The Long Flight to Another Continent
We flew to Atlanta to catch our international flight on South African Airways. Our scheduled 10:30 a.m. departure was slightly delayed. We were assured we would arrive to Johannesburg (Joberg) on schedule.
This 18-hour flight is always a challenge. You have a personal television screen in front of your seat and a number of current movies to watch during the journey. For me, it is difficult to sleep on a plane. I only catch a few hours throughout the flight. Needless to say, I was very tired when we arrived in Joberg. Already going on just a few hours of sleep over the last few days.
We had about an hour or so to catch our Cape Town connection in Joberg. No time to pause. We had to dash through immigrations and get our passports stamped. Next you collect your luggage and pass through customs. Dr. Gywnn got the help of an airport employee. He helped us collect our bags, got five of us through customs in a matter of a couple of minutes, walked with us to the domestic flights side of the airport, got our bags checked in about five minutes, took us to the front of the security line for the final security check, and took us right to the gate where the plane had started to board. Now that is SERVICE!
Mervyn, our Cape Town driver was waiting for us at the airport. What a pleasant slight. Mervyn was our driver the past two years. He is not only our driver, but our protector as well. Nothing gets by Mervyn. He won’t take us places that might be dangerous. He bargains with street vendors. Takes us where ever we want to go morning, noon or night.
Our late afternoon arrival in Cape Town left us with no energy. We made our way to the hotel to check in and freshen up. We took a quick trip to the V&A Waterfront for dinner and exchange U.S. dollars into South African Rand. Of course, we also attended to a few other important matters, buy water to drink. The water in hotels and restaurants is probably safe. The operative word here is probably. Let’s take no risks. Buy water.
By our second day in Cape Town, the students are deep into their research. Each student met with their ethnic group experts and learn a bit of a traditional dance. Our students are undergraduates and this type of research is somewhat unusual. They are learning how to do ethnographic research and in a different culture.
We still haven’t gotten a good six hours of sleep (at one time in one day) for several days now. I’m stopping with the stories now, because I’m sooooooooo sleepy and need to catch some capital ZZZZZs tonight.
Here at Long Last
Mother’s Day 2006, our much anticipated departure date, finally arrived. I spent Saturday night at my parents since our day was scheduled to begin at 3:30 a.m., and my father was the designated airport chauffeur. In my mother’s house there is no chance of oversleeping on such an important morning as a 6:30 a.m. departing flight.
In my house, there is a chance of sleeping through an early morning alarm. The night before, I wouldn’t go to sleep easily or quickly. I would toss and turn worrying that I would sleep through the alarm. After several hours of this restlessness, exhaustion would overtake and I would finally fall asleep maybe two hours before the alarm time. Consequently, my worst fears would become reality and I would sleep through the alarm.
Additionally, my mother would make sure I had all the coffee, cereal and / or toast with jelly I wanted. My sister and I tried to talk her into cooking a full course Southern breakfast. You know - country ham, eggs, grits (for my sister who was willing to come to my mother’s house at 4:30 a.m. if breakfast was on the table), biscuits, gravy, waffles, pancakes, sausage, juice, and coffee. Maybe we asked for too much. Wouldn’t this be a nice and nutritional send off for my mama’s baby child? Mama didn’t wait for us to declare the entire menu before giving an absolute “NO! You can have cereal or toast.” My sister didn’t hesitate before voicing she would skip the family breakfast. I just don’t get it. After her nearly 60 years of cooking (writer’s note - my mother has NOT been fixing me breakfast for 60 years) surely my mother isn’t tired of getting up early and fixing the family breakfast.
Mama and daddy are also keeping my 17-year old cat. This is my cat’s summer vacation. She will eat too much and get all the treats she wants in spite of my written directions. My parent’s enjoy my cat’s company. They all just sit around at night and snooze while watching television.
Daddy got me to the airport in plenty of time. We arrived about 5:15 a.m. The three students were waiting for Dr. Gwynn and me to arrive. They were checked in and ready to pass through the new and enhanced airport security system at the Piedmont-Triad International Airport.
More adventures to come later from the traveling professor.
. . . And the Adventure Continues
It’s May and we just graduated another class of promising professionals. I believe that means it’s time for me to go back to South Africa.
