Dec 18th _ “11 years later”

First day in Grade 7 I sat at a table with some friends who I met the previous year. Class was soon to begin when a kid walked into the room. Not knowing anyone, he sat at our table. Clutching his lunch kit closely and not moving an inch, I challenged the kid:

“Yo. What’s your name?”

“Keenan”, he replied.

“Your new eh. Where you’re from?”

“I just moved here… from South Africa”.

As the year would play out, Keenan and I became very good friends. Our families got to meet one another. He told me things were much different in South Africa. I told him I had only known of Africa and had no clue what a “South Africa” was. We looked out for each other, especially when it came to dealing with the rough environment of Camilla Public School. At the end of grade 7, Keenan had to move. I tried finding him via email, but couldn’t locate him. However, we did find each other on Facebook years ago, but we never spoke once.

Before leaving for South Africa, I announced on Facebook of the upcoming adventure. Keenan aptly responded sending his contact information. After getting settled, I phoned him up. At the time, he was on the road and said he would get back to me. Two months had gone by but still no word from Keenan. Finding it strange, I didn’t bother giving him a shout.

One night out at a club with some friends, I saw this guy who looked like Keenan walk by. I gave him a nudge and Keenan recognized me immediately. He said his phone broke and he was trying desperately to find me, but I had closed my Facebook account.

Since then, my weeks of December have been catching up with Keenan, sharing stores of playing hockey, fights we got into and of course, middle school crushes. Plus playing the game, “whatever happened to…”. He tells me how funny it is that in the whole of South Africa, I was placed in a small suburb where he lives.

Living in a place so far away from home, it’s nice to have a piece of your past in the present.

Dec 16th _ “Ballerz of the world UNITE”

Since University, I have always tried to organize a basketball game among friends. This tradition continued with UNICEF, Humber College and now, South Africa. With a colleague from Ikhwezi HIV/Aids Centre and Zimbabwean students, 3 on 3 basketball was run at a nearby court. For the occasion, Sarah and Lise created a trophy deemed, “Lord Stanley’s Bottle of Triumph”.

The more we played, the more spectators watching, joined in. One of the participants pulled up his car next to the court to blast sweet reggae tunes. It was good times running “pick and rolls” and “dropping dimes” to the sound of “Mr. Boombastic!”.

At the end of it all, a resolution was made: Basketball every Sunday in the New Year.

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On another note, Sarah and Lise have left today for a road trip to Lesotho and Capetown. Last night we had a Christmas/Send off dinner. With the help of the ladies, I prepared what was close to Chicken Biriyani. Although the resemblance was off, the taste was much more closer.

(pictures to be posted soon. I am having trouble uploading at the moment).

Dec 10th _ “So this is Christmas”

Checking the date I was surprised to see we were 10 days into December. Without the “luxury” of snow, Mariah Carey’s overplayed “All I want for Christmas” and Rudolph the Reindeer’s special on tv, it is hard to realize we are in the “Christmas season”.

Only a few stores have decorations. The houses around me are without - probably at the fear the ornaments will be stolen.

Yet given the influence of Christianity in this province you can bet almost every family will be attending a Nativity play. Most have already begun their vacations as things ultimately slow down in December.

Reflecting on the season, Christmas has always been a special one. As a young child I was excited to see what Santa Clause brought me. Every year I would write him a letter and leave out the cookies and milk. As I grew a little older I started to compare his written letter, with the handwriting of my mother. Suffice to say I was heartbroken when I discovered “Ma could write as good as Santa”.

But Christmas Day is always the ultimate. For a long time, it was just my sister, my mom and the troublemaker. I would make sure to wake up before anyone. We had three couches in our living room of which I dedicated each persons setting for placing the gifts. When my Stepdad joined the family, he squatted on my mother’s dedicated couch. For me, I always enjoyed finding the gift unique to the receiver and feeling their reaction as they opened it on Christmas Day.

Two of my favourite memories, is the Christmas my family from the States came. It had also been just a few years since my cousins from Guyana moved to Canada. After going to midnight mass, all the cousins returned to our apartment to tell ghost stories in the living room. Afterwards, although personal, we shared stories of who got into trouble at school and the consequences – note the narrator always claimed to never be the victim! That night we set a new tradition. Whoever fell asleep first was subjected to getting toothpaste smeared all over their face with the guys getting their nails painted. And last year, Ige and his family joined us for a wonderful Christmas Day. Together, we “ate Christmas” and watched my Uncle’s wedding in Guyana, which took place well over two decades ago.

Although I am away from home, I am very fortunate to experience a new kind of Christmas. This year I get to play Santa Clause for Without Walls children’s Christmas party. To be a part of this and see the joy on a child’s face, will make even my Christmas, extra special.

Nov 23rd _ “Townships”

Under Apartheid rule any non-white persons were forced to live in settlements located outside towns or cities. Deemed “Townships” these areas became a place to essentially dump Blacks and Coloureds (those of mixed ancestry). Services provided were nothing more than a shack to sleep, a little running water and a place to cook. Whites abused this large amount of labour by paying the workers next to nothing.

Living in a township is a very difficult life. Most inhabitants are into drug trafficking, which is then followed by consuming. In such a poor community, human life becomes quite cheap. People are killed over having a few dollars (Rand) in their pocket. It can be expected children will not finish school based on the reason that their parents cannot afford it or the children do not have the motivation or support to continue. Although people are now free to move around, many remain in the townships simply because they cannot afford otherwise.

Big King of Ikhwezi Wellness Centre for HIV/Aids organized a trip to Duncan Village and Mdantsane (the second largest Township in South Africa). Under the auspices of community outreach workers of the Haven Wellness Centre, I was able to visit clients who are suffering from HIV/Aids. While walking through the community in Duncan Village, I noticed a sign, which read: “Trespassers will be shot after hours”.

