We are usually tired. Some of us have showered, others opt for head wear to creatively cover the evidence that it has been awhile. Hangovers afflict an unlucky or overindulgent few on any given day. Some enjoy a leisurely breakfast, while others hastily throw a piece of toast into the toaster at 7:43 willing it to please pop up with enough time to throw some butter on it. What we all have in common is that at 7:45 one of the staff rings the bell, which is our cue that our butts need to make their ways to our respective vans. And that is how every weekday morning here begins.
There are five big white vans that transport us all to our various placements. For the first three weeks my driver was Malinga. He is my parent's age, and one of my favorite people here. I knew that we were going to click right away. The very first time I met him was when he picked my group up at the airport. He played the most amazing music. It was the perfect soundtrack for my first glimpse of South Africa's shantytowns. "I want to be there when the people win the battle against AIDS. I want to lend a hand. I want to be there for the victims of violence and abuse. I want to lend a hand." That drive is symbolic of my trip thus far. I see the reality of South Africa. I see the seemingly insurmountable problems that face this country, and I acknowledge that I have no idea how they will ever be solved. Simultaneously, there is something telling me that there is hope. After all, look at was has transpired in the last twenty years in South Africa. Miracles happen.
My new driver is Bongani. I have to admit that I was disappointed when the routes changed after the first three weeks, and I lost Malinga. I have really lucked out with drivers, though, because Bongani is awesome. He is in his thirties and is absolutely adorable. He has a gold tooth, and I can identify his van in the morning line-up by following my ears. His oozes the reverberating beats of the gangster rap that he favors. My mornings wouldn't seem complete these days without Tupac and Biggie. This morning really solidified my feelings of platonic affection for the man. He drops Meg and I off first, unlike Malinga who dropped us off last. It is slightly annoying because Scalabrini doesn't open until nine and we've been getting there at about 8:15 lately. I politely brought up the idea of a new dropping order once, but it was shot down. Today was Wednesday, which is the day that the new refugees show up. They line up very early in the morning to get numbers, because we can only take in so many. When Bongani pulled up to the throng that was gathered this morning I muttered something like, "Great...I get to stand on the street with the refugees for a half hour." Meg didn't come today. I was on my own. I have nothing against the refugees, but it is not really a welcoming environment to be thrust into. Actually...maybe the problem is that it's too welcoming, if you catch my drift. I took a deep breath and got out. I tried to muster an air of confidence as I walked without making any eye contact directly into an area of women near the door. I looked back. The van was still there. I looked to my left. Some guy was making a "how you doin'?" face at me. I looked toward the van again. I accidentally saw two more guys leer and wave. I walked back to the van and knocked on Bongani's window. He rolled it down. "You can't do this to me," I said. My hands were shaking. He told me to get in. After we dropped everyone else off and I had moved to the front with him, we had a talk. He told me he didn't know that Scalabrini didn't open until nine. I told him that I informed him last week. He told me that he would be in "big shit" if he had left me there because it was dangerous. When we went back, there was still a crowd but it was smaller, because by that time some had been let in. As I got out, Bongani turned off the van and told me he was coming with me. He led the way through the mass of bodies. It was an unpleasant ten foot walk to the door, but I felt better with him there. It made the inappropriate touches more bearable, because I knew no one would try any shit with him around. He is dropping me off last from now on. I think the experience was all the evidence needed to support that plan. When he took us home after work I made sure to thank him for being my bodyguard. He smiled. God, I love that gold tooth.
There are five big white vans that transport us all to our various placements. For the first three weeks my driver was Malinga. He is my parent's age, and one of my favorite people here. I knew that we were going to click right away. The very first time I met him was when he picked my group up at the airport. He played the most amazing music. It was the perfect soundtrack for my first glimpse of South Africa's shantytowns. "I want to be there when the people win the battle against AIDS. I want to lend a hand. I want to be there for the victims of violence and abuse. I want to lend a hand." That drive is symbolic of my trip thus far. I see the reality of South Africa. I see the seemingly insurmountable problems that face this country, and I acknowledge that I have no idea how they will ever be solved. Simultaneously, there is something telling me that there is hope. After all, look at was has transpired in the last twenty years in South Africa. Miracles happen.
My new driver is Bongani. I have to admit that I was disappointed when the routes changed after the first three weeks, and I lost Malinga. I have really lucked out with drivers, though, because Bongani is awesome. He is in his thirties and is absolutely adorable. He has a gold tooth, and I can identify his van in the morning line-up by following my ears. His oozes the reverberating beats of the gangster rap that he favors. My mornings wouldn't seem complete these days without Tupac and Biggie. This morning really solidified my feelings of platonic affection for the man. He drops Meg and I off first, unlike Malinga who dropped us off last. It is slightly annoying because Scalabrini doesn't open until nine and we've been getting there at about 8:15 lately. I politely brought up the idea of a new dropping order once, but it was shot down. Today was Wednesday, which is the day that the new refugees show up. They line up very early in the morning to get numbers, because we can only take in so many. When Bongani pulled up to the throng that was gathered this morning I muttered something like, "Great...I get to stand on the street with the refugees for a half hour." Meg didn't come today. I was on my own. I have nothing against the refugees, but it is not really a welcoming environment to be thrust into. Actually...maybe the problem is that it's too welcoming, if you catch my drift. I took a deep breath and got out. I tried to muster an air of confidence as I walked without making any eye contact directly into an area of women near the door. I looked back. The van was still there. I looked to my left. Some guy was making a "how you doin'?" face at me. I looked toward the van again. I accidentally saw two more guys leer and wave. I walked back to the van and knocked on Bongani's window. He rolled it down. "You can't do this to me," I said. My hands were shaking. He told me to get in. After we dropped everyone else off and I had moved to the front with him, we had a talk. He told me he didn't know that Scalabrini didn't open until nine. I told him that I informed him last week. He told me that he would be in "big shit" if he had left me there because it was dangerous. When we went back, there was still a crowd but it was smaller, because by that time some had been let in. As I got out, Bongani turned off the van and told me he was coming with me. He led the way through the mass of bodies. It was an unpleasant ten foot walk to the door, but I felt better with him there. It made the inappropriate touches more bearable, because I knew no one would try any shit with him around. He is dropping me off last from now on. I think the experience was all the evidence needed to support that plan. When he took us home after work I made sure to thank him for being my bodyguard. He smiled. God, I love that gold tooth.
1 comment:
Annie that sounds so awesome. I mean in an experiential way. I miss you so much right now that I could seriously cry, I have so much to tell you (mostly concerning boys, go figure). Anyway, you are so lucky to be where you are right now- it sounds so amazing!
love,
Jen
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