Yes, I’m off to South Africa for my third trip in as many years. My bags are packed, actually stuffed, and I’m preparing my mind and body for a very long 19-hour flight to Joberg. This year I’m staying a record four weeks. Oh my! That is a very long time for this homebody.
This will be an exciting trip, and is the smallest group we’ve taken to South Africa. The focus of this year's trip is to fulfill study abroad requirement for three dance concentration students at North Carolina A&T State University. This is their field ethnographic experience with a focus on traditional dances and cultures of several of the major ethnic groups.
The field work is under the direction and guidance of Visual & Performing Arts Chairperson Dr. Eleanor Gwynn. I will write, shoot photographs and some videotape. A videographer will join us, and our dean will be with us for two weeks.
Our first destination is Cape Town. We’ll be there a week. I am looking forward to returning to Cape Town. I didn’t make it to Cape Town last year. I came back to teach summer school. Cape Town is not only a lovely place, but we also have several friends in Cape Town. It will be good to reunite with my South African friends. We’ll be in Joberg for remaining three weeks except for a 3-day trip to the northern region of Limpopo.
This year is an experiment in how well distance education works for a traveling professor. I will teach my first three weeks of summer school from Joberg. My course material is loaded on our Internet-based teaching platform. If the technology holds up, I’ll communicate with my students daily from South Africa. This is really exciting opportunity. Often, we think of students being in remote locations for distance learning. This time, the professor will be the distance one (that is physically distance).
I hope to post to my blog often while in South Africa. Please join me on my new adventures in South Africa. Every year is different. This year could be the best to date.
Until my next posting . . .
The Traveling Professor
My Impressions and Generalization
This site is, in many ways, a generalization and many statements are broadly spoken. I understand everything from an American standpoint – for good or bad. These are my impressions from the people I met during my two visits to South Africa. I am very aware that I have not come anywhere close to talking to even a small portion of the population, but I do hear consistent and similar stories.
Unfortunately, and hopefully this will be corrected, I have not talked to many white or Indian South Africans. All groups have different stories and experiences. Each individual within a group has a different story and experience.
Afrikaans is the native language of some black South Africans, and that as a very broad statement. There are many ethnic groups in South Africa (black, white, Indian and other). Yes, Afrikaans is the native language for some of them, but South Africa has 11 official languages.
During Apartheid, teaching in Afrikaans was disputed in the black townships and other communities where Afrikaans was not the native language. I met a “colored” man who only speaks English and his native language, Afrikaans. He has no desire to learn any other native language. I know he isn’t alone.
I also know some black South Africans who feared not being able to graduate from high school because Afrikaans was required as the teaching and testing language. This was during the first few years of Afrikaans imposed as the language of instructon in the schools. They didn’t know the language well at the time of taking their final exams and they were required to be fluent in this language to graduate.
Yes, English is spoken all over South Africa. English is, from what I saw and experienced, the common language. I certainly appreciate that since English is the only language I understand. Therefore, I had no communication problems in South Africa.
When I was in Joberg last May, there was discussion that English be dropped as a compulsory language in the schools. We asked several South Africans who teach in the schools what was that about since English appeared to be the common language in most schools. You might have a school with Zulu and Xhosa children. They take their native languages (which may be similar in many ways but are different languages) and one additional language and most pick English. One teacher told us they really couldn’t drop English. It is the way they communicate across ethnic groups.
I do not know how many students pick or learn Afrikaans as an additional language today. As for me, I picked up a “Learn Afrikaans” CD while in South Africa. I will attempt to learn Afrikaans because it is a major language in South Africa. I also want to learn Xhosa, so I will order a “Learn Xhosa” CD. I’ve already checked purchasing sources in the U.S. If I can find a class in my area that teaches either one, I’ll take it.
Yes, black South Africans did perform their music and dance publically – when it was for commercial or benefit to the government. Tourists went to South Africa expecting to see native songs and dances. Then, as now, there were many tourists areas that featured native song and dance. Often the songs and dances were altered for the tourists.
