For the past week or so, I lived in Zweletemba- a more rural township (about an hour and a half from Cape Town) with my wonderful host mother, her two adorable girls, and a fellow classmate. The neighborhood itself is on the relatively poorer side of things when it comes to money, but from what I experienced, it was rich in its liveliness, good-spirited people, and with its huge, gorgeous view of the mountains. I got to enjoy cool, sunny mornings walking to class at the local library, passing by a few goats, hearing roosters crowing and admiring the incredible landscape along the way. Walks home were spent hand-in-hand with the herds of neighborhood children w ho bombarded you with their affection and curiosity constantly. Of the more rewarding experiences I had was hearing from panels of local women about occupational health on farms, visiting a traditional Sangoma healer and learning about her practice, going on a long (and slightly more treacherous than anticipated) hike in the mountains, attending a church srevice given in the local language of Xhosa, and receiving endless, laughable lessons from my younger host-sisters in pronouncing the different “clicks” Xhosa has.
Though it was short, I really loved my home-stay there and really wish I could’ve stayed longer. I felt that there was so much more to learn about than what we were exposed to on the surface. The township itself exists as part of hte political aftermath of the Apartheid- a system of legalized discrimination, segregation and subordination of black and colored South Africans by the white Afrikaners in power. The movement itself only officially ended in 1994, so in some ways I felt that I had taken a trip back to the Civil Rights era in the U.S. Though she seldom mentioned it, and never fully explained it, My host mother told me that she was in exile, at the very front of the political upheaval, in Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Tanzania for 23 years of her life. From what I learned in fimls and talks from community members, I know these people to have experienced an incredibly horrific oppression and to have suffered an unbelievable violence. It is astonishing to me that through their pain, they can find pride int heir strength as a people, that through their wisdom and integrity they can sit and share their past with us, and that despite the rigid lines drawn by white supremacy, these resilient and good-hearted people can welcome those like us into their homes.
Though the overall feel of the place is highly positive and uplifting, the community suffers from things other than a recent volatile political history. The rates of young motherhood are incredibly high, but there is an extreme absence of husbands, fathers, and men in general. And though it wasn’t too often that we saw people visibly sick with AIDS, we knew that they had a disproportionately large presence in the area.
In all that I saw and experienced, though, Zweletemba fully owns up to its meaning, “a land of hope,” and I have faith in its potential to strengthen itself and its people.
