life for themselves when the place that has been their home has become a place that is no longer a place that they feel they can raise their family. The US provides hope and future for them and their children. I know we can not “save” everyone, but the US has been that for so many and it has always been such a magical place that I hate to see that die. Many of these families turn to the states as their last hope and the language barrier is certainly a problem and many rely on their children to be the conduit for communication. But perhaps it is fear that prevents them from learning our language, not an easy language to learn, and especially for older people who come to our country.
But how often does fear keep any of us from doing something that we want to do? How often does fear keep us from doing something that we feel we should do? We fear that which we do not know. Fear is often what creates such things as racism and hatred, because we do not know better. So we must educate ourselves on that which we do not know. And we do not educate ourselves by listening to what is said on the news or in the newspapers only, as we do not get the full story. We must take the time to read about that which we do not know or reach out to those people we do not know and get to know them.
We must face our fears in order to overcome them.
So what are your fears?
Are there White People in South Africa?
I was asked this question after telling someone I was going to study in South Africa for a year.
The answer is yes, there are white people in South Africa—and not just since I arrived!
But, that question made me realize that so much of what we do and do not know about people, places and things is based on what we often see portrayed in the media or the perceptions we are given.
So, while still back in Indiana, I tried something with my college class and asked them to say the first thing that came to their mind when I said South Africa or Africa in general.
Any ideas what they may have said?
Safaris, animals, lions, jungles, tribes, starving people, aids, desert, and women with no tops.
No one mentioned apartheid or Nelson Mandela.
Basically, what they knew of Africa they admitted learning from National Geographic or the Discovery Channel. Was I any different? Not really.
When I chose South Africa as my place to study, I was looking at the following criteria:
English speaking
Cultural diversity
Southern hemisphere
Water/Mountains
University options
And most of all—challenge. The challenge to learn about what I do not know; experience what I have not experienced and to learn from the people of South Africa.
I didn’t know much more than my students did about South Africa but I wanted to learn.
There are times I feel quite ignorant, but that’s why I am here—to change that. I didn’t arrive all knowing and I will not leave all knowing. I arrived ignorant, but will leave less ignorant and more informed, better educated, more experienced. Because that is what a journey is all about.
And though I sit in the classroom surrounded by students who have studied African history, African politics and African everything for years, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by their wealth of knowledge and my lack of, I learn. I take it in and try to process it as best I can. I read and re-read the material, trying to make sense of the often complicated literature in hopes that I will gain some insight into Africa’s past and present. And I find it’s all complicated, as much of life is. But I continue to learn and grasp the ideas, concepts, moments, feelings and thoughts that are discussed that are shared each week. I listen—I learn. Not always do I understand. But how does one “understand” such an atrocity as apartheid?
The answer is yes, there are white people in South Africa—and not just since I arrived!
But, that question made me realize that so much of what we do and do not know about people, places and things is based on what we often see portrayed in the media or the perceptions we are given.
So, while still back in Indiana, I tried something with my college class and asked them to say the first thing that came to their mind when I said South Africa or Africa in general.
Any ideas what they may have said?
Safaris, animals, lions, jungles, tribes, starving people, aids, desert, and women with no tops.
No one mentioned apartheid or Nelson Mandela.
Basically, what they knew of Africa they admitted learning from National Geographic or the Discovery Channel. Was I any different? Not really.
When I chose South Africa as my place to study, I was looking at the following criteria:
English speaking
Cultural diversity
Southern hemisphere
Water/Mountains
University options
And most of all—challenge. The challenge to learn about what I do not know; experience what I have not experienced and to learn from the people of South Africa.
I didn’t know much more than my students did about South Africa but I wanted to learn.
There are times I feel quite ignorant, but that’s why I am here—to change that. I didn’t arrive all knowing and I will not leave all knowing. I arrived ignorant, but will leave less ignorant and more informed, better educated, more experienced. Because that is what a journey is all about.
And though I sit in the classroom surrounded by students who have studied African history, African politics and African everything for years, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by their wealth of knowledge and my lack of, I learn. I take it in and try to process it as best I can. I read and re-read the material, trying to make sense of the often complicated literature in hopes that I will gain some insight into Africa’s past and present. And I find it’s all complicated, as much of life is. But I continue to learn and grasp the ideas, concepts, moments, feelings and thoughts that are discussed that are shared each week. I listen—I learn. Not always do I understand. But how does one “understand” such an atrocity as apartheid?
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