There are always exceptions to the rule. During apartheid, some black groups got a national and / or international spotlight. Ladysmith Black Mambazo is one of the exceptions. I had the opportunity to see this Zulu group in Greensboro a few weeks back, and I throughly enjoyed their performance. I believe Paul Simon brought Ladysmith Black Mambazo to international fame decades ago. The group is 40 some years old. The lead singer’s son is now singing with the group. This group is well worth seeing, if you have the opportunity.
Song and dance has a much deeper meaning than entertainment. Many of the native songs and dances were intended for their celebrations and ceremonies (weddings, births, deaths and so forth). Those were some of the types of songs and dances that were not welcomed in public. Without saying, anything labeled “a freedom dance or song” was prohibited.
A dear black South African friend was arrested during the apartheid years when she and fellow high school students sang Christian songs in Xhosa. The principal called the police and reported they were singing “freedom songs.” He understood Xhosa so he knew what they were NOT singing freedom songs. The police came and the students scatterer in an attempt not to be arrested or beaten. My friend was caught. She said the police sham bached them (whipped with a them stick wrapped in leather with dangling leather strip on the end) and took them to prison where they stayed for three days. She said they were singing Christian songs at school, but sang freedom songs in jail. They were not free to sing or dance whatever they pleased.
The apartheid government used black-on-black fear and distrust to help keep control. Many of the black South Africans talked about growing up with distrust, dislike or fear of another ethnic group. The groups did united, but to say black-on-black fear and distrust is gone is not correct. Our driver in Cape Town is “colored.” He refused to take us to some of the black townships because he was afraid of the people. When we got him to take us to some of the feared townships, he would only drive into the perimeter and made sure he knew his way out. Either this driver or our other driver (can’t remember which one) was robbed and car jacked a few years back. Their apprehension is understandable.
Many white populations have been in South Africa longer than some black populations. It is odd for Americans to hear a white person self-identify as an African. The reality is there are many races who are multi-generational South African. Just as there are many races that are multi-generational American.
Mandela was a major player in the peaceful transition of political power in South Africa. There were many major players who were white, black, Indian, colored and other ethnic groups. Unquestionably, it also took an entire nation desiring a peaceful transition. Perhaps they all had had enough of the violence. Collectively, I see a nation working very hard to be united and the national pride is amazing. Every person tells you without hesitation they are South African, and their home town is the best place in all of South Africa.
I would love to live in a world where peace and harmony reigns. That won’t happen on this side of life. We live in a world filled with genocide and atrocities. Evil governments and people do very bad, unimaginable, unspeakable, and hidden nefariousness to people everyday just because they don’t look or think like them. There are many innocent people who shoulder unjust blame because they look or appear to think like the oppressors. As I heard recently, in a race war no one asks you your philosophy. It is all about race and how you look, not how you think.
We also live in a world filled with victory and triumph.
My heart aches for my South African friends who suffered gross injustices. Keep in mind, injustices happened to black, colored, Indian, and white South Africans. The human spirit is resilient, and their stories also tell of victory and overcoming.
I can’t have peace and harmony, but I do have victory stories. People who survive the inhumanities of the world have important stories that need to be told. If we do not understand what happened to certain groups and how to stop it – one day we may become the oppressed.
From Dissension to Ubuntu
The unassuming little brick house melts into the Soweto neighborhood. The threshold is a short walk up the sidewalk. A man greets visitors at the front door and invites them into the small house. The first room is small living room sparsely furnished. This unassuming house holds the story of dissension to ubuntu. It is Nelson Mandela’s Soweto home.
South African’s physical and emotional struggles during apartheid is familiar to most. The stories of oppression, beatings, terror, and even death are countless. Nelson Mandela is included in the list of storytellers. A glance at his life reveals a cycle of oppression and victory. In spite of all attempts, this man could not and was not beaten down. It appears every battle made him stronger and more determined to overcome. Mandela’s life prison sentence for sabotage didn’t stop him from working for and inspiring others to dream of a new South Africa – a home for all (regardless of race) who are called South African.
Mandela’s sentence was commuted and he was released from prison on February 11, 1990. Contrary to expectations, Mandela preached unity and healing. His vision was for a healed one-nation South Africa. Mandela wanted ubuntu. Ubuntu is a South African ideology that focuses on community or a humanity towards others. The idea caught on and spread throughout South Africa. In 1993, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. On May 10, 1994 Mandela was inaugurated as the first democratically elected State President of South Africa.