Leaving the township you cannot help but feel that its inhabitants are the forgotten people of South Africa. But hope comes in the image of the Wellness Centres. Their workers march into these sites each day with the purpose of helping those living in destitution.

“Amalinda”

Like a child without patience

I rushed in looking for acceptance

One of a kind my eyes too blind

To see the difference of you and you

Two worlds one space

Different minds of the Eastern Cape

I conversate to your click

But my words trickle with attempted sync

With a shine so bright

Clouds disappear out of fear

People salute the warmth

Offering praises with seasoned taste

But when sad the audience knows

Heavy tears are relentless

People disperse confused

At a unscripted heart

Fables express the former trust

Broken at the hands of a friend

Betrayed for the advancement of category

Centuries pass without pardon

I understand but you say I can’t

Creative politicking produces similar rants

Put down the book and listen

Pick up a pen and learn:

“My brother’s son is my son,

My sister’s daughter is my daughter

Weddings are a celebration

But funerals have become an indignation

Our children grow without the love of a Bantu

They toi toi when we say they can’t do

Liberators celebrated without water

Boyfriends second after becoming first Fathers

But if I grew up over there

My days would spent in a pool

Swimming with riches

Instead of walking two hours to school

My name would be pronounced with ease

Sleeping with love

Producing children

Not worrying about disease

Our struggle is simple

Determined to be me

A product of hope

The solution to longevity

Gentle child you are grown

With the spirit of knowing

Curiosity will serve justice

When I smile in good faith”.

- Jason Merai

Nov 20th _ “African Indian Odyssey”

These past couple of days I was able to visit my former University Professor, Jon Soske, see a bit of Johannesburg and learn more about the history of South Africa.

Jon, who is currently researching at the University of Witwatersrand, invited me to the launch of his documentary, “The African Indian Odyssey”. Sponsored by Saffron TV, the film reflects on the 150^th anniversary of Indians in South Africa by carefully tracing the transformation of an African Indian identity.

Seeing the film and Jon, are two memories to serve in my South African highlight reel. It is quite a surreal feeling to be seeing someone you knew in another country, here in South Africa. What’s more, who would’ve thought four years ago when I walked into his class that I would meet him in Africa. In fact, it was Jon’s classes, which motivated my curiosity to travel to this continent.

For my stay, Rani (whom was introduced in the Mpumalanga blog) put me in contact with her son and nephew. Although I had never met them before, the Chetty boys hosted my stay in Joberg and took me out to enjoy the city.

Johannesburg is a very wealthy city. It offers a mix of downtown Toronto with a Manhattan icing. The contrast presents the Eastern Cape on a complete opposite spectrum. It can even make one question if you are still in Africa. Then again the surrounding townships presents the checks and balance of this metropolis.

Being in Joberg furthered my understanding of the social engineering in South Africa. I experienced racism for my beard as well as my skin colour, I witnessed the intense social divide while feeling uncomfortable sitting in an Indian restaurant and learned more about Apartheid by discussing with a researcher on the ideological battles of “Charterist” vs. “Africanist”.

I only hope I can keep up with this exponential feeling of growth.

On another note, I received a reminder of home. While checking out a clothing store, Snow’s “Informer” came on. And the name of the store was “Markham” :) .

Nov 10th _“Without Walls”

Today my landlady, Lynn, took me to visit her NGO, Without Walls. It is a Christian organization, which serves the underprivileged living in Millner Estate. The area was made for the returning soldiers from WWII, but now is inhabited by the unemployed and drug lords.

Lynn, a Pastor by profession and a humanitarian by practice, started the organization with her husband six years ago. While setting up the organization, Lynn’s husband past away unexpectedly to cancer. Facing such hardship, Lynn endured and with the help of a few close friends, she was able to establish the organization in this depressed neighbourhood.

Lynn's famous red Conbie

At first, Lynn wasn’t welcomed, as she received numerous death threats and poisoned food. But this didn’t stop her.

Six years today, Without Walls serves as a school in the morning for children ages 3-6, then a soup kitchen at lunch and bible studies in the evening. The building they operate in is over 100 years old.

Lynn’s work has affected people in miraculous ways. Smit, who hands out soup, previously spent his whole life consuming hard drugs. The children who attend the school had no education prior, and thus, could not have been accepted into primary school. Unfortunately, the size of the building only allows for 42 children. Efforts to procure a bigger building, is what Lynn describes as being on her “prayer list”.

But the outreach does not stop there. Lynn dedicates her time to assisting the elderly who have been abandoned by their family. She helps move them from the “size of a toilet” residence to an old age home. The difficult challenge is that their pension only covers the rent to live. In response, Lynn organizes food and drinks for these folks. Moreover, Lynn goes door to door asking each child in the neighbourhood what they would like for Christmas. She then puts her whole efforts in achieving this, as well as providing a Christmas party.

Despite Without Walls hard efforts, Millner Estate remains a ravaged neighbourhood. Children are subjected to abuse and drug lords set the laws of the land.

This child pictured below was found walking alone on the highway. Her mother lives in Millner, but has no interest in raising her. The child, not even two, has grown accustom to finding food at Without Walls. There she goes and then she leaves, to again wander the streets. The neighbourhood brings her back to her mother’s, but soon enough, you will find the child back on the street. Lynn tells me usually this little baby is without clothes.

Donations are not constant but this doesn’t stop Lynn. She goes ahead with her plans and leaves the deliverance to her faith.

Lynn, a testament indeed.