C is for Cookie...

As indicated below, I spent this past weekend in the township of Oceanview on the outskirts of Cape Town. I stayed with a family of four - Cookie, the mom, John, the dad and two adorable sons Lincoln and Lester - who were gracious enough to let two American students stay with them for two nights.

A preface before I get into more detail:
I am taking an African Studies course entitled "Thinking Africa Differently" that is making this post particularly difficult to write. At present we're studying travel writing as it concerns Western perceptions of Africa from the pre-colonial era to present day. The genre of travel writing (in which this blog is included) is problematic for many reasons.

One element we've discussed in class and important to this entry, and all my posts for that matter, is to understand that I am writing for an American audience. This means that whether I do it consciously or unconsciously I am including or excluding information, using particular adjectives or descriptors, and positioning myself in relation to the people, places and things I am describing so as to both gain approval from my audience while also keeping you entertained and stimulated. As Americans we have certain perceptions about Africa (as virgin land, natural beauty, wild animals, abject poverty, starving children etc. If you've ever read a National Geographic, it's in your brain somewhere) and my writing is necessarily going to be scrutinized according to that 'checklist' of "This is Africa...". I am not asking that you fundamentally change the way you think about Africa, just that you try to understand where I come from, who I am writing for and how that shapes the style and content of my writing. Now that I've thoroughly confused you or lost you along the way, I present to you my unbiased, unfiltered, objective and definitive account of my weekend in Oceanview:

Oceanview is a coloured community that has grown from the 1960s into a decent sized town. The original residents of Oceanview were coloureds forcibly removed from nearby Simonstown when it was designated a whites only area and many residents have lived there ever since. Most of the homes are formal settlements that the owners have built up over the years into more comfortable abodes. There are of course some informal settlement bordering the township, but the majority of residents live in what seemed to be fairly sturdy homes or flats with basic services.

Upon arrival, we had a brief introductory dinner at Oceanview High School, at which we met our host families. Right off the bat Cookie and I got into a serious conversation about Oceanview (of which I would have many this weekend), its problems and what is being done about them. The biggest problem she identified was the use of "tick", or meth, and the accompanying crime and gang culture within the township's youngest, starting as early as 10 years old. Tick is dirt cheap in Oceanview, cheaper than weed she told me which makes it highly accessible even for children. She also told me there is very little being done to fight it, only noting some of the local Rastafarians (one love) who fight the gangsters that sell tick and peddle weed instead, but noted that some sell tick too.

On a lighter note, the weekend was a long party with Cookie, John and Cookie's brothers and sisters (of which she has ten, over half of which live in Oceanview). Friday night was spent at Cookie's chatting over a bottle of whiskey, sharing knowledge about each other's home cultures. Their house was small but comfortable with people popping in and out at random, just to say hi and greet us. The sense of community was unlike anywhere I've been in the States (or elsewhere for that matter) and made me feel at home immediately. Saturday, after a drive to nearby Fish Hoek to buy fish (go figure), we had an all day Braii (South African barbeque) which consisted of sitting in the sun, napping and watching rugby and cricket over a few beers. The Braii slowly turned into a party with more food and drinks, dominoes and more family and friends (including a Rastafarian who I unfortunately didn't get a chance to talk to).

People were more willing to talk at the party (with the juices flowing and all) and I had a very interesting (and sobering) conversation with a coloured guy who told me he had it better during apartheid. During apartheid he had a job, he told me, whereas now he was jumping from job to job. I couldn't muster the courage to question his reasoning (which is by all means valid) but was nonetheless introduced to a new way about thinking about apartheid. Speaks volumes to the socio-economic leagacies of apartheid. Unfortunately with classwork I haven't had enough time to reflect and explore this any further.

Anyway, at the risk of being short (and there's really just too much to write about in one sitting), the homestay was an unforgettable experience. I have never felt such hospitalty and warmth from people who have to go through so much shit (pardon my xhosa) to live a decent life. I have a few pictures that I will be posting shortly. If you have any pressing questions and want a more personal response, just e-mail me. One love.