There are many parallels between the struggles and victories of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States and apartheid. South Africans are well aware of the parallels. Mandela’s house holds proof. A wall in the small living at floor level supports the bronze plaque celebrating the 40th anniversary of the beginning of the American sit-in movement at Woolworth Dime Story by the Greensboro Four, the four North Carolina A&T State University students credited with starting the sit-in movement in the United States. A patchwork quilt draped over the arm of the sofa in the adjacent room has a quilt square with the A&T seal.
Take to heart a lesson from Nelson Mandela and all South Africans’ struggle for democracy and civility. When dissension is the air, apply the ubuntu philosophy. After all, isn’t it better to live in peace and harmony than hatred and dissension? Speak and live ubuntu.
Copyright © 2004 by Sheila M. Whitley, Ph.D.
Exterior of Nelson Mandela's Soweto House, May 12, 2005
A&T square in Patchwork quilt in Mandela's Soweto House, May 11, 2004
Plaque of the Greensboro Four in Nelson Mandela's Soweto House, May 12, 2005
I Didn't Understand a Word
We communicate in many ways. We use words, symbols, body language and so forth. Can we understood a person if we don’t know their language? Yes, messages are also communicated through the tone, volume, gestures, facial expressions and numerous other ways.
I had the opportunity, along with several students and professors, to visit a few public schools in several Black townships in Cape Town, South Africa.
Fortunately for this monolingual visitor, many South Africans speak English in addition to their mother language and many know a third language. English is one of eleven official languages in South Africa. Ndebele, Pedi, Sotho, Swazi, Tsonga, Tswana, Venda, Xhosa, and Zulu are official languages and each is a mother tongue for the various indigenous groups. Afrikaans is the primary language for White South Africans and the mother language for some Black South Africans.
Consider the potential communication problems in South Africa with 11 official languages compared to one we have in the United States. You would think it is extremely difficult to communicate in South Africa, a country with land mass about twice the size of Texas. It wasn’t.
A little South Africa history may help put language into perspective. South Africa is a little more than 10 years into democracy. Prior to 1994, South Africans suffered under an oppressive political system known as apartheid. The minority White population subjugated the majority Black population. It was a brutal time for all South Africans.
During the apartheid era, the Black South Africans could not publically sing, dance or play music that was African. In school, they were taught ballet and played European music. Soon, speaking the various mother languages in the Black schools became a disputed point.
In 1974, a decree made Afrikaans the language for school instruction in Black schools. This decree contributed to the June 1976 uprising in the Black township of Soweto. The school children marched to protest the Bantu Educational system and the decree. Many high school seniors feared they would fail their final exams and not graduate if they had to write in Afrikaans (not their native language). The march was suppose to be peaceful. The police arrived with guns and riot gear. Before noon, several school children were dead and hundreds injured.
Today, the mother languages thrive in the Black schools. Children are required to study their mother language plus an additional language. Many select English as their second language. Therefore, we didn’t have a communication problem when we visited the schools. As a matter of fact, many of the children were amazed that Americans typically speak just one language.
A primary reason for visiting the schools was to see how dance and music are taught in the schools. The children danced and sang for us. Dance is a universal form of communication, so you don’t need an interpreter. Music is also universal. It isn’t difficult to understand the beat or the rhythm.
When you sing, you use a particular language. Can you understand the meaning of song without an interpreter? We heard several school choirs and groups. The children sweetly sang in their mother language. Since we don’t speak their languages, we had no idea what the words meant. The children sang with heartfelt facial and vocal expression. Without a doubt, many were praise songs.
We all were moved to tears listening to the choir at Zimasa Community School, the first school we visit. One girl rivaled any recording artist. Passion exuded from her with every note she sang. The emotionally-charged expression on her face and body language reinforced her melodious message.
Do you need to know the language to understand a person’s passion? Do you need to know the language to feel their emotions? Do you need to know the language to warm your heart? Confidently and without hesitation, I say, “No!” I know of South African schools in the Zimasa, West Bank, Lwandle, and Vukani communities where singing students communicated to and touched several American hearts; and we didn’t understand a word.
Copyright © 2005 by Sheila M. Whitley, Ph.D.
