There's something in the water - Outreach Weeks 2/3

So it’s been about a million years since I posted something, but here you go, a collection of my thoughts, neatly typed, double spaced, spell checked and tied up in brown paper with a red bow on the top just for you:

I’m doing good. Sick of all the sunshine, blue skies, deepening tan and time spent at the beach (jealous much?) but what can you do?

So you know how I’ve mentioned this shark thing? Well, we were hanging at the beach the other day when Joy-of-Joys the Shark Alarm sounded. I’ve dreamed about this moment ever since I knew there were gonna be sharks in Muizenberg. I was expecting masses of people running screaming from the perilous waters to the safety of the shore, children crying, abandoned shoes and dropped ice creams. The reality was far less dramatic - the life guard had to run along the beach blowing a whistle and trying to get people to leave the sea. So. Very. Disappointing. I was also hoping that the shark would come close to the shore and make menacing snarls in our direction. Another disappointment. I live in hope that next time will be the shark spotting that I’ve dreamed of.

So I kinda had a near death experience the other day. We were hiking up Table Mountain when I almost died (you would have thought I’d learned after climbing up Mount Muizenberg but apparently I didn’t). For real. I thought I was gonna be on that mountain forever (meaning the feew hours I was bound to have left). It was really hot and it was really steep. I couldn’t go back to the beginning and I didn’t want to keep going to the top. The only other option was to lie down and let the sun fry me to death. Did I mention it was really hot and steep? The funny thing was we were on the ‘touristy’ path. In my mind tourist is an old lady of about ninety years old in a wheelchair (ok, even I’ll admit that this is a pretty strange tourist stereotype but I can’t help it. I hear tourist and I see a Lady Bracknell/Lady Catherine de Bourgh figure). Now while there were plenty of old ladies hiking up that path none of them fit the tourist picture I had in my mind. The children crying and throwing up did though. Suffice to say I lived to tell the tale and the view from the top was pretty sweet. We took the cable car down though. 

One thing that you often hear about South Africa is the gap between those who have money and those who don’t. I’m sorry to bring it up again but I really can’t get my head round it. Scrap metal huts built on the side of the road one minute and then gated luxury apartments the next. How did this happen?

Twice a week we go to Sibongile (a care centre for children with Cerebral Palsy) which is in Khayletisha, the second largest township in SA. The centre itself has running water and electricity but just behind it, over the road, you see homes made of salvaged metal built into the side of the hill, a few houses along from the centre you can see three newish cars parked on the paved driveway of a fairly large brick house. Again, how did this happen? And I’m not talking historical factors that led to it but how we’ve allowed it to happen.

When I’ve seen pictures of shanty towns and the suchlike on TV there’s always been a part of me that thinks that I’m being manipulated by whoever took the shot – you know, ‘they used the lighting or the camera angle to make it seem worse than it is.’ I now see that that picture doesn’t capture it, people really do live in 10x8 huts make out of metal and they hang their washing out to dry when the weather is good. Just like we do at home. How did we let this be ok?

If you wanna know what else we’ve been up to then follow this link to the team blog: www.sateam2010.blogspot.com

P.S. I’m sorry for all the American spelling – I can’t figure out how to change the language on this version of word.