I've always wanted to go to Africa. To be honest, I've always wanted to go everywhere, but for some reason my desire for Africa was different. I think in my mind Africa held the most potential for being different – very different from America. I wanted to see people living in grass huts, lions and zebras and giraffes and elephants in the wild. I wanted to hear singing and drumming in the middle of the night, and maybe I still will. But for now I am in Cape Town, South Africa. Arriving in Cape Town was like waking up in paradise. I live right on the beach which is filled with warm white sand and the waves are always crashing. Mountains create a beautiful backdrop everywhere I look. The sun is warm, the breeze is always blowing, the sky is azure blue and never ending. Each morning I wake up to a view that is absolutely breathtaking – the gift of a beautiful green and rocky mountain topped off with a bow of bright blue sky. Initially I felt almost guilty. After all, I was supposed to be roughing it for a year, living out of a tent and helping the lost and hopeless. But here I was, reveling in the beauty of the South African coast. Historically, this was a place of refreshment, a layover port for weary merchants sailing to or from India, Europe, and China. I can certainly see why.
But it didn't take long for my perspective to begin to shift. One walk to to grocery store brought the high rate of homelessness and hunger into view. A tour through Capricorn, the closest township, or squatter village, zoomed in on abuse, poverty, illiteracy, and inequality. But surprisingly, it was my first walk along the beautiful beach that brought all of this into focus for me.
I was excited to bury my barefoot in the sand, to splash through the water of the Indian ocean, to explore the wonders of South Africa. I scrambled along the beach collecting shells, joyfully leaping from rock to rock to see what I could find, and taking pictures of my treasures all along the way. I collected beautiful shells of snails, clams, oysters, and conch, I found coins in the sand, took pictures of giant kelp that had washed up on shore, poked at a dead puffer fish, was annoyed by the amount of tiny blue jellyfish that riddled the sand and threatened my feet with their stringy tentacles, I was touched by a poor bird who sat on the sand, covered in oil and looking very unsure of himself, and i was in awe of the thousands of anemones that glistened in the hot morning sun.
It was with these anemones that the shift began. They were everywhere. One woman on the beach said it was quite a phenomenon. They rarely washed up on shore, and especially in these numbers. That caught my attention and I became more interested. I poked and prodded and took pictures. And I soon realized these little creatures were gasping for air. The fierce waves had uprooted them from the ocean floor during the night and spewed them out onto the shore with the morning tide. A friend said, "Wow, look how pretty these anemones are." "Yeah, beautiful corpses," I responded. But as the words came out of my mouth I realized almost all of my treasures were beautiful little corpses – hollow bodies were life was but a memory. My collection of shells were all empty, void of the life they once held, the unique little blue and purple jelly fish, no longer capable of swimming (but still capable of stinging), the spiky puffer fish, limp and listless, even the hopeless, oil-covered bird, although still alive would not be for long without intervention. And the anemones, still gasping, desperately holding onto their last breath, were dying at my feet.
At this point CapeTown took on a new identity and my original perception of beauty and paradise came crashing down with the waves around me. Cape Town is like a beautiful corpse, a mere shell of what she could be. She has been ravaged by the waves of apartide. She is still gasping for breath, hoping that each one is not her last. Some of her people have already given up. They have no hope for a better future. They have no hope in their government and no hope in themselves. They do not believe on their own dreams. They do not believe anything will ever get better. They sit on the street and they wait . . . they wait to die. So that's why I'm here. I do have have hope. I do have breath, and I want to share it.
I didn't think I'd be working with so many kids but I am honored to have the privilege of meeting the children of Cape Town. I'm honored to sit and talk with them. To laugh with them. To play with them. To let them brush and pull out my hair. To make jewelry with them. To tumble with them. To learn from them. To capture their smile on camera. To share my life with them. And I hope that through it all I've been able to share my joy and my hope with them, for they are the hope of this city. They are the future, and even though they are gasping for air, they are very strong and courageous. They are not dead yet.
